The jungle trek to Machu Picchu actually starts on a mountain overlooking the Urbamba river, a thin brown line meandering through the valley below. As far away as the river looks we're going to cycle the 2000 or so metres down to it. If we make it as far as the river, we will then go rafting in it.
For three hours we wind back and forth along tarmac roads. We have helemts and gloves, but no knee pads or elbow pads. Not that they would do much good if any of us were to go over the edge or be hit by one of the many trucks and mini buses which pass, beeping their horns frantically - as if I hadn't already seen them in middle of the road coming toward me.
At the top of the valley I was cold in a jumper and my rain coat, but the temperature increases dramatically with each bend. Luckily I get to cool off every time I cycyle through the stream which intersects the road at regulat intervals as it flows down toward the river. The town at the bottom of the valley is Santa Maria, our guide Abi's home town. Every one in town knows her, partly because it is so small and partly because she is the only female guide in the area. I can{t tell if people are in awe of her or afraid of her (she is very loud). Here we have lunch (soup with rice and potatoes) and are shown our hostel for the night and have just enough time to drop our bags off before white water rafting.
From the top of the valley the river looked small and calm as it wound its way between the mountians, but up close it looks less inviting. Chocolate brown and flowing very quickly over huge boulders and between sharp rocks, floating down it in an inflatable boat seems like a very silly idea. Whilst still on land our instructor, Josef, shouts at us the various instructions he will be shouting at us in a few moments time on the river ("LEFT PADDLE", "GET DOWN") and tells us what to do if we fall in (hold on).
The rapids are grade four, although with nothing to compare them to I have no idea if thats good or bad. They look huge, but the boat takes them much better than I had expected and no one falls in, although a few people get on voluntarily.
The water is surprisingly warm and I'm actually disappointed when one of our group is against the idea of deliberately flipping the raft. Josef frequently shouts at me for not paddling because I'm too busy looking at the scenery or the huge hawks which are fishing in the river. As it starts to get dark we paddle furiously for the shore where our mini bus is waiting to take us back to the hostel.
On the drive back I dry off quickly - the van has no windows and the air is warm and tropical smelling. Its the first time in a while that I've been in a place where it's warm at night time as the high deserts of Chile and Bolivia are freezing in the evenings. Abi informs us that our trek tomorrow will take ten hours, change from the seven hour trek that was sold to us, so after dinner (more soup to start) everyone gets ready for bed. The shower is cold but I'm covered in river water and it turns out to be a relief as I haven't slept in heat like this in months.
Above: The Urabamba on the left, the road on the right
For three hours we wind back and forth along tarmac roads. We have helemts and gloves, but no knee pads or elbow pads. Not that they would do much good if any of us were to go over the edge or be hit by one of the many trucks and mini buses which pass, beeping their horns frantically - as if I hadn't already seen them in middle of the road coming toward me.
At the top of the valley I was cold in a jumper and my rain coat, but the temperature increases dramatically with each bend. Luckily I get to cool off every time I cycyle through the stream which intersects the road at regulat intervals as it flows down toward the river. The town at the bottom of the valley is Santa Maria, our guide Abi's home town. Every one in town knows her, partly because it is so small and partly because she is the only female guide in the area. I can{t tell if people are in awe of her or afraid of her (she is very loud). Here we have lunch (soup with rice and potatoes) and are shown our hostel for the night and have just enough time to drop our bags off before white water rafting.
From the top of the valley the river looked small and calm as it wound its way between the mountians, but up close it looks less inviting. Chocolate brown and flowing very quickly over huge boulders and between sharp rocks, floating down it in an inflatable boat seems like a very silly idea. Whilst still on land our instructor, Josef, shouts at us the various instructions he will be shouting at us in a few moments time on the river ("LEFT PADDLE", "GET DOWN") and tells us what to do if we fall in (hold on).
The rapids are grade four, although with nothing to compare them to I have no idea if thats good or bad. They look huge, but the boat takes them much better than I had expected and no one falls in, although a few people get on voluntarily.
On the drive back I dry off quickly - the van has no windows and the air is warm and tropical smelling. Its the first time in a while that I've been in a place where it's warm at night time as the high deserts of Chile and Bolivia are freezing in the evenings. Abi informs us that our trek tomorrow will take ten hours, change from the seven hour trek that was sold to us, so after dinner (more soup to start) everyone gets ready for bed. The shower is cold but I'm covered in river water and it turns out to be a relief as I haven't slept in heat like this in months.
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