Urubamba Samba

It's my last day in Ollantaytambo, and also the Sacred Valley, so I thought I'd get out on the river Urubamba (despite my aching knees).



These guys look reputable, right?



Raúl (the guide) is the one wearing the long tie-dyed headband and shorts in the rain.



The other two, Eloy and Milton, (as near as I could tell from their provincial accents) are local boys, thrill-seekers from somewhere nearby, looking for a little diversion on their Sunday. (Have I mentioned how there's nothing to do in this town?) Not that I'm complaining, their presence allows the trip. Since this is the low season for tourists, I'd already had one rafting trip cancelled on me, so the more the merrier!



Of course, it did mean all the directions were going to be yelled in Spanish. "But, Max," you say, "you speak Spanish!" Yeah, well, it's a different ball game when you're being buffetted around rocks in the freezing current, trying to remember the difference between "¡Adelante!", "¡Atras!", and "¡Alto!".


I asked Raul to take this, and we had some creative differences as to the content, so that explains the abrupt ending.

Now comes the fun part:







For the record, these are Class III rapids. Yeah, I don't know what that means either, but it means two more than Class I, right? Oh, and in case you can't tell, I'm the one in the red.







You might be wondering why I'm the only one in the boat (except for Crazy Raúl) bare-legged as we get waterlogged. It's because I'm just that sexy. It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that they didn't have a wetsuit big enough for my giant pale thighs.







And then there are some pictures of me ungracefully getting out of the boat and sinking into the muddy bank. But I'll spare you.



This was the only marker of our landing zone. Classy, no?



One last look at the sacred river before we loaded up the van and cruised back to town, giggling and hooting at girls out the window the whole ride.

Back in Ollanta, I grabbed my suitcase, engaged a taxi to go all the way back to Cusco (for some reason you can't take a train, even though trains travel between the two cities, unless you involve Machu Picchu) and picked up a choclo from a street vendor for the ride.



Yumbo, would you look at this thing? Sure, it's just corn, but what corn! Big scrumptious kernels all bursting with corny goodness, and they serve it with a hunk of cheese for some reason, all for just two soles (that's like 65 cents)!

I think that's enough adventure sports for me this trip. My body, temple of health that it is, can't really take any more. My mind, on the other hand...

Bring on the ayahuasca!