The next morning was painful. I don’t know why it was so bad because I don’t think I drank an unreasonable amount and I remembered to have plenty of water when I got in. At any rate, when Amoroso woke us up at the obscene hour of 9 o’clock, I was not happy. It was hot outside, too; the sun came blazing through the open door. To make matters worse, it was one of those really queasy hangovers and before I knew it, I was vomiting, very ungracefully, into the cardboard box I found behind the door.
Now, as anyone who has ever had a hangover will know, doing strenuous physical activity with said hangover is the worst feeling in the world. So, as you can imagine, that morning’s zip wire adventure was not ideal. I ate what I could of the chocolate and banana pancake at breakfast before dragging myself to the zip wire briefing and making myself feel even more sick by watching videos of what I was about to do.
A short minibus ride into the mountains took us to the highest zip wires in South America, where we all lined up in the searing heat to wait for our turn. There were five in total, and as word had got round by now about my cardboard box incident, everyone cheered every time I made it to the other side without throwing up. Kurt, one of the Australians, unfortunately didn’t fare so well and ended up vomiting in the bushes while waiting to go on.
I somehow managed to have fun doing it, even though it was touch and go at times. Since we’d got there late, the wind was already strong, meaning we all kept stopping before the end and had to hoist ourselves to the other side or be rescued by an impatient member of staff. The final wire was the biggest challenge - there was little chance of stopping, but we were allowed to freestyle on our position. Not wanting to miss out, I wanted to have a go at zip-wiring upside down like most of the others (quite a challenge when you feel as sick as I did). I’m pleased to say I managed it and was glad I tried it.
Just when I thought I’d got over the final obstacle, I was presented with a massive, wooden, rickety rope bridge, which we were expected to cross. Too dazed to protest, I was clipped haplessly to the bridge and told to go on my way; it was terrifying. Kurt and I were the last two to go, and were encouraging each other through it. The worst part was that, not only did you have to look down into the abyss below to watch your feet, but you had to unclip your safety harness from the bridge every time you came across one of the intervening metal frames, and all the while the bridge was shaking so much I felt like I could fall off at any time.
Finally we all made it across the bridge alive, and the last group of us had to jump in the van to join the others at Hidroelectrica for lunch. During the short bus ride, Kurt was sick several times, both out the window and all over his T-shirt, and Alex had a massive vomit scare that made us officially the Chunder Bus. Somehow I got the impression this was not the way one was meant to see the Sacred Valley.
After lunch we had a three-hour walk to Aguas Calientes along the train tracks of the famous Hiram Bingham train. Thankfully, by this stage I was feeling a bit more human, but even so, the long walk in the heat of the afternoon with all our bags was a challenge. It was lucky we had the Australians to keep us amused.
When we finally arrived at the town of Aguas Calientes, anyone would have thought we were a group of Muslim pilgrims arriving at Mecca, such was our elation. We were just sitting on the wall getting our next briefing when who should run up and hug me but Olga, the Dutch lady from the jungle! I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Arriving at the hostel was even better; we had private rooms and hot showers! In a state of bliss, we unpacked our things and made straight for the hot springs, which were just ten minute’s walk (up a steep hill) up the road. No one could believe their luck; the hot springs cost only S/.10 per person and they were amazing. Apparently the best way to get the most of the medicinal properties of the water is to switch between the warm springs and the freezing cold showers - which I bravely did twice.
After an amazingly hot shower back at the hostel, we were escorted to dinner where we were given an actual menu to choose from. It was then that we found out that, on most nights, the Australian lads went out for a second dinner - not surprising, really, when you think how much weed they smoke; they must have the munchies all the time. Bizarrely, we were waiting for our dinners to arrive when one of the guys caught a moth and ate it whole, just like that. I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing.
After dinner, we all bought supplies for the next day, and when we got back to the hostel, a couple of the Australian guys were eating pizza and doing the worst job of packing I think I’ve ever seen. We were all sharing bags in twos, and considering these two were planning on running to the top of Machu Picchu to be the first ones there, they’d packed an obscene amount of food, as well as six litres of water. The backpack weighed nearly as much as I did.
Eventually, they managed to cut the weight down to a reasonable amount and we sat and chatted for a while before deciding we should probably get some sleep. I was just getting into bed when I realised I needed to hang up my bra, which I’d washed since it had inexplicably turned a bizarre greeny-red colour, so Alex and I called them in to take advantage of their tallness and get them to hang it up on the curtain rail. The weird thing was, it wasn’t weird at all.
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