Cusco - Whitewater Rafting

Cusco Travel Blog

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We turned up for the minibus at 8 a.m. I’d had about three hours sleep, Ivo none and we were both still smashed.

After a two hour minibus journey, filled mainly by drinking water, trying to get comfy in the tiny seats and the odd groan we ended up at our destination, the river.

The day out cost 70 soles so we weren’t sure what to expect, but it was surprisingly well organized.

Wet-suits, helmets and life-jackets were provided - which was a good start. It was the first time I’d squeezed into a wetsuit and they are surprisingly constrictive (‘I’m sure I had a penis before I put this on‘), but keep you warm.

It was then into the boats. By an odd twist of fate I was in a dinghy with five Dutchmen. So we just ended up getting stoned, shagging prostitutes then going to sleep in a windmill - fuck rafting.

I jest. After a bit of basic training (the key part being when he shouts ‘inside’ then duck into the raft ASAP) we set off down the river.

Big splashes, a few hairy moments, sore arms and about three hours later we finished up and had food before heading back. It was surprisingly fun, and something I would definitely do again.

That night ended up with more drinking with Ivo and the Polish girls, and a club, but at least it wasn’t MA this time…

I took the next day as a recovery day, watching Inbetweeners episodes on line and eating burgers. The not so cultural side of Peru. To remedy this I made plans to go on a trip to the local Inca ruins with one of the Polish girls the next day, meeting at 8 a.m. I ended up having a few beers and getting into a poker game at the Point…

…so I woke up at about 1 p.m. Oops. I managed to book a tour for 3 p.m and figured I would probably bump into the Polish girl along the way - after all how many tours could there be?

Lots. And lots.

The highlight of the tour was Sacsayhuaman (‘sexy woman’ - tee-hee), which I’d seen pictures of, but without people in, so had no idea of the true scale. It is hwaj. I didn’t manage to find Polski-beat amongst the few thousand tourists there, but I did bump into a sixty year old stoned dutch woman who’d I’d met in Iquitos. Small world.

When I got back to my room there was a Norwegian girl vomiting in the bin, which was nice. Altitude sickness apparently. She and her friend seemed nice enough, despite the vomit, and I decided to go horse-riding with them the next day - not the cleverest idea given that my three previous attempts at horse-related fun have ended with being bitten once and thrown off twice. Fourth time’s a charm.

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We turned up for the minibus at 8 a.m. I’d had about three hours sleep, Ivo none and we were both still smashed.

After a two hour minibus journey, filled mainly by drinking water, trying to get comfy in the tiny seats and the odd groan we ended up at our destination, the river.

The day out cost 70 soles so we weren’t sure what to expect, but it was surprisingly well organized.

Wet-suits, helmets and life-jackets were provided - which was a good start. It was the first time I’d squeezed into a wetsuit and they are surprisingly constrictive (‘I’m sure I had a penis before I put this on‘), but keep you warm.

It was then into the boats. By an odd twist of fate I was in a dinghy with five Dutchmen. So we just ended up getting stoned, shagging prostitutes then going to sleep in a windmill - fuck rafting.

I jest. After a bit of basic training (the key part being when he shouts ‘inside’ then duck into the raft ASAP) we set off down the river.

Big splashes, a few hairy moments, sore arms and about three hours later we finished up and had food before heading back. It was surprisingly fun, and something I would definitely do again.

That night ended up with more drinking with Ivo and the Polish girls, and a club, but at least it wasn’t MA this time…

I took the next day as a recovery day, watching Inbetweeners episodes on line and eating burgers. The not so cultural side of Peru. To remedy this I made plans to go on a trip to the local Inca ruins with one of the Polish girls the next day, meeting at 8 a.m. I ended up having a few beers and getting into a poker game at the Point…

…so I woke up at about 1 p.m. Oops. I managed to book a tour for 3 p.m and figured I would probably bump into the Polish girl along the way - after all how many tours could there be?

Lots. And lots.

The highlight of the tour was Sacsayhuaman (‘sexy woman’ - tee-hee), which I’d seen pictures of, but without people in, so had no idea of the true scale. It is hwaj. I didn’t manage to find Polski-beat amongst the few thousand tourists there, but I did bump into a sixty year old stoned dutch woman who’d I’d met in Iquitos. Small world.

When I got back to my room there was a Norwegian girl vomiting in the bin, which was nice. Altitude sickness apparently. She and her friend seemed nice enough, despite the vomit, and I decided to go horse-riding with them the next day - not the cleverest idea given that my three previous attempts at horse-related fun have ended with being bitten once and thrown off twice. Fourth time’s a charm.

Cusco
photo by: Vlindeke