So for this update we’re going to have the feature of you, the reader, being able to pick your own story. You will be presented with a choice as to what we should have done. Your goal is keep us alive as long as possible. If you are very astute you might be able to pick what we actually did. Good luck!
We headed west out of Cuzco for the very small town of Cachora. From Cachora it is possible to hire a guide and a few mules for a trek to the Inca ruins of Choquequirao (Cho-ki-care-ow). Choquequirao is called the sister city to Machu Picchu because it served similar religious purposes. The only difference between the two is the Machu Picchu is about as crammed as a Led Zeppelin reunion show at Madison Square Garden, while Choquequirao has about as many people as a Led Zeppelin reunion show in the remote Andean mountains of Peru where the only access is two grueling days of hiking. That’s the only access to Choquequirao thus the reason Machu Picchu has up to 5,000 visitors and at Choquequirao around 12. On the way the guys drove up and down some large mountains. Should Hans drive off the cliff? If so continue to #1. Should Hans stay on the road? If so continue to #2.
#1, They all die in a fiery explosion. Really? How could you chose this one?
#2, Ok, that one was a little too easy. We continued up the mountains until the car started going whum, whum, whum and sputtered to death. Not a good feeling. After a few minutes of sitting the car decided to continue for a bit longer. About an hour or so of more driving the car decided give about as much effort up the hill as Carmelo Anthony on defense. For non-sports fans; the car gave as much effort up the hill as Kim Jong-Un’s barber. We thought it was most likely vapor lock that was causing the troubles for poor St. Phoenix (our car). Vapor lock happens when the gasoline evaporates before it gets to the engine. This is a problem in high altitude because the boiling point is lower. I’m not sure why this is but I’m guessing it has something to do with the relationship between centrifugal force and calorie intake. So, should the guys quit the trip entirely (#3) or continue after letting the car cool down (#4)?
#3, After returning to the states the guys are lynched by an angry mob for being total “tools for quitting the trip early”.
#4, We finally got to Cachora around 5 that afternoon (I believe it was April 12th). The final hour of the trip was spent discussing how glorious it would be to sell the car black market style to someone in Cachora so we wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. After a bit of searching we found an establishment that could get us mules for 3 different days, a “hotel” to stay in, and meals as well. We spent the night getting ready for our trek and marveling at how awesome some corn chips we bought for 20 cents were. Should I (Aaron) ask the mule/hotel owners if they would like to buy our car? No, go to #5. Yes, go to #6.
#5, Undercooked chicken brings an early termination to they guys’ life.
#6, The owners seemed very interested in the car. We were blown away that after just kind of hoping that someone would maybe want the car, the people we were staying with were in the market for a badly beat up car. Saturday we got up early and started our trek with two mules and an 18 year old mule driver. We met a couple from Germany on the way and had a grand time (German translation: grantzennburghtezeter timkenzzewanevwerterter) talking and getting to know them. The first 12 km of the trek was flat ground skirting along the edge of a deep valley. After that it was a steep descent down a canyon to our campsite by the river at the bottom. Should the guys forget to put on the bug spray (#7) or put it on (#8)?
#7 Little gnat-like bugs eat them to death. Literal death.
#8 Little gnat-like bugs eat them within an inch of their life. Not quite, but goodness it was pretty incredible how badly we got bit even with the bug spray. It did feel good, however, to be back on the trail and sleeping in a tent. For safety reasons we hadn’t been sleeping in our tents in Peru and Brazil. We were told that the next day a man would meet us on the other side of the river with two mules as we went up the incredibly steep ascent. So the next morning we got up and had to cross the river. Should we use a bridge (#9) or a basket and cable contraption (#10)?
#9, They all drown because the bridge washed away after only on year of use. No joke. They built a really nice bridge but they decided to build it only a few feet above the water line, not thinking about what might happen when a flood happened.
#10, We crossed in a two person metal basket with the help of men pulling on the other side. Then we had the privilege of waiting on our mule driver for over an hour. Here’s a tip about Peruvian culture; Peruvians are as concerned about timeliness as my dog Toby is concerned about his daily intake of Vitamin K. Relived that someone did eventually come we started the killer hike up the mountain. It was over 5,000 feet up to our campsite but we eventually got their exhausted. Our campsite was on a terrace overlooking a spectacular view of the canyon we had just ascended. The next day we visited Choquequirao. It was about a 2 hour hike to get there but thankfully it was as the locals described it “flat” (Spanish translation: flato). Unfortunately, by “flat” they meant “still really hilly but at least you’re not just walking straight up a hill all day”. Once we got to Choquequirao we had a great time scrabbling all over and exploring the ruins. We were literally alone at the beginning except for a few archeologists working on the ruins. Though not near as impressive as Machu Picchu it was just as amazing because we were able to explore it all to ourselves and it gave you more of a feeling of what it may have been like 700 years ago when it was built. Also, it had two buildings that were bigger than anything we saw at Machu Picchu. Scientists also think that only 40% of it is excavated, which makes me very curious as to how it will look in 20 years. We returned to our campsite for some awesome pasta we made and then hit the hay. In the morning should we have given our packs to donkeys (#11) or take them ourselves down the mountain (#12)?
#11, The mules have mad cow disease and in a combination of rage and misunderstanding kick all the guys off the cliff.
#12 We carried our packs down the mountain because we didn’t want to pay for a full day of mules when it was only a few hours of downhill. We made it down with relative ease and spent the afternoon chilling at the campsite by the river. We then saw the man from the hostel in Cachora, Celestino, and he had two mules and 3 horses. This confused us a bit until we realized he wanted us to ride the horses up to the next campsite an hour up the mountain. So we rose the poor tired beasts up to the campsite. We realized, after Celestino mentioned the car several times, that he was trying to butter us up to sell the car. In the morning he insisted that we ride the horses all the way up the mountain. It was, at times, a bit hair raising when the horses would skirt the edge of the path with a monumental drop off inches away. We made it to the top, however, with no incidents or deaths. After a 12km walk on the actual flat (flato) part of the hike we made it back to Cachora, though not as tired as we expected that we would be. Later I took Celestino and his wife out on a test drive. I was a little surprised that he wanted me to drive considering he was the one who wanted to buy it, but I obliged and drove them around the town and countryside. Celestino told me he was ready to drive so I, once again, obliged. It was after about 5 seconds of him behind the wheel that I realized this man had no less of idea of how to drive then Kim Jong-Un’s wardrobe consultant. It was hilarious seeing him trying to figure out how to steer and shift at the same time while his poor wife cried in horror from the back. Still, they agreed to buy the car for $1,000. When they asked about documents I explained to them that it was impossible for me to give them documents in Peru. I thought they knew this but they insisted on having documents and insisted that it wouldn’t be a problem to do it. Should I give up on selling the car (#13) or go into town the next day to see if it was possible (#14).
#13 The townspeople lynch the guys for being “tools who back out of everything”.
#14 The next day we went into a town about an hour away, with Celestino, to a notary office. We had no idea if we would own the car later that day or not. The notary informed us that if we were to sell the car we had to go to the customs office office in Cuzco to make the car a permanent automobile in Peru. So, once again, we spent another day not knowing if we would own the car much longer or not. We cruised back to Cuzco (very thankful that the car did not give out though she did start sputtering a bit at times) in the morning and checked back into the hostel we had been at a week earlier. Celestino planned on meeting us when the paperwork was done. To him it was not even a possibility that what we were attempting was not possible. We headed to the customs office office to see what could be done with the car. A few guys with shaky English tried to figure out what we were telling them. They didn’t quite figure it out for some time and they kept insisting that the car was legal for 90 days in Peru and that should be no problem for us. We knew that would be no problem for us but that wasn't really what we wanted to know about. Finally they found out what we were trying to do and informed us that only cars that were 5 years old or younger could be made permanent automobile. After some strenuous math calculations we concluded that a car made in 1992 most likely did not fit into that category. So we went back to the hostel, called Celestino‘s wife, and let her know that it was not possible. We spent the rest of the day relaxing at the hostel, finding blocks of wood to block up the hood of the car, and buying bungee straps to hold down the hood of the car. The theory behind this was to get direct air running onto the engine to prevent anymore vapor lock. I can’t take credit for this idea; my Uncle Gary came up with the idea. The car was really getting some character. Between the bumper tied with string to keep it on, the 9 cracks in the windshield, two busted turn signals, and a propped up hood, she wasn’t looking like the type of car that would get invited to prom at Car High School. We were heading off for Colca Canyon the next morning, hoping, praying, and even sacrificing a bull to show our sincerity of pleading that the car would make it there.
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