Oky doky. It´s time. I am only going to do this once so I will try to get this right. If you´re Mike´s parents you might want to look away. If you´re Mike´s grandparents you absolutely want to look away. If you´re a girl who has a crush on Mike I am about to change that.Just kidding Mike. This is all about me, otherwise I wouldn´t be doing this.
MP was amazing. 5 day trek, waterfalls, mountains, ancient ruins, who the hell cares. The pictures show it all. For those of you who have done it, kudos, you probably didn´t do the 75km trek we did at 15000 ft so I deem you to be a complete pussy. For those who have not done it, make it happen in this lifetime, truly special. Below is a brief recap of the 5 day trek through my eyes, I will allow Sack to interject for ¨fact checking¨purposes.
Day 1
We arrive in some town after waking up at 4am and driving via Bus three hours to some town (Mike will know the name). I will call it ¨shithole.¨ There we meet Christina and Swede who were dumb enough to join us on this adventure.
-Nobody does this hike at this time of year, due to the frigid temp in the mountains and the fact that it is rainy season when you are out of the mountains. We neglected this fact, deciding that the cost was a steal at $200 less than we budgeted (hmmm, maybe because this trek fucking sucks was why it was so cheap).
I pick up a walking stick, nobody else does. This is an ominous sign.
Mike: The name of the town is Mollepata and even with the aide of his brand new, woven mitten hand gripped, four peso walking stick, Mark is out of breath after 20 paces (before we have officially started the hike). I am already thinking of the least awkward moment to ask for his cigarettes. Be patient.
The temperature is perfect and we depart, I am sweating my ass off within 15 minutes. Our trusty tour guide Enrique starts to suggest short cuts, everybody else in our group thinks these are a good idea, I vehemently disagree. The shortcuts consist of going straight up the sides of mountains (within 2 hours I am through all three clean shirts, can´t breathe and have sworn off cigs for good). Mike, Swede and Christina are stopping ¨to take pictures,¨ five days later I will figure out they were just waiting for me to catch up.
Seven hours later we arrive at camp for the night. It´s 13000 ft and freezing, my sweaty clothes now smell like garbage and are frozen to me. I was the only one unable to make it over the ravine without my shoes getting soaked. I am asking peasant farmers for socks, $100 a sock. Enrique sets up our tent, Mike informs me that it smells like dog shit, I am miserable.
Mike: Mark decided it necessary to bring along a bottle of Hugo Boss cologne. His contribution to the supplies for the hike. Marvelous. Of course, this will disperse the smell of fish guts and dog shit in our tent, we think. Our tent now smells like an orange rind, a young male model, fish guts and dog shit.
Day 2
We were suppossed to get up at 4am to climb to 15000 ft, straight up. Enrique had informed us the night before that there were 7 ¨zig zags¨ up the mountain, completely vertical, that they break a lot of men (group consensus over dinner the night before is that I am already fucked). What Enrique didn´t inform us was that he planned on getting completely tanked that night and that his severe hangover would require a spliff at 7am and us not leaving until 730. I wish we had left in the cover of night, at least Mike would not have been able to see me completely broken at 5am in the morning.
Mike: This was not laughable. I almost wanted to cry. Seeing the inner ends of Mark´s eyebrows rise to meet each other, wrinkling his forehead, to match a frown engulfing his chin, I can only give pats on the back. We can do it man. Maybe...
We meet up with a local named Juan. He decides to accompany us up the mountain due to boredom. Juan was bored before we left? Well him and I were about to become best friends, and Juan was about to become bored out of his god damn mind.
An hour into the hike I am dying, easily 300 paces behind the group. Juan suggests that he take my pack, hoodie and jacket. I tell him ït´s cold up here, i think i should keep the layers on.¨ Juan looks at me for a second and informs me that if I keep the coat on any longer he is going to have to squeeze the sweat out of it. I tell him ït´s cool Juan, we are already passed the zig zags, good times are ahead.¨Juan informs me that the zig zags are still 30 minutes out. I lean over my walking stick and try to scream, I can´t due to lack of oxegen, promptly hand coat and pack over to Juan.
Mike: Juan is wearing a full body wind breaker suit a la Florida grandma retirees. Fancy. He does not break sweat once.
Zig Zag 1-Enrique is already at the top of zig zag 7 and getting high. Swede is on zig zag 5 and trying to get his camera to capture the mountains, Christina is on 4 and just put another coat on, Mike is on 3 smoking a cig. Our cook and the donkeys are on zig zag 2 (yeah the donkeys with 400lbs of shit on their backs)
-The cook leaves at least 90 minutes after us, he cleans up the mess after breakfast, folds the tents up, talks to friends in the village, goes to a pay phone to call his family, plans the lunch menu, rolls his own cig, then leaves. He and the donkeys are already ahead of me, we only left 90 minutes ago. I am depressed.
Zig zag 4-I am broken and tell Juan to carry me. He tells me to think of ¨happy thoughts.¨ I tell him i have ¨none left.¨He tells me to think of a woman I love, perhaps a wife or a gf? I tell him that every woman I have ever loved now hates me, I am alone in this dark scary world and does he have any better suggestions? Juan leaves me (I think I depressed him) and teleportes to the top.
Mike: If Mark and I drink the water here, we are cramped over at the waist for the next month with disentary and Typhoid. Juan drinks the water here and is infused with powers akin to Superman. Mother fucker. I love him.
Zig zag 7-I finally make it, Mike is chain smoking and asks if he can have my pack ¨since clearly I am not having any of them.¨ I am too tired to tell him to go to to hell, since Juan had carried my pack to the top, Mike was already smoking my cigs so the question was more of a courtesy. I take comfort in the fact that we are at the top, Enrique informs me that´s not the case. The ¨passage¨ looms 60 minutes out, higher elevation.
Mike: Cigarettes. Check.
60 minutes later the group has made it through the passage. Cameras are out, pictures are taken, Enrique slaps everybody on the back! It´s absolutely amazing to be that high! ...
I can vaquely see this all happening from my vantage point, it looks fun and gratifying, I am still 30 minutes out.
I finally make it, Enrique is taking a nap, Juan has taught Mike about 450 years of Inca history. The group takes out their cameras again in pity, pretend to be excited, we snap photos. I can barely stand and it´s noon and we have another 4.5 hours to hike. Juan says goodbye to us, pretty sure he mutters to enrique that ¨i am an embarrassment.¨
Mike: General Pizarro walked these very same mountains in the 16th century en route to slaying the entire Inca civilization. Bastard. I build my own rock monument paying homage to the mountain, as many an Inca has done over the centuries. The dot that is Mark is slowly approaching...
Mike: The name of the town is Mollepata and even with the aide of his brand new, woven mitten hand gripped, four peso walking stick, Mark is out of breath after 20 paces (before we have officially started the hike). I am already thinking of the least awkward moment to ask for his cigarettes. Be patient.
The temperature is perfect and we depart, I am sweating my ass off within 15 minutes. Our trusty tour guide Enrique starts to suggest short cuts, everybody else in our group thinks these are a good idea, I vehemently disagree. The shortcuts consist of going straight up the sides of mountains (within 2 hours I am through all three clean shirts, can´t breathe and have sworn off cigs for good). Mike, Swede and Christina are stopping ¨to take pictures,¨ five days later I will figure out they were just waiting for me to catch up.
Seven hours later we arrive at camp for the night. It´s 13000 ft and freezing, my sweaty clothes now smell like garbage and are frozen to me. I was the only one unable to make it over the ravine without my shoes getting soaked. I am asking peasant farmers for socks, $100 a sock. Enrique sets up our tent, Mike informs me that it smells like dog shit, I am miserable.
Mike: Mark decided it necessary to bring along a bottle of Hugo Boss cologne. His contribution to the supplies for the hike. Marvelous. Of course, this will disperse the smell of fish guts and dog shit in our tent, we think. Our tent now smells like an orange rind, a young male model, fish guts and dog shit.
Day 2
We were suppossed to get up at 4am to climb to 15000 ft, straight up. Enrique had informed us the night before that there were 7 ¨zig zags¨ up the mountain, completely vertical, that they break a lot of men (group consensus over dinner the night before is that I am already fucked). What Enrique didn´t inform us was that he planned on getting completely tanked that night and that his severe hangover would require a spliff at 7am and us not leaving until 730. I wish we had left in the cover of night, at least Mike would not have been able to see me completely broken at 5am in the morning.
Mike: This was not laughable. I almost wanted to cry. Seeing the inner ends of Mark´s eyebrows rise to meet each other, wrinkling his forehead, to match a frown engulfing his chin, I can only give pats on the back. We can do it man. Maybe...
We meet up with a local named Juan. He decides to accompany us up the mountain due to boredom. Juan was bored before we left? Well him and I were about to become best friends, and Juan was about to become bored out of his god damn mind.
An hour into the hike I am dying, easily 300 paces behind the group. Juan suggests that he take my pack, hoodie and jacket. I tell him ït´s cold up here, i think i should keep the layers on.¨ Juan looks at me for a second and informs me that if I keep the coat on any longer he is going to have to squeeze the sweat out of it. I tell him ït´s cool Juan, we are already passed the zig zags, good times are ahead.¨Juan informs me that the zig zags are still 30 minutes out. I lean over my walking stick and try to scream, I can´t due to lack of oxegen, promptly hand coat and pack over to Juan.
Mike: Juan is wearing a full body wind breaker suit a la Florida grandma retirees. Fancy. He does not break sweat once.
Zig Zag 1-Enrique is already at the top of zig zag 7 and getting high. Swede is on zig zag 5 and trying to get his camera to capture the mountains, Christina is on 4 and just put another coat on, Mike is on 3 smoking a cig. Our cook and the donkeys are on zig zag 2 (yeah the donkeys with 400lbs of shit on their backs)
-The cook leaves at least 90 minutes after us, he cleans up the mess after breakfast, folds the tents up, talks to friends in the village, goes to a pay phone to call his family, plans the lunch menu, rolls his own cig, then leaves. He and the donkeys are already ahead of me, we only left 90 minutes ago. I am depressed.
Zig zag 4-I am broken and tell Juan to carry me. He tells me to think of ¨happy thoughts.¨ I tell him i have ¨none left.¨He tells me to think of a woman I love, perhaps a wife or a gf? I tell him that every woman I have ever loved now hates me, I am alone in this dark scary world and does he have any better suggestions? Juan leaves me (I think I depressed him) and teleportes to the top.
Mike: If Mark and I drink the water here, we are cramped over at the waist for the next month with disentary and Typhoid. Juan drinks the water here and is infused with powers akin to Superman. Mother fucker. I love him.
Zig zag 7-I finally make it, Mike is chain smoking and asks if he can have my pack ¨since clearly I am not having any of them.¨ I am too tired to tell him to go to to hell, since Juan had carried my pack to the top, Mike was already smoking my cigs so the question was more of a courtesy. I take comfort in the fact that we are at the top, Enrique informs me that´s not the case. The ¨passage¨ looms 60 minutes out, higher elevation.
Mike: Cigarettes. Check.
60 minutes later the group has made it through the passage. Cameras are out, pictures are taken, Enrique slaps everybody on the back! It´s absolutely amazing to be that high! ...
I can vaquely see this all happening from my vantage point, it looks fun and gratifying, I am still 30 minutes out.
I finally make it, Enrique is taking a nap, Juan has taught Mike about 450 years of Inca history. The group takes out their cameras again in pity, pretend to be excited, we snap photos. I can barely stand and it´s noon and we have another 4.5 hours to hike. Juan says goodbye to us, pretty sure he mutters to enrique that ¨i am an embarrassment.¨
Mike: General Pizarro walked these very same mountains in the 16th century en route to slaying the entire Inca civilization. Bastard. I build my own rock monument paying homage to the mountain, as many an Inca has done over the centuries. The dot that is Mark is slowly approaching...
Day 3
I soaked my shoes again the night before, but the good news is we are going downhill! The bad news is that going down hill sucks as much as going up! It´s rainy, i take every slope as if it´s going to mangle my body and quickly fall behind. Mike has proceeded to take at least three shits on the path and still is probably .5 miles ahead of me.
Mike: Before this trip I had not pooped in 10 days. The 180 has taken its course. There is no stopping my bowels. By Day 2, I have deemed it inevitable that I will shit myself several times over. In the civilized world this would be humiliating enough to send me into hiding for days. Here, I am happy for the added warmth and Mark´s uncanty ability to take poo pictures. It is much appreciated. Lucky for you, we spare you the photographs. They are traumatizing.
Travel agent, cab drivers, tour operator, Enrique...you would think one of them would tell you that ¨death¨ is a possiblity on this hike right? NOPE. About four hours into day three we start going over ¨bridges¨ that take you across VERY SCARY WATERFALLS.
-A bridge usually consists of a couple tree trunks tied together, with the occasional wooden plank.
Well, the bridges increase in difficulty and with it my anxiety. By about 4pm I am screaming at Enrique ¨you motherfucker, if there is another bridge I am going to kill you.¨ Enrique would respond with ¨Amigo! No mas bridges!¨And then there would be another damn bridge of increasing difficulty. We finally reach the final bridge and it´s ridiculously terryfying. I mean, if you get this one wrong you´re going to die. Not die like ¨ouch i sprained my ankle¨ like fall into a ravaging river and smash your head into some rocks.
-Swede goes first, slips and then crawls over the bridge. He finally gets there, looks back at me and legitimately looks like he just shit his pants. (Swede just finished up a year of military service, has been kicking the shit out of this hike, does chin ups on loose branches, etc...not looking good for MUA)
-Christana goes across with Enrique, Mike is next. Mike looks legititmately scared. Mike finally gets over after about ten minutes of holding Enrique´s hand and telling him that ¨if this is it, find my cheap nicotine infested cigs, and if they are not too wet, smoke one for me and then bury it with my body¨
Mike: Yep
-YAY MY TURN!!!! Enrique looks scared. I explain to him that I am a Bear: I am good for lifting heavy things, snuggling girls to the point of death, and wearing sweat pants because those 34´s are just a ¨little too snug.¨ Enrique takes my pack, and insists that I watch him do it once. All I can think of is that Enrique has lost his fucking tip. 15 minutes later, I am on the other side, ALIVE. But jesus it was close folks. I mean I almost died, almost took Enrique with me. On day 5 Enrique would inform me that was the closest near death experience of his life, nobody in 5 years of doing this hike had come that close to death.
I made it across, in the process slipping on a rock and soaking my shoes for the third straight day, but I lived and made it into camp that night ECSTATIC to still be with you all.
Day 4
It rains for the fourth straight day, every bone in my body aches. Mike falls way behind with me as we stop about every 15 minutes for artistic photos, cigs, stretching and basically no reason at all. Blisters have set in, I smell like five straight nights in a Tijuana brothel. This is when I play my ipod for 4 straight hours desperately searching for motivational tools.
Mike: The power of music is incredible. Somehow, Mark´s manhood had made its way into his ipod and he has found it! I am assuming he is listening to ¨Amazing¨performed by Seal at the Victoria Secret runway show. He is kicking my ass all over this trail. Salud, mate.
Day 5-Machu Picchu
We wake at 4am to walk to the base of MP, it´s dark out and amazing, nobody else is walking up the ancient steps but us!(I tried to take the bus with everybody else, Mike declared that was unacceptable, I still tried to buy a bus ticket to no avail). It´s raining again, we are about to pass the bridge and start the climb.
Swede-GO!
Christina-GO!
Mike-GO!
Mark-NO GO!
...somehow Enrique has everybody´s ¨entrance ticket¨ but mine. Swede and Christina go, Mike insists on staying with me, finally we get the clearance to cross the bridge, it´s still pitch dark.
Mike: For the umpteenth time on this hike, Mark is telling me to, ¨Go. Just FUCKING GO, dude!¨ I am not sure whether this is out of frustration with himself or because I took his cigarettes. I decide to stick out his verbal lacerations (Phil, you know what I´m talking about) and stay with him. Smoking his cigarettes.
Mike and I bought a shity flashlight on my insistance that ¨dude we will never need it.¨ WRONG. Shitty flashlight really fucking sucks, I can´t see a thing. Trust Mike right? Well Mike somehow gets us lost, and we do a nice loop de loop, taking us back to where we begin. Dawn is upon us, MUST GET TO THE TOP BEFORE SUNRISE. Mike agrees, finds a hot blonde and basically leaves me behind.
Hot blonde: Mark, we will wait for you.
Mike: Leave him.
Great friend for 4 days, really let me down on day five fella.
Mike: This is bullshit. Kind of.
I arrive at the top, 10,000 steps later. SURREAL. The horror of the 5 days was worth it. My agony and suffering are over (bus ride down bitches).
Now we are at the vineyard.
Mike: Paradise.
-MRS
4 comments:
Hil-fucking-larious. Pregunta: did Mark really stop smoking?
Better question: did Mark REALLY make it over that last bridge, or would the story have been too depressing if he plunged into the rocks? Either way, his shoes are wet again.
TO MIKE AND MARK-
OY-VAY(NOT SPANISH)
WRITE WHEN YOU DO SOMETHING EXCITING!
LOVE YOU, DAD
I'm not going to lie, I almost peed myself laughing when I read this.
MORE PICTURES!
love you - lauren :)
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