the jump, the trek, the ruins... brilliant

whilst waiting to find our bedding fate, we decided to pass the time by jumping off a one hundred and twenty metre suspended platform - as one does. booking through the hostel, we arrived at the extreme sports venue only to find a massive group of Israelis waiting ahead of us, so three hours later, we jumped. i was first up and so climbed onto the scales to be weighed before being strapped in. although glad the leg straps were tight, the loss of circulation to my feet seemed a bit much. the slow climb in the vertical cable car, accompanied only by a non English speaking worker, did its job in building the suspense and nerves. as we neared the top and the lift began to slow my legs felt like jelly and i knew that any hesitation would result in me bottling it, so as soon as the gates were opened, i leapt. the feeling was incredible and all i remember from the fall is having the thought "what the fuck am i doing?!" going through my head. after a few rebounds the man on the machine lowered me to the ground and that was that. Clark was up next, and rather amusingly after his weigh in the workers decided to change the bungee chord - its funny cause he´s fat! similar experiences were had by all, although Mark even managed to throw in some very visible Brent dance arm movements on his first rebound. after our heart testing exertion we thought it would be a good idea to pass the cab waiting time by challenging some of the Israelis to a game of four on four. the cab came at the perfect time, as we had just clenched the victory and were on the verge of collapsing. the cab home was filled with some very audible wheezing from the victorious England team.

arriving back at the hostel we were relieved to have got beds and settled in for a relaxing couple of drinks at the bar before a night in - for Ryan, Ste and myself that is. Mark and Clam opted for the going out option, with Clam also opting for the return home blind drunk and wake up the whole dorm option. the highlight of this escapade for me was hearing a thud come from the bathroom, to then look over and see Clam´s two feet just sticking out of the doorway. after some amusing attempts by Mark and Mel to get the intoxicated Scot into bed he gave in, and within minutes was snoring peacefully, leaving the rest of us in the dorm to try and return to sleep despite the sinful din.

the sheer excitement and anticipation for the FA Cup semi had us up bright and early the next day. well Ste and myself that is, Clam took a touch more persuasion. once in the hostel bar wearing our Peruvian wool adaptions of Villa colours, Clark perked up, and after talking the hostel manager into letting us have some early beers with the game, we were ready for ball. moving on quickly from the extremely Chelsea-flattering result, that evening was set to be our first big night in Peru. it did not dissappoint, with happy hour in the hostel bar, followed by Mama Africas, and then back to Lokis tv room for a wind down. after joining the early risers at the breakfast buffet, the last of us standing (being Sam Gra and myself) decided to call it a night. actually Sam decided to have a wonder round town, then call it a night.

with two days recovery out of the way and fitness levels at an all time high, we were ready for our Inka trek. our tour guide, Lois, picked us up bright and early and we headed up high into the mountains where we were to begin our 65km mountain bike descent. deep in freezing cloud at a summit we kitted up and began proceedings with an ancient Inka tradition of blowing ad burying some coca leaves as a way of asking the Pacha Mama (Mother Earth) for a safe trip - my request wasn't to be answered.

the descent started on very fast winding tarmac roads, and having just taken up the lead flying down a straight, i turned my head to check the traffic situation behind. the momentary lapse of concentration lead to my front wheel veering into the two foot deep concrete ditch at the side of the road, sending me over the handle bars into it. a sommersault and a couple of yards skid later, i came to a stop with the use of my head. anyway having dusted myself off, the team took back to the road and continued with the trail. no further complications meant a very enjoyable and again adreneline fueled day of biking. day two of our alternative Inka trek was to be the first of our actual trekking days, and it proved to be very hard and sweaty work. after six hours of both flat and uphill jungle trekking we arrived in the small mountain town of Santa Teresa early evening, and the sight of a small concrete football pitch equipped with nets and a grand stand proved very exciting. so much so that before showering and dinner we made the decision to take on some locals. we rolleed into the stadium just as another game was in full swing, with us lined up to take on the winners. being properly English we sat and watched, talking a very good game and picking apart the weaknesses of each player. the game we talked was mind blowing, the game we played wasn´t so much. 5-0 later we, again wheezing, walked back to the hostel with heads hung (just to reiterate, we had trekked on some pretty challenging terrain for six hours that day - a reason/excuse that we repeated throughout the evening). after a much needed shower and change the gang settled down for dinner, only to be greeted by a whole cooked guinea pig. why this is the national dish i dont know.

day three was even harder, and even sweatier. again not too much can be said about the trekking other than this, but views were often breathtaking and good times were had by all. the two hour slippery downhill section brought with it some amusement as the ever prepared Mark had opted for the lesser known plimpsole hiking shoe. that evening we stayed in the very touristy town of Agua Calientes, which is basically the main town near to Machu Picchu. again the hostel was good despite the fact that it was noisily located, between the railway track and a rather raucous river. a relaxing spliff after dinner was just what the doctor ordered, putting us to sleep ready for the obscenely early start the next day. so day four, Machu Picchu, we had made it. as a stroke of bad luck it was very cloudy and rain had settled in. that being said, the bad weather did not take away from the place - it was incredible, and walking around the place with our knowledgable tour guide was an amazing experience.

our Inka trek had come to an end and it was a long way back to Cusco, ten hours in fact, with the majority being along some bone-shattering cliff edge roads. so here i am penning this on my iPod whilst bouncing along in the back of the van, and what's this?? the car with some annoying Yanks in is broken down ahead? what, it's the cam belt? unlucky Yanks.

oh what, we are stopping?! are you fucking serious?? tow rope????!!!

the nicknames:
Gra - Gray Boy
Mark - Count Fuckula, he never stops

10.04.10