When we decided to come to Cusco, it was to climb Matchu Pitchu, after arriving here in this beautiful high mountain city and talking to the people who actually live here, we've been swayed away from the "old mountain" and directed towards a different climb, one only recently discovered, known as Choquequirao, one of the last hold outs against the spanish colonization.So we headed out early from Ninoskas to catch the transport out of cusco, but that turned out to be completely unnecessary because there wasnt enough people to fill the van until almost 12 noon. There was a little hole in the wall toilet that a burly old Peruvian woman stood guard at next to us, I asked our drive how much it cost to use the toilet, he told me but i didn't understand, so he reached into his pocket shuffled through the coins he pulled out and poured the exact change into my hand. I protested but he just smiled and walked away.I would have been more grateful in the long run had we not discovered he was charging us both 10 soles ($3) more than everyone else for the ride. Or at least that's how I see it now, since the same ride back was 10 soles less... who knows.So after an hour and a half we reached the valley where a large road reconstruction project was underway. We had to wait an hour to pass but during that time we got out and followed our drivers example by partaking in the locally produced ice cream, which was essentially sugar-water frozen in thin plastic tubes that you can bite or squeeze to extract the precious chilled substance, precious only due to the heat I should add.

Hours later we made it to Curawasi where we bought mangos and baby peaches for our trek, a sad cargo list to be sure, but head strong young men we are yet, so on we went from there in a taxi to Raymon, a small little side street village where we were to get our next taxi to Cachora.

Our driver quickly shuffled us into his relic Toyota wagon and drove towards Cachora without a word of price uttered. When I asked him the price he told us 30 soles, which I immediately refuted and told him 10 each, he didn't like this at all, so I told him to turn around, which he liked even less... after a somewhat intense exchange of misunderstood or not understood at all remarks we turned back to Raymond.

We picked up two more locals and were on our way yet again. We coasted down the mountain, almost all the way with the engine cut off, finally making it to Cachora. When we did we saw the locals give the driver 5 soles and when we gave him 10 each he asked for 20 more! we just shook our heads and walked towards the small shop closest to us. He followed of course, every odd minute repeating his mantra, "20 more.." I gave him a baby peach and made clear nothing more would be forthcoming from us with a slightly cocked head and a tired looking 1000 yard stare. He made his way back to the relic and drove away back to the beginning of town.

We got a sack of uncooked potatoes at the small shop, along with some more water, we also inquired about the mule to carry our bags but in the end decided that we would do fine without it, a mistake we would almost immediately come to understand as near tragedy.

We took off down the hill and made our way on to the trail. After a few confusing forks in the road we made it to the main trail. Passing a few steers on the way, one of which lowered its head at Blake and had us both looking for the nearest tree to climb, or rock to bash its head in with, (ridiculous of course, but that's how we think)

We made it to the edge of a mountain side, where the last house for miles could be seen, the sky was darkening and rain was on our mind, we asked the old couple that manned the house where we could camp, the staunch, storm weathered faces of the old couple squinted in the direction of where we were to camp, a small outcropping cleared for the cows to rest, protected by the hillside from the wind it seemed the perfect place.

We camped out and laid ourselves down, as soon as we did it began to rain, the streaks of lightning across the sky were astonishing and the thunder that followed no less spectacular. We counted the intervals to determine their distances, and quickly discovered that they were happening all around us at many different distances.

Trying to sleep, we quickly discovered that we were not truly sheltered from the elements, leaks sprang from every corner of our tent, one of which came right beneath my head, a small hole allowed a constant stream of water to soak my down sleeping bag. We quickly got up and tried to remedy the matter, but we had nothing to stop the leak, until I remembered my tendency to put band aids from the Seven Gables Inn in my wallet for the numerous cuts and scratches I acquired their, luckily I had one left, not to be screwed again later I tore it in half and used it to stem the icy tide of water flowing into my sleeping bag.

Several other things kept us up in the night, a car stopping directly above us and staying there, lights shining into out tent, more water finding its way in, not to mention the 7 continuous hours of rain that fell on our tent and the intermittent roar of thunder piercing our ears. All in all though, we were happy to be away from the pollution and bustle of Cusco...