The Lost City 2

I soon realised that turning back wasn't the best option and to just accept that jungle pong, mud, sore feet, mozzi bites and WET clothes were things I'd have to cherish over the next 5 days. So I searched deep inside my soul for my  positive attitude and prayed it would last for the days trek ahead of me...

We had woken up really early, not only because we had the worst night sleep imaginable, but because we were due to go on a tour of a cocaine factory, which most people do on the trek. (Mums and dads dont freak out... Read on). After discovering it was going to cost 30.000 pesos each and that we were clearly being ripped off (as those we'd met that had gone hadn't mentioned having to pay) our group made the decision to pass, and to start on our trekking. Since - I have seen pictures of the "factory" which is infact a little hut with some coca leaves in so im pleased we didn't waste the money.

                             

Anyway after a rank hot chocolate and some breaky, off we marched into the jungle...

Hills, hills and hills oooh a few more hills, big rocks, small rocks, slippy rocks, some the size of your head, red ground, white ground, brown ground, river, more mud, more rocks, red ground, white ground... you know the story. Occasionally I would look up and realise there is more to life than looking at rocks. Here I was in the middle of the jungle with the most amazing views... And then my leg would slip down the side of the track - my life would flash before me and all id see was mud and rocks.

             

After a couple of hours all was going well: Flo, Frank and I were pounding our way through the jungle singing "she'll be coming round the mountain" when I slipped and fell on my weak ankle (which I had twisted badly playing horses in primary school playground- gangster). Not great news: day 2 hurt ankle...

Eventually we came to a river where we had a pineapple break and Ian very kindly strapped my ankle for me (with blister tape!) which actually helped a bit. What seemed like days later but was actually lunch time, we arrived at camp - what a relief - wet and ready to eat. We had a lovely healthy soup for lunch and then I realised we actually had the rest of the day/night there. So in all the excitement, I suddenly felt tired and went for a lie down... In a... BED! Arguably a little smelly- but a smelly bed is better than a pongy hammock!

I forgot to mention how lucky we've been so far. It's rainy season and we were yet to be caught in the rain. As soon as we arrived at camp it would pour it down all the way into the night. I mean we were wet anyway with sweat and wading through the river, but it meant that our bags were kept dry, therefore our DRY clothes stayed DRY - the most important thing ever! Its funny how your perspective on things change, and the emphasis on DRY really couldnt be enough.

The reason I mention this is night 2: weak ankle needs the loo - surprise surprise (which is in a hut thing you had to walk into the rain in order to get to) and what happens... Oh she only goes and slips in the WET MUD. As i fall I think of that woman who made me pay £1 million for my gringo pants which has lasted me TWO days!! Bitch.

You know what this means... DRY clothes are now WET! I nearly cried, my heart tore in two and I wondered how I could fake an injury to get helicoptered home. That may sound dramatic but really it's not! Luckily I had a pair of DRY leggings - otherwise suicide would have been necessary.
After a few quite mins to myself I realised that worse things could happen and sucked it up begrudgingly.

Next morning, into wet clothes at 5am with about 3hrs sleep. Frank however decides to keep his dry clothes on for as long as possible and eats breaky in them. ERROR. First rule of Lost City Trek: dont, whatever you do, wear dry clothes in the early morning. He learnt that lesson. He stupidly went to wash his toothbrush in the shower (please note: on trek you loose all sense of logic and normality, especially when wearing  dry clothes) and for some reason the shower vomits water out it's head like it hadn't been turned on in 100 years. There was Frank. Soaked. DRY clothes NOW.
We had a mutual understanding of the situation and connected on a level the others couldn't. Poor me. Poor Frank. Boy did I laugh my ass off though - I was the only one who could...

To be continued...