so...we came to a point where we needed to cross a wide river. the only mechanism in sight was a small wooden seat looped between ropes that were strung across this river. the distance across was certainly over 500 feet, and we were freakishly high above the body of water. so, the guide summoned myself and the other two females who were in the group and told us to go first. we cramped into the seat and held onto each other tightly. the men pushed us off, and we rushed across the river. we laughed...at first. until the swing started going backwards. i thought we might fall to our death at this point. we giggled nervously as the man on the other side fussed with the ropes and tried to pull us over. within seconds, we were on solid ground and more than happy to be so.
the rope was then thrust back across, and the seat was occupied with our guide, my ex-boyfriend and a german. the group also experienced the backtracking of the swing. the were quickly over the lake and safely on the ground as well. the guide then prepared to help the operator send the seat back across the river for the next group. seconds later, we heard something drop through the brush. it sounded like a backpack or a water bottle. "what was that," someone asked. "omg, THE GUIDE FELL!"
there were thirty seconds of confusion and chaos. WHAT? HOW? the english girl said she saw that the rope had caught him around the belly and pulled him back over the cliff. he had tried to hold on, but he failed mortally. where do we go? what do we do? we have to go after him!, we all agreed. how to get down to the river was the next dilemma. we were high up, and there was no short or direct way down. we took off after the trail and zig-zagged our way down to the rocks on the shore. we dropped our bags--passports and all--and began running over the rocks in search of the man. amie and i saw blood splashed across some rocks. my stomach was in my mouth. i had no idea what to think. we knew not what we would find.
tom and lisa got there first. they pulled his stiff body from the water and coerced him to breathe. amie and i were only seconds behind. not long after, he exhaled and we exhaled with him. but he did not speak. his breathes were shallow and forced. his body was twisted and mangled. blood and brains oozed from his head. his spine was morphed. but he was breathing!
dozens of people soon came scurrying across the rocks to the scene. we had no idea where they came from. they told us it would take thirty to sixty minutes for a doctor to arrive. local began breaking tree branches in an effort to fabricate a stretcher to carry him from the rocks. this was inefficient and they gave up. a woman from another tour group, who claimed to be a doctor, soon came rushing over. she panicked as the man refused to respond to her shouts and pinches. this was serious.
the other members of our group soon appeared on the shore. how did they cross? a BRIDGE! why hadn't we taken the bridge in the first place! but there was no time to speculate: a man way dying here. several police officers were now making their way over. many of the spectators now began to stagger off. tom relinquished the man, who's head he had been holding out of the water, to the authorities and headed back. he yelled at me to do the same.
next, there was a search for a flashlight, so that they might shine it in his eyes. but no one had one. a group of men then hoisted the man up in a sheet and began carrying him towards the mountain. blood poured from his head and his body bopped along with no support. he was to be taken to cusco for brain surgery, the doctor woman told us. he had spinal injuries, internal bleeding, and his brain was hemorrhaging. cusco was six hours away.
within the next hour, our group was informed of the death of our guide. we thus became a mosaic of sadness, sorrow, exasperation, exhaustion and fear.
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