Last day in Santiago

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This morning we woke up and had breakfast on the terrace, after which we piled into a van for the drive to the 27 Charcos. It would appear that there is a mutual agreement here between drivers and pedestrian. The pedestrians (like us) know that the drivers go ridiculously fast, don't pay any attention to road laws (I'm not even sure if there are any sometimes), and pull dangerous stunts to get where they're going faster. On the flip side, the drivers know that the pedestrians are likely to run out into the street at any point, and are ready to slam on the brakes and honk impatiently. Motorcycles fit into both categories at once and all three parties are equally insane.

The 27 Charcos were not marked at all. We just turned down a rutted little dirt road, and about a quarter mile down we came upon a mildly touristy welcome area. We suited up with helmets and life jackets and set off across a swaying rope bridge. Our guides, Felix and younger-guy-who's-accent-was-too-heavy-for-me-to-catch-his-name, told us that the river was too high to go all the way to the top right now, but that we would be able to do 12. The path up was muddy most of the way, and mango trees were occasionally present, as well as tons of other types I didn't recognize. When we got to the first waterfall it was only an eight foot drop, but to me, with my inconvenient fear of jumping into water from any distance, let alone from high up, it was terrifying. Fortunately the guides really didn't give us an option, and if I stood too long on the edge they would give me a little tap, and I'd jump, because there was really no other option.

When I hit the water it flooded up my nose, a feeling I soon got used to. I came up spluttering. I had swallowed a decent amount through my nose, but I was ok. A few waterfalls later I accidentally solicited an extra jump from the guides. There was a bridge over the ravine and we had jumped off a lower area without going over the bridge. I thought we might be going back up the ladder and taking a path, so I asked the guide if that's what we were doing. He thought instead that I was asking to jump off the railing of the bridge. The railing was at least a solid 25 feet above the river, and we had to aim properly so as not to hit the sides. Of course at that point I had to go up, so I followed the rest, climbed out on the railing, and jumped. Aside from a little smack where my arms hit the water, I had nothing to be afraid of (except the rock walls).

To be honest the scariest waterfall wasn't really a fall but a chute that we slid down on our backs. At the bottom we were plunged underwater and held down for a second by the current. That particular spot gave many of the group a strong sense of drowning. I came up with the firm conviction never to die by drowning. A worst death I cannot imagine (actually I can but it's poetic).

Before we left the welcome area Rachel finally got to fulfill her dream of getting a coconut from the vendors who sell them with straws.

Dinner time now, got to go.

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