Equipo Williams

Family post about a recent adventure!

Sydney:

A couple  days ago we went to an  Inca rope  bridge. It was made  of grass. The locals have to rebuild the bridge every year because it will fall apart if they don’t. The bridge goes over a big river. I was not that scared when I crossed it, but  my mom was. My mom said if she had gone first, she would not have let me go because she was scared.

 The bridge was built for travelers and messengers carrying messages around the Inca empire.  The Inca empire ended when Tupaq Amaru died. He was killed by the Spanish for opposing the government. He was believed to be a god and could not die but then he did die.

Audrey:

Yesterday we went to Q’eswachaka Bridge. The bridge is in Atlas Obscura’s interesting kid’s book. It is an Inkan bridge made out of sticks and grass fibers, sixty feet over a rushing river, and we crossed it.

To get there you have to go down a really terrible quality windy road over a gorge. It took us about two and a half hours from the turn away from Cusco. If it helps you to know, the bridge is three and a half hours drive from Cusco.Once we got there, we looked at the bridge and were relieved. It didn’t look as high as we thought it would be, and it was fairly short, maybe two hundred feet. We parked at the visitor center which, surprisingly, was empty except for us. We used the bathrooms and took a picture with a two week old alpaca, then went to the two guys who had left the visitor center empty and were sitting at the entrance to the staircase to the bridge.

We checked in and the guy simply said go one at a time. Then we descended to the bridge. Baba went first and the bridge definitely shook as he crossed. After that Syd went and the gaps were big enough that he could totally fit through. He went slowly and made it. Now it was my turn. I stepped on and the bridge immediately started shaking. The problem was that the railings moved away from me so I couldn’t reach them. I went slowly and after a picture, made it across. Mama then crossed. She was smiling that terrified smile the whole time. When she got across she told us that she was indeed terrified and we made the executive decision to go back on the eighteen ton capacity car bridge instead of going back on the grass bridge. 

It was super fun but a LOT of work to cross a bridge. I’m glad we did it but now that I’ve done it, I don’t feel like I need to again, except maybe in June when the town residents rebuild the bridge because that bridge isn’t gonna hold up for more than a year. Anyways, I had a lot of fun going there and seeing the bridge and river.

Marcus:

Usually I have a rough idea of what we’re going to do for about the next 4-7 days.  Typically at the end of the day, I pull up google maps and iOverlander and go over the route for the next day or two and see what’s on the way, where the gas stations are, what tourist sites there are along the way, and what if any hazards are reported en route.

As we were prepping for the drive up to Cusco, I noticed “Q’eswachaka Rope Bridge” on google maps as I was zooming in to the route.  That triggered vague memories of something I’d read somewhere, so I looked and indeed it was the same bridge as described on Atlas Obscura:

https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/last-handwoven-bridge 

Part of living a life with no regrets is avoiding situations that you’re going to regret in the future.  Google said it would add about 4 hours to the trip, plus time at the bridge, and iOverlander mentioned that the road was bad, but if I were to drive past an authentic Incan rope bridge it would definitely be a thing to regret.  

We got an early start on Wednesday, drove up Peru 3S until the branch, then started the stated two-hour, 70-kilometer drive to Qeswachaka.  The road was indeed “bad”.  For the duration and number of potholes, it was the worst we’ve done in South America.  There were short stretches of worse road elsewhere, but this was hours of misery.  The road did run through very pretty countryside, but I had to focus just in front of the car to avoid the potholes and didn’t see much of the view, and I think Jessie was also looking for potholes and dreading the bridge.  And we did the drive with the knowledge that we had to traverse the road again to come back out.

There was a very tight, very pot-holed section down to the village, and then, rounding the corner, we came to the bridge.  There is a new but closed interpretive center at the bridge, although the clean bathrooms were nice.  We should have had lunch first, but I was too excited and rushed off to pay our 70 soles (20 USD) and see the bridge.

We climbed down the stairs to the bridge to check it out and assess its safety for the kids.  It was about 20 meters over the river, and the construction was everything that was promised.  It looked safe enough.  

I went over first.  It swayed more than I expected, but I never felt unsafe.  There was a section about 10 meters after the start where a long section of the side guard ropes had become disconnected and Sydney could have definitely fallen through.  I also could have fallen through, but the walkway was pretty sturdy for being made of grass and sticks.  Usually when walking you don’t suddenly dive off to your right, and kids are smart enough not to vault over into a rushing river, so I thought it would be ok for the kids.  I paused in the middle to enjoy the view and bridge, as well as to fully appreciate that I was suspended over a river with nothing more than hand-woven fibers and sticks between me and the rushing water.  Then I was across, and it was time for the kids to follow.

They handled it well.  Both kids were tentative at first, but came across with smiles.  Most importantly, they didn’t fall off!

Jessie was last, and made it across just fine, although I definitely spent marriage points on this excursion.  We walked around the long way via the other side of the valley and the car bridge, and then it was two hours of potholes back to the main road.  Lots of effort for a 120 foot walk, but totally worth it.

Jessie:

When Marcus suggested we should take a two-hour detour (each way) to see an authentic Inca-style rope bridge, I hesitated. I knew this was a famous bridge, and we’d probably regret being so close but not going to even see the thing. I envisioned a very narrow bridge, with suspension ropes far enough apart that you might not be able to hang on to both sides, and big gaps between the ropes on the sides. I agreed on the condition that we were going to see it, not actually cross it. I think Marcus said it was 60 feet above a rushing river, so yeah, definitely not going to cross that. I figured we would walk down to check it out, take some pictures, and maybe (just maybe), Marcus would walk a few feet out onto the bridge to say he’d done it, then come back.

I also very much underestimated the “bad” road on the way there. Bad paved roads with many potholes are truly much worse than dirt roads, and this one was very rough. Sometimes it felt like there was more pothole than road. As Marcus was swerving all over the place, accelerating and decelerating to miss the worst of it, I was looking out for ones he’d missed, checking the road ahead for oncoming traffic, and dreading the fact that it would likely be my turn to drive on the way back out. Furthermore, after several straight days of guided tours, I was kind of hungry and dehydrated. Let’s just say there aren’t often bathroom opportunities during these tours, so it’s best to plan ahead.

When we got down into the valley with the bridge, I was still busy putting on real shoes and Marcus and the kids had rushed on ahead to pay our entrance fee. In the hurry to get there, we had skipped lunch though it was already mid-afternoon. But I didn’t want to be left out and I certainly didn’t want the kids anywhere near the bridge without several parents to supervise. So I strapped on my hiking boots and rushed to catch up.

When we hiked down to where the bridge was, it became clear that the bridge itself was much sturdier than I expected. The walking surface was reasonably flat, the handrails were close enough together to be able to have a hand on them at all times, most of the side ropes were close enough to prevent a full body from falling through if anyone tripped, and the fall to the river was only 30 feet or so. We decided Marcus would cross first, and if he thought it was safe enough, the kids could go next. I would be last.

Despite what anyone else might have written, I wasn’t scared at all about myself walking across. I was terrified about the kids. They’re smaller, and I’ve seen them trip on perfectly level ground. Still, I kept it together and shouted words of encouragement as they went across. The rule was to keep at least one hand on the rail at all times as you moved across. By the time it was my turn, I actually enjoyed the walk across. At one point I realized my gait was making the bridge sway more strongly (resonance!), so I paused and varied my stride a bit to slow the swaying.

After making it across, there was some discussion about whether we should walk back across the bridge or not. At that point, I felt like we’d all made it across and it would be tempting fate to go back when we could instead climb the hill and walk back across the vehicle bridge. So we started climbing the hill. A few steps in, the stress of it all overwhelmed me (not to mention exhaustion and low blood sugar). I had to sit on the stairs and sob for a few minutes, thankful that we all made it across with nobody plunging into the rushing river below. Just a few minutes, though, and then I was ready to trudge back up the hill.

I was so jelly-legged after the bridge experience that I didn’t feel I could safely drive up the pothole-ridden switchbacks, so Marcus kindly offered to drive that stretch too. I’m glad that we all walked across the Q’eswachaka bridge, and equally glad that we don’t have to do it again.