I met an extremely cute French girl in Tupiza, Bolivia. Her name, naturally, was Marie. She was quite the feisty Franc - within minutes of the introduction we were mixing glasses of pisco with 7-Up and raising toasts in as many languages as we could muster.
We talked about our plans for Tupiza and she told me that tomorrow she was thinking to hire an agency to take her on the popular three hour horse trek of the surrounding area - along the dry riverbed of the Quebrada de Palmira to the Puerto del Diablo, Valle de Los Machos and Canyon del Inca.
Bah, no need to pay for the agency, I told her. I was planning on hiking that same trail on foot tomorrow and she was more than welcome to join my little expedition. It was a better option because we could go at our own pace, take interesting detours if we wanted, and avoid paying through the nose for the expensive tour.
She was intrigued, but still a bit skeptical. There were no reliable maps of the area, certainly no signposts, and the trails in Bolivia were never clearly marked. How would we mange, she wondered?
Not a problem, I reassured her. All the horse tours that the agencies run have fortunately left us with breadcrumbs to follow. We could ask a local to direct us to the start of the trail and from there simply follow all the hoofprints in the sand, there and back.
“You’re so clever!” she gushed.
“Actually I’m just cheap,” I confessed.
Before turning in for the night she enthusiastically agreed to come along.
“It’s a date,” I confirmed. “See you tomorrow.”
I’ve teamed up with cuties in the past on tours and hikes, but I was particularly pleased with this little arrangement and let me tell you why. The town of Tupiza is situated smack in the middle of the rugged Cordillera, a countryside that in many ways conjures up visions of the American Southwest. It is a parched landscape strewn with cacti amid spectacularly colored hillsides, deep gulches and canyons. The place has a raw, almost hostile beauty, but the main attraction and the reason most people set out on these horse tours in the first place is to see the Valle de Los Machos. This is a unique stretch of badlands where the principle feature is a large series of vertical rock formations which have been worn away by centuries of wind and weather to resemble enormous, erect . . . well . . . see for yourself:
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The entire valley is punctuated with these things. Between the enormous jutting cacti and the thrusting phallic rock pinnacles, the Valle de Los Machos is indeed aptly named. It’s one giant subliminal sexual inference, like something out of Sigmund Freud’s wet dream.
So why does this matter? Well, as any Lothario will tell you, Mother Nature is the best wingman in the business. Think of oceanview sunsets, flower covered meadows and moonlit gardens. Slam dunks, all of them. The Valle de Los Machos may lack the subtlety and poetry of these other locales, but all the overt sexual references puts it right up there at the top of the list in terms of effectiveness. Any guy who can’t get lucky here has no right calling himself a man.
The strategy I hatched that night after meeting young Marie was simple - tour her through theValle de Los Machos and let the landscape do the work for me. There would be no escaping it - everywhere she looked she would see a penis. This was likely all that was needed to induce carnal thoughts, but she seemed easily distracted this one, so I didn’t want to take any chances. As an insurance policy I decided to turn myself into a sexual reference as well by dressing in a manner most resembling a penis - head to toe tan clothing with a bulbous sun hat. I’d just have to remember not to slouch or I would send the wrong message.
“My goodness,” I would say, “would you look at that outcropping. Sure is a monster . . .”
“Hey check out that interesting rock formation. I’ve never seen anything like it, have you?”gg
“Hey let’s stand over here in the shade of this stone. Why are you looking at me like that? Something on your mind . . . ?”
And that’s when I’d make my move, resting in the long cool shadow of one of the Macho shafts.
-music swells as lovers slowly lean in for a first kiss-
I almost felt sorry for the poor girl - it simply was not going to be a fair fight.
That morning I took a nice long shower, put on my penis outfit, and went looking for young Marie. Not in the common area. Not in the kitchen or the dining area. Not in her room. I lingered a while at breakfast but as the minutes ticked away I started to become anxious. I couldn’t wait around forever. The longer I delayed, the closer towards midday it became. At some point it was going to become too hot to comfortably hike around and the day would be lost. I was shattered, but I knew that travellers frequently change plans and take sudden detours when other opportunities crop up. Marie may have decided to do the salt flat tour instead. She could have grabbed a morning bus and may have been half way to Uyuni by now, for all I knew. I reluctantly set out on my day hike alone.
I reached the Valle de Los Machos before noon. By now I was feeling a little better about the whole affair. It probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway. These formations have endured for thousands of years but with my luck any amorous adventure of mine would have been the exact moment that a stress fracture caused one of the Machos to topple down on top of us. I could see the AP wire clear as day:
Lovers crushed by giant stone phallus. Woman miraculously survives. Says it all happened so quick she didn’t know what hit her. Ditto about the falling stone.
I puttered around the valley for a bit, admiring the scenery and taking photos. Just then I heard the approach of something from behind.
-Close-up of startled protagonist-
I turned around in time to see Marie and a guide go galloping past me on horseback. She looked back from her saddle and waved tootles, leaving me to follow in the wake of her dust and horse poop.
-Cue melancholy music-
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I spent the rest of the day walking alone through the deserted valley, surrounded by large emblematic members which, much like me in my ridiculous penis outfit, just kind of stood there, waiting to be appreciated.
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-Fade out on slouching man walking alone in the desert - his shadow resembling . . . never mind-
