William, on the street in Torotoro

We met Gonzalo's first assistant at the hotel. 14-year-old William was very sweet, related to Gonzalo in a vague way, and apparently a caving expert already. He joined us for lunch, then helped us in the cave. I was most amazed at his footwear—they appeared to be traction-less shower sandals, yet he bounded up and down the cave without difficulty.
Back when we were arguing about the price, Gonzalo told us he paid his assistants $10 each. Not much out of that $150 and it was unclear if they received $10 per tourist or total. I hoped petrol cost a great deal to justify their low pay. I suppose in rural towns like Torotoro, however, $10 can be stretched far.

Shemputos, in a rare calm moment

The second day we met Gonzalo's other assistant, Shemputos. His unusual name is Quechua, and I'm not sure how it's spelled. Shemputos was CRAZY. Even more monkey-like than William, he also bounded around the canyons in shower slippers.

At just 21 years old, he was married with 4 kids. Very hard to imagine him as a father, although he looked much older as people who work outdoors often do. Once a campesino, he had only recently approached Gonzalo about joining his crew, although his displays of affection and constant cries of "Tío! Tío!" showed they'd become close quickly.

During the hike to El Cañon, Gonzalo frequently stopped to sit, chew coca, and gaze blankly into the distance. We soon learned to recognized "coca time."

Shemputos helping Gonzalo up the rope

Both William and Shemputos were very helpful throughout the hike, and supportive of my need to rest frequently due to altitude. We really missed our little William on the 3rd day, as it was a Monday and school was in session. Shemputos alone was a bit much to take, although his frantic dog-paddling and random bouts of screeching laughter were certainly sources for amusement.

The more time we spent with Gonzalo, the more odd he seemed. Certainly friendly enough, but once he ascertained my Spanish was considerably weaker than Hemmy's, he all but ignored me unless I physically needed help during hikes. When Shemputos asked Hemmy her age and subsequently began hooting and elbowing Gonzalo, I got the creepy vibe they thought she was of viable age for him. His tiny house featured two twin beds and a toilet in the kitchen; it was stuffed with dino toys and posters of his various tours and smacked of someone whose work is his whole life...it felt very lonely.

As we prepared to bid farewell to Torotoro, Shemputos followed us to the hotel under the guise of helping us with our bags. Suddenly he presented a note requesting money for soccer shoes. It was puzzling. He didn't specify a monetary amount or number of shoes needed, and the whole thing was obviously secretive so he clearly wasn't supposed to do this. We feigned language barrier and shooed him away. While Gonzalo packed his stuff to go back to Cocha, we waited by the jeep avoiding eye contact with Shemputos...we felt guilty because of course we were the "rich Americans" but why the hell should he be allowed to continue putting us on the spot?

In the meantime, Gonzalo asked us to add to his "satisfied customers" comment book. By flipping through to the oldest entries, we learned that our baby William had been helping Gonzalo since he was 9!

Incredulously, we read that all of Gonzalo's former clients outright ADORED him. We liked him, found him kind and generous, but not EXCESSIVELY fascinating or sweet or knowledgeable...sometimes a bit weird, really. We couldn't imagine calling him "Gonchy" or "Tío Dino" or even "Tío Gonchito" as so many people had over the years. I would absolutely recommend anyone visit Torotoro with Gonzalo but simply could not envision loving him that much.

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