Our mia corta across Lake Titicaca involved a short ferry ride. We could see the boats shuffling across the water way as we dropped down to lake level. Then we were suddenly in the queue and being encouraged to roll onto the next boat.
As picturesque as it all was, all I cold see was loose planks, water in the bilge and a downward sloping entry that left no easy exit. We all rolled on and laughed about the trap we had entered. Our captain seemed confident, but about what we were uncertain. To make this story short, we made it; we are here, not there.