Rio de Janeiro

Many thanks to all the people who have sent warm comments or emails wishing me well since last entry.

Ive been taking it fairly easy. Thurday and Friday were mostly taken up with visits to a series of xray centres and head specialists. I had a minder, Jose, to take me around by taxi and i did get to see bits of Rio on the way round.

The good news from these visits is that I am OK to fly again and my flight to Buenos Airies is fixed for Wednesday morning. Ill have just 2 nights in BA now before flying home on friday arriving in London on Saturday, albeing well.

On Saturday, yesterday, I managed to take in a city tour. This involved a trip by cog train up to the large Jesus statue on top of a mountain called Corcovoda, and to the top of the Sugar loaf montain by cable car. As the weather was a bit like a English bank holiday the views of Rio were mostly obscured by the clouds. Other places of interest were Copocabana and Ipanema beaches. But as it was cold and drizzling there wasnt one bikini on view.

The 2007 Pan American games are actually on in Rio currently. While it isn´t entirely dominant on the streets, except on TV, there is a bit of a buzz about the place. I haven´t been very adventurous but did get out the other night to an old German restaurant called Bar Luiz, first opened in 1887 .

There is no photographs to add now as i lost my camera and small rucksack during the incident last weekend.

Look forward to seeing and speaking to many of you soon.

Iguassu to Rio de Janiero, Brazil

Thursday 25 July The last week has been unfortunately eventful. On Sunday I took a short bus ride over the Brazilian border to Foz Iguassu and caught a plane to Rio. Marvelously i was met at the airport and was soon installed in my downtown hotel for the next few days. I went out for a walk in the afternoon. I remember having a nice meal at a cultural centre near the centre and wandering about a bit more. But then I only remember waking up in hospital with a bad head. It appears that somewhere I was attacked or fell and was brought into hospital by the tourist police. I spent the next few days in hospital looking at my head injuries. i spent a lot of the time sleeping and have no recollection of what happened. Somehow someone got word to Owen and he contacted his friend Luijaunna who came round to see me. So did the British consul.

Yesterday I came out of the hospital and today i went to see a specialist who says i cannot fly as my head injuries are too weak and the air pressure may cause a problems. he gives no idea how long it will take. This is so frustrating as i´m so looking forward to coming home- due next weekend; It means changing my flight from tomorrow to Buenos Airies and possible changing my flight next Friday from BA to London;

To add insult to injury I am now having trouble accessing my email! Need less to say I´ve not seen much of Rio yet. I´ll do my best to sort thsi otherwise its just the blog site.

Salta to Peurto Iguazu, Argentina

Friday 20 July On Monday night I took another overnight bus journey to the northern Argentinian city of Resistencia, capital of the Chaco region. I didn´t particulalry want to come here but it is a convenient half way point between Salta and Iguassu.

Unusually I arrived in Resistencia without having pre-booked any accommodation. On arriving at the bus terminus at 7am I took a taxi the 3 kms to Hotel Colon, in the city centre, and recommended by Lonely Planet. Happily the hotel had a single ensuite room available at a reasonable price,($18) albeit I had to wait until after 10am to get access. After some breakfast in a local cafe I returned to the hotel to claim my room. It is an old fashioned hotel, built in the 20's I'd guess, with long light corridors and some art deco features such as, high ceilings, beautiful tiled floors in the corridors and a marble top to the wash hand basin in my bathroom. There is a vey nice feel about the place.

As usual when I arrive somewhere I almost immediately start planning my next move, so after dropping my bags into my room I walked round the city centre square to look for bus a company office to book the next leg of the journey to Iguazu. I found the local tourist office first and they informed me the bus companies only had offices in the bus terminal, which was completely different to all the other towns I'd recently visited. As I had little to do I decided I'd walk to the bus terminal. In Resistencia there are less roads asphalted than in Salta. Also there are more motorbikes, mainly small 125's like mine at home, being used than I remember seeing anywhere else so far in South America so far.

The housing I passed wasn't as upmarket as the areas I had seen in Salta but most homes looked reasonably habitable. Further out, closer to the bus terminus and ring road, there was a large social housing development with a mix of single storey homes and flats accessed by metal staircases, giving a bird cage feel to these blocks. Lots of the property looked in poor repair and were painted all colours, suggesting the occupants take reponsibilty, or not, for upkeep of their homes. Many homes had what looks like aluminium foil fixed over large areas of the roofs, presumably some type of cheap repair system.

Having bought my ticket for the next night's journey I took a local bus back to the town centre. The sun was shining and I had a salad lunch and a litre of beer sat out on a pavement cafe watching the world go by. Opposite was an upmarket restaurant and I watched a man and his son with a horse and cart provide a privatised waste collection service presumably to be recycled for animal feed, which reminded me of the UK 30-40 years ago. In the evening I returned to this restaurant for my next delicious Argentinian steak.

Next day, Wednesday, I had 10 hours to kill after checking out and catching my bus. I decided to hit the museums. . This took about 2 hours in total The first museum was closed for repairs. The second, a disused French design railway station, took about 15 mins to look around to see some moth eaten stuffed animals and birds. Resistencia has made a name for itself by placing sculptures everywhere. The sculpture park was being built on. I retreated to the main square which is very large and an unharmonious mix of fountains, palm trees, sculptures and stalls. The cathedral in one corner of the square is unusual for its plainess. It could have been cut out from a cereal packet.

Later I tooka taxi with my luggage tothe bus station.The bus was quite empty although the passengers seemed to be crammed in to one area.Luckily I had a double seat to myself all night and had a relatively good night's rest.

When we arrived in Iguazu, on the border with Brazil and Parguay, at 6am it was dark, damp and misty. I walked a couple of blocks to my hostel. The hostel is a dissppointing. The room had the promised ensuite w.c./shower but it was vitually unventilated and this just added to the damp atmosphere of the bedroom. Nor was there aTV which is useful to pass the time. The common room is barely furnished and isn't comforatble to hang out. Maybe I'm getting too fussy but it is relatively expensive for what I am getting.

Most of yesterday was spent planning the next onward moves with a travel agent, cahnaging money etc. In the evening I wandered about the town and found a little area of stalls specialising in salami, olives, olive oil and vinegar and where they served plates of olives, salami and cheese with litre bottles of beer which was delicious change.

Today I took the bus to see the reason for being here, the Iguazu falls, and spent about 4 hours wandering about the excellent Argentine national park, walking several kilometres, including lots of steps, to see some of the most spectacular falls I've ever seen which includes Victoria and Niagara falls. There are about 260 falls in all as the river crashes down to a lower level over a length of several kilometres.

Salta, Argentina

Monday 16 July 2007 On Friday I gratefully caught the overnight train from Uyuni, in Bolivia, to Villazon on the North Argentina border. While waiting in the station cafe I was able to watch Reading v the River Plate, in Korea. The train was full but comfortable. I slept a good deal of the journey. There was some disturbance at couple of stops as some passengers alighted and boarded. As dawn broke the landscape was the typical sandy desert scrub with mountains in the distance. I was really impressed to find the toilet perfectly clean and in full working order after 8 hours travel.

At about 7am we reached Villazon. There was a scrum to revcoer luggage from the freight car at the rear and a walk through the town to reach the border controls. There was long queue to get through Argentinian immigration because there was only one man processing the travellers. Some locals would push in much to the gringos' annoyance. In fact the system was bizarre as some didn´t need to queue.




Eventually I crossed into La Quaica, the Argentinian border town, and walked about 1km to the bus terminal where I bought a bus ticket to Salta, 7 hours away. The bus journey was on the usual impressive double decker luxury coach with reclining seats and on board WC with a fair mix of tourists and locals. The roads were quickly noticeably better than Bolivia, being asphalt and in good repair. We stopped after a couple of hours in a small town and many got off for a snack or comfort break. I may have been sleeping for part of the stop ass I got off after everyone else and went to buy a sandwich. As I was paying I heard the bus start and I had to shoot out of the shop and wave it down. Typically helpful the shop keeper followed with my change. I don't like to think what would have happened if I'd been left behind. Another hour later on the bus was stopped at a check-point and we had to collect our bags from the luggage hold for inspection. It appeared to be some counter terrorism measure. Many of the local men were taken into a room to be body searched. They didn't pay much attention to me.

Once we passed San Salvador de Jujuy the main road became a 4 lane motorway and the lanscape changed to a greener, if somewhat parched, grass and trees. Frustratingly the bus route kept leaving the motor way and going into towns to pick up and drop of more passengers. The last 100kms of the journey seemed to take for ever but eventually we arrived in Salta only half an hour late.

I took a taxi to my pre-booked hostel and managed to negotiate a better room with an external window. In fact the room was pretty large with ensuite bathroom and heater, and the young staff have been very helpful so I´ve been very comfortable the last couple of days.

After getting some cash from an ATM i joined in a BBQ dinner at the hostel where I met some of the other residents, all much younger than me, and good company. I went to bed when most of them were going out on the town.

Next day, Sunday, I went to the bus station to purchase my next ticket to Resistencia, which is about half way to Iguasso, my next real destination. On my way back I came across a regional food festival in a park with music and dancing and where I tried some of the local dishes of empanadas (little pasties), a sweet maize puree wrapped and boiled in the corn leaf and finally a big dish of corn, vegetable and meat soup. The locals on my table were full of encouragement to try what they were having.





I then had a wander around the city centre. Salta is a real 21st century city with nice clean streets, housing and shops. There is a main square which would grace any city in Europe and plenty of the older colonial architecture in good fettle. It was a tangible and pleasant relief from the previous 5 weeks of relative poverty and grime.





Last night I went to the night life area near the station to watch on a large screen in a bar the final of the Copa America with Argentina playing Brasil. Unfortunately Argentina didn´t play too well and lost 3 nil. The bar was half empty well before full time. I then went for my first Argentinian steak and it was pretty good. Plenty more of these to come too.





This morning I checked out of my hotel and took a cable car up the nearest mountain for the view. In a couple of hours I catch the overnight bus to Resistencia, the "city of sculpture".

Say goodbye to Uyuni.

Friday 13 th July Further to today´s earlier log I am relieved to say Sylvia has at last delivered my train ticket.

I duly turned up at her office at 11.30am to be told to come back at 2.30pm, and was again unconvinced by her assurance that she could deliver. Any how after spending the next 3 hours updating the blog, writing some emails and having some lunch I returned to her office. I had to wait 10 mins for her to turn up. We then both went over the road to the train station ticket office where there is a ticket system for the order in which you are served. Sylvia made sure she sat next to her friends also queuing and not next to me.

It´s obviously not a straight forward first come first served system as some went forward and came away smiling with tickets while others did not. After about 45 minutes waiting the ticket man said something in Spanish and a number of people went forward at once, including Sylvia. Eventually she got to the front of this new queue and she called me over to show my passport and was then told not uncertainly to go and sit down again. Within a minute I heard the dot matrix printer chattering which was a very good sign. Hip hip hooray the ticket was being printed and a few minutes later Sylvia was handing it to me.

My understanding of what happened, partly drawn from what Sylvia told me, was that Sylvia forgot to buy the ticket (and book last night´s hotel) in advance and she was relying on obtaining a standby ticket being available after 3pm once the train left its starting point in Oruru. Whether she had been able to use a bit of influence to secure this I don´t know and to be honest now I don´t care.

OK, I know I was a bit anxious about a relatively minor set back and lost confidence in Sylvia. Travel has just confirmed what some of you knew already: I´m a very anxious person who needs to relax more. Maybe I need a holiday! All being well tomorrow I´ll try Argentina for a change.

Uyuni salt flats, Bolivia

Friday 13th July I'm now in a place called Uyuni which is a a dust bowl at the back of beyond in Bolivia. It´s really dingy place although tourism is the main industry due to its proximity to the largest salt lakes in the world. I got here about 10am Monday morning The overnight bus journey last Sunday looked like it would be a nightmare when after two hours the road was blocked due to a lorry crash and then the bus broke down in the freezing snow. But they managed to sort it all out within an hour or two and we were only an hour or two late in the morning. On the bus from dawn, at about 7am, I could see we were driving through desert on unmade sandy roads, crossing fords routinely which was quite impressive for a 40 seat coach.

I was met by Sylvia, the local Esmeralda Tours rep., who me checked into Hotel Julia which is cold although it had a little bottled-gas heater which I wouldn't use without a window open for the fumes to escapeñ and not at all when asleep.

Uyuni is very flat being next to the salt lake and its cold and dusty here. It was sunny for a couple of hours Monday afternoon but only when in the sun was it warm. I spent a few hours in bed dozing, keeping warm and watching films on TV. Later I went out for a solitary meal and back to bed resting for the next day´s tour.

On Tuesday I checked out of the hotel, after an indifferent breakfast of bread, jam and coffee. At the tour office at 10.30am I met my driver-guide (never did work out his name)and a cook, Anna, neither of whom speak English and my other 5 travellers for the next 3 days. This included Dan and Jason, two archaeologists travelling around together after some months digging elsewhere in Bolivia , and Ruth an Art teacher, all from Colorado, USA, plus Frank and Norbert, two German friends who live in Quito, Ecuador, teaching languages, and who, happily for me, speak good English and Spanish and did a lot of translation for me over the next few days. All eight of us had to squeeze into a Toyota Land Cruiser with luggage and food for three days strapped on the roof.

First stop on the tour was a railway cemetery just a few miles outside of town. After another stop at a craft village specialising in salt carved kitsch (don´t worry I didn´t buy any) we then sped onto the salt flats, Salar Uyuni, the largest salt flats in the world, 12000sq kms and 3653 m above sea level. Once out on the salt flats the bright white salt horizon appears curved with mountains only peeking above the horizon. We stopped for a look at a ´hotel´made of salt, but which is alleged by Lonely Planet to be unauthorised and an environmental danger. After a further drive across the we stopped for lunch on the Isla Pescado. It was like sailing up on a boat with about a score fourwheel drives backing onto the salt shore providing picnic dinners for their tourists. The island is remarkable as its covered in coral and cactus. A strange combination bearing in mind its location from the sea.

After lunch we drove on for another couple of hours until we reached a small settlement on the far end of the salt plain called San Juan where we were staying the night with other tourist groups in dormitories and very basic shared bathroom facilities, but I luckily managed to wangle a room to myself this time. After a windy night we set off after breakfast into more a mountainous, lakes and sandy desert terrain. It was often difficult to distinguish between salt and snow scattered around the landscape. The soils was very barren but remarkably in some places some varieties of potatoes are grown on isolated strips of land. The scale of the valleys and mountains was impressive and after lunch we arrived at Laguna Colorado, where we were staying the second night. This large lakes has a red colour in places due to algae and warm springs flowing into it. In the afternoon I went for walk with all but Frank along the lake shore. Our two archaeologists were amazingly finding arrow heads quite frequently, but always returning, them after photographing them, to where they found them. After sunset it became cold very quickly and we measured minus 5C at 9pm. At dinner we were given some wine and afterwards someone produced some rum to warm us up. This time I couldn´t escape the dormitory so I handed out the ear plugs. No one had a good night sleep for the cold, noise, general uncomfortable environment and only possibly my snoring! If we thought the previous nights facilities were poor these were far worse, without any running water for about 50 people! Why do we do it?

Next day we had a 5.30 start with coffee and not too many people were wanting a lie in. We drove before breakfast to some geysers and water spouts. To be honest there wasn´t much enthusiasm and it was my third such excursion in the last 6 weeks. We the drove onto another lake where we had a breakfast in a ¨restaurant¨ where the owner rented out table to each group which prepared their own food (or the cooks did). There was also a hot pool but it was so cold outside only a couple of people ventured in.

One guy was there on his own cycling across this terrain. The wind, cold, rough roads, altitude, slopes and distances made this man a hero or a nut case, you decide. I take my hat off to him!

On we drive through some more spectacular landscapes, this time more snow streaked mountains and lakes with flamingos. Eventually we arrived at Laguna Verde (green lake)which is right in the apex of the border between Bolivia, Chile and Argentina. The large volcano behind the lake is Licanubur (5930 metres) which straddles the Chile Bolivia border. From here we turned northwards and then eventually for lunch in small village. After lunch we came to another strange rock formation carved by the wind where we spent a short time exploring. When we drove off we realised this rock area was much more extensive than we had realised, carrying on for 10 to15 miles. Carrying on northward from here the plain opened out again and after crossing some river fords we joined a more defined road passing lorries full of ore occasionally. Eventually in late afternoon we arrived back Uyuni.

Then my problems began. I went to Sylia´s office to collect my luggage which was stored there and expecting to check back into the same hotel. Indeed Syliva led me back to Hotel Julia but it was soon apparent that there was no vacancy and Sylvia could´t explain why she hadn´t reserved it earlier (I´d paid for this in La Paz). I was concerned about this so I then enquired about my train ticket for 10.30pm the next ,Friday, night to Argentina border, which she had promised to give me when I got back from the tour. This train only runs 2 or 3 times a week at night and I´d specifically planned for in La Paz with the travel agent and paid there to take the earlier night train i.e. Friday. No ticket was forthcoming so I´m beginning to get alarmed although Sylvia makes a vague promise that it should or might be available the next morning at 11.30am. Sylvia then leads to me another hotel which is really grotty compared to Hotel Julia. There are no windows in the bedroom and although there is a tiny bathroom the light-bulb socket-powered shower soaks the entire room. Being a bit stuck as to what to do I accept the room but making it clear I am unhappy and expect a refund and praying the train ticket turns up the next morning. In the evening I go out for a pizza dinner with Dan, Jason and Ruth but I´m not really in the mood to enjoy it much.

I have a restless sleep trying to work out a plan B for the ¨no ticket tomorrow scenario¨. There aren´t many attractive alternatives (staying in Uyuni anthoer 4 days does not appeal at all) and I could lose deposit on hotel accommodation I´ve booked online in Salta, Argentina if I don´t reach there by Saturday. In the morning I try breakfast at the hotel and I´m given stale bread which makes me feel sick and I can still lasts 5 hours later.

At 11.30am I go round to Sylvia´s office. She assures me, but with no conviction, she will have the tickets at 3.00pm and I must come back to her office at 2.30pm. She show sme a couple of queue receipts which I assume come from the train station but she gives no explanation why she did´t buy the tickets days ago when I made the booking through the La Paz agent. Watch this space for an update.

La Paz, Bolivia

Saturday 7 July 2007 Tomorrow is a landmark as its 6 months since I left London. On Thursday night I left Cusco in Peru by bus to La Paz, the capital of Bolivia. The journey was a lot better than I feared. Because of the protests of the previous weeks the bus was taking a round about route avoiding Juliaca to Puno, the first stop on the journey. Although it was a fine looking double decker luxury coach the route taken included a lot of unmade sandy roads which made me nervous because of the increased risk of a skid. In fact there was only one hairy moment I noticed when the bus seemed to slip sideways for a second and, I think, clipped a sand bank. The driver stopped and got out to check for damage but was soon on the way again. I slept reasonably well although I was a bit cold and this company didn't hand out blankets. Daylight broke about 5.30 am and before long we arrived in a cold Puno bus terminal. I then had to wait an hour for the next bus to Copacbana, in Bolivia. After a dreary breakfast I got on the on the bus and was sat next to young Korean guy. We had a long conversation which took most of the 2-3 hour journey to the Peru /Bolivian border to Copacabana. Copacabana is a small resort town on the edge of Lake Titicaca which gives access to the Bolivian islands. I had lunch at an outdoor restaurant and took the final bus to La Paz, which included an interesting ferry crossing a narrow point over the Lake. The passengers take a small boat and the bus goes the half mile crossing on a barge driven by one outboard motor.


On the other side we passed some wide barren valley with snow capped mountain peaks off in the distance. Eventually we entered what I took to be the outskirts of La Paz. This consists mainly of very unattractive red brick buildings, many apparently unfinished and without any aesthetic or or architectural merit. On a slight incline of the plain I could see these stretched on for miles. I was beginning to wonder what La Paz would be really like when we entered onto a motorway and soon were looking down onto an a huge valley lined right up the mountain edges these unprepossessing building. Except now in the bottom of the valley one could see the high rise office blocks and apartments which is the the city centre.

Once we arrived in the city centre I walked the few hundred metres from the bus company office to my hotel. After a welcome shave and shower I made my way to the next tour company to make my plans for the coming week. After the business was done I walked round the city centre which was really bustling, to get more money from the bank and then for a dinner. After quite along walk around the centre I found a nice bar/ restaurant near my hotel where, over dinner I met a Frenchman who could speak English and enjoyed a good conversation about our respective travels, the problems of capitalism and the benefits of Coca.

Today I took a bus tour to some more ancient ruins, Tiwinaku, "Bolivia's most significant archaeological site" 72 kms west of La Paz. Today was cloudy and there was a cold wind so it was necessary to keep wrapped up. I'm afraid after Machu Picchu the site was not very inspiring but the museum attached and the Llama steak lunch made it worthwhile.

Tomorrow night I take another bus south to Uyuni, from where I plan to take a tour of the highly proclaimed salt plains and other landscapes of South West Bolivia

Still in Cusco

Thursday 5 July 2007 Cusco is proving easier to get into than to get out of. I finished the Inca Trail last Sunday evening and I planned to spend two nights back in Cusco relaxing before heading south to Le Paz in Bolivia. My overnight bus was all booked for Tuesday evening and I'd checked out of my hotel room in the morning but I got a message late on Tuesday from my travel local agent to say the bus was cancelled due to protesters (I think they're teachers) blocking for the road south of Cusco which is my route to Le Paz. Today I've seen a picture in the paper where the protestors set light to a police vehicle, so they're obviously serious.

Unable to get away I moved back into the hotel but I had to move hotel yesterday because this one was already booked up last night with a large group arriving. So last night I was back in the first hotel and the same room I was in two weeks ago when I first arrived in Cusco. Happily the price has gone down.

Tonight I am supposed to be leaving on a bus at 11pm. The bus company is trying another route to drive around the protest, which is a bit worrying on a couple of scores. Firstly if the protestors find out they may try and block the other road. Secondly Peru is notorious for coach crashes so having coach driver following a route he's (it's always a he) not familiar with at night is a bit more risky. However I can't stay here forever so I'll take the chance.

It also means the journey will be several hours longer i.e. total 21 hours. which is going to be a bit of an ordeal. Stay calm, stay calm!

In the last few days I've really had to work hard at killing time. I´ve read a book, sat an hour each day in each of the three city centre squares (its been lovely and sunny) saying "no graçias" continuously to the hawkers who approach me (I've had my shoes polished twice), watched films on TV in the hotel room (not an option when you've checked out like today) and had long languorous meals, oh yes of course, coming into Internet cafes.

They had a large teachers' demonstration here in Cusco today and although I saw 20 riot police lurking with helmets, shields and batons, and one with a very large bore rifle, which I think might be for tear gas, it seems it went off peacefully.

If I don't leave tonight I'll update the blog tomorrow but otherwise it will be the next opportunity, hopefully in Bolivia.

Inca Trail

Tuesday 3 July 2007 On Thursday I had a 3.30am wake-up call to pack up and vacate my room for the 4.30am pick up from my hotel to commence the 4 day trek on the Inca Trail culminating at Machu Picchu. I was collected on time and as I climbed onto the darkened bus before dawn I was taken by surprise by a round of applause just for boarding the bus. In the gloom I could make out that the rear rows of the bus were filled with Peruvian men with red football shirts and woolly hats. This I ater realised was the team of porters. I gave a little bow and settled into the first empty pair of seats I could find. The bus snaked round the town until 16 trekkers, 22 porters and 2 guides were on board and we set off on an hour and a half drive to Ollantaytambo for a hearty breakfast. In the daylight of breakfast we trekkers identified each other; 10 Americans, three Brits, two dutch and one Aussie. The first time I´ve been anywhere with a majority of Americans, who had been notably inconspicuous at most earlier destinations.

After a further hour we arrived at Kilometre 82, the start of the Inca trail, 2720 m above sea level. We unloaded our baggage from the bus and made ready to start the trail. I, like most of the trekkers, was paying for a porter to carry most of our luggage. While most had shared a porter I had hired a whole porter to minimise the weight of my day sack, although my total pack was well under the weight limit.

To protect the environment the numbers using the trail is limited to 500 people each day, including trekkers and porters. It was necessary to book my place 3-4 months previously, when I was in Australia, in order to ensure I had a place on a trek. I had booked with a local company called Llama Path who had gained a recommendation from an American website and Lonely Planet for the ethical treatment of their porters, and this appeared to be bourne out as our team of porters were the best kitted out of all companies I saw on the trail, in red shirts, body warmers and woolly hats provided by the company. Our head guide, Casiano, introduced us to all the porters referred to collectively as the 'red army'. Unlike other company porters the red army invariably marched the trail as a group, passing us trekkers each morning and afternoon to set up the next stop for lunch or overnight camp, working in a close knit and happy team. They always marched as a group and each time they passed us we would applaud them and as we arrvied into camp each lunch or evening they applauded us. It was always a great lift to the spirits to see them and one could not but admire their strength and pride as they strode over the mountain paths which makes even the fittest paying-trekker look weak.

After going through the trail entrance check point we started walking about 9.30 am. At the same time the porters are weighed through a check point to ensure their individual loads are kept within a limit. The first few hours walk to our lunch spot at Wayllabamba was a gentle climb rising 280 metres mainly following the valley with the railway track in the valley bottom. Our first lunch set a high standard for our meals for the rest of the trip.

After lunch we diverted from the valley to a more strenuous trail, climbing a further 800 metres before reaching Llulluchapampa at 3800 metres above sea level (Ben Nevis is 1344m and Snowdon is 1085m). This long first day´s walk broke the back of the notorious Dead Woman´s Pass which is the second day's walk on most treks. I was pleased with my first day's hiking at these altitudes. I had found it quite comfortable to keep up with our lead guide, Casiano, and kept to the front of the group while others were struggling to breathe some distance behind. My porter hire and a week´s acclimatisation in Cusco was paying off to make it an comfortable trek and enabled me to enjoy the exercise and mountain scenery, with mysterious cloud floating below us and snow capped ranges catching the sun light above. I had been chewing Coca leaves and drinking Coca tea to assist with the altitude, but I was never convinced it made any difference as I stopped on the third day and felt perfectly OK.

Throughout the next few days trekking, it was most noticeable that the three Brits; that's Stuart, a 23 year old young 6foot 6inch law student from Milton Keynes, and Maddy a 19 year old gap year student, (ex Cheltenham Ladies College and going onto Oxford) were almost invariably at the front of the group throughout the trek. Maddy was remarkable as she claimed that she had only got back from her night out at 4.25am before getting on the bus for the hike on the first day at 4.30am. Stuart was equally remarkable as he elected to carry his own rucksack and had no apparent difficulty bounding up the mountains in the thin atmosphere with a heavy back pack.

We arrived at the campsite on the first day just before it went dark and I hurried to get a quick cold water wash and change of shirt before the temperatures rapidly fell as the sun disappeared. Two older couples from Alaska and Wyoming, suffering from the altitude, took another two hours to arrive at the camp site with hands-on help from guides and porters. We were given high tea of tea and biscuits with jam and later we had a three course dinner. The standard of food and its presentation throughout the trip was amazing considering that all supplies were carried by the porters and cooked on arrival., even if the mess tent was a little cramped with 18 of us squeezed into it on plastic stools. I was missing have a chair with a back to it to relax against. After dinner we played cards and I went to bed about 9pm. During the night it was a long cold walk to the bathroom by torch light. The toilets were pretty basic squat toilets and were about the worst thing on the whole trip.

I shared a tent with Stuart. His long legs only just fitted into the tent. The were tents placed very close together. I reckon I slept about 80% of the time that night. My snoring was mentioned at breakfast next day but I´d supplied Stuart with ear plugs and as a result he said he hadn´t heard a thing and had a great night´s sleep.

Second day, after 6am breakfast we completed the climb of Dead Woman´s Pass with another two hour 400m ascent for group pictures at the highest point on the trail at 42oom above sea level, which just pipps my previous highest, 4170m, on Jebel Toubkal in Morocco several years ago . The group photos were taken and I'm on the far left of the picture. We then descended for a lunch stop at Pacaymayu. After lunch we trekked for a further 4 hours climbing again a further 400m before descending the same height to arrive at Chaquicocha, 3600m above sea level. Our guide, Casiano, gave an interesting talk about the ruins but as usual I was falling to sleep as he spoke. It was getting dark as he finished and we had an nerve wracking 20 minute walk to the campsite by torch light. During the second day a small brown dog attached itself to us. I believe it was a spiritual re-incarnation of a small dog called Ranta who ran away (that's what I was told) when I was about 4 years old. Others named him Perrochita, small dog. Shortly before our day´s destination we visited some Inca ruins perched high on a mountain view point and accessed by one narrow stairway.

The third days walking was mainly down hill and the terrain became more forested. The descents were frequently down steep steps which required constant concentration. The walking pole was a great boon in reducing the stress to my knees on the downward slopes and steps thus hopefully saving the NHS future expenditure. During this time our 'lucky dog' attached itself to a couple from another group and we never saw him again. Tart!

We arrived at Winay Huayna (Forever Young) campsite about 3pm and the tents were neatly pitched on a narrow terrace cut into the mountain side. There was a distinct danger of stepping out of the tent and forgetting that there was only 2-3 feet gap before a drop over the edge to the terrace 10 feet below . This campsite had luxury of a hot shower but the weather was so nice and the queue so long I opted for a refreshing cold shower.

After a siesta we went to the local Winay Huayna ruins accompanied by Casiano´s explanation. The curved terraces which dominate this site are easily compared with Roman amphitheatres, but the terraces are purely for horticulture and there is no stage. The cluster of stone buildings and watch towers were the first I had seen restored with the gables in tact which gave it a more ancient Britain , or as some said a Hogwarts, feel to the place.

The final day of the trek was the relatively short walk to Machu Picchu for sunrise. This required an ungodly 3.30am reveille and getting into the queue at the park gates from 4:50am ready to get in early at the 5.30am opening. As usual one really wonders about the necessity of these early mornings as when we got there there were hundreds of trekkers queueing ahead of us. When the check point was opened at 5.30am the trekkers were let through gradually as passes were stamped then it was a 1/2 hour trek around the mountain to the Sun Gate, a 'classic' place to watch the sun rise. However when we got there almost everyone decided that the sunrise over the mountains was still some time away and it was better to walk a further half hour to get closer to the ruins as the sun rose, which is what our group did too. Casiano made us realise how lucky we were to get there on such a clear sunny day.

The Machu picchu ruins are a great view when you first see them and as you get closer to them they only get better. They are indeed one of the wonders of the world because of their scale and dramatic mountain top location. At about 8am Casiano gave us a two hour guided tour of the site and we then had free time to wander the ruins for a further two hours. It was a baking hot day and we had already had a full day out by noon. As I was leaving to get the bus down to the nearby town for lunch at the nearby town I fully appreciated the early morning. The numbers of full buses arriving and queues for entry for the site made me realise I had probably seen the ruins at their best even with the large number of walking tourists that arrived early in the morning.

After a splendid lunch in Aguas Calientes we made our way to the 'back packer' train to take us to Ollantaytambo, where we began and from there by coach to Cusco where we arrived about 8pm. It was heaven to have a hot shower and shave before collapsing into a real bed for the night. But what a great trip which I shall always remember.