Far Trek

54km, to be exact and don't my plates know it. I can't remember ever having done a trek before - maybe a short one in Yosemite Valley years ago, but certainly nothing on this scale. This is how it went:

Day One

This first day has been a pretty sobering experience. Waking up and getting ready, I went downstairs in the hostel to discover the taxi that had been 'booked' the previous night had, in fact, been 'not booked', so I started the day at 6am, cursing and sprinting with my backpack to the tour office. Bastard. When I got there it soon became obvious that in the category of best prepared, I was to come a dismal last. Everyone else seemed to be kitted out for an expedition of Antarctic proportions, whereas I looked like I could just about make it at a picnic in Battersea Park. I didn't even have a jacket - 'You don't even have a jacket?', was one of the many, 'You don't even have a...?' questions which were to be fired at me throughout the day - the answer to which was almost always, 'No'. As you can imagine, this question became progressively irksome, especially as it was usually accompanied by people demonstrating their possession of these items with a little incredulous snigger.

So apart from a huge illuminous orange jacket that makes me look like a giant-sized Wotsit I managed to borrow from the trekking office (more incredulous sniggers) it turns out I'm not very well prepared for this particular escapade. But even though that meant I got saturated this afternoon and now my (only) trousers resemble a used tissue left out in the rain - that'll be nice tomorrow morning - I'm determined not to let it get me down. This is me versus the mountain and although I'm cold, soaked and hungry (eggs for dinner - why did it have to be eggs?) this mountain will bow to me before I extend it that same pleasure. Now that's the kind of lack of respect for nature I've heard gets you far in these kinds of situations.

Day Two

(To be said in a very weak voice) Hooray.... Windswept, weather-beaten and blister-bound, I've made it to the end of this second day of trekking in Santa Cruz. Of course, this has not been achieved without some fairly major pitfalls and I can honestly say, I don't think I've ever been this exhausted. Last night's sleep was as close to no sleep as I think I've ever had without help from some bad medicine and as a result I rose (not awoke, as that would allude to sleep being had) at 6:30am far from refreshed. A tent with four people in who snore loudly and wriggle about like a worm with Parkinson's does not lend itself well to a light sleeper like me. Crucifying's to good for 'em. Anyway, after a bowl of sweet mucus (?) and some fairly amusing jam called Fanny, we disassembled camp and began what was to be the most challenging and arduous section of this Peruvian adventure.

It was all uphill from the get-go today and to begin with I coped with it pretty well. I was always in the first three or four people and sat supercilliously waiting as the others caught up on more than a few occasions. Sadly, however, at 4,000ft, this all changed. The altitude sickness I described before was nothing compared with the dizziness, light-headedness and disorientation I felt as we continued our ascent. I started to find it very difficult to breathe and began dropping back in the group until I found myself in the company of the once lampooned slowest climbers, much to their unspoken delight. With every step my pace slowed, until I was gasping and dragging my feet like a man nearing the end. This changed rapidly though when I suddenly felt the twinges immediately recognisable as an urgent evacuation call from my insides. With only a couple of bus tickets snatched greedily from a kindly Spaniard, I scampered over the bushes to a place of relative solitude to make with the bum wee. Something terrible happened next which I'll spare you the details of - only know this, something in me died this day. I think it may have been a rat.

Soon after this defecating debarcle I got my stride back a bit and although the huffing and puffing continued throughout, I managed to make it to the top of the mountain and the highest point we were to trek to on this trip - 4,750m. The views from here were worth every palpatation - truely breathtaking (literally) I felt glad to be alive and drank in the landscape. Take a look for yourselves from the pic at the top - this was an accomplishment I´ll never forget. Bloody high, in't it?!

Day Three

Today has been all about the scenery. After the altitude, snow and poopery, it's been so much more relaxing and this has been welcomed, at least by me, with open arms. Some people in the group are finding it hard not to swing their tiny penises about with a more gentle day and are actually giving it, 'I could do another day like yesterday' and the like. What's up with that? Even though they were as green as us all by the end, they think that by stating they could do it all again they'll be achieving some kind of hero status. Twat status is all they'll be getting from me, and well-deserved too. Anyway, as we trekked through the valley the views around were simply amazing - it looked as though we were about to walk into a giant canvas screen on a film set. Without the physical hardship of yesterday (and the squits, which seemed to have gone - for now) we were able to take things slowly and truly appreciate our surroundings, making it my favourite day so far. One more sleepless night to go.

Day Four

Strange day. Finally got a half-decent night's sleep away from the digusting pig creatures by swiping a two-man tent from one of the couples and kipping in peace with a lovely Italian man. Not at all the selfish lovers I believed them to be. This was so needed, but I awoke to a very solemn group. Don't know if this was because it was the last day, but everyone seemed to have been struck dumb. We descended the mountain in almost complete silence and took the transport back to Huaraz in the same vein. Perhaps it was fatigue - who can say? The bus back was quite the squeeze, with 18 people on board a vehicle fit for 14 at the most. I was fingering the conductor's bottom with my knee for most of the journey (I could actually feel his body temperature, like a thermometer) and I think I may be his girlfriend now, but apart from that happy news, the mood remained grey. Never mind - even their collective negativity can't take away from the success of the tour. I'm not sure I'll do any more camping while I'm here, but I'm so glad I did this trek. It wasn't easy, to say the least, but that's what makes these experiences all the richer upon completion. Vistas like these are unique to the Peruvian countryside and now I've seen them up close and personal I feel priviledged. And bloody knackered. My feet may look like Falklands survivor Simon Weston, but my heart is spotless with eternal sunshine... or something like that.

Thanks to an old friend of the show, Mr Al 'Lesley' Graham, for getting on board the comments. You, sir, are a prince among men. The pun was on Leo Sayer rather than Neil Sayer though - but I agree both work well. Also thanks to anonymous again - you really are an enigma, but keep 'em coming. Salut.