Charity Trekking or Why Should I Pay for Your Holiday?

“Why should I pay for your holiday?” is a question spoken or left unspoken faced by many when asking for donations to a charity trek. Having spent a lot of time working on organised fundraising treks I have garnered some opinons  and insights along the way as to whether this is an accurate question or not. It equally applies to those who organise the whole thing themselves.

Charities benefit in two ways from trekkers: raising awareness and raising funds. Someone may raise a lot of money which is of direct benefit or they may raise next to nothing but in raising the profile of a charity, indirectly help that charity raise future funds and support. Many do both. Charities depend on the support and money of the public to keep doing their work.

Do I agree with all charities? No, what is more important, an elderly cat or a child that could be given a future? Charities are personal, while I am not one to save horses being made into sausages I do believe in the RSPB. Should we as a human race with huge amounts of resources actually need to rely on charities? Again no, but the chances of the world’s wealth being fairly distributed are mimimal so charities fill the gap. Charities are necessary and they need funding. While I believe there are some that could better use their resources most do excellent work, be it allowing a dignified end to a life, prolonging a life, enabling someone to live a more active life, or protecting wilderness for the benefit of our lives and the lives of future generations. Charities affect lives.

But why should I pay for someone’s holiday you repeat? Firstly many trekkers actually pay for the whole “holiday” themselves, any money you give goes completely to the charity; they have already paid the cost of the trip themselves. Some of you who read this (if anyone does) will be familiar with names such as Mick and Gayle, Sloman, Perry, Lintern, people who went for a walk, because they fancied a walk, but paid every penny themselves and thought to use the opportunity to spread the word and raise funds for charities close to their hearts whilst enjoying their walk. There are thousands more like them.

If someone has not paid for it all themselves, what then?  The charity still gains money and exposure it would not have gained otherwise, through the efforts of those who trek.  These people give of their time and effort. Months of preparation, time spent rattling tins, baking cakes, organising events, however they raise their money, it is not easy. They also pay from their own pocket for all the kit needed. It is not just the individual who sacrifices, partners are left at home to fend with the children while they are out training, fundraising and trekking. Children and partners receive less attention from their loved one who is busy planning, busy in the gym, busy up a mountain on the other side of the world. So there is nothing for free. Many fundraisers also give us something material in return for our help: a blog to entertain us, a night’s entertainment at the event we bought a ticket for or a cake or handicraft sold to us.

And is it a holiday? No would be my answer in most cases. For many who undertake these challenges it is a step so far outside their day to day, the safety of all they know and it is tough. Yes they may enjoy, but do they not have right to? I have met some truly inspirational individuals on these treks, people of genuine worth to society in a way that I could not claim for myself, people who give selflessly,who have earnt their enjoyment.

So yes, you should give would be my answer; if you feel the charity to be of benefit and if you feel that the person is making an effort worthy of your help. And if you still lack a reason to donate to these charities, bear in mind that just around the corner you or someone you love may need one of them and be dependent upon someone with a big heart to get out and give of their time and effort for to raise funds to help a charity help you.

Ten Things I Learnt Backpacking from Choquequirao to Machu Picchu

sunset in the Peruvian Andes with the Duomid

Maizal Campsite, high in the Andes beyond Choquequirao

When the tent manufacturer sends you a tube of seam sealant and tells you to seal those seams, you probably should  do as he says, and before the rainy season.

Aluminium foil used as a pan lid gets hot enough to melt your favourite fleece hat that you are using as a pot grip.

Melted chocolate in your GORP is really not very appetising. Cold oats and cold hot chocolate are however surprisingly good

Condors fly rather than walk for a reason: these hills are very  very steep

 

It is possible to use less than a 3 season sleeping bag in the Andes and not freeze (on certain routes and at certain times of year only). It is also possible to spend a whole week without wearing your down jacket, which is rather annoying when you are carrying it.

Cat Can Stoves : weighs nothing and would be wonderful if only I could get it to work properly. Maybe it is time to try making a new one.

Google Maps has a limit to how much information you can upload from a GPS.  Thus to make a decent map of a 5 day trek takes almost as long as it does to actually walk the thing.

Bottles of coke and beer that have been carried 3 days by horse to be sold on a remote mountainside are cheaper than  those sold in places with road access.

If you camp in someone’s garden be prepared for a very nervous evening as small children poke your lightweight shelter and trip over its guy-lines whilst patting down your pockets in search of biscuits.

There is only place in the world where you can legally spend the night with a view of Machu Picchu and it is not an expensive hotel. It is a small campsite that will cost less than a dollar.

 

and the was more than I ended up needing

 

The Curse of Ultralight Backpacking

The Voice of Reason?

I sit here in a pile of maps and notes, kit and food strewn all over the place, Google Earth on the screen and as always the weighing scales overseeing it all; on Monday I escape. It’s sold commercially as an eight day trek,so I will give it four. Choquequirao to Macchu Picchu, two of the great sites of the Inca empire connected by a beautiful route through the hills, 5000 metres up and 5000 metres down, 100KM.

 
We do not have wilderness here, even on the remotest hillside you will find a lone figure sat motionless, seemingly immune to the cold as they watch their flock. We do have bears though, bears as tall as a man when stood on their hind legs, you may see one from a distance if  lucky but this endangered species stays away from man, yet to learn of the riches to be found in campsites. It is a good job too with no trees to hang food and no bear spray on sale. The lack of wilderness does have one big advantage: food, little shacks selling heaped plates of rice topped with fried egg or over full bowls of hot nutritious soup; simple wooden stores selling bags of pasta, tins of tuna and packets of truly awful biscuits. Two days food is the most I  will need to carry.

 
If I had to I could pack and go in 10 minutes flat but for some reason it is a drawn out affair, always is, lists printed and scanned for surplus items the weighing scales watching always, the 10 pound arbitrary figure decreed by some American as ultralight now stuck in my head, translated into 4.54 Kilos which just sounds wrong so it becomes a round 4 kilos. I can  easily do it too, a stripped 28 litres rucksack plenty of space for all I need but there is always some dilemma. Do I take the small camera? 142 grams, takes a good photo, fits in the pocket and has a nasty tendency to get the lens stuck and not work. Or do I take the SLR? 876 grams, reliable, better photos but which I have yet to find a comfortable way to carry. And a stove, which stove? The old faithful Pocket Rocket, in transit with a friend but not arriving till Monday morning , half the weight of the gas stove I have here but it would delay the start. Or the cat can stove, blue flames struggling from lack of oxygen but getting there eventually, far from fuel efficient at these altitudes especially when you enjoy the pleasures of hot food and drinks rather than the spartan american regime of one hot drink and one hot meal a day on which some live. Or do I make a Bushbuddy copy, I could have it done in time, there is wood on the trail and it would be something new to try. “Ultralight Backpackin’ Tip number 6″ says Mike Clelland “Try something new every time you go camping… always.”

 
This lightweight thing is a curse, the constant nagging to lose weight, to push the boundaries. I know what works, I know what I need, have done for a long time but now it eats away at you, “Are you sure? 18 grams for a foldable titanium spoon, are you sure you could not find something lighter?” And my bed companion of many years, keeping me warm, enticing me to sleep, now I do not see her the same. She seems…, overweight “952 grams” the weighing scales scream as she struggles to hide her embarrassment. “Why not get yourself a younger sexier model? Could save you half a kilo.” Half a kilo, two American pounds I think, but would I be cold?”Ah”, says the American cartoon man again “If it gets colder than I anticipate, doing crunches in my quilt is not a big deal.”

 
But in three day’s time as I doze off on the 3 hour bus ride to the start of the trek, I shall forget about kit, and as I run down the 1200m to the bottom of the canyon I shall be glad of lightweight, I shall be glad of the food shacks, I shall be glad to be out and I shall be just fine, whatever I ended up taking.

The Importance of Horizon- the problem with living in the Andes

living in the Andes you lose your horizon
I sat high on the ridge looking down upon the sprawling valley population and I saw things that they could not see. A deer, legs glistening with the early morning dew as it slunk off the ridge in front of me; red flowers on a low growing cactus vivid amongst the tall grass; tentative shoots sprouting from a patch of earth singed by fire. But there was more than this, I could see more.

“Serrano” literally means of the hills, the people who live here in the Andes they are Serrano, they are different to those who live on the coast or in the jungles of Peru. It is just a word used to differentiate, to denote your geographical origin but it is also used to criticise, to describe a closed mind, a short sighted way of thinking. For to live in the mountains is to live in the valleys, closed in on either side by great rock walls that allow no sunrise, no sunset. We have dark then light, black then white, the day does not arrive slowly nor fade away, it either is or it isn’t there is no merging of the boundaries, no maybe, you are either wrong or you are right.
When we can see no further physically we can see no further mentally, the mountains that take away our physical horizon take away our mental horizon, and they limit our possibilities. A coastal dweller has an infinite horizon, anything is possible as you stare across the vast expanses of the ocean, and you are free to dream. But the hills, how many great inventions have come from the hills, how many great minds have stretched the realms of possibility by thinking what if, by daring to dream?
Yet mountains for many are an essential escape, they are where we go to dream, to breathe, to realise the insignificance of things that we held so important, to realise our own insignificance. As the peaks soar around us, so does our spirit soar, our imagination, our realisation of the possible, all soar with those same great peaks that oppress and limit those who dwell far below. And so it is that I find myself high on this ridge, looking down upon the hill town where I live, escaping its suffocation, its narrow mindedness, its lack of vision and when I say its I mean mine for it is dangerous to live in the mountains to live with no horizon is to allow yourself to slowly become Serrano too. And as I sit above the confining valley walls and look out to distant peaks, I try to remember how to dream, to remember that between black and white there is common ground and to see once more a world full of possibility, a world with a horizon.

Top Ten Tips for First Time Trekkers- Part One-How to avoid buying the whole gear shop

 

Trek porters rest on the Inca Trail

The less you bring on your trek the less these porters have to carry

Your first overseas trek can be a daunting prospect whether it is in the Andes, Nepal, Africa or even Europe. Long flights, altitude, steep hills, a foreign language, different food and a bunch of people you have never met. And then before all of that there is a whole list of things you have to buy, fitness training you have to do and much more. This is the first part in our series to help you enjoy your first time trekking holiday and to make sure your first time is not your last time.
Part One: how to avoid buying the whole gear shop

 

Rule 1: Outdoor shops are full of “Sales Assistants”

A nice friendly name that.,but who are they “assisting”? How about if we called them salesmen? Their job is to sell you as much as they can, that little karabiner, the tiny towel for wiping the sweat from your brow, the little key-ring thermometer….All those” cheap” little accessories soon add up  in price, in weight and in space in your rucksack.You do not need them. Go in with a list of what you need and stick to it.

Rule2: Do not believe everything you read on a trek agency packing list

Its a difficult one this, you have booked with experts, and this is what they have told you to bring. I suggest you compare their list with lists of a few other operators, widely available by searching the internet. While some trek operators have cut their list down to the essentials, others include many superfluous items.

  • Spare laces- how many times have your ever broken a shoe lace? Can you not just tie it back together should it break?
  • Water filter/purification tablets- are these necessary or are you provided with a constant supply of purified water by the trek cooks?
  •  Spare shoes for the evening- I never take them, if your shoes are comfortable enough in the first place then why bother.
  • Repair tape- I cannot honestly remember the last time someone had to repair a rucksack on  a trek. If there is problem with your tent, the trekking agency themselves will mend it.
  • Waterproof jacket and trousers- please if your list tells you to bring these then do so, there are certain things that are not optional.

Rule 3: The less you have the simpler your life on trek will be

The more you have the longer everything takes, longer to unpack, longer to find what you are looking for and longer to re-pack. Remember you will often being packing and unpacking in the dark in a tent. Why ruin your holiday by stressing yourself every morning as you try desperately to cram everything in to you bag, just take less in the first place.

Rule 4: Someone has to carry your bag each day

“But it is going on a mule “you say. But someone still has to carry it from the house to the car, from the car to the airport, from the check in to the baggage carousel, from one plane to the connecting plane, from the carousel to the bus, from the bus to the hotel lobby, from the lobby up the stairs and so on. And that mule that carries it each trek day, it is sure not him that puts it up on his own back, their is some poor horseman who has to lift it on and lift if off at the end of the day. All agencies will give you a weight limit, please stick within it.

Rule 5: The less you take the more space you have for souvenirs on the way back

A Birthday Trek- Hiking Away from the Andes

As I approached my 39th birthday earlier this month I got to thinking what to do for my fortieth year. While birthdays are in many ways a social occasion it occurred this was the perfect excuse to be anti-social. There are many treks that tempt, just me and a pack, but in much of the world October is not prime trekking time.

I recall flicking through The Great Outdoors magazine, pictures of women naked except for a Javelin pile jacket; tents were tents not shelters then, with names like Peapod, Phreerunner or Jetpacker; Berghaus made a white rucksack and Peter Storm was cool. And of course the Ultimate Challenge; thanks to Podcast Bob and the gang it has re-entered my thoughts and one day I will do it. But that is in May and it is no longer the Ultimate Challenge.

And what of Nepal, where I worked a while fourteen years ago? A quick look at flight costs put paid to that, flying out of Peru is not cheap; Stellios if you are listening a South American Easyjet is well overdue.  The Tour de Mont Blanc, a re-union trip with an old colleague and still good friend, a promise made ten years ago or more. We shall one day, complete with kids accrued along the way. However it too must wait, carrying a 2 and a 5 year old a step too far. And then there is Corsica a place I never meant to leave. Even now I can smell the wild maquis, remember the enchanted stories and see the view from the little cottage where I used to rest. But October is a risk there  and the time is not right.

And then I saw a video and I knew. You may have seen it but should you have not, spare a few minutes and let yourself dream

 

Almost There – The Muir Project from The Muir Project on Vimeo.

Cusco Day Treks-New Routing in the Andes

 Day hikes in the Andes, a short trek from Cusco ,Peru

A short trek in the Andes, just above Cusco,Peru

 

 

We had timed it wrong again. Standing under a tall pine tree we sheltered from the hail, lumps of ice the size of marbles falling from the dark Andean sky. I brought my eye up to the camera to frame a shot, fingered the button and nothing, the auto-focus damaged by the stoning the lens was receiving. It had been the same a week earlier, struggling to scribe on wet paper pressed up against the slight overhang of the rock, scant protection from the stinging pellets of hail. Such is trekking in Cusco in spring.

The morning had started hot, too hot and with heads sorry from the night before we postponed the planned hike to the afternoon. A ten minute taxi ride had taken us high above the city and to open land, the air fresh, hill stretching into the distance. A park guard came over to meet us, to check if we had paid the entrance fee for passing through the Incan ruins. We produced our small blue cards, proof we were nationals, locals without the need to pay. “Where do you live?” he asked “Where it says on the card” we answered “But you might have borrowed the card” “Look at the photo” we countered. He stared some more, from us to the card, from the card to us; “You can go” so we did.

Thus began our trek, an attempt to update a route mentioned long ago in a guidebook. I had tried once some years back and had failed, failed to find the large Incan bridge crossing high above a stream, failed to find the carved Incan rocks, altars hewn from stone. The shower eased and we reached the prominent black rock. We are here, we must be here,   wet thumb on the paper map; but the description in the guidebook was wrong, and it did not fit. It was then I saw the small arrow on the map denoting the anti-clockwise direction of the circular walk. The starting description had fitted well enough, I had made it fit and now it dawned, we were going backwards, the wrong way round.

Our laughter was soon cut short, the path blocked by piles of branches, legs scratched as we clambered. Another shower, a small shepherd’s bivouac our saviour, thatch weaved on bent limbs, a bed of straw to lay, shelter from the storm. Another twenty minutes hike, progress slowed by native Queñua trees, low grown, no more than a foxes path remaining. We had arrived, the natural rock bridge, the carved stones, the water coursing through the stone aqueduct, it fitted, we were here. The sky cleared and in the distance Ausangate, the clearest I had seen for months, snows gleaming as it watched over us. An amusing meeting with an Andean couple, their small bottle of homebrew now empty, another park guard with his look of disbelief and we headed on down, a new route found. Only problem was it was unusable, the thorns, the crumbling paths too much for most. I would return tomorrow to try again, this time before the storms.

Footnote: I did return the next day to complete the route details, and I did avoid the storm…just. You can find some pictures here and route notes here.

Responsible trekking in the Andes- Don’t Believe the Hype

Inca Trail Porters on trek in the Andes of Peru

Teams of uniformed porters are now a familiar sight on the Inca Trail

Click on any trek operator’s website or leaf through the pages of any travel company’s brochure and responsible travel will leap out at you. Well they would like it to but it has suffered something of the same fate as car alarms. Once you hear the same noise so many times you no longer hear it. Some companies clearly do practice responsible tourism but for other trekking agencies it appears to be no more than a marketing tool. When every agency makes the same claim, which do we choose, which do we believe?

“We give our porters uniform, we practice responsible tourism. “

Do you? Do you really care or is it all about marketing. Tens of men clad in your brand, advertising your product to the world. Is a school child treated any better in a school with a uniform than one that has none? Is the street sweeper treated better than the council official who is allowed to choose his own clothes? The sergeant major screaming at recruits, telling them they are horrid little men, are they not wearing uniform? A uniform proves nothing.

Responsible tourism is a broad spectrum and often a contradictory one. Flying several thousand miles to trek on the other side of the world that is bad; you damage the ozone. But I provide work for porters and guides is that not good? Buying bottles of water from the ladies along the Inca Trail that is bad, you should be refilling your water bottles and cutting down on plastics. But I am providing these Andean people with income, am I not good?

Bringing school books and coloured pencils to share as we trek through the valleys of Lares, surely that is good, we help their education? Or are we bad, are we teaching them to beg, to expect things for free in a world that is not free? The children selling postcards in Cusco, are they needy, are we being good by buying from them, are we allowing them to eat. Or are we bad, are we allowing their parents to sit at home and drink while the children bring in more money than they possibly could?

For a long time in Cusco the focus on responsible trekking has been on the porters. They work hard it is true, they work very hard but theirs is unskilled labour for which they are paid 64U$ for 4 days work. If we add on 10U$ of tips they have a measly 74U$ per trip. Wow we say, they work so hard and earn so little. However this is Peru, not Europe, not the U.S.A.

A porter trekking four Inca Trails in a month earns close to 300 U$ for sixteen day’s work. Minimum wage in Peru currently stands at 183 U$ and for many in Cusco the minimum wage is all you get for working ten hours a day, six days a week, twenty six days a month. Teachers, nurses and many more, all professionals, earn minimum wage having to slowly work their way up the scale. So is it responsible trekking that an unskilled, uneducated albeit hard working Andean porter can earn more than someone who has been to university for 4 or 5 years to learn their profession? Some porters have a skilled trade, some of them did get a secondary education, I am not trying to belittle the work these constantly cheerful men do but skills, education or experience are not a pre-requisite for the job.

So how did porters come to earn so well, so unequally? Through responsible tourism of course, projects were set up, NGOs the Peruvian equivalent of a charity organisation were founded to help the porters, the porters threatened strikes and eventually they won, they received their pay rise. But is it right that they earn more than a teacher? Are we practicing responsible trekking when we send out the message that you can earn more carrying someone’s bag than studying and gaining a profession?

NGO’s are for many a licence to print money; yet we are told to support them, they benefit the communities, they help the children, they make us feel better about ourselves. There are undoubtedly many good ones here in Cusco but there are many which exist solely to make money for the founder. When I used to trek the Inca Trail regularly, I worked with a porter who became chairman of the Porter’s Association. I asked him what he thought of the latest porter project supposedly set up to help “Liars” he told me “They do not help us; they have spent all the money donated on new computers for their office”.

Of course some agencies do not pay their porters what they are obliged to by law, some trekkers do not tip and sometimes he in charge of recruiting porters demands his cut of their tips or they do not work again. And the guides, what about the guides, are they treated fairly? Well they can earn a good wage, they can gain good tips, and they can earn a good living. But not all trek companies pay well, not all trek companies give the guide a constant supply of work. Many mistreat the guides not letting them know when they will be working next but expect  them to drop everything when they call; they fine them for being late for a trek briefing, fine them because they had  a drink with passengers, fine them because they do not like how they answered  a question.

Let me add some context; in Peru we favour the stick over the carrot, we do not encourage, we punish. Miss a school parent’s meeting- a fine; turn up late to work- a fine; make a mistake at work – you pay for it. This is not the western way, it wrangles, grates on us, how can employers treat people so badly we ask? I agree, but would the carrot work in a country where good timekeeping does not exist where telling the truth is not important. Values that we hold dear in the west do not carry value here, you do not hold it against someone that they lied to you, of course they did; you do not stand frustrated and cold waiting for someone who is late. You too have not arrived, you too are late.

Progress that is what we want, as responsible trekkers we bring money; we allow people and Andean communities to progress. ”Patacancha” that is what I say to that, one of the most traditional communities in the Andes, famed for their weaving skills we brought them progress, we ruined them. The once pretty village has its road, its internet, its concrete houses and it is ugly. Trekkers once used this as a favoured camp ground; now we avoid it, take other routes that have not been blessed with progress.

Chaullacocha, high in the hills of Lares a place visited by no-one, the jewel of the trek; hiking along one day we turned a corner and we cried, a yellow digger tearing up this untouched valley, bringing a road, bringing progress. Huacahuasi, once the most feared community in Lares, a wild place peopled by thieves who would raid stock from nearby villages, it has been tamed by progress. From high above you look down on the school a modern building funded by an NGO, out of place in this landscape,  you look down on the glint of corrugated iron roofs, easier to maintain than the traditional thatch that so fitted these hills.

Who are we to deny progress? Our ancestors in the west once lived in mud huts, once walked to school, and once farmed the land, would we want that for ourselves today? But care is needed to prevent destroying the beauty we come to see, will we come to these hills to trek when they are covered by roads will we come and provide jobs for the porters, the cooks, the guides? Or will we turn our backs and look for new pastures, new treks to destroy with our responsible tourism.

So stay at home, do not trek the Andes; that is not the answer. Come and visit this beautiful place, come and trek these magnificent hills and come and meet its people. But choose wisely, come with your eyes open, listen with your ears and decide for yourself. There are many good operators out there who value their staff who cherish the environment and deliver their promises. But as you click the webpage or turn the pages of the brochure proudly printed on recycled paper don’t believe the hype

Footnote:please do not draw any conclusions from the photo


Minimalist Footwear- Lessons from the Andes

Porter footwear in the Andes

Ahead of their time

Many years ago I arrived in Corsica to work a summer trekking. They gave me five days to recce a 2 week route. So I hung up my boots.“Make your ankle work” advised the doctor. An impromptu football match in the mountains; climbing at New Years in Spain;stamping kit down into an overstuffed rucksack; all had the same result, me hobbling off to find a bucket of ice.

Ankle protection, that’s what they used to tell us.Hordes of children in borrowed centre boots, feet held together with white tape;  trekkers, feet in a stream  relief from the hot French sun; backpackers, heavy packs made heavier by the spare shoes strapped outside; the smell of Nikwax on your fingers; the rows of newspaper stuffed boots steaming in the hostel drying room. Those were the days, those were the days.

And then came the lightweight revolution, Salomon, Tevas, Inov-8 and even those strange neoprene foot gloves for feet like a goat. But far away from the latest technological advances they had always known, high in the Andes small men carry great loads, feet clad in sandals made from tyres. Down the Incan steps they spring, ankles unprotected, flexing to absorb the jolt, flexing to correct lost balance. Across on the plains of Africa, guides approach the outskirts of town and remove their shoes “city wear” they say and the Romans, did they not conquer Europe in just a pair of flip flops.

So I took the doctor’s advice, hung up my boots, slipped on my trail shoes and never looked back.

 

Ausangate Trek- Backpacking the Circuit

 

ausangate trek cusco peruvian andes

Trekking towards Ausangate

The jangling of small bells in the distance, the sound of hoofs trotting ever closer. I reached a hand from my down cocoon and fumbled for the draw cord. One arm free now I rolled towards the doorway, raised the zip and took in the scene.

“Hola, where are you going?”

“Pacchanta” the reply and they were gone into the mist.

Air hissed out as I opened the valve of the small inflatable mattress, cold rising instantly from the ground below. Lifting my feet from the rucksack on which they lay I shed my feather bag pushing it into the bottom of the now open rucksack. Sunglasses went straight from shoe to head, plastic bags tied onto feet, wet trainers slipped on top and cord pulled tight. I was dressed. Food bag, cook kit and mattress went into the sack and grabbing the base of the trekking pole I exited backwards lowering the shelter as I went. Pegs were pulled, 1, 2,3,4,5,6,7,8, yellow silnylon roughly bundled and strapped. I slung the pack onto my shoulder and hurried after the line of prints in the snow. It was September, the rains had come early.

Two days earlier Ausangate stood proud throughout the three hour bus ride from Cusco, at 6384m this is a deity to the people here. Offering laid as thanks for life giving water that flow from its icy slopes. Like all glaciers here its life is limited, scientists estimate 50% cover lost in the past 30 years.

Stepping off the bus at Tinqui, a small unloved mish mash of buildings, I hike across the agriculture plain to the base of the mountain. Steam rising from the Upis hot springs, a door opened to provide shelter from the stinging hail. Conversation shared with an elder Israeli couple and guide passed an hour and with no abate in sight I stepped out and pitched the shelter, resigned to a long afternoon and longer night.

Then it stopped, clouds began to lift and the western glacier dusted by fresh snow revealed itself. The tent came down in seconds and 2 hours later I had crossed the Arapa Pass and set up camp by Jatun Pucacocha lake, below in the strong Andean sunshine. A night of rain and snow had me studying the map, viewing the escape route down the valley, late season alone on an unfamiliar trail.

Morning and calmer air revealed a cluster of tents at the far side of the lake. Nestled beneath the glacier, it is a spectacular spot to rest a night. Buoyed, I scraped the last of the chocolate porridge from the zip lock, licked the spoon clean and headed up the 350m to the Apaneta Pass. From atop the trail ahead lay clear, a joyous steep run down to the emerald waters of Ausangatecocha then stiffly up to the Palomani Pass, at 5100m the highest of the trek.

I paused in the sunshine of the gentle green valley below, spread things to dry and settled back against a rock to enjoy a pan of noodles. The trekking party stopped to converse, enthralled by the smallness of the pack, contrast to the mess tent, table, chairs and laden horses that marked their journey. Passing their camp for the day I pushed on, 5 hours of daylight left and the restlessness of the city still in me. Two hours later camp was set, the route ahead unclear in low visibility, snowflakes drifting softly to ground. The map, unchanged since 1956 showed only blue and white glacier, a scout ahead revealing a wide sweep of moraine left in its place. Which side the path crossed was unclear.

The hoof marks in the snow were a welcome guide, the morning light bright through the cloud. I stumbled forwards, energy lacking, head vague from a night spent close to 5000m. Living at altitude one forgets and 2000m sleeping height gain in two nights was pushing too far. Fortified by a breakfast forced down against no appetite, head pounding, I looked on as the clouds lifted and the sun burned through. The path was obvious now, the glacier shown on the left completely gone giving passage, the opposite side of the moraine valley blocked by blue grey ice.

The pass is marked by stones lovingly arranged in small cairns, thanks to the mountain for safe passage. I added my own, one stone for each of the family and aloud gave thanks to each of the snow peaks surrounding. There is a strong spirit of place here, hundreds, literally of stone offerings laid against a backdrop equal to any trek in the world. I pocketed two small flakes of rock, a gift for the children, a link for them to my life away and headed down from the mountain to soak in the springs in the rain.