La Paz in Bolivia marked the halfway point of our month's trip so we sadly said adios to two of our Canadian members, Wayne & Jeanny (the group's adopted grandparents) but said g'day and welcome to some exciting (and nervous looking!) newbies; two Melbourne-based Aussies (Sarah, aka 'Skippy' & Simon, aka 'Bruce'), one Jo'burg-based South African (Judith, aka 'Judas' (self-named, nothing to do with us!)), a true Bradford-based Yorkshireman (Tim, aka 'Timbotron') and two replacement Canadians (Bill & Linda, aka... errrr...).

Much to the horror of our replacement guide, a local Peruvian called Pepe, we insisted on inducting the newbies at our favourite English pub for a bit more bonding (and complimentary tequila).

The next two weeks in Peru gave us our two stand out highlights of the South American trip; a homestay with a local family on Lake Titicaca, and the Inca Trail trek to Machu Picchu.

First and foremost, Lake Titicaca is stunningly beautiful. It would be to any traveller's eye, but is even more so after several days of cold, rain and bleak nothingness. The crystal clear blue water, the crystal clear blue sky to match, the warm sunshine and the healthy-looking greenery were welcome sights indeed. Easy to forget we were still at an altitude of 4000m. We soon remembered however upon arrival at our village on the lake's banks, when expected to play a football match against other tour groups. We're pretty sure these games are arranged purely for the innocent entertainment of our host families as they certainly seemed to take great pleasure in watching a bunch of tourists drag themselves, desperately panting, around a pitch for an hour or so!

On their small peninsula, with about thirty houses, a recently built school for the children and some basic farming plots and fishing boats, this community works with G Adventures (our tour company) and invites tourists to stay in their homes to experience a traditional, Peruvian family lifestyle. You work with them (taking sheep into the fields, milking cows or feeding pigs - depending on your luck), cook with them, eat with them, babysit for them(!) and talk with them to learn about their lives and attempt to share an essence of your own.

The best bit of all (in Han's opinion at least!) was being dressed up in traditional Peruvian/Quechuan costumes and learning to dance their way. We returned to the football pitch, now used as a dancefloor, and by the light of a real fire and to the sounds of local musicians, the adults and children demonstrated the traditional dances. And we attempted to follow their lead. A wonderful evening unfortunately cut short by a clap of thunder and the heavens opening. Again.

We felt incredibly lucky to have the opportunity of staying with our family, La Familia de Delphin, living under their roof and spending a day as they do. A complete eye-opener.

Our 'mother' was constantly in the kitchen preparing delicious food using ingredients fresh from the lake or farm, and making do with extremely basic equipment: one stove, one huge bucket of water replacing any running water in their home and being distributed by jugs and smaller buckets each time they needed it, and a handful of ceramic bowls washed and re-used for every purpose, multiple times a day. As soon as breakfast was finished, she would get busy preparing the vegetables for lunch. And so it goes on, every meal, every day. Sound familiar?!

Our 'father' was up and out early, in the fields with the animals and crops all day; returning as if by magic just as the food was being dished up and bringing provisions (and gossip) home from the village.

And then there was Cinthia, their 10-year old daughter, who practised her English on us while we battled on with our attempts at Latin American Spanish. The parents' native language was in fact Quechuan and they didn't speak a word of English, so between us all our conversations were a wonderful hotch-potch of Spanglish and sign language.

Still on school holidays, Cinthia divided her time between helping mum in the kitchen and teaching us new card games. By the end, we weren't sure who was entertaining who. But we loved every second.

The hospitality of our hosts was so warm and generous that we were very sad to leave. But we also knew the adventures that lay ahead...

The Inca Trail to Machu Picchu.

We don't mind admitting that before the trip we were a) blissfully unaware of the enormity of the trek we were about to embark on and b) completely untrained, made even worse by two months of idle travelling.

The more we learnt about it, the more apprehensive and excited we felt, in equal measures.

It went a bit like this:

40 odd kilometres over 4 days of walking in the rain, between altitudes of 2800-4200 metres above sea level; camping on mountain slopes with hole-in-the-floor toilets that got steadily worse as the days continued; 4:30 or 5am wake up calls every day; and yet, surprisingly delicious gourmet feasts served up for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and even afternoon tea and cake on two days(!); a team of around 20 porters, each carrying 20kg of equipment (and our spare clothes) on their backs, racing up and down the tricky mountain passes in sandals and putting us all to shame; the awesome views when the clouds cleared (we hope the photos do them justice); and impressive Inca ruins all along the way.

The second day was physically the hardest - and most dreaded by the group. But the night before we received a pep talk by our guide on how to appreciate every moment of the walk without risking serious injury by learning the simple techniques of the 'Slow Walk'. Aesop's fable of The Hare and the Tortoise was repackaged as a personal story of his from the year before. But you know what, it worked. We took it slow and steady, we watched as others rushed past us in a race for the top - only to be passed by us a few metres higher as they gasped for air. And there were times when we realised we hadn't uttered a word for hours, so focused were we on taking the next step up, and the next, and the next. 1200m straight up on Day Two in fact!

And what goes up must come... down... very steep, treachorously slippery steps to the next campsite. Dead Woman's Pass (the highest point of the Trail) marked a noteworthy achievement, but the descent proved almost more difficult on the calves and knees. Shot to pieces by that night.

Day Three was the longest stretch of the Trail with lots of fun (and less dangerous) downhill, but it was also the wettest. With plastic ponchos draped over us and walking sticks out in front, we tramped along the soggy paths like Frodo and friends on their way to Mordor.

That night, after changing into our final set of dry clothes, we celebrated one of the group's birthday (complete with birthday cake! Astounding given where we were!) and said our thank yous to the cooks, guides and porters who had made the last few days more relaxing, comfortable and delicious than we ever could have expected.

The final morning we set off in the pitch black and pouring rain, ponchos already on. Dozens of other groups were already ahead of us, everyone keen to be the first to reach the Sun Gate and Machu Picchu ruins.

We forgot the 'Slow Walk' technique that day. Our goal felt too close. So, brisk walking took us speedily to the Sun Gate viewing point to watch the mists close in over Machu Picchu. Eery and dramatic it might have been, but it didn't do much for the visibility. Still, we pressed on and arrived at Machu Picchu just in time for the sun to burn through and give us a few magical hours exploring the impressive Inca city.

By this point the goal was reached and our minds and bodies were aching. All we could think about was a hot shower, change of clothes, soft bed and glass of champagne. It took a lot to simply stop, sit and soak up the view. Once in a lifetime stuff.

All in all, two blogs could never do justice to our month in South America or describe in enough colour all the places we went, the people we met and the experiences we had with our group.

Just as in South Africa and Swaziland, what made our trip so memorable? The people, of course.

Our group, so full of characters, always looking out for each other, always looking for the next laugh, always delivering the next punchline, always longing for the next familiar meal. We have to say a big thank you to them all for making our South American journey the incredible and inspiring experience that it was.

Bosh. Hectic. Amazeballs. Come on guys...

Monumental.