Borders for the most part have been fine for me, with the one exception of the date f*** up when at the Venezualan/Brazilian one. Things are about to change when I'm at the Bolivian/Peru border point around 8pm, hoping for it to go by without any hitches. I'm in a queue with two bus loads of other people all heading the same way, when finally I get to the top of the line to get my exit stamp, I'm asked a question by the border control guard:

"You speak Spanish?"

"Eh, only a little", I reply as I watch him scan my passport.

"Tut, tut, tut", he says, waving my passport in front of my face.

I'm then motioned to another desk with a another guard and his gun sitting at it, the tension rising within me.

"Whats the problem"? I ask.

"You've over stayed the amount of days you are allowed in Bolivia, now you must pay a fine, naughty boy".

Bollox, how did this happen? I'm there pondering has the vortex of La Paz sucked me in that much, that I didnt even feel the days flying by? Or was he just asking for a bribe in a roundabout way?

"Okay, okay, whatever it is, I'll pay it", I say but then I realise what's actually going on. I grab my passport off him and inspect the entry and exit stamps with which he's having an issue with. Bolivia gives Ireland or perhaps EU members a 30 day tourist visa and he had stated that I had over stayed my welcome by something crazy like 80 days. He even took a calculator out to figure it. After a quick glance at my entry stamp when I crossed into Bolivia from Argentina at the town of Villazon, the flutes in the passport control office stamped it with March instead of May. Their f*** up not mine . Or had the f***ed up on purpose? I showed him the route of my travels according to all the other stamps I had in my passport, even mentioning that I was Venezuala at the time and not that dustbowl town of Villazon. A firm, hmmmm was sounded my way, realising their mistakes. So after a photocopy of my passport was scanned and a form was signed, I was off into Peru without having to incur a penalty. Better luck next time lads.

I stop at the bus station in Puno and get off as we had to wait around for a connection bus to Cusco. Its funny the way you keep on bumping into faces in South America, as big as it is its relativley small in terms of bumping into familiar faces, so whilst killing time in the bus terminal, I bump into Karly and Sally, two girls that I had met in Wild Rover, La Paz a few days ago and also Danny, a lad from Germany that they had bumped into. We're all going the same way but on different buses so we agree to meet up in a hostel called Milhouse in Cusco and go from there. Milhouse again is another chain of hosteleries, a bit like Wild Rover and Loki so your guaranteed a certain level of comfort and fun. I stayed at the one in BA and swore I'd never go back as I hated their ways of treating customers but now I was a bit more used to the larger party hostel and what they were all about, so I went with the flow and booked into Milhouse.

The South Americans aren't the best with timings. I havent had a problem with punctuality but when I ask how the long the bus it and they say its 8hours, thats fine, not the other way around. With 8 hours, I can sleep and get a good nights rest, as I'll arrive in the early morning but totally getting the timing wrong and arriving at 3am is complete bollox, sher I was hardly asleep when I had to wake again.

I had no reservation at Milhouse as it was all last minute, so I chance my arm knocking on its great wooden door. Joe Bloggs goes through his computer even though he's only the security guard and says that they have room. The door opens and I walk into an open air courtyard which is freezing at 3:30 in the morning and I'm laid out on cold bean bags to get some shut eye.

I meet Karly, Sally and Danny for breakfast and we discuss our plans for Cusco. The main attraction in Cusco is of course Machu Picchu and the 4 day "Inca Trail" trek to the ruins. The girls have prebooked the Salcantay trek which I was eyeing up, an alternative to the "inca Trail" that I would have been keen to go on before Danny opened his mouth. As we sat at the table eating breakfast, Danny and I began chatting like Indiana Jones and his little Chinese friend about a lost city of the Inca's that not alot of people know about. "Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones". I was travelling by the seat of my pants, having a rough plan of where I wanted to go in relation to the countries of South America and then deciding on what to do once there. But Danny was better planned in this regard. He had done his homework on Machu Picchu and its surroundings when he heard of another Incan site called Choquequirao (choci-keer-ou) that has practically no visitors to it at all, barely discovered and whats best he tells me, is that you can hike from it all the way to Machu Picchu, killing two birds with the one stone. It wasnt a common trek, with only a handful of people having done the trek, and whatever about us knowing about it, this could get tricky to organise. We agree to have a look around Cusco and see can we find someone willing to bring us and once again Danny comes up thrumps. He's telling me these tales about a 30% discovered site and I'm there drooling all over the table. I have a serious goo on me at this stage as we go and find a man called Alvaro. Danny got his name from some Dutch guy who's semi-pro at hiking, if theres such a thing, so in we go to this small office in the historical centre of Cusco. There's no signs outside for tours but they do rent hiking equipment, so we're half way there atleast. In the office, a man is sitting there eating his dinner but once he realises, the dish is fired away and he's all attention. As we tell him our story and what we're looking for, he sits in wonder as to why we were in his small office and not one of the other 1,299 tourist offices that operate tours in Cusco? When Danny tells him of this Dutch person he met, the whole story begins to unfold and Alvaro is all ears with a big grin on his face. He's is in his late 30's I'd say, small in stature yet strong looking for a Peruvian man. He starts to tell us a bit about himself and why 'we' were sitting in his office. He's a 20 year veteran of Machu Picchu and the surrounding mountains of the Sacred Valley, having been to the famous site over 7,000 times but unfortunately has since had to retire he tells us due to chronic knee problems. His glass topped table is adorned underneath with photos of him in his prime, one with him holding a cup, a numerous winner of the Machu Picchu Marathon! We're getting the feeling that we're with the right person here as he continues to speak. He tells us he knows every stone on the mountains and that he has the equipment and staff to back it up as we can see from the office. He could have just told us that he's not in the market for tours but he actually was, as he was just setting up the tour side of it with us two yokes to be the first group to go with his new company for Choque. He said that he wouldnt be able to go with us due to his knees, but he had a guide that would be just as good. The food was to be of the highest quality he promised and the equipment which he showed us was of top standard. The only thing about this trek compared to the more common treks such as "Inca Trail", Salcantay, Lares and so forth was that this was to be prepared as a standalone, it wasnt a prepackaged trek that left every day, you couldnt just fill in your name and jump on the bus. He called it an 'expedition', and I was goo-ing all over the place! Normally the time to do it would take 9-10 days from start to finish but Danny had to catch a flight so he agreed with us to seven 'hellish' days if we could keep up with the pace. I was ecstatic as I left the office after paying the man, the two boyo's heading off, the next bloody morning on this crazy adventure with a fella I had just met less that 24 hours ago. This is what travelling is all about and I was loving it!

The night before we left, it was Sally's birthday, so of course, not passing a chance to have a scoop or two, we horsed into a few beers, perhaps one too many, to wish her a happy birthday. We gave ourselves 2 hours sleep, just enough to embark on a day of trekking tomorrow.

3:30am came quick as we leapt out of bed to get ready to leave Cusco. Angél our diminutive guide, standing five foot nothing, collected us at 4am and off went go to start our adventure. Before we leave Cusco, we make a stop to collect food for the next week, enough for us two, the guide, the cook and the horseman. We then meet Roberto, our cook or Charlie as he later answered to. Charlie is the name the locals in Cusco call one another when they dont actually know their name, so if you call a random person on the phone, lets call it a call centre, this unknown person is immediately called Charlie for ever and ever! Hey Charlie Brown!

The journey to the start of where the trek began was at a small town called Cochara some three hours away from where we were in Cusco. We travelled during the dead of night, arriving shortly after eight in the small mountainous village of course not withour its hick-up. The car was laden down with five people, food for five for seven days and equipment for us all, all in the back of a Corolla estate. The weight had us low riding all the way and how the suspension didnt give way, I will never know, but a tyre did just outside of Cochara so off with the bad one with the wires hanging out of it and back on with another one, just as bad. Cochara was a sleepy little village with not much to do so decisions were made unknownst to us that we'd stall the ball here for a few hours, cook lunch and then head off due to the timings. We werent going to get to the lunch spot in time so we waited, had lunch at lunch time in Cochara and then started along the small road to Choquequirao.

The firsct section of the trail was fine, usually flat with a small incline here and there. The trail we walked along was cut out of the edge of the mountain side so we had some fantastic views all along the route to our right consisting of valleys after valleys with some great lookout points. Angél was some character as well, a young lad about 24 years of age or so with bucket loads of experience in the mountains and from his college degree in tourism also. As it was just the three of us walking together as a group, we chatted and chatted about all sorts whilst Charlie and the horseman burst on ahead to make camp for us far off in the distance. Angél pulled us up and pointed far ahead of where we were, indicating as to where Choquequirao actually was. All I was looking at was the otherside of a valley some 20km away in walking distance. He kept pointing here, there, but all I could see was green forest, I didnt have a clue what I was supposed to be looking at, nor did Danny. To get to where we were to camp that night we had to go down all the way from the mountain top to the bottom, a zig-zag trail leading down to the river. My body was feeling good, I was packed with energy, regardless of the lack of sleep the night before, so I was down in no time only to find Charlie, the horseman and a few locals having the laughs over a few glasses of chica (chee-chah), a local andean home-brewed beer made from fermented corn. As horrible as it seems, its not half bad and provides a fair punch when your sitting there ten mintues later considering what you have drunk. Down by the river, fair play to Charlie and the horseman, they had the tents and all set up with dinner being not too far from being ready. We had covered 16km that day along some dusty trails so the only answer to that was to hop in the fast flowing river for a well deserved dip. The tents, sleeping bags and mats were off the highest quality. When Alvaro back in Cusco promised us the moon and the stars, he meant it and followed through with his promises. The sleeping mats (thermarests) were so good that I'm ditching that thing I have in the house back home,a stupid excuse for a blow up matress in favour of this bad boy. A perfect nights sleep on very tough terrain.

Day two was the day that we were going to hit Choque and to explore it briefly before sunset, so rising at 5:30am for breakfast, we had another long day of trekking ahead. The daunting thing about it was that we were at a river and Choquequirao was at the top of the mountain on the other side. This meant taking a hand pulled cable car across a white rapid river to the other side and then heading up. The mules obviously werent able to cross the river to we said goodbye to our horseman and thanked him. He had another days trek with the mules back the way we came from Cochara, the poor fella and then on the other side we met another horseman who had come overnight from a village not too far away to meet us. The new horseman and the mules go first as their normally quicker but as stubborn as they are, they gave ground fast with Angél, Danny and I bursting ahead up this extremely steep incline. The dust and dirt that was kicked up was cruel altogether and we certainly looked it too, covered in s***e from head to toe, like pure tinkers after a day at the dump. We were exhausted after the three hour incline but not beaten as we sit on the green grass overlooking the valley at what we had accomplished. We waited for Charlie, the horseman and his mules to arrive to where we were to have lunch. The sun is beaming down and we couldnt be happier with ourselves as we could now see Choque a bit more clearly in the distance. We werent there yet though as we had another few hours to get to the ruins but first we had to go to the entrance to the site to pay our entrance fee and of course to get the obligatory stamp on our passports. It now became clear why Danny had been so infactuated with this site, we now knew why it was rarely visited and why it was only 30% discovered and thats because of its brutal lack of access points. To give you an idea of how popular Machu Picchu is and how unvisited Choquequirao is, is that with Machu Picchu you can get the train to Aguas Calientes from Cusco and then get the bus to the ruins in the morning all in your Sunday's best whereas with Choque its a two day hike atleast, depending on speed to get there. With Machu Picchu they get somewhere around 3,000 visitors per day to the site. When we got our passports stamped at the Choquequirao entrance and signed our names in the book, there was only five people ahead of us that day and at this stage, it was past lunch time. Totally and utterly unspoilt this visit was to be! As we got closer to the site we could see where our camp was going to be amongst the ruins and as we looked from a distance into the maze of agricultural sectors of the site, there was not a sinner to be seen. We soon get there but Angél directs us in another direction away from the site as we knew it, to a place called the "llama sector". Where are we going, the mart? But he assured us that this was the best thing to do that evening as we could see the site in full the following morning and the "llama sector" was not to be missed during the hour leading up to sunset.

Choquequirao was built on the edge of a valley side, at the top of the mountain, so we walked across the top of the mountains, through some of the site and down this small trail the other side not knowing where we were going or what we were supposed to be looking at. Angél directed us to a natural viewpoint that kind of stood out from the valley so we headed over and when we turned around, there it was, the "llama sector". We had walked across it without even knowing it. What it is? Well if you can visualise this, take a valley side and then build steps six foot high and six foot deep out from the valley. The 'steps' were vertically made from precision carved stones that fit seemlessly with each other, with the horizontal of the step being dirt where produce was grown. But what made the steps stand out from any other agricultural steps we saw whilst around Cusco, was the fact that in the vertical side of these steps, in amongst the precision stone, the Inca's laid white stone in the shape of llama's and their young, all along the uprights. It was unbelievable to see and something that you cannot see at Machu Picchu. The idea for these steps was that during the reign of the Incan king, who during the time of Choquequirao was Atahualpa, would travel the length and breath of the Incan empire, which stretched from parts of Colombia in the north to parts of Chile in the south and when they would eventually arrived at the river at the base of the mountain where Choquequirao was located, he would climb the royal steps all the way to the top. Each of step's along the way to the top would be filled with the finest of local produce as an offering to the king, with the best of the produce being at the top, just before he entered the site of Choquequirao. After the sun whittled away, we settled into camp that night after having a fairly gruelling 17km of uphill now behind us. There were no need for lullabys that night, thats for sure.

Charlie had the breakfast going as we rose for the day, still in the darkness of the night. We got up to see the sunrise at 5am after having breakfast made by Charlie, whos really a magician as I dont know how he did it, but the divil had a feckin cake of all things you'd expect, baked for us with our names written in chocolate sauce across the top. How he made it, sitting on a stool as he tended a small stove is something I will never know, a mountain cooks secret they tell me can never be retold. We watched the sunrise from the astrology sector, the highest point within the grounds. The Inca's took all beliefs from the sun, moon and stars so this place was very important. The only person with as grand an authority as the Inca king was the astrologer and the high Inca priests. The grounds at the site are divided into many sectors, such as the llama sector of course, but also others such as the engineering sector and living sectors stood out for me. The whole site was huge and to be honest we didnt get to see it all which is something to maybe have me come back to some day, but trying to imagine the scale of the place when its fully unearthed is beyond comprehension as there's another 70% of the site still to be discovered. Imagine the places, the artifacts, the tales that are yet to be told to this modern world. Unbelievable.

It was still early in the morning but we had to get going as we had another camp to make later that night and it wasnt going to be easy. Little did I know, but we had to go even higher up the mountain before we went back down the far side. Once on the downward slope it was relatively easy, yet long all the way down this huge valley to the Rio Blanco below. The trail was dusty and again we were all covered in it, as running down it was far quicker, yet more dangerous, but then taking our time to get to where we were to have lunch would have taken ages, and I was hungry. The legs and knees were burning from the burst downhill, so the doctor ordered that we jump in the river for a cool off. It was so cold, the water, like a ice bath soothing all those aches and pains but such a relief at the same time. I said to Angél, "where's camp for the night?" and all he did was point straight up to the very top of the valley on the otherside of the river. I could see glaciers up there. It turns out to be Charlies home house also where we're staying, all the way at the top of this mountain in the middle of nowhere. It was also where I would find the most prestine scenery I would ever see in my whole life. I counted 15 zig-zags of paths from afar of what we'd have to climb all the way to the top, but I was way off. I wont go into detail but it was the greatest b****** of a climb I have ever put my body through, with inclines sometimes near 60 degrees. It took four gruelling hours to get there but we made it, sweating likes nuns in a maternity ward! I was way off with my count as I've said, those 15 zig zag'd paths somehow turning into 30, and I'm going to keep that number a special place in my memory for a long time to come. I walked in through the gates of Charlies home, a small house called Maizal, where sheep, pigs, goats, chickens and all sorts ran about around my feet to welcome me. His father meets me and ushers me to the garden where we we're to pitch tent for the night and where theres a small mud hut for us to cook and eat in, away from the elements. Well sort of. The view that I'm looking at, is the best view I think I've ever seen in terms of mountains. Were at this small, tiny farm yard at the top of a mountain with a 300 degree view of the mountainous surroundings and it couldnt have gotten any better. The glaciers that were only a few hundred feet above us, trapped the clouds and the moon between them to give some awesome photos that I'm going to get framed when I get home. I was now really, really enjoying putting my body through such an ordeal and if this was to be the reward each and every night, I'd do it professionally. 25km mainly uphill was completed that day and I was hungry for more.

The days were getting longer and tougher, there was no doubt about that, Alvaro hadnt lied when he told us about what we'd be facing before we left. Choquequirao to Machu Picchu was not to laughed at. The trail leaving Maizal was muddy and again it was up another uphill hike to where we would get to the pass. Charlie had us well stocked with breakfast so consuming enough energy wasnt a problem, it was just telling the body to accept it and to get on with what our minds had set them on. The weather changed that day during the morning as we got higher and higher with mist creeping in over the pass and which made visibility virtually zero. Danny was nursing a leg injury for a few days now and Angél was with him, so all I had was myself and the notion to go up and up until I got to the pass. Im in the middle of nowhere when I get there, miles from anywhere and all I have is myself to humour when all of a sudden out of the dense mist comes a lady of the mountain, a local woman in traditional dress that greets me a kind of 'hello' before dipping back into the mist below. Bizarre. What the hell was she doing? Going go mass? Once I get to the pass, the weather changes favourably, the glaciers ahead and the valley below can now be seen clearly and the view is spectacular! The mountains all around us are just bursting with natural minerals that have land slid out of the mountain all the way to the bottom adding to an extra dimension on the trail, we had to watch our step. The guys finally catch up with me and we have a rest taking in the beauty around us before we make yet another huge decent down to the town of Yumani where we're to have lunch.

Yumani is a small village only recently connected to the rest of the world with a proper road, so the scenery, the houses, the people are very old fashioned in their ways having not seen too many tourists pass their door. We have lunch there and take off again soon after, not being totally rested I might add. I ask Angél where camp is and he replies that its in a town called Santa Teresa, just over the peak directly in front of us. Fair enough I thought, it cant be that bad. Its around one o'clock when we leave our lunch stop thinking that at the rate we've been going for the past few days, the hike up to the pass should be a doddle. Instead of a trail, we've got a new road to walk on, albeit gravel, but better now knowing that we slip, we wont fall over the edge. Weather turns for the worse shortly after leaving Yumani but I power on. It's the first time I've had to put my rain poncho on in all of my travels of South America and boy was I glad for it. Danny was still suffering with his leg, a bad infection from mosqutito bites, so Angél held pace with him. I fire on ahead knowing that I cant go wrong when all I have to do was follow the road. its lashing at this stage and I'm more or less drowned, the parts that were exposed atleast anyways. It gets bitterly cold as I head up the road, higher and higher into the mountains, now at around 4,500masl. My teeth are now shattering with the cold and I admit to myself that I've come underdressed to the mountain party. To give you an idea of what I'm wearing, I had my boots and socks on, with under armour leggings and top as a base layer and then a single on top of that. To keep me dry, I have my trusty yellow rain poncho I found somewhere but thats it, nothing else, oh and my light trekking shorts! The rain is pelting down and when I turn around into the rain I can see nothing, no sign of the lads behind me. I'm too far gone at this stage to turn and go back nor can I stop as I'll freeze to death, so I make a decision to head further up the mountain hoping for a change in good weather. I havent any more clothes with me as my bag is on the mules far behind me also so I'm stuck with what I have. I keep the pace as fast as I can because if I dont have whatever body heat I'm producing, I'm in bother. The further I went, the colder it got with the rain now turning to snow. It was pelting down ith snow at this stage and the landscape was pure white. A mule train meets me heading back to Yumani telling me that I'm crazy but I reply that I have no other choice, I dont know what to do, where are the guys? All I know is Santa Terese is that'a'way, somewhere, so I belt on reluctantly. Further and further I go, now a foot deep in the snow and I'm frozen to the bone. My hands and fingers now have no feeling but what am I to do, I have walking poles attached to me, their not mine, I just can ditch them so I strap both walking poles around one wrist and put my hands in my thin pockets trying to get the blood flow back. Visibility is nil, I'm a plastic version of Big Bird from Sesame St. heading through whiteness and my judgement has taken a fair beating with the cold, altitude and whatnot. Its at this point that I start to tell myself that I not going to die, I know it sounds stupid now, but I was serious at the time thinking back about my thoughts, the mountain wont get the better of me. It was that harsh and cruel up there. I was on my own, Danny and Angel could have turned back and there was no one there to tell me otherwise. With a pure bullish, thick attitude I head further up the mountain plowing through the snow until I get to the pass. Finally at, 5,200masl and I can now see over the other side of the pass into the valley. I was elated! My prayers to the Pacha Mama to stop the snow were answered just in time because if there was anymore snow I'd definately be done for. Being so far removed for the group with no clothes or supplies, there was definately times when this was the most stupid situation I had ever put myself in but climbing over that pass, even Rocky at the top of those steps in Philadelphia couldnt have bettered the exuberence and adrenaline that I had rushing through my body.

The speed demons of Charlie and horsebox as he'll now be refered to as, along with the mules had braved exactly what I had put myself through and were closing in on my position. They two were amazed that we had come this far unscaved and ushered me to walk with them to camp. I asked Charlie how far Santa Teresa is and his says its another 8 hours hike. It was after five in the afternoon and we were losing light fast! Where we were going to stay was anyone's guess but it couldnt be Santa Teresa as we were already 12hours on the go at that stage. The techagraph in the truck was getting full and we needed to pull over for the night. Someone had missed that day in school when they added 8+8, we were miles off. Maybe it was a mistake with the itinerary, maybe they knew it was going to be like that, the only way we could do the trek in the alotted time Danny's schedule allowed. The new to Santa Teresa that crosses the pass intersects the old incan paths, so rather than taking the long, yet easy road down to Santa Teresa, horsebox directs us into these hard to spot gaps in the side of the road to get to where we want to be in jig time, Incan sthyle! Light has now left us for the night and we're relying on head torches to light our way. Mine isnt working to its full capacity as the batteries are nearly goosed, I would have been better off with a box of matches in a gale, so now its one torch for three people and three mules heading down steep muddy paths with god only knows what over the edge. Three hours have come and gone, we've come down from the pass, out of the snow, crossed three rivers when we reach a house, the first sign of life since Yumani. Charlie goes in and knocks on the door when a woman answers. He tells her our story and agrees to let us use the grass at the front of her house as a campsite for the night and not only that, but doesnt she brings us all in to her little mud built kitchen, teaming with guinea pigs running around the place, so that we can cook dinner inside for the night and get some warmth back into our bones. I set up camp as Charlie tends to the food and horsebox tends to his mules. Its nine at night and theres still no sign of the lads. There's no doubt that we're all worried about them but we have faith in them that they'll get to where we are okay. If they got to the pass they'll be fine we thought, it will just take longer in the dark to navigate down the road. I'm sitting outside having a cocoa tea and a fag to settle myself after such an ordeal, when what do I see far off in the distance only a head torch bobbing its way down the hill. It could only be the lads, so I change my torch batteries and hit the beacon mode, signalling where we are. I burst open a bottle of cold Coca Cola to tell myself its all going to be okay and never has a coke tasted soooo good! Always Coca Cola! Satisfied that they'll be fine, I go back into the guinea pigs and wait. 30 mins later, the small door of the hut bursts open and in comes a hunched body through the door, its Danny and Angél, alive and well and the first thing he says to me in the thickest of Munich accents is, "I zot I'd never zee you again" with out stretched arms. I too was glad to see them of course and we chatted and chatted until we couldnt chat anymore about what had just happened back on that mountain. Someone was looking down on us, thats for sure! We were done for that night. We had been gone a long time now, some sixteen hours or so. So from the time we left Charlies home, high in the mountains that morning, it took us 36kms to get to that god send of a house where we pitched our tents. A new word for exhausted.

The night before was beyond ridiculous, this was nothing we had signed up to but we were so glad that it happened to us at the same time as we revelled in the experience. It was an expedition we were on and it felt like it. Leaving the old ladys garden at 5:30, we were all shot, not an ounce of energy would run to our legs as we headed finally to the town of Santa Teresa. The small town is a world away from where we spent the night before, it was down in the jungle away from huge heights where we didnt have to worry about snow but now it was mossies eating us alive. Its a super day when we arrive, the sun is going for it today and we welcome it with open arms. We're camping at a campsite just on the outskirts of town, which doesnt look like anything much but apparently it 'goes off' at night, or so we're told. To best describe where Santa Teresa is a fork in the road, one leading from Choquequirao and the other from Salcantay both arriving in Santa Teresa and then heading in the one direction towards the town of Aguas Calientes and Machu Picchu. Today is more of a relaxing day and we do nothing but it, spending a few hours in the thermal springs down along the river just outside of town. We bump into Karly and Sally there too. They had been doing Salcantay for the past few days so it was great that our paths crossed so that we could exchange experiences from the past few days.

Back at the camp site, Charlie has the food in the pot for us. As we're only four people as opposed to the much larger groups that were there of 10 plus, were put up in a half finished house to eat our meal with no windows to shelter us and no electricity to illuminate our meal. The owner of the campsite is a pure ape altogether also, a science experiment gone wrong with the head of a human, the dxterity of an urangutan and the manners of a pig. He's the skin and bones version of his unfinished house, a pure mess. Theres a plug socket not working beside me or maybe its the fact that some of the site isnt wired at all, I wouldnt have been suprised, but when he motions me out of the way with his trusty screwdriver, I'm thinking that this is going to end up like a game of 'Buckaroo', only it wont be a cowboys lasoo thats strewn all over the place. Theres a good growd there for a small place that night and after dinner, apeman douses a pit of logs with petrol and a flame so now we have a roaring fire a manic arsonist would be proud of. The music in South America has been in general, absolutely terrible, I'll make no bones about it, I will not apologise about my remarks but its pure and utter muck with what they have being playing on the radiowaves. I'm into the culture thing, I'll do the salsa, the tango thing, even a bit of Brazilian funk, but what they have in general for us to listen to is pure crap. I dont think I 'hate' anyone as such, as 'hate' is such a strong word but Mr. Aviici, Mr. Guetta and Mr. Akon, I 'dislike you', I dislike you with a capital T, very, very much! The fire was red hot and we had a few drinks to celebrate where we had got to at that stage. That other eejit from Korea, with his tunes, whatever his name was, his brand of tripe hits the airwaves later on too, and of course there was a 'token' there. He was so excited with yer mans song, that he nearly went into the flames as he bucked around the fire pretending he was a horse or pony. Another ape! It had been day 5 for Danny and I and we were ready for more. I'd hate it if I had to go drive somewhere earlier in the morning for 20km back home, whatever about walking, I was wanting more each and ever day.

We're a bit groggy heading off on day 6, but we deserved it. The weather was cracking again, a lovely day for an easy hike into Aguas Calientes. Its the last day we have with Charlie as the last night we have for accomodation is in a hostel in Agua's so we have so say our goodbyes to him. I'm out of pocket as Angél had to borrow cash from me that he later repaid, to pay the old lady with whom we stayed with the night before. I thought we'd said that we'd give Charlie a tip together but Danny went ahead and gave him his share without telling me. I'm now the bad guy as I have to wait for the cash for a few hours, Charlie now thinking that I'm the cheap p**** The poor guy, you should have seen his face. He worked super hard and we tipped him accordingly but to think that he wasnt going to get more than what Danny had just given him, the poor fella. The trip wasnt cheap so I hope that the cook, horsemen and guide were paid well, well enough for them not to have to rely totally on tips from us but as much as I'd love to think that, I'm sure its the opposite. I hate tipping, this bulls*** 10% rule. If its good service, do tip depending on your pocket, we dont have to follow the US in everything we do, do we? Whatever about Charlie and Angél, the horsemen that we had, now those men were the poorest of the poor. I didnt get a chance to get aquainted as they only spoke Quechua and that wasnt offered in the CBS when I was doing the Leaving. I remember the mans face, dark red, weather beaten but yet warm, a welcoming face in such remote locations. We use the term "he didnt have a pot to piss in" back home to describe the level or lack of wealth someone may have. Well, this poor man and many more like him, cant afford to cloth their feet, not a shoe in sight. So imagine following us yobs, decked out in all 'the gear' for seven days, up through snow, mud, rivers, having to look after three mules and at the same time wearing nothing but sandles made from used car tyre's!! I s***e you not, this fella had it all to look forward to. Not. I remember coming down out of the snow and gawking at his feet. He has feet and toes, I can confirm that and there must be bones inside but the man, sure to god, has no feeling in them at all, thats for sure. Black with dirt or black with frost bite, who knows, but whatever he has or hasnt, he's simply a pure animal of a man that has put up with the greatest amount of hardship from what I can see, in his face and body. Its the likes of these people that deserved to be tipped properly, these are the guys that need it but thats not the system. Full credit goes to him in his dilligence to help us in whatever way he could, if he gets $100 as a tip, he bloody well deserves every bit of it and every bit more.

I try and strike up some camaradory with Charlie and Horsebox as we come out of the snow. Angél and Danny are way back, so I whip out the emergency biscuits to offer to them and to see if I can beat any craic out of them. Between Quechua and non-simplistic spanish, I cant understand a word so I go back to looking at my feet until Horsebox speaks a language I know. Potatoes. We've many kilometre at this stage through the coldest of weather and out of somewhere in the pathetic clothing he had on at those extremes, he manages to pull a small warm brown paper bag out from somewhere, filled with baby spuds. I'm not mad for flowery spuds, but he had little baby ones all nice and warm and as me mother would say, "sher wouldnt ya get up in the middle of the night for them". Could have done with a bit of salt though.

The road into Aguas Calientes is beautiful altogether taking some 12km from Santa Teresa to get there. First half of the trail, we hug the Rio Urubamba along by the famous hydro electric plant with its turbines inside the mountain and then we're at the entrance into the national park of Machu Picchu. After getting the famous stamp on our passports and some grub at a place called Baylon, we follow the railway tracks all the way in Aguas. The tracks are still in operation each day with trains coming direct from Cusco and Ollaytaytambo and finally rolling in and out of Aguas Calientes, the last stop. The tracks are along the edge of the river and once we're far enough in the forest we can look up and see the edges of Machu Picchu a few hundred feet above us. To be honest, I didnt know what I was looking at at first. There's so many photos of Machu Picchu from all different angles, so until your actually up there for yourself you wont have a clue what to expect as regards the layout of the site, thats the way I felt. Agua's is a nice little place and maybe somewhere where I should have stayed another night or two perhaps, if I had time, However, as much as I liked it, it does have a fake feel, a plastic feel but plastic in a nice way. The hoards of tourists there is unreal but their not type of tourist what you would expect or atleast what I didnt expect. Before I left for South America I thought Machu Picchu was solely a trekkers dream, which it is to some extent, but its also a place, a place so accessible that for me kind of takes the shine away. I'll describe it in an Irish way. Its a place where you can get up on the Sunday morning and go to early mass, after talking s***e outside the church and nodding across to someone you half know, your rushing home to have the roast. You've just had the jelly and icecream, a cup of tea and a biscuit, still in the Sunday best, when someone says that they should go out for the afternoon head up to Machu Picchu and have a walk around. A bit like Clonmacnoise or Glendalough on a Sunday and you have the top button of the pants open as you make the drive there. Jaysus christ, when I first landed you'd swear there we down at Millenium Park in Roscommon feeding the ducks and going on the swings! I must say I was a bit bemused on first glance at Aguas, I counted less than ten trekkers, ones that had slogged either the 4-day Inca Trail, the 5-day Salcantay or the 7-day hammering from Choque we got. Fair play to Peru though, their maximising what they can from this special site, but they've also even cut down on its amount of visitors per annum so saving its beauty. Also on the otherhand is has well over 60% of its visitors coming on handy day trips by train and then by bus, this figure caught me. Did it sit right with me? Its a free world for sure, but I kind of felt cheated, what had we achieved? We sweated and bled to see this place, the same way the Inca's came in their hey day but then on the other hand I feel sorry for those who took the easy option as they havent experienced what the Sacred Valley and the Inca Trail is all about. I understand lenghts of holidays, perhaps its the price but this is one thing in the world where it has to be done properly to get the full appreciation from it.

The alarm clock goes off. Its stupid o'clock in the morning and we're ready to go again. One of the main draws to Machu Picchu is to get there for sunrise around 6:30am with the gates opening at 6am so we need to be punctual. Danny and I werent going to p**** foot around it, so we got up at 3:40am and walked out of the town to where the famous Inca steps began, all 8,000 of them going all the way up! Hundreds of years old, still in great condition, these steep steps rise all the way from the river to the gates of Machu Picchu, which traverse the newly built road for the buses. Its pitch black when we get there, not knowing if we were at the right spot but it turns out that we're the first ones there. Happy days! When the gates open its Danny and I and another 'f***in gung ho' American junior doctor thats bursting at the seams with mister muscles, having never put a ounce of badness inside of him in his entire life. Off he went into the darkness ahead of me busrting with endless amounts of fitness he was but getting to the gates of Machu Picchu in 30mins when the recommended time is one hour, wasnt bad for a unfit, tired Paddy. It was roasting hot and the sun hadnt even began to come rise, pitch black it was still, the saturated humidity not allowing us to dry at all. We rested for another half hour for the rest of the people walking to arrive and then the hoards of buses landed. Hundreds and hundreds of people arrived, some dressed in heels and I even saw a girl in knee high boots. For shame. Delighted with myself to be the second to the gate behind Mr. No-Carbs, we sat and listened to the silence before the craze ensued.

Angél meets us at 6am and brings us throught the gates. Its a mad dart to a particular section thats narrow in parts but when you go through you see everything, the entire site of Machu Picchu unspoilt before the tourists invade for the day. Angél shows us around explaining one temple after the next. For example, the sun, the royal and the condor temple. I could be hear all day and night explaining them all but it was very fascinating to hear it from himself who had studied the Inca's for many years in college before starting his role as a professional guide. As we booked last minute with Alvaro back in Cusco, access to Huaynapicchu was already sold out but somehow he managed to bribe someone in the goverment with cash we had given him to get us access and boy was it worth it. Up yet more tiny steps which were a b**** to get down on, it gave such a commanding view over the site, and only now could I see why Machu Picchu was built in such a place and in such a fashion. The Inca's believed in the afterlife, and animals that lived there that surrounded the site, they were supposed to be representatives of this afterlife. So for example, the subterrainean world was represented by the snake, the frog representing the ground and the skies were represented by the condor, hence Machu Picchi being built on such a height and in the shape of a flying condor as seen from the highest point on Huaynapicchu. We also got a chance to walk to the 'Sun Gate' which is where the traditional "Inca Trail" ends and leads into the site giving a totally different view of what it looks like compared to the view from Huaynapicchu.

It was the end of our 7 day hike to Machu Picchu from Choquequirao. There was sweat, blood and maybe some tears but I'd stop whatever I'd be doing now to go back and trek that 115km. The visual feast that is laid on before you is simply surreal. Machu Picchu is Machu Picchu, its a household name in every regards and it should be because its beautiful but for me thousands of tourists that swarm the site each day take that special feeling away in my opinion. If these are lost cities, leave them lost. So if your planning on visiting and want something that the majority of folks dont get from an Incan experience, go a bit further afield to immerse yourself a bit more and try Choquequirao and I promise you, you wont regret it.