The first six-day boat trip had brought us to the triple axis which is the Brazil/Colombia/Peru border. During our first night on the second boat, closely resembling a floating rust bucket, a storm blew through; then we understood why the foreigners had all the space up on the top deck.Great for the cooling breeze during the day, but offering only a plastic tarp for protection at night. The Amazon was now running around our rucksacks; my hastily erected tent flysheet just about prevented my hammock bed receiving serious flood damage. On the Peruvian side of the Amazon, it seemed that they don't really do jetties - we would simply run aground onto a mud bank when collecting villagers and cargo (which mainly consisted of lots of beer and a little food). Then engaging reverse thrusters to refloat the thing - several nights I awoke to swirling stars, not so much from the lip-curling "puro" cane sugar alcohol, but from trying to extricate ourselves from a riverbank or sandbank -and this was the wet season.

Three days later we arrived at Iquitos, jungle city with only water or air connections. Our group then went its' various ways-flights to the coast, hitching on a timber boat to Colombia, selling cameras to pay for the return fare and living expenses? I joined forces with my own Ecuadorian cabin girl for the onward journey to Quito. Our three-day jungle trip from Iquitos was one of those things you just laugh about afterwards, notable mainly for its complete lack of wildlife despite various pre-departure promises. It made sense however as the guide proudly announced that the villages kill and eat practically anything (except dolphins, which apparently are just too fatty). We did see a sloth on a rope and an armadillo in a cooking pot, but not really the same is it? We however were on the menu for the many and persistent mosquitoes, which dined primarily from late afternoon until mid-morning on any flesh left exposed for more than a second. Fighting our way through clogged-up backwaters in the canoe with rushes containing supposedly poisonous spiders, and losing our way in the dark in a submerged forest all formed part of the unscheduled fun.

One final boat trip, just two days this time, and we were connected to the asphalt world - well sort of. The first leg of the journey was a road under construction, so after waiting 8 hours by the road for it to clear of construction workers (just before dark), there was a formula one-style straining at the leash 10mph crawl behind the lead car, followed by a free-for-all dash up the muddy hillside and on for three hours in pitch dark over a hill and through freshly-cut jungle. Trees leaning precariously 100ft above the track probably would have some down with a heavy gust of wind, and I didn't care to look over the other edge. Apparently this route was a favourite for bandits and hold-ups too. So I just leaned back, closed my eyes and wondered on my slim chances of surviving this journey. Que sera sera, as they often say.

The nariz de Diablo (devils nose) is on most tourists' agendas. I avoided it last time, but here I was again, so plumped for it. Basically it consists of a series of switchbacks dropping 1000m to the valley floor. This and the line to Riobamba 100km further north is the last surviving part of the Ecuadorian rail network. The weather was lousy (April is the wettest month in Ecuador, "abril de mil" alludes to the 1000mm that may fall that month), and the real train wasn't running due apparently to the risk of landslides and sleeper sinkage, but still it was a worthwhile excursion, sitting on a small locomotive roof and watching the ground fall away beneath my feet.

Whilst sploshing around in the hot springs at Banos I met a chap working nearby at a family-owned hacienda on an organic farming project; he reckoned that I could get some work experience volunteering there. And so I passed over a month there; my first day involving the glamorous task of shovelling horse, donkey and spitting llama dung contributions to a very organic compost heap, and progressing through strimming immense swathes of land, cutting maize and sugar cane, sowing beans and potatoes, and cutting terraces for blackberry plants. I hope to get the chance to return next year to see if our efforts have bore fruit. It was far from all work and no play though, leaving plenty of time to explore the locality, or to read and relax in my hammock, looking across at the smoking 5000m Tungarahua volcano, which had blown its' top just nine months earlier. The four resident dogs were also fun, one of which had a nine-pup litter during my stay. The others would often accompany my breathless jog around the valley head. I proudly adopted the footballing gringo tab too in a couple of matches with the local village team, rather a struggle on their mainly waterlogged pitch at 8000ft altitude. I was also invited to the sample cuy - roasted guinea pig being the local speciality. I can't say it tasted just like chicken, and was a bit fatty for me. Anyway, I used to be semi-vegetarian before south America! The big village fiesta de la virgen involved a bonfire and randomly-directed fireworks and a brass band in the local sports hall followed by a DJ set for the kids - for the men, gambling and drinking copious quantities of bad alcohol, then dancing with the ladies country-style with hands proferred in front at chest level - all very tame compared to the wild kids and wild cavortings I witnessed in Brazil a couple of months earlier.

My second volunteer role was at an "eco-village" north-west of Quito - actually half a dozen bamboo and thatch constructions built by volunteers last year on a smallish plot of sloping land on the edge of a tiny end-of-the-road village. The owner worked and lived in Quito and no-one was around to direct operations, so I spent four days digging and redirecting the site's main water source. I had been planning to stay a couple of weeks, but quit early due a feeling of being exploited and paying for the privilege. The two projects had been at opposite ends of the spectrum.

With an unplanned three weeks or so left of my trip (due to my appointment with the Glastonbury mud in late June), I headed north, first to Otovalo, where I visited some foreigners who had made their home in Ecuador on organic farms. Of all the countries I've visited, Ecuador is one of my favourites, and I wanted to find out how some Europeans have settled here. It's something I am also considering - as I am in thrall of the climate, the mountains, landscape and biodiversity, the people and still visible indigenous cultures.

I spent my final fortnight in Colombia - unfortunately I have no photographic record of it, as my camera has finally packed in for good, but has served me well. My preconceptions were probably similar to most - dangerous place, riddled with drugs and crime. But El Presidente Uribe has done a lot recently to make the country tourist-friendly, and I didn't have any problems. In Bogota I met up with a couple of friends first encountered in the Bolivian salt flats, and again when living in Buenos Aires. As I entered the room I genuinely thought they had fallen on hard times and were squatting there, sitting round on a bare floor with a joint, no other furniture in the flat - it transpired that her flatmate had just moved out the previous day with all her belongings. Her birthday was a fun evening though with a variety of interesting characters from the arty-leaning respectable sub-culture of Bogota. Returning to the hostel at 4am I was surprised to be given a wide berth as I asked for directions.

Finally, I was determined to end my trip on a beach - so I travelled 20 hours north (my final long distance bus trip!) to the historic and tourist-friendly walled city of Cartagena. I had my few days of Caribbean waters and idyllic beaches in Parque Nacional Tayrona, hammocking onthe upper storey of a hilltop cabana, occasionally buffeted by wild winds but surrounded by sea on three sides. Time for rest and a little reflection on the whole trip. I can't imagine at the moment that I'd want to do this amount of travelling again in one go - it's the once-in-a-lifetime thing for me. Besides I'll be planting trees for a while yet to offset my footprint. I can see me visiting specific places to study, to work, to volunteer. But a brilliant trip without doubt with experiences and memories that I'll never forget. A very brief stopover in Madrid was a first hit of Europe for almost 2 years. Curious how people entertain themselves I thought, all the grand structures here - so much leisure time, such fastidious attention to clothes, mannerisms, developed consumerism and this is where civilisation has brought us in this part of the world. Then London Gatwick airport, me suddenly a wannabee smuggler onto the plane of half a bottle of sun cream, a small bottle of water and a bottle of wine I'd bought as a gift in Madrid. Oh yes the terrorist threat. Terrible. And finally my home town Blackburn, and well, you'll just have to come and visit its' wonders as the travel blogging ends here.

Cheers - Mick.