I stood face to face with a woman on a steep and stony track asking her where I could camp for the night whilst she carried on doing her knitting. The women in the mountains seem to be knitting wherever they are - walking, standing or sitting. Sometimes if the creatures are nearby they look like they are knitting straight from the sheep itself. Where else in the world could I see that?

Another trait of the rural Peruvians is to greet me with the word "Gringo". Sometimes I will hear a farmer shout it from a field as if it will win him some local Gringo spotting competition, and then he'll grin and wave when I reply in Spanish and ask him which is the way to Pomabamba. One man just pointed at me and said "You are a Gringo!" - I'm afraid I had no response to that one. Political correctness certainly hasn't reached these parts.

On my trek across the Cordillera Blanca region I crossed the Andean watershed where it was strange to think that the rain falling on one side of me was bound for the Pacific Ocean, and on the other it would likely end up as drops in the Amazon River and make its way eventually to the Atlantic. Just look at the map to see how far that is!

Oh, did I mention rain? Well yes, maybe that will teach me for taking on a serious hike in the rainy season. It's quite bizarre that these snow-capped mountains rising above 6000m are actually in a tropical climate. With their steep sides and snow-flutes, this makes them quite unique. But although I spent four nights above 4000m, Alpamayo (claimed to be the world´s most beautiful mountain) remained hidden behind a curtain of dark clouds the whole time. It is frustrating to say the least to be surrounded by such magnificent mountains and only be able to see the valleys below them. But filled with wild flowers and colourful people, the valleys and the villages within them were very attractive too. I eventually arrived in this lively and friendly town called Pomabamba. Sitting at 3000m on the eastern flanks of the cordillera, this marks the end of civilization as we know it. Descending further would take me into the Amazon basin and almost never-ending jungle. I'm currently undecided if I have the stamina (and enough anti-malaria pills) to head in that direction or whether I should stick with the mountains, wet though they currently are.

I should mention that socially things have been pretty good in Peru. I played Scrabble with a Countdown contestant in the Colca Canyon (and lost of course); played Irish songs with a New Yorker in Huacachina on St Patrick´s night; and was offered a free whisky tasting session with English teacher Jake in Lima. In Huaraz I had the good fortune to meet Charlie, an ex-banker who left his life in London and bought six hectares of land on which to build a mountain lodge. I spent two nights at his place and played monopoly with him and two Belgian women on a Peruvian monopoly board. Macchu Pichu was in place of Mayfair of course, but I never managed to own it. It was from Charlie´s house, high above the town of Yungay that I left the Western side of the Andes behind for a while; and found myself here - the only Gringo in town!