The Trail is tough in places, especially the second day when you climb 1,200m to the top of Dead Woman's Pass at 4,200m. The air is thin. Maddy got diaphragm cramp (who knew such things existed?) early on and Stacey fished around in her pack for ibuprofen which worked wonders, as did the adoption of a weaving zig-zag ascent - I may have looked odd, twisting and turning along the track, but I made it.

As a group, Dead Woman's Pass was fairly dramatic as Meryl, who had been 6,000m high in Annapurna two years previously with no trouble at all, stumbled and was quickly diagnosed with altitude sickness. The first we knew about it was when a shout came from further down the pass and Gladis quickly pulled an oxygen canister out of her pack. Seemingly from nowhere, a porter came pegging it down the pass and grabbed the canister like a running baton before heading in the direction of the shout. Bill, Mat and I, who had by now adopted the 'pick a rock, walk to it and rest for as long possible' style of ascent had been convinced that we were at the back of the group. Meryl, when the oxygen was applied, drove fear into her companion's hearts by announcing that she could now see the mountains and feel her feet. I don't know how she made it to the top of the pass, but she did, and she continued on the trail (ahead of Team Tortoise) before spending the night vomiting. The following day (her 60th Birthday) she was feeling a bit weak but stormed ahead leaving the three of us for dust. What a woman.

For us, the third day was the best day. The eight-to-nine hour walk took Team Tortoise nearly ten hours as none of us could stop looking at the mountains around us. The trail from the second to the third pass was spectacular. We watched the landscape across the Andes change from cloud forest to the timberline, from reddish brown mountain to glacial peaks. Bill talked about the national parks in America and some of the hiking he had done all around the world. The three of us simply revelled in the beauty of the landscape around us; here in this place it is easy to believe in gods, in stone and air. It turns out that Bill is a mormon by belief and tells us a little of how 'his' book describes the divine in the world around us. Much the same, I imagine, as the origins of just about all religions, before they became big business...

There is power here amongst the great peaks; we are small and perhaps for the first time since we began our journey back in the UK one could use that hated of all American phrases with impunity: here in the Andes we really are filled with awe. Later that day, the 1,500 uneven and steep stone steps down may have played havoc with our knees but the final (optional) walk to the Intipata Inca site, an old farming community with impressive agricultural terraces, was well worth the view over the Urubamba River as it snaked away some 4 kilometres below us. And we managed to arrive at the campsite just in time for the final round of afternoon tea. What a great day.