The city that moves to the beat of a different drum

A fruit seller takes a break from the heat

You want hot? You got it, and then some. This is South America with a Caribbean twist. It's palm trees, steamy humidity and sea breezes. It's tropical fruit, pulsating African beats, cobbled streets, and rainbow-coloured colonial houses. It's Cartagena de Indias in northern Columbia - two hours by plane from Lima, but a world away from South America as we know it.

One of two forts built to protect Cartagena from pirates

Cartagena was once a major northern gateway to South America. The first slave ship arrived here in 1564, with thousands of slaves destined for all parts of the continent, and the city never looked back. It flourished a key trading port for the Spanish - everything from gold to slaves came through here at some point - and a major storehouse for treasures plundered from the Indians and bound for European shores. This, of course, made it quite an attractive target for pirates and buccaneers.

Forty feet high and fifty foot thick walls were built to keep the pirates out, but the lure of such a booty was hard to resist. During the 16th century, the city was attacked at least five times by seafaring pirates. In desperation, a couple of forts were added to the entrance to the bay, linked by a large chain which was pulled high to stop unfriendly boats that sailed into port in search of gold, and this seemed to do the trick. With 2500 poorly trained men, Don Blas managed to fend off 25,000 English soldiers and their 186 ships, and Sir Francis Drake was finally sent packing.

Cafe del Mar - the perfect place to relax on a warm night in Cartagena

These days the city is still under siege, but by tourists not pirates. The city walls still enclose the old town and, inside, chilled bars and cafes hide along the cobble streets. The boat ride to the forts takes you past small islands with rundown beach towns, where people dive into the water fully clothed to cool off and five-year-old kids swim effortlessly in the sea, like they've been doing it since the day that they were born. Our guide, Fernando, unsubtly leaves us stranded on the beach in the small beach town of Bocachica, where we're instantly surrounded by necklace-sellers flogging their wares. There's no work on the island, and no fresh water or agriculture, so Carl's brother Nick (who has come to visit us for a few days) takes his first hit for the team and makes a couple of purchases. We translate, sit back with a cold drink and wonder how life got to be this tough.

Carl and Nick enjoy a cold drink on the beach after a tour of the forts

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Big cities are bad

We've come to an important realisation: big cities are bad for our health and bad for our budget. Four days in Lima have been a disastrous concoction of booze, bad food and very little sleep. Today we've consumed a record amount of crap hangover food: Burger King, Pizza Hut and Dunkin' Donuts (seriously how disgusting is that?). In our defence though, we:

1. were celebrating Waz's 31st birthday. We even visited Hooters - "I've never been to one before," Waz begged. Yeah right.
2. have not seen an American fast food joint since Buenos Aires. Absence apparently does make the heart grow fonder. Unfortunately, it doesn't make the food they churn out taste any better.
   
3. cooked a meal for ourselves last night and the night before. It may have been too little too late, but we've got to hope that reversed at least some of the damage we've been doing to ourselves over the past four days.
   
4. managed to squeeze in a touristy site: a visit to Pachacamac, the ruins of the ancient Wari civilisation covered in sand until the 1940s.
5. HAD LOADS OF FUN!
   

Next stop: Columbia!

Conquering Huaytapallana: back at altitude for a glacial hike and Waz's 31st birthday

Waz looks tough on the outside, but Waz hurting on the inside

We nearly killed Waz on his 31st birthday. Well, not us per say, but the altitude and the hike we went on nearly killed him. It was only a five hour hike to the giant glacier of Huaytapallana in the central highlands of Peru, but I think it felt worse because we hadn't been at altitude for a couple of weeks. And because our guide Willy made it look easy. He strode on ahead, while we inched forward, dizzy and gasping for breath.

We're not even sure how we ended up in the central highlands. We'd vowed to avoid altitude after Cusco - it's too damn cold and too hard to breath with your head in the clouds - and yet here we are, going on glacial hikes that take us to 5000m and nearly killing Wazza.

The Huaytapallana glacier

Lucky the view made up for the pain. The glacier is a third of the size it once was, but it's still enormous. And spectacular. And ours to enjoy. There was not another soul in sight and when we reached it, it snowed.

Along the way, Willy stopped to tell us about the plants - "this one is called the 'Mother-in-Law' because when you sit on it, it hurts" - and the terrorists that once haunted the valley and the villages in it.

Willy tells us that the people here suffered a lot at the hands of the notorious Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path) and the El Movimiento Revolucionario Túpac Amaru (MRTA) guerrillas.

"There used to be a dairy farm up here called Hacienda Acopalca owned by a Swiss man, which employed a lot of the local villagers" he tells us. "It was destroyed by the guerrillas, leaving the people with no way to make money. Finally, now that it is safe, a French woman has come to teach the children and adults new skills."

Willy remembers the nights when the Shining Path would knock out all of the electricity in the villages and light up the countryside with fire, their logo burning bright for miles. "We used to go out and watch," he said. "You could see the fire clearly from my house near Huancayo. It was a warning."

The Shining Path leader, Guzman, was caught in this valley in 1992. He was caught by the Police, walking into the village of Villacoto dressed as a woman. His capture spelt the end for the Shining Path.

If you ask Willy, getting rid of the terrorists is the one good thing Peru's ex-President Fujimori did for the country. In 2000, Fujimori fled Peru amid accusations of human rights abuses and corruption. In 2007, he was sentenced to six years imprisonment for various offences and is serving his time in a Peruvian prison.

Willy calls Peru "one of the seven wonders of the world" - not because of its spectacular natural scenery or Inca history, but for its politics. "Did you know that our current President, Alan Garcia, once robbed Peru of millions?" he laughs. "But we have a law for politicians which says that if you stay out of the country for 10 years, the slate is wiped clean. You can come back and you're free to stand for President again."

Despite all this, Willy is passionate about Peru and Huancayo, his home town here in the highlands, in particular. The area has a rich farming history. Willy tells us that the area is known as the "refridgerator for Lima". It supplies Lima with the majority of its fresh produce, - everything from bananas and corn to artichokes and more than 90 types of potatoes.

It's also the place to party. "We have more parties than days of the year," Willy says proudly. Each farmer holds a party each year to mark their stock. In most parts of Peru, these parties last a couple of weeks. In the central Highlands, the parties go on for three months. "We love to drink too - we have 12 types of beer and we also have liquor," Willy says before listing them.


Waz gets a twinkle in his eyes, but it's not meant to be. Drinking with locals at this altitude would surely spell the end for us all. So, after enjoying a late lunch of fresh trout, served by a tiny Quechuan woman, we say goodbye to Willy and board our overnight bus. Our birthday fiesta for Warwick will have to wait until tomorrow when we reach Peru's capital, Lima.

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Time to shake off the sand and hit the road

We don't want to leave, but we've nothing left to conquer here. No more adventures to be had in the dunes. Yesterday afternoon we climbed to the top of one of them with a couple of beers to watch the sunset. Damn dunes are higher than you think. It took 20-minutes of calf-crunching climbing to get to the top to watch the sunset. And less than a minute for the boys to race down in it in a final test of their testosterone levels. Now its time to leave this desert oasis. Next stop: we haven't decided yet!

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Yeeeeeeeehhaaaaaaaa!

Our beast of a dune buggy - the only way to travel in Huacachina

Forget camels. The only way to take on a sand dune is in a big green beast of a dune buggy. These big boys don't just drive, they roar, powered not by fuel but by testosterone. It's like a rollercoaster, but better. Your stomach lurches as you drop over a ridge and fall down a giant sand dune. Your head spins when the buggy defies gravity on the side of a dune. Want more? Grab a sandboard and hurtle down the nearest dune on your stomach. Eat sand. Strap it to your feet and tumble down in a heap. Eat more sand. It's one of the best adrenaline rushes we've had in a while.

Click play to watch Carl eat sand

We're in Huacachina, a tiny little oasis town not far from the Peruvian coast. There's not much here: four streets surrounding a slightly smelly lagoon, palm trees, hotels and a hell of a lot of sand. We're surrounded by hulking sand dunes on every side. They loom over our hotel, like they're just itching to swallow us up.

Testing your testosterone levels on the sand dunes is the main activity here. After that, the only thing left to do is sit by the pool with a cold beer ... and plan your next crazy adventure in the sand.

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Uncovering the secrets of the Nasca

The hummingbird, the largest Nazca figure

"Now amigos, look to the left, look to the left, look to the left. You see? You see? You see?" said our pilot, Angel (no joke, that is his name).

It was hard not to see. Our plane was almost vertical, circling over the famous Nazca pampas. We had nowhere else to look but down from this angle. Angel was pointing down to the hummingbird figurine below and looking at us expectantly.

A viewing platform far below

"Si, si, si, we see it Angel," we said. Now turn around, put both hands back on the steering wheel, and watch where we're flying. And while you're at it, make us a little less vertical.

We'd been in the air for about 30 minutes. The hummingbird was the 8th Nazca figure we'd seen carefully drawn in the ground below, and like most people we're baffled about their origins.

Some people believe the lines are ancient running tracks or UFO runways. But a more believable theory is that the area was once a river, which supplied the ancient Nazca civilisation with the water they needed to survive. When a 40-year drought left the area dry and starved, the Nazca people, it's believed, turned to shamanism to communicate with the gods of the mountains and the rain. After all, some of the figures are important shamanic symbols, intrinsically woven into Peruvian history.

True or not? I guess we'll never know.

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The hidden nuns of Monasterio de Santa Catalina

The Monasterio de Santa Catalina was founded in 1579. In those days, if you were the second daughter in your family, you were expected to dedicate your life to god. If you got lucky and your family had some cash, this is the monastery you'd pick.

Here, you could enjoy all the trappings of a normal life - parties, visitors, arts, nice furnishings. But then one day a miserable man (I think he was a bishop?) rode into town and spoiled everyone's fun. Eventually, the nuns were forced to retreat into the monastery, into a life of silence. They traded through wooden grates, hidden from the outside world. They constructed private cells where they could lead isolated lives, protected by high walls.

Then, in 1970, things changed again. Recognising the monastery´s value, the Government demanded that some sections open to tourism. Now, you can wander the small alleys, marvel at the mix of colonial and native architecture, and indulge in a glutenous dessert in the monastery´s cafe. And, if you're lucky like we were, you might just catch a glimpse of one of the 30 nuns who remain hidden in a small section of the monastery, while the modern world buzzes around them.

One of the nuns does some washing on the roof

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Such laziness ...

Canon del Colca

We talked about hiking to the bottom of Canon del Colca, one of the largest canyons in the world (100m long and up to 3000m deep), but in our heart of hearts we all knew it wasn't going to happen. Still, we jumped on a bus and rode the six hours to Cabanaconde, a small town at the furthest end of the canyon. It was late when we arrived, so we ate some alpaca, helped a local boy with his English, and went to bed telling ourselves that we'd see how we felt in the morning.

Morning came. We got back on the bus, stopped briefly at a lookout to watch condors fly over the canyon, got back on a bus and headed back to Arequipa.

Twelve hours on a bus to watch condors for 10 minutes. Go figure.

A condor soars above us in Canon del Coca

Inca mummies in Arequipa

Sarita was found sitting cross-legged in the sun, just north of here on Sara Sara mountain. She's more than 500 years old and one of eight of handful of children found in this region, frozen in ice, all of them sacrificial offerings to ancient gods.

Sarita is a little different from the other children. She's a little older, probably in her late teens. She sits cross-legged, the others lie in a foetal position. She's in the worst shape, exposed to the sun for much longer than the others before she was found. Despite this, her hair long dark hair is shiny, her fingernails and teeth are in tact, and skin still covers most of her body.

Sarita is not normally the main attraction at Museo Santuarios Andinos in Arequipa. She shares the spotlight with Juanita, a teenage girl hidden by the Ampato Volcano for more than 500 years. Juanita has been better preserved than Sarita. Her mummified body was discovered in 1995, when an eruption from a nearby volcano melted Ampato's ice cap, allowing expeditions into its crater for the first time.

Both girls have large cracks in their skulls, caused by a blunt object just moments before their bodies were wrapped in blankets and left on the mountain. It's widely believed that they would have climbed the mountain, aware of their fate, clad in ceremonial dress and woven flip flops which offered little protection against the cold and snow. Small figurines, pots and momentos were found with each girl. Like Sarita and Juanita, these have been carefully preserved and help us understand their story, their culture, and the reasons why they gave their lives willingly to the mountains.

The sacred valley of the Incas

Waz and Carl and the slowest cab driver ever

We're nothing if not ambitious. Before setting out on the Inca trail, we'd hatched a plan to cycle around the Sacred Valley. We'd even gone so far as to source bikes and plot a route. But things change, right?

After two days partying in Cusco with our Inca trail buddies, we were in no state to bike anywhere so we booked a cab, dragged ourselves out of bed before noon and set off in search of the Inca secrets hidden outside Cusco.

Stop one: Pisac
The site of an Inca fortress, set high above a small bustling market village and surrounded by curved terraces, almost entirely unbroken by steps. Across the gorge at the back of the site, the cliffs are pockmarked with holes left by grave robbers looking for treasures in ancient Inca tombs.

Pisac

Stop two: Ollantaytambo
Another large Inca fortress protects the town of Ollantaytambo, one of the best surviving examples of Inca city planning. This is where Manco Inca fled after his defeat at Saqsaywaman and where he successfully fought off Hernando Pizarro before retreating further into the jungle to Vilcabamba.

Stop three: Moray
Some suggest Moray was a giant petri dish which allowed the Incas to determine the best climate for growing different crops. It consists of three large round terraced amphitheatres, each one producing various micro climates.

Waz in the largest amphitheatre

Now, we´re on an overnight bus again, heading to Arequipa. We´ve said goodbye to Dave for the last time, but we´ve still got Waz. He´s revelling in his first ´full cama´ experience - fully reclining chairs, dinner and movies, he´s like a kid in a candy store. Wait till he feels the pleasure of flying out of your seat while the driver speeds like a madman around mountains in the dead of night.

Machu Picchu, the lost city of the Incas

Carl eats his sandwich and looks smug (he got cheese with his and we didn't)

We're looking smug again. We're watching busloads of tourists pile into Machu Picchu and we're wondering which ones are going to complain about the walk uphill from the ticket gates to the entrance. And we're preparing what we'll say if they complain within earshot, none of it nice but then we reckon we've earned it.

We reached the Sun Gate at about six this morning. Carl, Dave and Waz were among the first to get there in a testosterone-fueled race to the top, but we were all rewarded with a clear morning and perfect views over the entire site.

Emma reaches Machu Picchu ... finally

We're knackered now, that's for sure. The boys are using all their reserves to race up Wanya Picchu, a steep mountain at the back of the ruins. I'm taking the opportunity to rest my weary legs on a terrace with spectacular views to the valley below.

Llama Path, our tour agency, have given us t-shirts as souvenirs of the trek, but we don't think they effectively convey how we feel this morning, having conquered Machu Picchu and the ancient path of the Incas. We've decided we want our t-shirts to send a clear message to daytrippers: "We walked four days to get here, now get the hell out of our way".

We don't want to be rude, but we do want right of way today. Step aside, trainos.

So much testosterone ... the boys conquer Wanya Pinchu

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Happy birthday Carlos! (and day three of the Inca trail)

We could have learned a lot from the Incas. After 500 years, their buildings are still standing, their aqueducts flow freely, and their terraces bear lush crops.

Winay Wayna, the most impressive Inca site so far

Winay Wayna is the final Inca site before Machu Picchu, and it's one of the most impressive. We spent a couple of hours exploring it this afternoon, debating its purpose. The most popular theory is that it was giant open-air laboratory, where the Incas tested their agricultural methods. Others believe that it was some sort of ceremonial site based on its proximity to Machu Picchu. For us, it is the beginning of the end. The only thing standing between us and Machu Picchu is a little guard post and one final mountain. In the wee hours of tomorrow morning, we'll make the mad two-hour dash to the Sun Gate to see the sun rise over the lost city of the Incas. Let's hope the clouds haven't followed us this far.

This is also as far as our porters go. Tomorrow we are on our own. There'll be no cold drinks waiting for us when we arrive and no 'happy hour' popcorn, but it's no time to be sad. It's Carl's 29th birthday and the sun is shining.

Beers all round!

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If only ...

Today has been a day of ups and downs: up to Warmiwanusca (dead woman's pass), the highest pass on the Inca trail at 4200m; down to Paqaymayo at 3500m, a bone-jarring and treacherous descent in wet weather; up to the second pass at 3950m; and down to the ruins of Phuyupatamarka and our campsite at about 3500m.

Waz on the ascent to dead woman's pass

There was a point in all this when we thought it was all over for Waz. We were halfway up dead woman's pass. Getting to the top seemed an impossible feat for all of us, but Waz looked particularly rough. He was sweating rivers and had turned a deathly shade of white. Carl and I discussed whether we were morally obliged to head back down with him if things went totally pear-shaped. We decided we weren't. We'd chuck him on the nearest donkey and send him on his way. We'd come too far and endured too much pain to turn back now. He'd have to go it alone.

Luckily it didn't come to that. He made it. We made it. And the clouds made it. They cloaked the valley below robbing us of the satisfaction you get when you look back and marvel at how far you've come.

Carl celebrates at dead woman's pass

But there was another point in all this when we thought it was all over for Waz. We arrived at our lunch stop with wobbly legs and aching joints after walking down slippery steps for nearly two hours. He arrived with grazes and bloody knees, but had thankfully stopped short of throwing himself off the side of the mountain to the valley below.

If only the Incas had built tunnels through mountains rather than paths over them. If only.

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Don't be fooled!

Carl took this happy snap at the start of the Inca trail, before we fully realised what we'd gotten ourselves into. Seven hours of uphill hiking later and things look a little different. We've climbed from 2200m to our campsite at 3000m. It wasn't a steep climb, just constant, and a little tougher than we'd expected on our first day. We're knackered, our limbs are stiff, and we're dreading tomorrow's ascent to dead woman's pass.

Our guide, Wilbur, says he's impressed by our level of fitness and normally we'd encourage this kind of flattery, but we know he's lying and lies aren't going to get us to 4200m tomorrow. All we can hope for now is good weather and some dogged determination to get us through. Unfortunately, at this point, neither look hopeful.

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Cuzco takes its toll

Okay, I'll admit it. Our preparation for the Inca trail has been less than ideal. Our nights in Cuzco have been long and messy, and our days devoid of strenuous activity. Physically we're in bad shape.

Today's trip to the Inca ruins just outside Cuzco could be a bad omen. We got a cab to drop us at Tambomachay, the site of a ceremonial stone bath known as El Bano del Inca, and walked downhill to Saqsaywaman, a large Inca fort made of massive stones that was used as a base in the fight against the Spaniards. The sites themselves were pretty cool - those Incas were clever little buggers - but the 6km walk hurt more than it should have.

One stone in Saqsaywaman weighs 300 tonnes

Yesterday's wander around the old town was a little more positive. We took in Qorikancha, which was once the richest temple in the Inca empire until the Spaniards built a church on top of it, marvelled at the 12-sided stone of Hatunrumiyoc, and strolled through the narrow cobblestone streets of the San Blas district. But following it with a massive bender was not a good idea.

We've behaved ourselves tonight. Is it enough to get us over Dead Women's pass in two days time? I highly doubt it.

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Tacky Titi Tours

One of the local women on the Isla Flotantes

We like the way they settle disputes in the Isla Flotantes (floating reed islands). It's simple really: remove the anchors from your neighbours island so they drift away in the middle of the night, or saw your island in half and rid yourself of any problem family members.

That's the way its been for the Aymaran people of Lake Titicaca for centuries and they see no reason to change this aspect of their lives. They've changed so much already. For example, Hugo, the president of this island, shows us the solar panels which have brought them electricity and light. That means no more candles, which can only be good news on an island made of dry reeds. Synthetic rope has replaced the straw used by their ancestors because it lasts 10 years longer. And, unsurprisingly, tourism has surpassed fishing as their main source of income.

Today, unfortunately, we were tourists not travellers. A lack of time had forced us onto one of those horrible day tours that make you feel like you've regressed to childhood and need to be told where to go, what to do, and how long to spend there. We tried to minimise the damage by choosing a company which:

• guaranteed there would be no more than 15 people on the tour
• didn't provide lunch
• was dirt cheap

But we were sorely disappointed. There were 25 people on our tour and too many sock-and-sandal combinations. The multilingual guide told bad jokes in Spanish and English, and at the end of our visit Hugo's family lined up and sung songs in Aymaran and Spanish. At best, it was cringeworthy. At worst, degrading ... and sad that people like Hugo believe people aren't going to be happy simply learning more about their culture.

A local Taquille woman rests in the main square

Stop two on the tour was Isla Taquille. Named after its Spanish founder, the Isla Taquille is as beautiful as the Isla del Sol and thankfully remains relatively free of tacky tourism.

The locals still make their living from agriculture, but they are known throughout South America for the quality of their textiles. They still wear their traditional dress, including the children at the local school, which makes us think its not just for our benefit. The men wander through the main square knitting, wearing short waistcoats, colourful cumberbunds and woollen hats that denote their marital status. White hats for single men, red hats for married men, and colourful beanies for the leaders elected each year by the community.

You can only buy Taquille textiles on the island. The prices are set by the community and each item is numbered so that the money goes back to the family that made it.

Of course, the tour agency tried their best to hijack this visit as well. Lunch wasn't included but our ever-helpful guide steered us to a restaurant. All the restaurants on the island serve the same food, he claimed, so we might as well eat at this one. Plus the family were going to perform ... surely we wanted to hang around and see that? Surely not.

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Bordering on stupid

I forgot that I'd only been given 30 days to see Bolivia. That's nowhere near enough time, which could explain why we've stayed an extra four days without realising until half an hour ago, on the way to the Peruvian border. In fact, we would have stayed longer if:

• Liverpool wasn't playing Arsenal. We'd planned to stay on the Isla del Sol for one more night until Carl realised there was no television on the island. Instead, we wound up back in Copacabana getting ridiculously drunk with a couple of crazy Londoners. (I know I can't believe we travelled all the way to Bolivia to watch football with Londoners either)
• We didn't have a date with the Inca trail in five days, and weren´t meeting Warwick and Dave in Cusco for some drinking ... um, I mean training.
  

Anyway, an extra four days in Bolivia is usually enough to earn you a fine and a bit of hassle at the border. But I didn't hang around to plead my case. Before the immigration officer knew what had happened, I was gone, across the border and into Peru. Next stop: Puno, the largest town on the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca and the jump off point for the famous/infamous reed islands.

Inca creationism on the Isla del Sol

Walking in the footsteps of the first Incas

This is it. The Isla del Sol (Island of the Sun). The place where life began. Or at least, that´s what the native Quechuan and Aymaran people will tell you. It´s the story of their ancestors that has been passed on for centuries - creationism, Inca-style. Pre-Inca people believed that the island was the birthplace of the sun and the god-king, Viracocha. The Incas believed that the first Incas, Manco Capac and Mama Ocllo, mystically appeared here and decided they needed an empire. And, would you believe it, a hundred odd years later they had one.

Of course, nothing that exciting happened here today, but we can see why the Incas believed the island was special.

We left the shores of Copacabana this morning in an overloaded and completely unseaworthy wooden boat, which sputtered it´s way across Lake Titicaca in three long hours. The island is on the Bolivian side of the lake, hence the unseaworthy boat. In any other country, you´d at least have the choice of a giant ferry or a fast boat. But this is Bolivia, so the only way is the local way. It´s part of what we love about this crazy country.

If it wasn´t for the llamas, you´d be excused for thinking you were in the Mediterranean

Lake Titicaca itself is really just a big lake at altitude. It´s 3280m above sea level, but from what we´ve read the jury's still out on whether it's actually the highest navigable lake in the world. Regardless, it´s high enough to make breathing difficult and close enough to the sun to make you fry.

The Isla del Sol is home to 2500 permanent residents, ancient ruins, spectacular hiking tracks, and beautiful vistas. We took the high path across the island, from the Temple del Sol in the north to the growing village of Yumani in the south.

House-building in Yumani is a community event

It took us about four hours, although I wouldn´t say that we exerted ourselves. Everything happens slowly at altitude and the Isla del Sol is no exception. We ran into some people we´d met in Argentina, deliberated at length over the Rock of the Puma (couldn´t see it!), thought about picnicking on an Inca table until we realised it was originally used for human sacrifice, dodged llamas, donkeys and a man walking his pigs, and eventually were greeted in Yumani by local kids touting cheap accommodation and hot showers.

Now we've got a bottle of wine and have settled in to watch the sunset. Yep, life is tough.

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