Pink dolphins, Piranahs & Shamen

Landing in Iquitos, a city on the Amazon river, one thing is evident from the get-go, the 'junglist massive' indeed. We have been flying over lush green rainforest and nothing else for about an hour before we touch down. 

Iquitos is one of the most isolated cities in the world, home to 650,000 people, it can only be reached by plane or boat, cut-off from the rest of Peru by dense jungle. There are no roads in or out. We are soon to experience the Amazon jungle for ourselves because we are staying in an eco-lodge in a remote area 165km up the Amazon from Iquitos - it's a three hour boat ride away.

The humidity is overpowering the moment we step off the plane - the air is hot, steamy and damp. It has just been raining. Our guide, Johnathan, greets us and informs us that the humidity is around 80 percent. I didn't really need anyone to tell me that because it is evident in my hair, which is doing what can only be described as a Mick Hucknall.

Johnathan also tells us there are only two seasons in the Amazon - the rainy season and the really rainy season. We have arrived in the 'really rainy'season - when the river floods the surrounding jungle by up to 15 metres for 5 months of the year. So everyone gets everywhere by boat or canoe.

As we make our way up the Amazon the scale of it really blows me away - it is a mighty river indeed, it actually looks more like a huge lake.

We pass remote villages built on stilts, kids paddle about in canoes, waving at us. We learn that these people are called the Riberena  people, tribes and communities that live on the Amazon. They even drink the water straight from it. Yikes. 

We soon experience the full extent of the rainy season when a big storm hits the river - it is impossible to see more than a couple of meters ahead because the rain is hitting the water so hard it turns the air into thick mist. Our boat is forced to dock at a little village for an hour until the storm passes.

After a couple of hours the boat turns up a tributary called the Tayhuno River. Eventually, we arrive at the lodge. It is basically a huge tree house, with wooden walkways connecting wooden cabins.  There is also a research centre where scientists studying the Amazon wildlife spend several months a year. The cabins are pretty basic - mesh walls, beds covered by mosquito nets and cold showers with water straight from the river - which we are warned not to swallow otherwise 'It could be very bad'. Fair play.

The first thing that strikes me about the jungle is the noise - it is deafening - the sound of macaws, monkeys, frogs, crickets and everything else,  it is thrumming with life all day and all night.

At 6am next morning Johnathan takes us to vist a reserve called Terra Firma (yes, all very Jurassic Park). It takes two hour by boat but we have the best chance of finding the elusive Poison Dart Frog there. Terra Firma is the only part of jungle that isn't flooded because it is on higher ground. We are issued jungle boots and have to tuck our socks into them to prevent stuff getting in  mainly scorpions and spiders.

 Travelling by boat through the undergrowth to reach Terra Firma is hairy experience in itself because everytime the boat bumps a tree or bush, a smorgasboard of bugs and insects drop into the boat, and all over us. At first I am petrified - there are big crickets, stick insects and some sizeable spiders. Stef and I get used to flicking the bugs off each other after every brush with a tree. We also learn not to look up to admire the huge vines, creepers and trees with our mouths open pretty quickly.

As we arrive at Terra Firma, following Johnathan - who is reassuringly armed with a machete to hack away at the undergrowth, we start hunting for the frogs. After two hours we've seen loads of multi-coloured frogs and toads and some massive ants and wasps. But no Poison Darts. Suddenly one of the guides shouts us over. There, on a leaf, is a tiny red, yellow and black frog about the size of a thumbnail - the Poison Dart. For a frog it is incredibly pretty. We actually see quite a few in the end.

There are mozzies everywhere. Johnathan goes over to a huge termite nest hanging from one of the trees, he grabs a big handful of termites, crushes them between his palms and rubs them all over his face, informing us that the scent crushed termites give off is a natural insect repellant popular with local tribes. He offers me a handful of crushed termites to rub on my face. It is all getting a bit too 'Bear Grylls' for me so I decline. Plus I have already marinated myself in deet. But Stef gamely has a go.

Johnathan then takes us to a large hollow tree that has fallen on its side.

"If we crawl through we will see hundreds of vampire bats, fruit bats and scorpions. Maybe even a tarantula" he explains excitedly, switching on his head torch. Oh. My. God.

I decide to sit this one out and am so glad I did becuse the second Stef follows Johnathan into the Tree of Horrors loads of bats fly out. He emerges filthy but chuffed because they saw a big Whip-Tailed Scorpion, and about three vareties of bats that were flapping around their faces. Nice.

As we take the boat back to the lodge as we pass a low hanging tree. Suddenly a large brown monkey drops onto the boat. It is the most amazing moment - I have never been that close to a monkey before. The guides tell us it is an Amazonian Brown Woolly Monkey. They give us a few bananas, unable to resist the monkey comes and sits on my lap, peels a banana and wolfs it down. I am speechless. She then goes to sit on Stef's lap and does the same. We learn she was rescued by the lodge as a baby from the black market trade in Iquitos. The lodge released her back into the wild but they check in on her once a week  to make sure she is doing ok. Her name is Dorila and apparently she always drops into the boat in search of a snack. Amazing. We also see a tiny Pygmy marmoset - the world's smallest monkey that is super-cute, a teeny monkey about the size of a hamster. 

That afternoon we head off in search of the famous Amazonian Pink Dolphin. They swim in a particular area of deep water and are apparently very shy. We arrived in an open-topped boat in the middle of another pelting thunderstorm. I am getting used to being drenched most of the time in the Amazon. We are so soaked that some of the boys in our group, Stef included, jump into the murky water. After half an hour the rain subsides - suddenly, Pink Dolphins appear from nowhere - they only surface for a nano-second but they are definitely pink. They seem quite curious - they don't come closer than 10 metres or so but circle the boat for quite a while. Another crazy creature of the Amazon - they are pink because of a particular plant acid that is present in the river water that turns their skin pink over time. It is a pretty special moment - this place is one of the few areas on the Amazon where you can see these dolphins.

That night I decide to man-up and join Stef and Johnathan on a tarantula-hunting mission. Being terrified of spiders, this is a big deal for me. Thankfully Johnathan is armed with his machete again which gives me some comfort. We get into a tiny three man canoe - apparently the best place to see tarantulas and other big scary beasties is at night on tree trunks close to the water line. I tell Johnathan I am relieved that we will be in a canoe and not exploring on foot. But he looks confused. "Yes, but we have swimming spiders and tarantulas too," he explains, "But don't worry, they bite but they aren't poisonous, you won't die."

By this stage I am paralysed with fear. As we set off in the canoe into the pitch black jungle Johnathan tells us to switch on our head torches because the best way to spot a tarantula in the dark is to look for two red eyes glowing on the tree trunks. I sit in the canoe with my jacket zipped up around my head, thinking I can see red eyes everywhere.

It doesn't take long to see them for real. In the glow of my head lamp I suddenly see a big furry, palm-sized spider on a tree trunk about six inches from my face. "I think that's a tarantula" I stammer.

Johnathan tells us it is indeed a pink-toed tarantula. I can't tell if its toes are pink or not because I am trying not to scream. 

Johnathan then starts hacking away at some undergrowth taking us deeper into the jungle in search of more stuff. He calmly points out a swimming spider - it is about the same size as the tarantula and it is indeed swimming. Suddenly something plops into the water from a 

It is an amazing experience to see these creatures up close but it is the longest two hours of my life. I am proud to admit that I didn't scream though.  

The lodge is a fantastic place to experience the jungle - the guides are so knowledgable and if you are game they will happily take you in search of anything you want - and they seem to always know where to find it.

There is only one drawback about staying at a remote eco-lodge deep in the jungle - it in attracts it's fair share of eclectic characters who are determined to commune with nature and 'find themselves'. It makes from some pretty interesting conversations around the communal dining table. 

First we meet two Canadian women in their sixties who tell us they are energy healers - as far as I can tell this involves doing some kind of rebirthing therapy for adults in a pitch black swimming pool and using their 'great heart energy'. Then we meet an electrician from the UK and his wife who have jacked everything in to become professional Buddhists. But they explain that they have yet to become 'fully enlightened'. So they are travelling the world on various pilgrimmages hoping to meet Buddhist teachers who will enlighten them. Stef and I keep very quiet about what we do - admitting to any kind of corporate teat will probabably throw everyones chakras out of whack. 

Little did we know that just two nights later we would be sitting in a circle, holding hands with them all in the pitch black and getting blessed by a Shaman.

We stumbled upon the Shamanistic ritual entirely by accident, but once we were in the middle of it all, there wasn't any escape.

It all started when one of the Canadian energy healers caught a cold. I offered her some Nurofen, but she declined, explaining she had asked one of the guides to call in the Shamen from one of the local villages to see if he could help. She also revealed that during the night she woke up to find the spirit of a monkey bouncing on her bed. Stef gently asks her if perhaps it was an actual monkey that had been bouncing on her bed, given that we were indeed in the heart of the Amazon jungle. But she insists it is a monkey spirit and that she wants to see the Shamen so he can call the monkey back to find out why he visited her. I agree that Nurofen probably won't help with that, so the Shamen is called. Curious, so we decide to go along and see what it is all about.

The energy healers and a few others are sitting in the hammock room in front of the Shamen. I don't notice that they are actually sitting in a circle with their shoes and socks off until it is too late and we have plonked ourselves down next to them.

I am delighted to discover that the Shamen is indeed an old, wizened man. In front of him are lots of dusty bottles filled with various potions. Through an interpreter, because the Shamen only speaks Quechua, he explains what all the potions are - various tree roots, herbs and bark that are used to cure everything, from colds to impotence. He offers samples round. The energy healers are necking everything, from cold remedies to aphrodisiacs. Given that I am only just beginning to feel normal again after my tummy problems I decline.

The Shamen then explains that during a ceremony he is going to give each one of us an animal spirit guide that will stay with us forever. Stef and I exchange glances - it is too late to back out now and neither of us wants to contend with an offended Shamen. The Shamen gives everyone an animal guide. Stef and I are happy because we have both been given hawks. The Professional Buddhist is also chuffed because he has been given a Panther. However, the energy healers don't look too happy because they have both been given a Black Electric Eel as their guide. 

The ceremony begins - the lights are turned out and we are all asked to hold hands. Stef is first up - the Shamen blows smoke over him, then starts chanting whilst dousing his head in a pungent-smelling potion. I am trying not to laugh because it is running down Stef's face. The Shamen then starts waving palms leaves above Stef's head. He goes around us all in turn. It is really interesting to watch, so I am very grateful to the energy healers. They never did see the spirit monkey again though, funnily enough.

Johnathan later tells us that Shamanism is dying out in the Amazon because many of the young people in the tribes and villages no longer want to study it or follow the strict fasting diet and rituals involved to become a Shamen. He tells us that he once took part in a frog poison ritual in one village. It involves having your arm pricked in several places with a burning wooden stick then the poison from a particular frog is rubbed into the wounds. He shows us the scars on his arm. The poison instantly makes you vomit - which the Shamens believe cleanses you and gives you energy. Johnathan said that after the ceremony he was out of it for a couple of hours but then felt great and was able to play football the whole day. 

On our last day we ask Johnathan if he could take us to see some piranahs. He looks delighted. "Let's go fishing," he smiles. The second our fishing lines, baited with raw beef, hit the water we can feel things nibbling it in the murky depths. Johnathan catches his first piranah in seconds - it's a red-bellied piranah, the most aggressive kind apparently. He shows us it's razor-sharp teeth, they are indeed a creeyp, prehistoric looking fish. Johnathan catches them left, right and centre. Stef and I catch everything else but piranah. Back at the lodge, Johnathan frys them up for our lunch. They are surprisingly delicious. As a parting gift, he gives us the jaws of the piranah which he has cleaned for us. A very cool present from the jungle and a reminder of a truly fascinating part of our adventure.

Next stop, the Outer Exumas in the Bahamas, man, until the next time...

Love Beth xxx

Machu Picchu

It's incredibly difficult to describe Machu Picchu for the simple reason that  no one really knows why it was built or what purpose it served. That secret died with the Incas. But there are many theories about it and they all serve to add to the mystery surrounding what many people now call one of the new wonders of the world.

Some say it was a palace or summer house for the Inca king. Others think it was a place of study or university - because there are compass shaped rocks, places to observe the stars and the sun and of course scores of farming terraces that could have been designed for argricultural experimentation. Other people think it was a simply a small city because there are houses and what looks like a jail. There are also tombs indicating people obviously were buried in Machu Picchu when they died.

The first thing that strikes me about Machu Picchu is the sheer size of it - we've seen some impressive and large Inca ruins on the walk but Machu Picchu is massive, clinging precariously to a mountain ridge between two peaks called Machu Picchu (Old Mountain) and Huyana Pichu (Young Mountain). Below the ruins the terraces fan downwards towards the valley below. 

Despite its size it is easy to see why the place stayed hidden for centuries. Tucked away in the High Jungle, unless you knew Machu Picchu was there, you'd never find it.

Perhaps that's why it survived the Spanish invasion of Peru - in the 15th century, when the Inca King heard the Spanish had conquered Cusco, he ordered Machu Picchu (which was still being built) to be abandoned. And so it was left a ghost town, covered by the jungle for centuries until an American called Hiram Bingham discovered the ruins about 100 years ago. Even now there are still parts of Machu Picchu that have yet to be discovered.

I felt the best place to view Machu Picchu, once we had trekked down from the Sun Gate, was actually on a rocky outcrop near a building called the guards tower. It is the classic viewpoint you see in many of the photos and it is as mindblowing as you might expect. By this point the sun is shining, the mist has cleared. Our group spends ages on the rock taking photos and congratulating each other.

It's easy to tell the people who have just completed the Inca Trail - they are all on a natural (or perhaps coca induced) high, plus they are filthy, having walked for 4 days and endured extreme physical challenges to arrive the Inca way.

 The day trippers from Cusco mark a stark contrast - they are in huge tour groups wandering around the ruins and feasting on 'Machu Picchu burgers' (what else) in the cafeteria outside.

We couldn't help resenting them a bit - of course, the Inca Trail isn't for everyone  but we couldn't help wondering if they really appreciated Machu Picchu like the people who had lived and breathed it for four days. But perhaps after completing the trail I had a false sense of entitlement, coupled with a smattering of envy for their freshly washed hair and clothes.

Our guide shows us round the ruins and gives us his version of what he believes to be the story behind them. The masonry is amazing - so precise, the Inca building bricks are cut to perfection and it's mind boggling to wonder how they did it. But again, no one knows. We see what was believed to be the King's bedroom and his temples. His observatory for star gazing. Courtyards and the quarry where the stones were cut.

Later, Stef and Steven decide they want to climb Huyana Picchu, the famous vertical peak towering over the ruins. The view from the top is meant to be awesome but I don't have the energy - it is the steepest climb on the trail, part of it involves pulling yourself up on a rope, climbing floating steps and squeezing through narrow tunnels. It takes them 40 mins to reach the top and although it is a bit hairy, there are more ruins at the summit to explore and a postcard perfect view over Machu Picchu and the Andes.

I'm just content to wander around the ruins - there is so much to see and a day doesn't feel long enough.

At the risk of sounding too much like a hippy (I appreciate in the last post I go on about leaving coca leaves for Mother Nature, bear with me, it was an emotional few days) the rumour is that in a few years it might not be possible to trek the Inca trail anymore. It is already closed for a couple of months a year for maintenance and apparently the Peruvian government are concerned about erosion of the trail so are considering closing it to trekkers.

We therefore feel lucky to have been able to do the walk, see the incredible sights along the way and celebrate the end game arriving through the Sun Gate at Machu Picchu. It truly felt as if our journey there was just as important as the final destination since it was such an epic experience (hippy ramblings over!) 

As a thank you, Stef leaves his hiking boots (with some coca leaves tucked in the toe) for the porters. 

Before we leave the ruins our guide Reynaldo turns to us all and says;

"Look around you, this is Peru, welcome."

We are all in agreement that Peru is indeed an incredible country.

I can't wait for the next stage in our Peruvian adventure - a trip north to Iquitos and the Amazon jungle...

Until the next time,

Love Beth xxx

A Long Walk to the Lost City

Day 1

Our alarm goes off at 3am. But I am already awake, in fact, I have been for hours because my case of Peruvian tummy seems to have become worse. I am feeling so ill that I am seriously doubting that I will be able to trek the Inca Trail at all. It is devastating for both Stef and I. We talk it over and decide that I probably have the two hour bus journey from Cusco to Kilometre 82 (where we pass the check point and the Inca Trail begins) to decide whether I am able to go through with it or not. If not, I will have to go back to Cusco on the bus.

Somehow, Stef helps me into my hiking gear and we make our way to join our guides Marcelino and Reynaldo and the other seven members of our group on the waiting bus.

Marcelino takes one look at my waxy complexion and hands me a bin liner for the journey. Everyone looks at me sympathetically. There's nothing like sharing your tummy troubles with a bus load of strangers to break the ice. My saviours come in the form of two Brazlian bombshell doctors called Gabriella and Leticia who are part of our group. They give me a handful of pills they have brought with them from Brazil. Marcelino our guide suggests I try herbal tea instead. I take the Brazilian pills. I don't know what they were but I crash out on the bus and by some mircale, when Stef shakes me awake at Kilometre 82 I feel so much better. And I decide I can do it.

As we get off the bus we finally meet our porters. There are 16 of them and they are busy loading everything we need for the trek - 4 days worth of food, camping gear, gas and tents into huge backpacks. We all lay our kit out on tarps on the ground and check we have everything we need for the trek including our passports to pass the checkpoints along the way. Only 500 people are permitted to start the Inca Trail each day and if you don't have your passport and permit, you can't start the trail.

Stef and I have paid extra for a porter to carry some of our gear so all we need to take is our day packs containing our water, cameras and waterproof clothes.

Once everyone is ready we are all feeling pretty excited - taking photos of each other beside the Kilometre 82 sign. We pass the checkpoint, get our passports stamped and then cross a perilous-looking bridge over the raging river beside the checkpoint and we are off. No turning back now - we are walking for 4 days.

Our group is a mixed bag - as well as us, there are two Irish lads called Andrew and Steven, the Brazilian bombshells, a Texan called Mark, a 20 year old Austrian called Cristo and Laura who is in her forties and from LA.

At first the trail slopes gently upwards and runs alongside the river and the railway line (these days it is possuble to take a train from Cusco to just outside Machu Picchu). As the train whistles past us Marcelino points and says 'That train is for the losers, we are the ones who are doing it the Inca way and making the pilgrimmage to Machu Picchu'. It is a pretty special moment. Especially because we all know there are going to tbe tough times ahead. The Inca Trail is 45km, which doesn't sound far given the trek is spread over 4 days. But it's not the distance that is the difficult part, it is the very steep uphill climbs and downhill climbs - we are soon to discover that flat isn't a word associated with the Inca Trail. Apart from the first hour or so of walking, the rest of the trail is either a gruelling uphill or downhill slog. 

We start at 9000ft and as the trail begins to climb upwards we see more of the Andes high above us - there are huge glaciers and soaring peaks. It is a glorious day, the sun is beating down and the trail winds past rivers and streams. 

Suddenly our guides shout 'porters!' and we all flatten ourselves against the mountain side as our team of porters thunder past. It is a humbling sight - each of them is carry a 25kg backpack and they run the trail, many in little more than a pair of flipflops. I can't help feeling a bit conscious of my brand new hiking boots. The porters always start walking after us but overtake and finish before us. The first time we see them they are all wearing red and we nickname them 'the Red Ninjas'.

The tough climb starts and by the time we reach our first lunch stop we are all panting, sweating and generally exhausted. Apart from Cristo, the Austrian, who we discover lives in the Alps at altitude and climbs moutains every day or something.

By some miracle the porters have set up a big dining tent, there are bowls ready for us to wash in and then we are served a three course lunch right there on the mountain side. It is delicious and everyone is starving.

That afternoon we see our first Inca ruin. What I hadn't realised about the Inca Trail is that apart from the end game of Machu Picchu there are heaps of amazing Inca forts, temples and outposts along the trail that served the Incas as they made their pilgrimmage to Machu Picchu. The first is a sizable town, complete with the famous Inca terraces. It is impressive - and I can only imagine what Machu Picchu must be like in comparison.

That afternoon we climb to around 11,000ft, a gain of 2000ft on rocky, uneven ground. It's hot and relentless.

We've covered 14km by the time we reach our camp and I flop down on the grass - both Stef and I are soaked through with sweat (nice). Even the Brazilian bombshells are looking a bit hot and bothered. It has been an exhausting but rewarding first day - we got through it and I am just so glad to be there on the trail. The view from our tent is jaw-dropping, we are on a cliff and the Andes are soaring high above and below us.

We have a happy hour in the dining tent (hot chocolate and lots of popcorn) and our guide talks us through the briefing for the following day. Day Two is the day everyone is most nervous about and the most challenging day of the trail. As if Day 1 wasn't tough enough.

Day 2

We get woken up by the porters with a cup of coca tea at 5am. Stef has caught a stinking cold and with the altitude he is struggling to breathe. Our guides give him some coca leaves to chew to numb his sore throat (coca leaves are the cure for everything it seems).

As everyone eats breakfast in the dining tent we are all very quiet and the apprehension is palpable because today we will be covering 16km, climbing to the top of the infamous Dead Woman's Pass at 13,800ft. Since we camped at 11,000 we will be climbing nearly 3,000ft up a steep stone staircase laid by those crazy Incas. Then once we have reached the summit we then have to climb down the otherside another 2,000ft. All of this is to be done before lunch. 

I assume it is called Dead Woman's Pass because that is how you feel when you reach the summit but our guides tell us it's because the mountain resembles the sillhouette of a dead woman staring at the sky.

There's nothing to be done but grit our teeth and get on with it. What a slog. Step up after step up. But the landscape changes dramatically as we climb higher and we reach the edge of the cloud forest - there are orchids and condors circling. Big ferns and dense trees. Then suddenly we are through the forest and climbing higher and the cloud line is getting closer. The porters thunder past and I am exhausted just watching them. After two hours solid climbing we stop for a snack. Then it's another two hours climb to the summit.

The path winds on but suddenly we round a bend on the mountain and I can make out a few people at the summit. It is in sight and it gives me the boost I need.

Stef and I decide to power up it as fast as we can. The air is much thinner now so we are more out of breath. But finally we are on the last step and at the top. Everyone in our group is estatically high fiving each other. My legs are trembling after 4 hours solid climbing but I don't care - we did it. We are at the cloud line and clouds and mist are swirling around us. The temperature drops dramatically. We are in the High Andes now at nearly 14,000ft. I feel on top of the world.

But the celebrations are short-lived because it is soon time to descend the other side of Dead Woman's pass and it will take us 2 hours to climb down. It's not as physically exhausting as the uphill but it is more of a mental challenge because you have to think about every step - the suface is very uneven and rocky, it is all too easy to slip and plummet down or twist and ankle. I am so glad I opted for a hiking pole for support. Then it starts to bucket down with rain. We stop and quickly put on our waterproofs and rain ponchos. It's hard to see where we are going and freezing cold. It's true what they say about mountain whether changing in a flash. On the Inca Trail, our guides say it is possible to see four seasons in one day.

By the time we reach our lunch stop we are soaked. We huddle inside the dining tent.

Once we've refuelled it is back out into the elements - we now have to climb 1,500ft up to the second pass and then down another 1,500ft on the other side to reach our camp for the night. As our guide says, 'There is no such thing as flat in the Andes."

We see some amazing Inca ruins on the way and because of the nature of the climb the group splits off. Sometimes we end up walking with the Irish lads who keep us laughing. We stop to rest with them every 10 mins of climbing because we are all getting so tired now. On the steep descent it is just Stef and I alone with the wind whipping us and the Andes all around. It is pretty special. Even more special when we get to camp and I'm the first girl to arrive. All the porters clap and I high five everyone. Once we have all arrived we work out that we have been walking for 10.5 solid hours excluding breaks. About six hours  were continual climbing. I can't believe we did it.

We all go to bed at 8pm because we are all so exhausted - it is also bitterly cold because we are at the cloud line and Stef is feeling really ill with his cold. But unfortunately, because it is so cold not many of us sleep.

Day 3

The day starts off really badly because at about 1am I realise the curse of the Peruvian tummy is back. It is freezing and as I am sitting in our tent throwing up into a plastic bag I wonder what the hell I am doing in these mountains and I have a few tears. Stef does his best to comfort me - he is still feeling terrible himself. The next morning I am still feeling shocking The guides try to get me to eat because I will need the energy - we have an 11km walk with a climb to start and then a 3000ft descent to our final campsite before Machu Picchu. But I can't eat anything. Turns out I am not the only one - poor Irish Steven is in the same boat. We seek out the Brazilians who give us some of their magic pills. I'm feeling very weak and so is Steven because neither of us have been able to eat anything. We climb at the back together, comparing bouts of nausea. Steven has to periodically dash off into the bushes. I am glad I am not the only one feeling like this. I literally drag myself through the climb, only thinking about my feet and where to put them. The meds seems to help a bit and Steven and I manage to eat some biscuits. 

The descent is tough going -  we have now reached the high jungle, it is humid and slippery there are mossies. I just keep thinking about what my feet are doing. But I can't help but notice the beauty around me - hummingbirds flit around, there are huge, lavish orchids and vines. 

By the afternoon we reach camp and after an hour's lie down I feel much better. Our guide takes us to what he says is his favourite Inca ruin - a place called The Town in the Clouds. It's impressive - there are altars, temples with windows over looking the terraces and the valley below. We arrive there at dusk and there is hardly anyone else there. It feels very ancient and mysterious.

We are all pretty excited too because tomorrow morning we will arrive at the Sun Gate before sunrise and get our first glimpse of dawn breaking over Machu Picchu. After the exertion and challenge of the Inca Trail it feels like the Holy Grail is within reach.

Day 4 

The guides wake us at 3am. We have to be ready to get to the last checkpoint at 3.30am. It opens at 5.30am and the queue of other groups is likely to be huge. We want to be one of the first to reach the Sun Gate before everyone else so we need to start walking at 5.30am on the dot. It is a one hour descent then 100 steps up to the Sun Gate that are affectionately known to the guides as the Gringo Killers because they are so steep. Great. From there it is another hour walk down to Machu Picchu. But we are all ready for it.

The day dawns grey, rainy and humid. We pack up for the last time and sit at the last checkpoint in the dark, playing cards. Stef gets out his Ipod and plays The Final Countdown. We are all really pumped and excited - this is it. There are already about 5 groups waiting ahead of us. There are so many people behind. 

When the checkpoint opens everyone cheers and we start hiking. Our guide helpfully tells us that we are on the most dangerous section of the Inca Trail - it is the most narrow and there are often landslides - only last year a woman died in a landslide hiking that section of the trail. 

People are walking quickly - too quickly - some are even running, pushing people out of the way in the bid to reach the Sun Gate first. It's a shame. Our group adopts a speedy pace but we stick together.

We make it up the Gringo Killers and as we do we pass an Inca altar carved into some rock. Reynaldo, our guide, explains that many Incas who had made the pilgrimmage to Machu Picchu stopped there to make an offering to Mother Nature as a thank you for getting them to the end of their journey safely. Stef and I pause - we each take three coca leaves and put them on the altar. We were both so grateful that we had reached the end of our epic journey safely too.

We round a corner and two high stone walls are either side of us, we are walking through a doorway. Our guides congratulate us - we have reached the Sun Gate. I hold my breath desperate for my first look at the lost city. But in front of us is a total white-out - it is so misty we can't see anything. 

"Just wait here," the guides says. We do.

Suddenly, without any warning the clouds break a little far below us. A shaft of sunlight breaks through the cloud and rain and in front of us, a rainbow arcs across the sky and exactly beneath it, illuminated, are the ruins of Machu Picchu. Yes, beneath a rainbow. They are even more spectacular, monolith and mind-blowing than they look in the photos. 

Everyone gapes. Even the guides who have seen it a thousand times. We try taking photos but they can't capture the beauty of that rainbow over the city  in the sky. Our guides say they have never seen a rainbow directly above the ruins before. We were truly lucky and that mental snapshot will stay with me forever.

As we walk down the track to the ruins, taking photos, congratulating each other that we'd made it, ready for a day exploring Machu Picchu, I think we were all silently thanking Mother Nature for making our first glimpse of this place so unforgettably special.

Breathless in Cusco

Landing at Cusco airport after 36 hours of travelling (it's a loonnng way from LA via Mexico City and Lima), I wasn't sure how the altitude would affect me. At a dizzying 11,000ft the city is nestled in a valley high up in the Peruvian Andes. I've never been up that high before, but it didn't take me long to feel the effects. I felt out of breath standing motionless beside the baggage carousel. 

Even sitting in a taxi on the way into town I was panting and felt as if I'd just been running. A very strange sensation indeed.

Our taxi driver informs us that drinking the Peruvian national drink, coca tea, is a great way to combat the nauseating effects of the altitude. 

Coca tea is made from coca leaves, the very same leaves that are smuggled by the truckload over the Colombian border to make cocaine. Apparently when the Spanish conquered Cusco and overthrew the Incas they encouraged enslaved workers to drink coca tea or chew the leaves because it made them more productive, less tired and more chipper all round. Probably peps you up more in the mornings than your avergage cup of Twinings that's for sure.

As we enter the old town of Cusco I am breathless for another reason - it is truly beautiful. It was once an Inca city complete with temples decorated in gold and silver. But when the Spanish conquistadors arrived they looted the place, tore down the temples and built grand cathedrals and churches everywhere. 

Now it's all terracotta rooftops, quaint plazas and arcades. It looks very European indeed. But the city is surrounded by Inca temples and ruins so it's an ecletic mash-up of Spanish and Inca culture. It's a popular area with tourists, mainly because it is the place most people begin the Inca trail. Before doing so it's advised to spend a few days in Cusco getting aclimatised to the altitude so we've got four nights here to do just that and explore.

After a quick cup of coca tea at the hostel (it tastes as you'd imagine, like leaves that have been steeped in hot water) and armed with my very ropey GCSE Spanish, we set off. Thankfully I can say 'I'm English and I don't speak Spanish' which comes in very handy and I can also order two beers, so we are all set. I also remember some other useful phrases such as 'I like sailing' (handy up a mountain) and 'Where is the library'. So we've got everything covered.

Cusco is stunning - we spend the first day exploring the city visiting the Inca Museum which boasts the largest collection of Inca artefacts in Peru. The main Cathedral is a fairly sombre terracotta building from the outside but inside it's a treasure trove of gold and silver walls and ceilings.

We visit the local market - it is buzzing and you can buy anything you want from alpaca gloves to dried llama heads to snack on. We make the mistake of wandering down the meat aisle to discover this. There are towers of dried, roasted guinea pigs - a delicacy in Peru, and other offal and offcuts that I won't mention. Suffice to say that by the time I'd reached the end of the aisle I was publicaly retching (nice!) while a few elderly Peruvian stallholders looked at me like I was crackers. How not to blend in. I feel even worse when I read in one of the guide books that one restaurant in Cusco serves up Guinea pig 'wings' and Guinea Wellington. Apparently it's served in a pastry case that looks like a hutch (ok I made that up).

On day two we decide to take a 10km hike to explore four Inca forts and temples on the outskirts of town. It's a short taxi ride up the hill followed by a 500m descent so good practice to see how we'll fair with the altitude on the Inca trail. The temples are very impressive - I hate to reference Indiana Jones here but I will - I kept expecting a huge boulder to start rolling towards us or something.

The temples really are a feat of engineering - with waterfalls and huge surrounding walls that are metres thick. It's crazy to wonder how they got the huge rocks they needed to build them into position in the first place. The most impressive fortress we sas was called Sacsayhuaman - there is even an Inca altar and throne. It's all very overwhelming and a culture I know little about so I find it all fascinating.

That night we reward ourselves with a classic Peruvian meal - I try alpaca steak - very tasty, a bit like veal. Stef opted for a local delicacy called Cuy, I'll  let him explain to anyone who is interested what that involves later. But it warranted a trip to the kitchens to watch it being cooked. The Peruvian people are very friendly and welcoming indeed - they are really keen to teach you all about their culture.

But the time for exploring is over because at 4.30am tomorrow we are finally due to begin the Inca Trail. I'm very nervous indeed. Although we have trained hard I'm not sure how the altitude will affect me when we reach the highest point at 12,300ft and it is a gruelling 4 day hike and we'll be sleeping in tents for three nights. Unfortunately I have also come down with a case of what can only be described as 'Peruvian tummy'. Perhaps it was the alpaca. Who knows. But I am currently laid up in bed, hoping and praying that I will be feeling better by tomorrow and the big off. Stef, of course, feels great. Maybe he can carry me all the way to Macchu Picchu. Wish us luck and I'll update when we have come through the other side...

Love Beth xxx

La La Land

I'm going to fess up here, having never been to LA before I was ridiculously over-excited, my expectations were high - I was craving the all-out glamour of Sunset Boulevard, Rodeo Drive and Hollywood Boulevard on a 'Pretty Woman' scale, without the street-walker element, of course. I was hoping to spot Ryan Gosling in Starbucks or Harrison Ford filling up his car at a petrol station. I was well and truly up for some shameless celebrity spotting.

My excitement reached fever-pitch when 50 miles outside of LA the traffic on the 16-lane freeway ground to a standstill. Which we worked out was like driving to London and grinding to a halt around Swindon before crawling the next 50 miles in to town. LA is massive. Thankfully, the slow-moving traffic meant I could peer in the tinted windows of every oversize SUV that went passed in the hope I might see Will Ferrell or someone. I didn't, but it whiled away the 2 hours it took to get downtown.

Anyway, we had bigger fish to fry because the following day we were off to The Magic Kingdom, the stuff childhood dreams are made of. I was going to get a pair of Minnie Mouse ears by hook or by crook. We made a plan of attack, arrive no later than 7am so we could be first into park when it opened at 8am and hit up Space Mountain, Splash Mountain and the Matterhorn Bobsleds before anyone else.

What we hadn't bargained for is that after we'd strolled down the famous Main Street (very impressive) that we'd be corralled with all the other early-arrivals behind a rope flanked by security guards, just in case anyone should try to break in to the Happiest Place on Earth before it opens.
We wonder what would happen to us if we did make a run for it? Perhaps we'd see the ugly side of Disney and be dragged off into a back room where Mickey and Goofy would be waiting with baseball bats.

Suddenly, there's a fanfare, the rope drops and to the strains of Zippidedoda we sprint to Space Mountain, elbowing toddlers out of the way. Space Mountain is awesome. It's all brilliant and so slick - even the tamer rides like Pirates of the Caribbean and Indiana Jones are lavishly detailed and over the top.

But by mid-afternoon we are flagging. We get lost in ToonTown and Frontierland. We can't find Mickey Mouse anywhere and then discover that these days you have to queue up for an hour to meet the mouse himself. The Minnie Mouse ears cost $20. I try them on and then decide that they probably  won't come in very handy on the Inca Trail. Walking around Disneyland for the day is more exhausting that climbing out of the Grand Canyon and you can't get a beer for love nor money either.

However, the fireworks display over Sleeping Beauty's castle at the end of the night makes up for it - it is amazing and I have to say, does rival Sydney Harbour on NYE. At one point Tinkerbell actually flies over the castle with fireworks going off behind her. Magic.

Next day we are decide to visit all the hotspots. We drive up to the Hollywood sign and discover if you actually get anywhere near it you get arrested these days. So we take photos from afar.

We cruise along Sunset Boulevard, because you can't just drive down Sunset Boulevard, you have to cruise down it.  It is a bit of a dump in all honesty - not oozing glamour at all, but lined with 7/11s, McDonalds and not a great deal else. Hollywood Boulevard is entertaining, for about ten minutes - it is mayhem we visit Grauman's Chinese Theatre, walk the Walk of Fame, which is crammed with wannabes dressed up as Batman, Superman, Iron Man who let tourists pose with them for photos for a few bucks. It reminded me of Leicester Square - tacky but one of those places you've heard so much about you just have to visit and then are disappointed when it doesn't live up to expectations.

There is one big plus point about Hollywood Boulevard however, the Roosevelt hotel. The pool bar is meant to be one of the best places to celeb spot and escape from Hollywood Boulevard on Hollywood Boulevard. The only problem is we aren't staying there, because we can't afford to. So we brazen it out, march in like we know where we are going. Find the pool and plonk ourselves down on a couple of loungers. In short, it was the best people watching experience - LA Lakers players, actor-types reading scripts on daybeds, models jumping in the pool, swaying palm trees and over-priced cocktails. It felt like the real LA experience, if only for a couple of drinks. No sign of Ryan though.

But fun as the pool bar was we still didn't feel we had found the true Californian experience, so we enlisted the help of a local, namely one of my old uni mates from journo college who now lives in Santa Monica.
She shows us Santa Monica and Venice Beach and they are both achingly hip and totally unique. Santa Monica beach is like something out of Baywatch - a wide, sandy beach with the classic Californian lifeguard towers and roller bladers along the promenade. We have breakfast - organic coffee and organic acai berry smoothies to wash down our organic, bio-dynamic omlettes. Feeling superhuman - and who wouldn't after all that organic goodness - we take a stroll around the Venice canals. Apparently a while ago some town planner who loved the real Venice decided Santa Monica needed a Venice of its own so he designed the canal system that is now lined with jaw-dropping glass fronted beach pads.

Venice Beach is a different story - it is like Camden on Sea - stalls line the prom offering tarot readings, there are smoke shops, break dancers and even a freak show. It's a circus and it is fascinating. We watch beefcakes pumping iron on Muscle Beach and skateboarders at the skate park. Everyone is there to be seen and the atomosphere on a Saturday afternoon is electric.
My mate tells me that people who live in Santa Monica don't often venture into downtown LA. And I can totally understand why - it has a culture that we didn't find anywhere on Sunset Boulevard. It seems Santa Monicans are well aware that they are living the real Californian dream. Shame we only discovered that on our last day in the USA.

Next stop, Lima and Cusco in Peru...
Love Beth x

The Grandest Of Canyons

It's almost impossible to imagine the scale of a canyon that is a mile deep. Or ten miles across from edge to edge. All the books about the Grand Canyon tell you this, but for me, it was only when I saw it for the first time that I realised just how epic a scale this really is. 

Driving through the arid Arizona desert and then through the Kaibab state forest on the way to the Canyon, the landscape changes from tumbleweed and sandstorms to pine forest. We climb up to over 7000ft approaching the Canyon's South Rim. The North Rim, a 250 mile drive away, is still closed for the winter and won't be open until May.

We decided to stay in the Bright Angel lodge in the national park because we'd heard it was one of the lodges that is closest to the rim itself.  We didn't appreciate how close until we stepped out of the back door of the lodge and an icy blast of cold wind whipped around us.Just a few feet from where we stood the ground dropped away and ahead of us, stretching for 10 miles was an abyss - deep gorges, valleys, towering rocky columns that go on forever, as far as the eye can see. The canyon lives up to the hype and some.

I assumed we would be able to see the Colorado River at the bottom of the canyon, but from the top of the South Rim, it's impossible - looking down at what appears to be the canyon floor is simply another ledge leading to yet another, deeper gorge where the river is hidden far below. 

Looking out across the canyon took my breath away - it was mind-blowing. One of the natural wonders of the world indeed. Neither of Stef or I spoke for ages. 

We arrived just before sunset and watching the rocks deepen in colour as the sun sank behind the rim was truly beautiful.

Seeing the canyon from the rim was spectacular, but we had heard that the only way to truly appreciate the size and scale of it was to hike down into it. So we were fully fired up to hike to the famous Bright Angel trail to the Colorado River and back in one day. However, inside the lodge we see signs everywhere saying 'Do not attempt to hike to the Colorado River and back in one day'. And a big poster naming the intrepid hikers who had tried to do just that and died of exhaustion, dehydration or both. It's not so much the distance but the difficulty in climbing back out of the canyon once you have descended the steep, windy tracks to the canyon floor. Apparently it can take three times as long to climb out of it as it does to get down. So it seemed our plan was well and truly scuppered. 

Thankfully because it is spring temperatures in the canyon don't usually rise above the mid-twenties, so we thought we would still be ok to take a long hike into the canyon. In summer it's a different story - it can get to 45 degrees.

We decide to hike the South Kaibab trail instead to a place cheerfully named Skeleton Point which is the first place you can glimpse the Colorado River and the bottom of the canyon.

It's a 6 mile round trip, which doesn't sound far, but when you have to descend 2000ft down a steep rocky trail at gradients of 15-20 percent it's tough going, especially when you have to take the exact same route back out of the canyon again. What goes three miles down must come three miles up.

The only other option is to go on an organised mule trek into the canyon. I can't think of anything more terrifying than skittering down a vertical ravine on what is little more than a large, flighty donkey, so slogging it out on foot is the only option.

Next morning we get up at 5am to watch the sunrise over the canyon. It is so peaceful, buzzards circle far below the rim and the light makes the rocks glow apricot. It as even more wonderful than watching the sunset because so few people are there at sunrise, it'like the canyon in all it's glory to yourself. 

We take a hikers shuttle bus to the trailhead and begin the South Kaibab trail. 

It's steep - steeper than I imagined - and follows an exposed ridge line down into the canyon. It's very windy and the trail is narrow. Once we have made it down the first cliff face the temperature in the canyon has risen dramatically - the sun reflects off the canyon walls. But the deeper we get into the canyon the more magical it is - it surrounds us and the different colours and stratas in the rock are much more visible than from the rim. 

When we reach Cedar Point, a rocky outcrop mid-way into our descent it is breathtaking. Standing as close to the edge as we dare, as we turn 360 degrees the canyon is all around us and above and below us. It made me feel very small indeed. 

Finally, after two hours of climbing down we make it to Skeleton Point. We've descended 2000ft but are still not even half-way in to the canyon. Far below us we can now make out a strip of green tinged with white - the churning rapids of the Colorado River. It looks tiny from where we are standing but we are so elated to have finally seen it - most visitors to the canyon don't make it this far. 

But from then on, the only way is up. Gritting our teeth we try not to think about it. The uphill climb seems never-ending. When a mule convoy trots past I'm beginning to think perhaps that wasn't such a bad idea after all. But eventually we are climbing up the cliff face again and suddenly arrive at the rim, dusty, sweaty and exausted but so happy.

I know that many people long to see the Grand Canyon for themselves once in their liftetime and I feel very lucky indeed to have done so. It really is one of the most awe-inspiring, mind-blowing sights I have ever seen and a true highlight of our time in the USA. I hope to see it again one day.