Galapagos Islands: swimming with sharks

After our cruise, we were back in Puerto Ayora, where an entire street turns into a restaurant from 6pm and the meaty smoke of its delicious asados (BBQs) lures in locals and tourists alike.

Tortuga Bay, Isla Santa Cruz

Most people who live here are Ecuadorians whose families have lived here since colonisation, but there are a few Europeans who started migrating to the islands in the 1920s. Everyone is friendly, though, and there is a great spirit to the streets and shores of Galapagos.

For the next couple of day we made the most of Tortuga Bay, a long and crisp white beach in walking distance.

On the track to the beach, small lava lizards ran along in front of us, and a symphony of Galapagos birds, including Darwin finches, yellow Galapagos flycatchers, and the Galapagos Mockingbirds, sang to us as we walked. If it doesn’t have “Galapagos” in the title, it has “Darwin” or “lava”!

Tortoises munching in the Darwin breeding centre

The sound of crashing waves greeted us as the trees and strange, tree-shaped cactuses gave way to Tortuga Bay, its white sands and iridescent waters.

The sun was so strong here: not only were we at the beach, we were at a beach along the Equatorial line where the sun shines strongest. Thankfully, my mum’s obsession with suncream has rubbed off on me (quite literally!).

We also visited the Darwin Research Centre to learn about its tortoise breeding program. The animals of Galapagos have evolved without fear of humans, but that isn’t to say they have never been threatened by man. In 1535, Fray Tomas de Berlanga, a missionary whom the King of Spain had named Bishop of Panama, was sailing home to inform the king about lands recently conquered from the Incas when he was forced to land on the Galapagos Islands.

Galapagos Land Iguana - bright yellow during mating season

Man, the greatest predator the Galapagos have ever known, had arrived.

From the time of the buccaneers until colonisation, tortoises were hunted mercilessly (a study of whalers’ logbooks suggests that a minimum of 100,000 tortoises were taken by North American whalers alone), but even colonisation did not end the slaughter. Ecuador proclaimed their ownership of the islands in February of 1832 and settlements immediately sprung up.

"I'll have two tuna steaks, por favor!"

Resources of the Galapagos were exploited with renewed fervour: fur seals were killed for their skins; a particular variety of lichen was collected for the manufacture of dyes; sea cucumbers, prized as an aphrodisiac in the orient, were decimated.

Tortoises did not escape this latest round of profiteering. The demand for turtle meat was replaced by a market for their oil, which was used in street lamps and to light homes in Guayaquil (mainland Ecuador) until the 1930s.

The tortoise, the icon of the Galapagos (in fact the name Galapagos is derived from old Spanish word for saddle, which the tortoise shells resembles), was nearly made completely extinct by man.

Sunset with a sea lion on San Cristobal

Their original numbers, estimated to have been in the 250,000 range, were reduced to a mere 3,000 as a result of this uncontrolled hunting.

Awareness and extraordinary funding brought the Galapagos tortoise breeding program. Eggs are collected and placed in temperature-controlled incubators that determine the sex of the offspring.

Higher temperatures produce females, while cooler temperatures produce males. When their shell curve reaches 20 centimetres, the young tortoises are tagged for future identification and repatriated to their island of origin.

Old goggle-eyes underwater

However, not all efforts have been as successful. Lonesome George, the last remaining tortoise from Pinta Island, sat in an enclosure with two Española females, which are the closest to his species, genetically speaking.

Unfortunately, Lonesome George showed no propensity to mate and his species  was made extinct on 24th June 2012.

There were 8 in the bed and the little one said...

The other tortoises we saw in the centre seem unperturbed by extinction and past cruelties; they continued to munch contentedly on the thick, juicy grass and, occasionally, stuck their necks out to get a good look at us.

So what of man’s interference on the islands now? More than 200,000 people visit the islands each year, and five of the islands are inhabited by about 30,000 people. While tourist traffic is kept to a minimum (the $110 you have to pay before you step foot on the islands helps), it's still amazing to see purity of the islands so well maintained.

Me swimming with a green sea turtle

Thankfully, nearly all the islands (97% of the area) are protected by the Ecuadorian government and rules of the islands are emphatically communicated. Do not touch or disturb any plant, rock or animal. Don't feed the animals. Remain on the path. Do not startle or chase any animal. Do not be closer than 2 metres to an animal. Do not litter.

Being conscientious travellers, we of course abided by these rules, however some of the animals here have their own rules, and sticking to these parameters is sometimes very difficult indeed.

The Kicker Rock welcome crew!

Especially in San Cristobal, which we caught a speed boat to for our last few days. Here, there are sea lion slobs lounging on park benches, sea lion police men guarding police cars and sea lions blocking steps to beaches. And they definitely do not keep to the 2 meter rule – how rude!

For our last few days we snorkelled and watched sunset off the most beautiful, sea lion draped beaches. From the white sand beaches, we experienced some of the best snorkelling in the world.

Sea lions came up onto the beach to coax you into the water; the calm water made visibility almost as clear as looking through the glass of an aquarium; turtles continued to yell “Duuuude” at each other as they swam with us.

One of hundreds of sharks at Kicker Rock

On our last day, we sailed the short distance to Kicker Rock, which is a huge rock jutting out of the ocean, slowly splitting into two. Named “Kicker” because pirates thought it resembled the shape of their pirate boots.

We snorkelled toward the channel opening between the splitting rocks, instantly greeted by masses of turtles in the deep water. Then came the huge hammerhead sharks just a few metres below us – and we hadn’t even made it into the channel.

What came next was the best snorkelling I think I will do in my whole life. More than one hundred Galapagos sharks swam between us, one even swimming  less than a metre towards Med’s leg before changing his mind. Then more hammerheads came just metres away, as if they were fighting for our attention.

The fleet of Eagle Rays arrive

We were surrounded by hundreds of sharks, but I had that perfectly calm feeling I get when I’m snorkelling, despite the danger. Something about only being able to hear the static crackles of underwater life takes away my fear. Then came a flotilla of giant, spotted eagle rays – faces the same size and almost the same shape as bottle-nosed dolphins and so graceful and peaceful.

There is something about seeing more than a hundred rays and sharks around me that made my heart beat harder and slower. Everything around me just melted.

What an experience - thank you Galapagos!

By the time you arrive in Galapagos, you have stepped back in time to a place where the earth is almost untouched by humans. You have entered a dream in which you swim with penguins, sea turtles and sharks. You have gone to another planet, where the terrain is arid and you tiptoe past alien-like iguanas basking on the rocks.

And at the end of the day, when the sun settles in the middle of the glowing water, you just know you are somewhere amazing, and I didn't want that moment to end.

Galapagos Islands: peek-a-boo with sea lions

So, 12 nights and 11 days in the infamous, wildlife paradise of the Galapagos Islands. Where do I even begin?

Flying in to the islands - what a view!

Thinking back about all the memories of this incredible trip has got me wondering how on earth I would fit everything in to just one or even five blog entries?

The constant wonder of seeing animals we had never seen before, the miraculous landscapes and turquoise waters of the islands we visited, and the underwater world we shared with thousands of unique species is all still buzzing around in my head. I’m unsure how to put all these wonderful thoughts and experiences down in writing.

Galapagos marine iguanas drying off in the sun

So, I have decided I’m just not going to try. What I am going to do is give the Galapagos the introduction it deserves and try to write about a few of the highlights for us during this trip, and let your imaginations and curiosities do the rest.

Galapagos penguins - small little fellas!

And if that’s not enough for you, well you’ll just have to take yourself to these islands in the middle of the ocean someday and see for yourselves. In fact, I insist!

The Galapagos Islands are famous as the place where Charles Darwin visited during his voyage aboard the HMS Beagle from 1861-1865. As he explored these pure, untouched islands, he famously pulled marine iguanas’ tails to see what they did (not much, as it goes) and, on the back of his visit, developed the theory of evolution.

But for me it wasn’t the extraordinary scientific discoveries that transfixed me; it is the islands’ mythical status as a sanctuary for exotic animals that are entirely endemic, so can’t be found anywhere else on earth. If fact, just to prove how in harmony the Galapagos are with the animal world, the biggest island – Isabela - is even in the perfect shape of a sea horse.

Just chilling with our sea lion friend - it's a hard life!

What’s more, due to an evolution completely free of humans until recent years, these unique animals share an almost uniform of indifference to us, wearing it like a cloak over their feathers, fur or scales.

Whether they are little penguins barrelling toward your face while snorkelling, or five foot sharks cruising past, they were completely unruffled by our presence, either ignoring us and our shiny camera lenses completely or deciding to have some fun with us.

Isla Isabela - lava field and volcano in the background

It would be easy to believe that this whole set-up is actually an elaborate film set, complete with giant tortoises mating on demand, and trained pelicans that obligingly swoop down inches from your head to bag a fish. You can almost hear people off-set directing the choreography, “and cue the dolphins jumping by the boat” or “tell the sea turtle to pop his head up again, they didn’t get a photo!”

Another remarkable thing about the Galapagos Islands is the landscape - or rather landscapes - as there are many different ones.

We were both prepared to be impressed by the wildlife here, its infamy paves the way for it. But right from the start we were awed by the beauty of the scenery, landscapes and water. The islands themselves are simply incredible, before you’ve even seen the animals decorating them at every turn.

Our luxury cabin on the Millennium - heaven!

And so there we were, arriving onto the island of Santa Cruz – a thin sheen of sweat on our foreheads in the sunshine and an excitement like no other.

Within four hours we were in a small dingy, riding by moonlight to our boat: the Millennium. Like the rest of our trip to date, we had ‘winged it’, and booked a last minute luxury cruise for half the price you pay in Quito with just enough time to rush to the shop to lay our hands on some cheap wine!

Playing with a baby sea lion

The boat was a grand palace compared to the hostels and dorm rooms we had been staying in: our bedroom had a balcony and a bathtub with a huge window overlooking the sea and the food was gourmet and the freshest we had tasted in a long while.

We shared our excitement with a fun group of Israeli backpackers who also hopped on a last minute deal.

That night, rocked persistently by the sea, I dreamt of swimming with penguins, sea lions and sharks. I guess that means my dreams have come true, as the very next day I got to do that. Twice.

Everyone needs an iguana for a pillow!

For the next 5 days, I kept having to pinch myself as we sailed around the little-visited, western isles – a perfect combination of landing on uninhabited, volcanic islands and snorkelling twice a day.

Our guide, Leonidas, kept emphasising that these weren’t any animals that surrounded us, these were Galapagos animals. Every time he said it, I was smiling inside thinking about the M&S adverts. (Cue the plummy, sultry voiceover) "This isn't just any marine iguana. This is a plump, rare Galapagos marine iguana."

He just wanted to passionately make the point about just how special an experience this was, but it had us giggling nonetheless. Especially when he forgot a species of bird and said: “Oh, it’s a Galapagos something.”

Blue-footed boobies everywhere

Piles of marine iguanas (who are only found here, in case I haven’t made that obvious in my above ramblings) basked in the sun, paying no heed as we squatted down to watch them spitting excess salt from their bodies.

Magnificent, male frigate birds with a puffed up red sack around their gullet (used to woo the females), flew with our boat for hours until sunset.

Flightless cormorants (why fly when you live in a Galapagos wonderland of fish? Ah, evolution) stretched their dwarfed wings to dry them next to a lava heron.

Cheeky penguin who pecked at my wetsuit

Blue-footed boobies (yes, boobies), with their toothpaste-blue feet, swooped down from sky, making their bodies as streamlined as possible and dove straight into the water like a bullet, catching fish as much as three or four feet down.

Colonies of small, "penguini Galapaginis" (Galapagos penguins) perching on lava-black rocks, then joining us on our snorkels, one pooping on camera as it sped past us. I even tickled one of their feathery-soft tummies under water. Well, he pecked at my wet suit first!

"Oh please, no more photos!"

Giant tortoises creaked as they ambled in slow-motion in the highlands. Sadly the infamous, last-of-his species, Lonesome George, died just three days before we arrived on the island.

Brilliant orange and blue crabs crept, vivid against the petrified lava. Some of the crabbiest of crabs fighting each other next to a dozing sea lion.

"I may be older than you, but I am wiser"

Dolphins leaped out of the water and swam with our dingy boat, and huge humpback whales came near to the catamaran before sunset, blowing huge spouts of air upwards.

Sea lions frolicked, getting nose to nose with us, appearing to blow a bubble kiss, and then making a last minute twist away to tease us. They liked to play "peek-a-boo" above and below the water, and would even pick up rocks from the bottom to throw near us and then race to catch them.

Giant, green sea turtles, munching on sea grass, floated underneath us and between us as we snorkelled. They are so slow and chilled out, just like in Finding Nemo. I could almost hear them saying “Duuuude” to each other.

Marine iguana munching underwater - boo!

Meanwhile Galapagos bullhead sharks and white-tipped reef sharks darted below, amidst the brightly-coloured starfish, coral, and hundreds of fish.

And this chorus of wildlife was all set to a backdrop of beautiful islands. On the lava fields, we felt as if we were walking on the moon; lava tubes, spatter cones and hardened lava made unicorn-horn shaped spires and round craters.

Huge sea turtles all around us - "Duuuude!"

In most parts, vegetation is limited to lava cactus and mangroves covering the beach dunes. And the ocean surrounds everything with its hundreds hues of blues as currents mix together.

On the ship at night, the bright blanket of the stars and moon reflected on the water, catching sea lions and large fish with their light. One night we even had an Equator party in the captain’s bridge as we watched the coordinates flick to 0-0-0.

I’ve never felt so lucky.

Marine iguana on the surface 

After 5 days, we were a few pounds heavier after the huge banquets three times a day (backpackers cannot be trusted around a buffet) but lighter in spirit and high on life.


I think I would have thrown a tantrum if I had to jump back on a plane as we arrived back on land. But, luckily, we had another 6 days of pure Galapagos bliss ahead of us.

Ceviche: Peruvian sushi

When travelling, it's important to practise 'immersion' - to embrace the culture of the country you're in with gusto. Med and I do this most successfully with food, food and, "si, por favor," more food. 

In Nepal, we fueled our treks with three platefuls of dal bhat in one sitting; in Vietnam, we ignored food hygiene and ate our meals at street-side, pho bo joints; and in New Zealand we made sure to tuck into the "culturally significant" fush 'n' chups and hokey pokey ice cream.

And we are addictive with our cutural food following, looking forward to the next meal as we are still polishing off lunch.

Ceviche starter before huge segundo (main)

South America has been a blur of double-carb meals (sometimes triple, finding endless ways of combining white rice, pasta and potatoes in one dish) and meat. It's been cheap, hearty and indulgent, and Peru was no different.

Through streets of graffiti covered buildings, along the choppy waterfront dotted with surfers, petting stray dogs along the way, we'd make our way for the Peruvian delicacy of ceviche.

Lunch had never been so decadent.

Ceviche (or cebiche - the letters 'v' and 'b' in Spanish are often interchangeable) is the go-to lunch dish in Peru, a refreshing mixture of fish that is 'cooked' by marinating it in citrus juice paired with sides of cancha (toasted corn kernels), boiled sweet potato and yuca (root vegetable). It can also be prepared with shrimp, prawns, squid, octopus, and more.

When lunch hour hits, the cevicherias located on the sea fronts of Huanchaco and Mancora (north west Peru) start their rush, many not even staying open for dinner.

Local ingredients and quick preparation make this national dish available in the most polished, fine-dining establishments around or at the stands in the food market when you're in a hurry and dining on a few Soles.

This dish has been around for centuries; early recipes stem from the Inca Empire that preserved their fish in salt, fruit juice and chiles.

Approach with caution - make sure you share!

There are hundreds of variations of ceviche recipes to try - households throughout South America have their own unique take on this traditional dish. But in general the core elements of the recipe remain steadfast: using citrus juice to “cook” fresh fish.

We had a sun-kissed, whirlwind romance with the dish, Med even mentally-penning a song about how much he loved it - the highlight of which was the line "Ceviche, ceviche, I want you in my tummy."

Yes, Simon Cowell has already been on the phone.

Try it with this simple, Peruvian recipe - it won't disappoint.

Editor's note: since writing this blog post, Med and I had a blow out ceviche eating session on our last night in Peru, proving you can have too much of a good thing. So approach with caution: don't eat 5kg of the stuff in one sitting.

Volcan Chachani: dry heaving in an igloo

This is not an event I was eager to relive - but how can I let my three-strong blog fanbase down?! You have to document the rough with the smooth; travelling isn't all a walk in the park.

Chachani from Arequipa

6,000 metres above sea level is a height Med and I have never been to before, not even in the mountain capital of the world: Nepal. My sky dive in New Zealand was only 4,572metres (15,000ft).

What we were about to do would mean camping higher than I'd jumped out of that small plane. That should have been my first warning.

We went to the tour agency to meet our fellow trekkers, Alex and Nick from Switzerland, and to get kitted up in retro snow and ice gear that was last in fashion in the 80s - because that was when it was made. We were hoping to summit Volcan Chachani - a very serious 6075m.

Arequipa is situated in a broad valley, surrounded by three imposing volcanoes. You look anywhere towards horizon, you will see the brooding bulk of one of the volcanoes - El Misti, Chachani or Picchu Picchu. Picchu is ‘peak’ in Quechua language; Picchu Picchu means the plural: ‘peaks’.

Spirits were high as we started our trek

Chachani is the highest of the volcanoes in that region at 6,075m. In the Quechua language (the first language of the Andes), Chachani means 'skirt'; and a female character is normally attributed to the mountain in local legends.

Chachani has extremely low levels of precipitation and is therefore unusual as it does not have a permanent ice cap or glaciers. This means apart from the obvious problems with altitude it is one of the few 6,000m mountains in the world that can be attempted by inexperienced climbers.

You need to be armed with an ice pick but you don't necessarily need to know how to use it.

We left for the Chachani trailhead around 8:30am and drove a long, winding 4 wheel track (that at times barely looked like a road). It’s literally a mind-numbing drive from Arequipa (2,400m) to the start of the trek (5,018m) and even our acclimatised bodies could feel the affects.

The 4WD left us, surrounded by white peaks, to hike a couple hours to the base camp - made difficult with our shoulder-pinching, back-numbing 20kg backpacks containing all our gear. Camp (5,200m) was a beautiful spot on sand where we pitched the tents and settled in for some food. There were only two other people doing the trek, so just six of us and two guides in total.

Camp: 5,200metres

Med and I watched sunset next to a little, curly-tailed chinchilla, and then settled in to get some sleep at 5.45pm ready for our 1am wake-up call. You have to summit in the dark as any later and there is a risk of avalanches.

Despite my knack for being able to sleep anywhere, I only manage a few short stints of sleep, often found myself waking to my head thumping due to the lack of oxygen. I had had a dodgy stomach the day before and now it was coming back to haunt me. I felt so weak.

Acclimatisation and recent experience trekking at altitude clearly doesn't matter if you're not 100% fit and healthy.

Med managed to get some sleep, but I had six hours of misery and very little sleep.

Stunning sunset over the mountains

At 1am we all rose into the icy air and the nausea hit me right in the guts. I tried coca leaves, altitude sickness tablets and coca tea but we had a tight time schedule and my nausea wasn't going anywhere fast.

My stubbornness subsided and I got back in the tent, into two sleeping bags this time, as well as two hats and two pairs of gloves. It's so horrible to give up on something you really want to do, especially when you then have to lie in a tent at -15 degrees for 8 hours while everyone else gets to watch sunrise up a 6,000m volcano.

For the next hour, I dry heaved into a carrier bag as I watched the whole tent turn into ice around me - making a loud scratching and cracking noise that made it impossible to sleep.

It got a lot more frozen than this!

So there I lay in my igloo, alone, in the dark, at 5,200m. Eventually, after a few hours of drifting, I slept and woke just before the others returned from a really tough trek, looking dirty and exhausted.

Here's a few photographs Med took - so you don't need to miss out like I did!

Summiting in the dark

The morning shadow of El Misti volcano over Arequipa

The summit of Chachani: 6,075metres

Like the altitude, the sickness and headache lessened throughout the morning, and by the time we were back in Arequipa I was fine, just feeling a bit glum. We've been so lucky with our treks and expeditions in the last ten months - I'm so much more grateful for that now.

6,000 metres, you'll be mine someday!

Colca Canyon: the world's (maybe second) deepest canyon

Of all our time on this earth, there have been very few occasions when Med and I have had to set an alarm for 2.00am. Our trip to Colca Canyon was one of these rare occasions.

Soaring, Andean condor

As we were getting ready in the middle of the night, others were no doubt still queueing to get into clubs on the other side of town; Arequipa, after all, is one of the top nightlife spots in Peru.

It didn't start well: the bus was 30 minutes late and showed no signs of our friend, James, who we first met over a month ago in Bolivia.

After a stand-off, a telephone call and making the driver promise we would see James at the other end, we eventually admitted defeat and climbed on board, giving a quick ‘hola’ and apologetic smile to our fellow, sleepy trekkers, and settled in the seat to try and get some shut eye that our bodies were crying out for.

At the bottom of the 2nd deepest canyon in the world!

Twice as deep as the Grand Canyon (though the walls aren’t as sheer), the Colca Canyon is somewhere between 3191 and 4160 metres (it's vague!) - maybe only second deepest in the world to the the Cotahuasi Canyon situated further to the north west of Peru.

There is much dispute around the world on this - some argue Colca is the deepest and Nepal claims on this title too.

Five hours later with a small stop in Chivay for breakfast and to pay our entrance fee to the national park, we arrived at our first stop, Cruz del Condor, the primary viewing location for Andean Condors.

Is anyone home?!

It seemed everyone got the memo though; we were in no way alone to enjoy this impressive bird with a wingspan of up to 10 feet and the ability to fly at altitudes of up to 16,000 feet. Oh no - anyone would think we were in Animal Kingdom, Florida with all the camera clutching, brimmed hat wearing tourists flooding the viewing platform.

Thankfully, in the crowd, we found our fellow trekker, James. We were going it alone, without a guide or a plan, and things were finally back on track.

Putting our feet up in our hospedaje, Ta Pay

When I blocked out the tourist circus for a few seconds, it was incredible to see one of the biggest birds in the world up close. They soared gracefully, rising up on the warm airs from deep in the canyon ready for a day's hunting - they are very heavy and rely on strong updrafts to be able to fly.

We also saw hummingbirds, giant and small, floating on air around us.

We then got dropped off at the start of the trek, San Miguel, quickly cutting away from the guided groups so we could have the canyon, and its lofty, cliff-cut views, to ourselves. The terrain was harsh and dry, the slopes steep and constant, until we reached the river in the bottom.

Keeping warm in our barn room

Then it was up, up and up, deciding to continue trekking past the small village of San Juan (in truth, we actually couldn't find it!) until we thought we had reached Ta Pay.

There was no one in the six or seven mud huts here, despite our shouts of "hola" into the fresh, silent air.

After 15 minutes, we were almost considering going back down to find San Juan, and then a small man ambled down the path and shed some light: Ta Pay was still another 30 minute climb up.

Making friends with the donkeys

Ta Pay was a small village high up on one side of the canyon, fringed with mountains behind and the depths of the canyon in front.

Again, it appeared to be a ghost town, the church eerily empty and dark. Until we found the football game in a concrete yard and someone who had a basic hospedaje.

The guy who ran it, probably in his early 30s, lived there by himself, working the land and occasionally getting some money from tourists. His family all lived away - incredible the simple, hardy and isolated life these people had.

Our accommodations were certainly rustic - more like a barn with beds - but thoroughly impressive given that the only way to get to the village is to hike or ride a mule.

Snake man

Right about then, we knew we had made the right decision to avoid the tour groups as we sipped on our long neck beer, the only tourists in the village (the last people wrote in the visitors' book over a month before), chatting away into the night under the best starry sky I've seen.

The next day was a lot easier, scaling the canyon side but in a gentle, downward direction. We saw ancient Inca 'tombs' - holes chiseled out of the steep canyon cliff to keep the bodies of their dead. And then along came a man holding a live snake - "comer" he smiled - to eat. We shared the route only with locals and their scruffy-looking donkeys and mules.

Cute little Quechan girl

After a few hours we reached San Galle, known as "Oasis" as, in the middle of all the barren rock and stone, this place is saturated with lush green vegetation and palm trees. Oasis was quite the place to unwind after two days trekking, with several quaint hostels all with swimming pool and a bar.

Stunning views of the canyon

Our hut wasn’t the most luxurious of places, but how many times does one get to stay the night in a bamboo hut at the bottom of the second deepest canyon in the world? We lazed by the pool until sundown, then played cards and ate dinner with our fellow trekkers.

The next morning it was up at 5am in the dark to hike the gruelling, steep face of the canyon to catch our bus at 9.30am. Sunrise was beautiful, between puffs and glugs of water.

Chilling in the pool at Oasis

We raced up the canyon, the boys seemed to make it their mission to overtake every single person.

Cue the motivational music on my iPod and the destroying of my emergency biscuits (all three packets of them).

But make it we did, in half the time we'd given ourselves - just one hour and three quarters.

To top off a great three days trekking Colca, we got an amazing, free buffet lunch due to the cock-up with buses on the first day.

Sweaty, exhausted but we made it!

Backpacking life doesn't get better than a stunning trek and a free lunch.