The Cuzco train stays close to the river

	Somewhat nervously and moving away slightly, Tony gave him his answer, "The mountains are truly magnificent."

The group relaxing

The locals did not seem too worried or surprised, although the porters showed great interest in understanding the flight of the boulder before it obliterated the cooking-shed. Within minutes, they had removed the boulder and had proudly pushed it aside of the cramped walkway for everybody's inspection. The locals brought their hammers and saws and set about correcting the damage. The meal had not been disturbed and its preparation continued regardless of the preceding drama. Sitting beside me, his right hand grasping my left thigh, Salous said, "It was lucky for her that you called landslide when you did. She speaks only Quechua, but over the years I have taught her the word for landslide in twelve different languages."

Rob was in shock and that cold sensation permeating my lungs made me anxious about moving him. After thirty minutes calming reassurance he had revived slightly and cracked the odd joke, but the pain in his back was spreading. The first sprinkle of morning rain forced his premature removal to the upper terrace. José and I lifted him by the arms and cradled him along the path to the shack where we had dined the night before. José brought a bed roll and I laid it on top of the breeze blocks to form a makeshift bed. I covered Rob in fleeces and served him hot herbal tea. Moments later, Salous fed him cinnamon porridge which seemed to cheer him a little. I was unsure about what I was doing, but nobody else had come forward with any bright ideas.

As first light arrived, the clouds were high and thin and Salous announced that he expected a fine morning's walk. He shrugged his shoulders when questioned about the afternoon's weather. It was five-thirty and most of the group had breakfasted and were packing their rucksacks for the final blitz on Machu Picchu, a two hour trek away. At last, Rob was back on his feet, although his movement was slow, laboured and painful. The main group went ahead while I arranged for the porters to carry Rob's gear. We had agreed to journey this last vital stage together.

We started off slowly through the rain forest, the wispy clouds still rising in the valley below. The entire forest seemed alive with animals and insects of all sizes and descriptions.

The sun was rising now as were the heat and humidity. The forest and its plants, flowers and trees quivered slightly, covered in a silvery dew. There were large intimidating ants, multi-coloured butterflies and a deluge of boisterous song birds. A flock of green parakeets flew below us, but still high above the canopy of the lower slopes. Our progress was slow, but we still managed to overtake Mark, Vanessa and Rosy who walked at funereal pace. I was surprised by Rob's recovery and the fact that he could walk at all. Once underway, I kept him talking - at first to distract him from the pain and later because of my interest in his life and work as a botanist. Along the track, he stopped a number of times to show me different forms of plants, flowers, mosses and orchids. The travelling experience seemed more enlightening and fulfilling with an expert at hand.

It had already been a long and eventful morning, what with the sickening experience of Rob's fall, followed by the wonders of Peru's rain forest. But the pain and discomfort of the trek suddenly subsided, as there below pale, vanishing clouds stood the eroded contours of archaic terraces. Beneath us lay a royal city which had taken centuries to build and centuries to rediscover - we had arrived at Machu Picchu, the lost citadel of the Incas. In an elevating symphony of birdsong my aches, pains and weariness lifted instantly and were no longer of significance. We sat down on the damp earth and looked down on the glistening stone circles in the flat silver light. It was like being in a fantastic dream.

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