Salous' talk lasted twenty minutes. As guides go, he was one of the best. His English was remarkable and the depth of knowledge he recalled at will was staggering. A rumour had spread around the camp that Salous had a soft spot for Mark, but that's all it was - a rumour. However, yesterday, Neil and I were chatting with him at a water stop, and he kept touching my calves and telling me what beautiful blond skin I had. Then he started to run his fingers through the golden hair on my legs, spinning me a similar tale. That too did not concern me in the slightest. A few years ago I was on the beach in Brazil when I was approached by men, women and children of all ages, who were curious about the white man's skin. They just wanted to touch - it was not a cause for concern.

The last leg of the day's trek drove us through more indeterminable terrain. We progressed through wide sandy paths, narrow ridges and boulder strewn fields, until reaching an elevated swamp which was tonight's camp-site. The porters arrived ahead of time and pitched the tents in long grass, encircled by muddy expanses. Some of the tents nestled precariously on a twenty degree incline, situated close to open cesspits which had been dug to house travellers' waste. Around the tents the porters had dug narrow drainage channels, an ominous sign; more rain was expected. But rain would be no surprise. We had camped at 3,700 metres and were surrounded on three sides by snow-capped mountains. The wind was rising and the clouds down in the gullies whipped around like dirty cream. Then as a finale, the clouds gathered, accumulated, and precipitated heavily over the verdant forest below.

An orange sign a few yards from our tent indicated the presence of deer. The absence of wildlife was unusual, so far we had only seen domestic farm animals in the village compound. To the left of the tents, down in a hollow was a tiny green lagoon. Its waters looked serene, inviting almost in the decreasing temperature. I wandered down to investigate but my effort was wasted - the lagoon was home to a million midges. I returned quickly to the smoky camp-fire, one of the best protections available against those horribly persistent creatures. But as the night fell and the dry wind dropped, the lagoon became a looking-glass of the star-lit sky.

The food on the trek was arguably the best we had tasted in South America. The porters worked diligently with small primus stoves to create tasty and nutritious dishes. Located in a dingy cave, Salous barked out his orders and the boys obeyed him to the letter. Tonight's taste-bud explosion was vegetable soup, followed by runny sweet potatoes, a chunky mixed salad and spicy chicken of a finger-licking nature. A great happiness existed between Salous and his team, there was a deep respect which had to be admired.

After dinner, I went straight to bed. The physical and emotional burdens of the day had taken their toll. It had only just turned eight o' clock, but the guys who had struggled most during the day were huddled around the fire. Then Rosy made an astonishing admission. You could hear a pin drop as she reported her reasons for steadfastly labouring two hours behind everybody else. In a voice of innocence and surprise, she said "I'm not as fit as I ought to be and then there's the altitude to consider too....."

In an adjacent tent, Ruthie was singing in a low child-like voice, what sounded like a nursery rhyme. It reminded me of my infancy in Manchester. The lawless roads of Moss Side with their drugs barons, pimps and illegal clubs. I tried to recall a soothing memory, something to help me sleep. But sharing a tent on the edge of a Peruvian mountain, remote, desolate, and surrounded by the dangers of the encircling elements, I realised that quite probably, I was more comfortable and safer in the tent.

I woke up just before two o' clock to hear the distinctive sounds of quadrupeds mooching around the camp-site. Deer are shy creatures so I felt no reason for concern. I only hoped that José's snoring had not disturbed them too much. However, my opinion was not so generous at first light when I discovered that the camp was covered in deer faeces and most of the tents' guide ropes had been nosed out of the swampy earth. Our tent was in danger of collapsing, or being washed away by the incessant rain.

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