The third day involved hiking up a couple of passes, not as steeply inclined as the day before but enough to challenge the breath in spots. The ruins du jour was Sayacmarca. (Town in a steep Place)

Hiram Bingham, the American explorer who discovered Maccu Piccu in 1911 had inexplicably called these ruins Cedrobamba although there was nary a cedar tree to be seen! He had obviously been slipped some of those hallucinogenic plant thingies.

This fortress-like group of roofless buildings clung precipitously to the side of the mountain over looking the valley below. Back in the day of the Inca I imagine it would have been a simple matter to get rid of an unwanted relation, a nagging mother in law for example, by just bumping her over a low wall. She would disappear into the deep vegetation of the valley hundreds of metres below and no one would be any of the wiser as you went about your business whistling merrily. These were the silly thoughts I had as I peered over low walls into the sheer drop, off the site.

We landed at camp in the early afternoon. Phuyupatamarca. (Cloud level town) at 3670 meters. True to its’ name the clouds were actually down amongst us and although we were informed by Alfredo that the view was the most magnificent on the trail, we couldn’t see anything beyond the perimeter of the camp.

Alfredo old us that this was his favourite camp because of the view and he was looking forward to our reaction when the clouds parted and we could finally see beyond the length of our arms.

The main excitement that afternoon came in the form of a herd of Llama’s who were placed all around the camp and as the different companies arrived to set up their respective tents, the Llama’s remained standing amongst all the activity wearing stubborn expressions.

Alfredo tried to gently push one of the animals who was standing in front of the kitchen tent. The Llama wouldn’t budge. Alfredo was smiling. “He doesn’t want to go.”

“How do you know it’s a ‘He’” I asked wih the earnest stupidity of a tourist who is not thinking for themselves. I had decided that Alfredo, as an indigenous Peruvian could just look into the Llama’s eyes and intuit that masculine glint.

‘Balls” Alfredo remarked laconically and the Irish men and Alfredo laughed out loud at my abashed expression.

 Unfortunately the clouds elected to stay put and for the rest of the evening we sat in a strange dream like world with tendrils of mist teasing and shape changing around us. We ate in a kind of desultory silence and went to bed early out of boredom.