Lima to Cuzco via a desert oasis: 15th - 16th March

The number of foreigners on the streets rises steeply once you arrive in Lima, and you soon realise that the vast majority of them are only there in passing from flights and buses before making the trip to their true destination of Cuzco. The importance of little old Cuzco to big bad Lima is emphasised by the fact that 30 years of attempts to build an international airport have been resisted by Lima due to a fear of being bypassed altogether.

It certainly makes for a pretty long and interesting road-bound trip between the two. We left at 12pm with the Tena bus company very excited about our 'presidencial cama' seats, which turned out to be the same as everyone else's. Not sure Obama would stand for that, but to be fair they came with plug sockets and use of the on-board library, which was a nice touch.

Four hours later we arrived in the desert town of Ica, jumped in a mototaxi for the 10 minute trip around the corner to the oasis at Huacachina, were offered a buggy trip straight out of the taxi for 35 soles (8 pounds), dropped our stuff off at a local hotel and within 15 minutes of stepping off the bus we were heading to the dunes in a 12-man dune buggy. For that reason:

Reasons to love Peru #3: total spontaneity/recklessness

What followed was my best experience in all of Peru. First we bumped along the uneven sand near the dunes entrance, before reaching smooth sand and hitting top gear. The buggy used the flatter parts to pick up speed as we raced across Lawrence of Arabia style landscapes before aligning itself directly with a 45° sand dune, hitting it head on and climbing upwards up to what felt for all the world like a tipping point, where we would sharply peel away to the side and descend that very same improbable slope.

Similar insane rollercoaster antics followed before our guide slammed on the brakes at the top of one such slope and shoved a sandboard in each of our hands. Instead of driving down a steep dune we were to lie headfirst on a thin piece of wood. It was a very cool experience but felt kind of tame in comparison to the buggy ride, which gives you an idea of how awesome that was.

Luckily the rest of the tour only consisted of one more sandboarding session and plenty of buggy insanity, until after the shortest hour of my life we parked up above the oasis to gawp unbelieving at a truly unreal sunset.

Then, seemingly as quickly as it had started, it was over. We were left to sit by the faded grandeur of the oasis-side architecture (it used to be a playground for the Peruvian aristocracies) and try to take in the experience and THAT sunset. We had time for a couple of fittingly delicious pisco sours before a taxi back to Ica for a quick restaurant meal before joining our bags and jumping on the 9.45 bus for the final 17 hours to Cuzco.

It started fairly inauspiciously as we half-asleep kicked in the lids of our unwanted airline-style dinners and the sharp curves of the ascent sent food flying through the air, which our 'bus hostess' found hilarious. However a stunning sunrise (see below - sometimes a sleepless night on one of those buses is a blessing) and some of the best landscape I've seen out of a bus window and we were in the capital of the Incas to be offered massages around every corner like the rest of the gringos. And very happy we were too.

Underestimating the power of the mountains and paying the price: 12th - 14th March

The dangers of a slightly time-pressured schedule (we needed to be in Santa Cruz in the east of Bolivia for Mareike's flight on 4th April) is that you can try to take certain shortcuts in your aims to see everything possible in a short space of time, and in that not show certain geographical features the respect they deserve. This was true of our fisherman 'guide' who sent us into the waves perched on a few sheaths of reed from my previous entry and it was certainly true of us when we took a night bus from the coast to Huaraz.

Huaraz is a gateway to the Cordilleras mountain range, the highest range of mountains in the Andes (bit like how Skipton is the gateway to the dales I guess), and as such sits at around 4000m above sea level. And that is as a base to explore higher climes... If I told you we gave ourselves a day to acclimatise straight off a night bus before setting off on a trek to Laguna 69 way above 5000 metres high then you can already guess how that ended up.

Yes, predictably even copious amounts of coca tea (more about that famous Peruvian export later) couldn't prepare us for that dramatic climatic change. After the tour company had teased us by taking us to the very last café before the end of civilisation and also after stopping for photos by the clearest blue lake I'd seen since, well, Quilotoa in Ecuador two weeks previous, we found ourselves huffing and puffing up a valley surrounded by Everests.

We were struggling even before my girlfriend's tube broke. To clarify, she is not an unborn foetus but a diabetic, and has a tube attached to a needle in her belly which pumps insulin into her body. To compound matters her glucometer (measures sugar levels in the blood) chose that moment to give up the ghost.

The problem with being at altitude is that the symptoms of altitude - dizziness, loss of breath, thirstiness - are very similar to that of high blood sugar. With no way of telling, we had to turn back after one more glance at the awesome scenery. I was secretly relieved as we hadn't even reached the climb and I was out of breath, and I consider myself to be in pretty good shape.

Luckily we could ramble back to the road, jump into a passing car, find a pharmacy and get Mareike the batteries and injections that she needed. There was then time for me to almost pass out from exhaustion and worry (leading some passers-by to ask 'estás muerto?') before getting lost one more time on the way to Huaraz with our tails between our legs.

One good thing came out of the day though - that evening whilst waiting for our night bus we experienced a local spirit frothed up with egg white aka

Reason to love Peru #2: pisco sour.

It wouldn't be the last time we savoured that little delicacy.

Our bus took us with Cruz del Sur overnight to Lima, where the lady in the Che Lagarto hostel took pity on our frazzled-looking faces and let us have the breakfast before checking in. Our only full day in Lima then consisted of sleep, hanging out with homeless cats in the Parque Kennedy, looking down on the sad little city beach from up on the cliffs, eating an anorexic guinea pig for 20 quid at a tourist restaurant (plus a pisco sour each tbf) and being almost hustled out of a few more notes at an outdoor chess betting syndicate whilst waiting for a sandwich.

Finally we realised that given our mental states and the lack of options in Lima that was a pretty decent day, and slinked off to bed. The next morning we revisited the clear highlight of Lima (the homeless cats of course) before a bus outta there to join the rest of the gringos on the way to the capital of the Inca empire.