Day 30 – Huaraz to Lima

Puya Raymondi may sound like an Italian footballer but is in fact a type of pineapple plant – although that may not stop Harry Redknapp paying £25 million for one. We stopped to look at these 12m cactus-like giants on our way to the Pastoruri Glacier which is melting at an alarming rate due to global warming and all those selfish people who continue to fly around the world. The strenuous climb took us to over 5000m and gave us fantastic views over the Cordillera Blanca range. It was so good that we almost forgot that the tour guide did not speak English, despite the shady tour operator who had taken our money charging us extra with the assurance that he would. I got my own back by looking blank-faced at the small amount of English he did have and insisting I only spoke Hebrew.

We found a great place to eat in town, it was run by a man from Blackburn who cooked and served authentic Northern British cuisine – curry. It was fantastic.

In the evening I boarded an eight hour night bus headed for Lima (home of everyone's favourite illegal immigrant – Paddington Bear). Unlike Ecuador, Peru has different levels of service on the buses so we stepped up from the standard to the superior class and were rewarded with super-reclining seats and an in-drive meal that would put RyanAir to shame. Granted a soggy spam sandwich would put RyanAir to shame, but you know what I mean.

Day 29 – Huarez

Feeling far more refreshed than yesterday, I mustered enough strength – it is seriously hard to breathe up here – to try and get some information from the dozen trekking companies and hundreds of shysters around town. After some negotiation and quite a considerable amount of time, the fella caught on that I didn't want to spend $300 on a walk 'I don't care if they carry my bags, cook my breakfast and scrub my pants, I'm not paying it'.

No thanks not even the $100 one. $12 you say? Done. That only took 2 hours.

Feeling far less refreshed than I was two hours ago I headed for the thermal baths of Monterrey and the promise of "The perfect way to recover after an ardous day'. As the water was the colour of a well made gravy it did diminish the effect slightly – I always like to at least see below my waist when in a pool of water. Still it was a good way to spend the afternoon.

Sud América Gut Rot League © – All change at the top as I have discovered a fine porter, paradoxically called Polar, and a cheeky little number called Cristal which is the best beer I have had by far.

1. Cristal

2. Pilsen Polar

3. Franca

4. Cusqueña Negra

5. Conquer

Day 28 – Huaraz

The bus journey was fine, the motorbike/taxi combination bumpy and our hostel great with fantastic views of the surrounding snow capped mountains, but this Andean air (Huaraz is over 3000m above sea level) is thinner than an Ethiopian supermodel. The place is also full of touts who are relentless in their goal to separate you from your hard earned cash in exchange for as little as possible. Being tired, breathless and in no mood to haggle I spent a very lazy day just looking around the town.

Anyone who has read the book (or seen the film) 'Into The Void' – an epic tale of a disastrous mountain expedition – will have heard of the Cordillera Blanca mountain range which is where Huaraz is located and just about every bar/hostel has a copy of the film, which is what I spent my evening watching.

Sud América Street Snack League © – A new kid on the block has just blown all opposition out of the water:

1. Spicy chicken Empanada – $0.60

2. Fried meat and plantain balls with a shredded salad – $1.50

3. Beef, salami and plantain kebab – $0.75

4. Plantain and cheese fritter – $1.00

5. Tortilla – $0.30

Day 27 – Trujilla to Huaraz

A bit of culture was on the cards today. In the morning I visited the ancient twin ruins of Huaca del Sol and Huaca de la Luna (the temples of the sun and moon) which were built by the Moche people before an afternoon at the enormous mud city of Chan Chan built by the Chimu people. I know that doesn't sound like a very interesting day, but it was.

The low point of the day was when our guide mentioned that he knew a great restaurant which also provided live entertainment, authentic costumes and souvenirs, and didn't you just know it, we were just around the corner! It does not matter what country I am in, nothing – I said, nothing – will have me heading for the exit door faster than the promise of: Traditional <> dancing. I made my excuses and left.

In the evening I caught a night bus to Huarez high in the Andes and very, very cold it got too.

Sud América Gut Rot League © – Into Peru and a superior range of beers on offer, Cusqueña Negra is a porter but just a little too sweet to be a chamion, whilst Franca is very good indeed.

1. Franca

2. Cusqueña Negra

3. Conquer

4. Club

5. Pilsner

Day 26 – Trujilla

If ever I needed a day of doing nothing, today was that day. Clearly the gods were smiling on me as both the town's museums were closed and the modern art gallery was only open until noon, which I noticed at 12.50.

Today I spotted the rarest of things, for the first time since arriving in South America I found a tourist information office that was actually open, I ventured inside – more for novelty value than the hope of finding any useful information – and was astounded to discover an accommodating and bilingual staff member who seemed genuinely interested in giving me some help. It was with no small amount of amusement that I listened as she informed me 'It's Saturday, nothing is open on a Saturday, go for a walk'.

We met the Canadians in the evening for some food before they caught an overnight bus to Lima. It was over the course of the next hour that I realised that traveling in Peru may be a little more frustrating than Ecuador. We watched through varying degrees of bewilderment, hilarity and anger as a legion of staff attempted to supply our table with two cheese rolls and four beers.

In this particular restaurant food had to be ordered from one queue (which seemed simple) however drinks had to be ordered from another queue (simple, if annoying). After placing both orders you are given two receipts (still simple, but pointless), which you take back to your seat before a waiter takes them and forwards them onto the cook or bar staff respectively. Sometime later you may be fed and watered.

If the above does not seem convoluted enough, our troubles doubled when Ciara and I got two beers but the waiter refused to serve the Canadians theirs as he insisted Ciara and I were already drinking them. It took a conference of four irate diners, three waiters, a receipt handler, a cook and a barman before things were rectified.

By all accounts, the cheese rolls were not worth the wait.

Day 25 – Vilcabamba to Trujilla (via Loya, Piura and Chiclayo)

Christmas Day GMT 9am

I would imagine you are sauntering downstairs in your nice new dressing gown, popping open a bottle of sparkling before starting the day with a nice chilled Bucks Fizz and hot buttered crumpets.

Christmas Day GMT -5hrs (4am Peru time)

I am currently on a bus that is so hot I have to have the window open to breathe, with the force nine gale that is now blowing in my face I can't read my book, that is of little consequence however, as none of the lights in the cabin work anyway. I am on my second bus of the night. I started the evening with a one hour bus ride from Vilcabamba to Loja, after waiting four hours there I boarded this heat wagon and have now been on it for five hours – with another two hours still to go. The only relief came when I had to cross the border from Ecuador to Peru which involved waking the lone customs officer from his slumber – he wished me all the best for the season (I think that is what he was shouting).

Christmas Day GMT 2pm

The presents are open, the socks are on. The turkey is basted and you are considering a pre-lunchtime advocaat and lemonade.

Christmas Day GMT -5hrs (9am Peru time)

I am in Piura or to use it's western name: Hell. It is an odious little border town in Peru where the second bus dumped me before pulling into an armoured compound. The next bus I have to take is with a different bus company and from a different station, although it is only 200 metres away (I can see it from where I am standing) I have been informed that if I choose to walk I would arrive wearing only my shoes and a – rapidly fading – smile.

Christmas Day GMT 7pm

The Bond film is on, the whiskey is in the jar. Perhaps one more wa-fer thin mint. Beautiful!

Christmas Day GMT -5hrs (2pm Peru time)

My two hour wait in Piura was followed by the third bus of the day – a mere three hours – to Chiclayo which is not quite as crappy as the last place but I would still rather wake up to Gary Glitter's smiling face than this town. I am sweating, waiting and close to crying now on the fourth bus which was supposed to leave an hour ago but as not many people are here the driver has kindly decided to wait until it fills up a bit more.

Christmas Day GMT 12am

Wake up on the sofa, 'Balls, missed the end of Bond again'. Perhaps a quick sherry before bed. And a bit of cheese.

Christmas Day GMT -5hrs (7pm Peru time)

The fourth and final bus of the day plods into Trujillo at such a pace that at one stage I had to check that we were not towing the Peruvian Olympic Sumo Wrestling Team behind us.

Santa you owe me, now where did I pack those humbugs?

Day 24 – Vilcabamba

Christmas Eve. I had a choice of getting a bus at five in the morning or of relaxing in the hostel gardens all day and getting the overnight bus. Conscious of my need for recovery after a day on a horse I opted for the latter, hence, I have very little to say and will instead dish out some rather superfluous Ecuadorian awards:

Best hostel – Rendevouz (Vilcabamba), luxurious beds, feather pillows and soft toilet paper, what more could a weary body want for?

Best activity – Snorkelling (Galapagos), sharks, penguins, sea-lions and not a floating condom in site.

Best meal – Servi-Sabroson restaurant (Galapagos), serving up the finest tropical fish this side of Grimsby.

Best snack – Fried meat and plantain balls (Galapagos), as big as a cricket ball but far easier to swallow.

Best beer – Conquer, found once in over three weeks.

Day 23 – Vilcabamba

Ciara decided that the only way to atone for eating horse four days ago would be for us to sit on one and force it carry us to the top of a bloody enormous mountain. I am not convinced the horse would agree.

We looked at a few places around town that rented horses and found a reputable looking one that offered three options. A four-hour trek for $25, a two-hour trek for $15, or for the bargain price of $2 some little bloke would follow us around clapping coconuts whilst we whipped him.

We opted for the four-hour trek and it was fantastic choice with some of the most (CLICHÉ ALERT) stunning scenery I have seen in South America. The trails that the horses followed along the top of the mountains were precarious to say the least with either side falling away hundreds of metres to rocks below – it was around this time I started to question the logic of putting my life in the hands of an animal whose mother I may have recently eaten, however, the animal was only keen on sugar cane not revenge and safely took us up and down.

In the afternoon we went to the Rum Wilco Nature Reserve which offers a variety of hiking options. I have done a fair bit of hiking in the past and know that maps (in most countries) when describing walks will usually get a volunteer whose level of fitness is comparable to Stephen Hawking watch him do it then publish that as a guide.

Not in Ecuador. The dubious map we received described one trail as 'rugged' which is not precisely how I would have described it unless you were following 'rugged' with the words 'death march'. I had taken to rugged to mean the way Gordon Ramsey describes a hastily-put-together salad. It was after climbing the fallen trees, squelching through the venomous spider and snake bog, just as we approached the vertical wall of rock, that CIara and I decided rugged – in this case – might actually mean certain death and turned back.

Recovering in the evening I was not overly dispirited when the waiter told me they had sold out of frogs legs.

Day 22 – Cuenca to Vilcabamba

Two buses later and we arrived in serenely located little town of Vilcabamba.

The highlight of my evening was overhearing the conversation in a restaurant between two very serious Americans on the next table, one was angrily telling his friend how he had asked his wife to write his epitaph and what she had spent three days composing:

'Phil is an asshole'.

He may well be an asshole, but he will never know how close he came to having warm beer spat all over his back too.

Sud América Street Snack League © – Brought from the bus station in Cuenca the latest entry is the worst yet, try gluing 12 beer mats together and then eating it and you will be close.

1. Fried meat and plantain balls with a shredded salad – $1.50

2. Beef, salami and plantain kebab – $0.75

3. Plantain and cheese fritter – $1.00

4. Tortilla – $0.30

Day 21 – Cuenca

With the thoughts fresh in my mind of how bad South American museums have been previously, I visited the Cuenca Pumapungo Museum with hopes not high. After a splendid welcome and introduction my optimism fell with the realisation that nothing was in English (and there was not much in Spanish either). There was some good shrunken heads and some Inca excavations outside but once again it was a bit dull.

In fact I was quite disappointed with most of Cuenca – the city's allure not helped by the constant reminders to be on your guard against pickpockets, muggers, thieves, rapists, rogues, raiders, ruffians, pilferers, plunderers, pirates, pillagers, bandits, brigands and all manner of ne'er-do-wells I failed to mention.

I hope this criminal underbelly doesn't spread to the smaller cities and islands. Gangs of heavily armed delinquent sea lions roaming the Galapagos would be a disaster for the economy, however, the sight of a giant tortoise leaping from a tree onto an unsuspecting backpacker would be very, very funny.

Day 20 – Riobamba to Cuenca

Another day, another bus trip, this time to the UNESCO listed colonial city of Cuenca the last major city before crossing into Peru.

As with most South American towns the bus station was conveniently located 2km from the centre of town leaving all arrivals with the unenviable quandary of whether to walk the unknown mean streets into town with everything you own strapped about your body or try to persuade the taxi driver that you know the fare is not $10 but only $1. Although on this occasion I really should have asked for my $1 back as the taxi driver did not have a clue where he was going and I ended up having to direct him.

Having been dropped off as close to our hostel as the driver could find (which was nowhere near) we bumped into the two Canadians fellas from our Galapagos boat who were just on their way out of town. I expressed regret that they could not join us for a quick drink and in fact would be spending the next six hours on a sweaty bus.

Ten minutes later the four of us were in the hostel bar, all thoughts of bus tickets forgotten.

Having grown bored of the hostel bar we decided on a change of scenery, but being Sunday very little else was open except a bar opposite which we had been warned served horrible drinks and was best avoided unless your idea of a good hangover cure was looking at the toilet floor all day. We flagged down a taxi and after a lengthy moonlight tour of the city arrived at the same bar we had been opposite for the last seven hours – yes the drinks were revolting.

Day 19 – Banos to Riobamba

Due to yesterdays bike ride, I woke up this morning with an arse that only someone who has lived through a Michael Barrymore pool party can sympathise with.

There was a lot of rain overnight and even more into the morning, but not like the rain in England, this was real rain, if you have been to the tropics you know what I mean. These raindrops were like brussel sprouts – couple that with a town that has a drainage system designed to handle the odd spilt Pina Colada and you have a lot of water on the ground. We waded from our hostel to the bus station and as luck would have it managed to catch a bus that was aqua-planing out of town that very minute.

Our destination was Riobamba and (apparently) the starting point for one of the worlds epic train journeys. Unfortunately, for me it will have to stay apparent as the train only has 40 seats and only runs every three days – less over Christmas, so the next available seat was ten days away and this town doesn't have ten minutes worth of stuff to do, let alone ten days.

To revitalize my sagging spirits, I went for a slap up dinner in a dubious looking barbeque shack and pointed to the most enormous steak you have ever seen, however this was not your ordinary steak, nay, I soon discovered something was most amiss, this certainly wasn't Aberdeen Angus, unless that is, Aberdeen Angus is a nag running in the 3.30 from Kempton.

Ciara's keen grasp of the lingo soon deduced that we had been saddled with a 'mare of a mane course, she was distraught, however she is now stable. She would like me to point out that we did not intentionally eat one of these magnificent beasts, but I imagine her ticket to this year's Horse of the Year show may not turn up.

I also would like to apologies to all animal lovers out there and promise never again to partake. That my friends, is straight from the horse's mouth.

Day 18 – Banos

Before you could say 'What a strange, but remarkably apt way to spell crosnts' breakfast was eaten and we were hiring a couple of bikes for a day riding in the Andes. I had initially been concerned that the safety of my bike would not be up to scratch but my fears were soon allayed when I saw that it boasted not one but two wheels – complete with a brake on each. It was a state of the art machine – at least in 1972 it was.

The seat could only have been less comfortable if it was made of marble but at least most of the trail we followed was downhill. We stopped for the odd hike to a waterfall and a 120m high cable car ride suspended by a piece of wire I would not normally have trusted to hang a shirt on. After 20km we reached a small town, had a beer and hitched a lift back to Banos fearing that only Lance Armstrong would have made the uphill return trip.

Back in Banos we decided that the perfect way relax after the exertions of the morning was a gentle hike up the volcano. What I hadn't bargained on, and what my tourist map failed to mention, was how steep the hike was – if you are having to hold onto rocks as you ascend, that is not a hike – it is imminent death. We managed to avoid death by falling, and only suffered death by embarrassment as we were constantly overtaken by Ecuadorian pensioners hauling oak trees to the summit. I blame the altitude.

After such an arduous day, and as the night descended, we headed for the much touted thermal baths to revitalize our limbs. As I slipped into the volcanic pool the thought that slowly came into my mind was 'Is this how a lobster dies' . It transpires that the water temperature is 48 degrees, which is exactly the temperature I like to drink my tea at, however, I had no wish to be the tea bag.

Day 17 – Quito to Banos

I started the long road South to Rio by taking a four hour bus journey from Quito to the fantastically monikered 'latrine' – granted it doesn't quite translate as latrine, more like bathroom, which could be something to do with the thermal baths they have here. They also make toffee, a lot of toffee.

They have tons of tourist offices, and consequently, loads of touts. For $70 some dude offered to take me mountain biking and hiking on the slopes of the Volcano Tungurahua, after some consideration and a little bit of research, I realised that I could hire my own bike for $6, walk where I bloody well wanted and not have to put up with some Ecuadorian gobshite in my ear all day, so I went for that option, but that is tomorrows tale.

Sud América Street Snack League © – the latest addition is a skewer of beef, salami, pepper and plantain (which is a cross between a banana and a potato if you didn't know and seems to be served on every plate over here). The beef was good, the salami god awful. so:

1. Fried meat and plantain balls with a shredded salad – $1.50

2. Beef, salami and plantain kebab – $0.75

3. Plantain and cheese fritter – $1.00

Day 16 – Quito

We took a local bus (no chickens, no goats) 25km north from Quito to visit the Equator, which is of course the reason Ecuador is so named – you didn't think it was a coincidence did you? We walked around a collection of very small museums that bore no connection to the Equator or each other other than having an incredibly bored looking security guard stationed outside who would turn the lights on for us as we entered. Next stop was the rather Stalin-esque monument that stands proudly between the Northern and Southern hemispheres. Photos of me standing with a swinger in each hemisphere duly taken, we then walked the 250 metres North to where the Equator actually is. No GPS when the monument was built you see, dodgy builders, what can you do?

In the evening, wary of a repeat of last night, we headed out early to a much busier part of town, imagine my delight upon walking into a bar and expecting the usual two bottled horrors to be greeted by a line of seven beers on draught. I ordered an Ecuador Black, delighted that I had found a stout at last, 'sorry, we no have'. Not to be dismayed, I went for the Amber Red 'sorry, we no have'. Slightly perturbed by now the Pale Ale was risked "sorry, we no have'...

You can see where this is going right?

Six attempts later, we finally got to the only one that was available, which obviously was the usual toilet water.

Which leads me nicely onto the current Sud América Gut Rot League © (if any major companies are out there wanting to sponsor this emerging rival to the Sud América Street Snack League please feel free to email me) which is starting to sort out the men from the boys:

1. Conquer – The stand out beer so far, typically it's spotted slightly less than Brigadoon

2. Club – The first one tastes fine, the second is a struggle, they then get steadily worse (the opposite of how beer should work)

3. Pilsner – I can tell no difference between this and Club except the label

4. Brahma – Like a can of warm Fosters on a hot train

Day 15 – Galapagos Islands to Quito

The flight back from the islands was uneventful apart from the stewardess' enormous nose which could have been used as an emergency evacuation slide and caused much amusement.

I spent the afternoon in the Old Town of Quito visiting the sights that can safely be visited without taking a taxi or an armed guard which narrowed it down dramatically to a couple of churches and the police station.

I had been told that the area where I was staying gets very quiet (and therefore extremely dangerous) in the evening, so armed with nothing more than the tried and tested maxim of "What's the worst that could happen' we ventured forth to get something to eat. Big mistake. Nothing was open, nobody was on the streets, cars were breaking land speed records to get out of the area and even the dogs were walking in pairs. The only restaurants open were a 20 minute walk away – we realised that we were either going to get food, get mugged or possibly both.

Then we saw that a Chinese take-away was open. Of course.

A 7, 14 and 16 later (it was a short menu) and we were back home safe and sound. I commented to the waiter that the chicken was 'Rubbery' and he gladly took the compliment – alright, it's an oldie but it's still a goldie.

Today also saw a new entry into the Sud América Street Snack League © (if any major companies out there want to sponsor this emerging powerhouse league please feel free to email me). Purchased for the princely sum of $1 it was a plantain fritter with a cheese filling, deep fried in oil old enough to have greased Che Guevara's head and so stodgy a pelican would have had trouble swallowing one – it was really pretty bad, but due to it being early season it sits comfortably in second place:

1. Fried meat and plantain balls with a shredded salad – $1.50

2. Plantain and cheese fritter – $1.00

Day 14 – Galapagos Islands

I treated myself to a well deserved lie-in which I felt I had earned after a week on a luxury yacht being waited on three times a day.

As I have nothing else to write and we did bugger all here is a photo of a very big tortoise.

Day 13 – Galapagos Islands

Even though we left the boat this morning our guide still managed to get us up at 5.45 for another walk on North Seymour island – in case the 600 photos of seals and boobies we already had was not enough.

By mid-afternoon we were back in Puerto Ayora for our first sleep on dry land for a week. Being Sunday nothing (except the church) was open so we resigned ourselves to watching a really dreadful Hugh Grant film – as if there is any other kind.

Day 12 – Galapagos Islands

The last full day of our Galapagos boat trip was pretty much the same as the previous six, or was it seven, days? You should be thankful it's nearing the end, as I am rapidly running out of things to write about.

The usual drill for today consisted of, walking, snorkelling, eating, penguins (note the comma in between the last two words), sharks and rum. Bliss.

The sun set over the Galapagos as we had our final meal, from tomorrow we are back on chicken and rice and – shock horror – actually having to do something for ourselves. Bugger.

Day 11 – Galapagos Islands

The boat sailed north to Rabida (one of the much more desolate and newly formed islands). A walk was followed by a snorkel where I at last got to see a marine iguana in the ocean.

In the afternoon the boat sailed to Chinese Hat – so named for it's similarity to... you guessed it. The snorkelling was fantastic and in just an hour we saw penguins, seals, iguanas and sharks – it could well be the best snorkelling I have ever done.

Day 10 – Galapagos Islands

A more relaxing day than usual, or perhaps just quieter as a really loud Canadian woman has left the boat, and we only had to get up at 7am. Our first stop was a visit to the giant tortoise sanctuary on Santa Cruz island. I'm not sure why we had to go that early as the tortoises are really not rushing to go anywhere.

At 12 we bade farewell to another six cheapskates who had only paid for a four night tour and got ready for another load of passengers arriving later that day. Unfortunately the Canadian fellas jumped ship along with Pedro, Paulo and Pablo who are all the same person but we never did quite gets to grips with which name was his real one - however there was no mistaking his gleaming fake nashers.

The new people turned up in the late afternoon and we have replaced five Canadians with five Germans so although the Galapagos baby seals are breathing a sigh of relief, it means I won't see a sunbed for the rest of the trip.

Day 9 – Galapagos Islands

Did the guide say we will be doing another walk at 5.45am? Yes, he did.

Overnight the boat had sailed to Floreana island in the far south which mercifully was not getting the lashing rain of yesterday.

The same mercy is not being shown by our guide who continues to squawk, screech, croak, howl and hoot, like no animal I have heard on the Galapagos at every opportunity. The amazing thing is that other people on the boat have started copying him. As a result when our dinghy pulled into shore today onlookers could have been forgiven for thinking we were day-trippers from the Ecuadorian tourettes sailing club.

In the afternoon we visited the Galapagos post office, which is just a wooden barrel on a beach where you drop your postcards off, then search through the hundreds that are already there and if you see an address close to where you live you take it for them. I picked up one which I plan to leave at the bottom of my bag for three months before taking home and leaving in the kitchen for another couple before finally feeling guilty and posting it – so exactly like a real postman then.

Early evening the boat set sail back for Santa Cruz and the town of Porta Ayora where we went into town and found a bar to have a night out on dry land.

The cane sugar rum is no more and was remarkably palatable. I imagine it would be equally useful stripping varnish off the decks.

Day 8 – Galapagos Islands

Did the guide say we will be doing our first walk at 5.45am? Yes, he did.

Overnight the boat had sailed to Espanola island and just to give you some small satisfaction I was forced out of my bed at that ungodly hour into a small dingy in the torrential rain and howling wind to see yet more animals – the novelty could begin to wear thin.

We arrived back on the boat at 8am soaked to the skin, I had been out of the shower for approximately 45 seconds before the guide told me to 'change' into my wet clothes as we were about to arrive at a great snorkeling site, true enough it was great but it's not often I get drenched twice before breakfast.

Back on the boat again I was just settling down for a couple of hours relaxation when the captain decided there could be no better time –

ever –

than right now –

just as I had dried for the second time –

to stage an emergency drill and make everyone get in the lifeboats. If he was doing it to annoy the guests he succeeded. I was just relieved the ship had not sunk in the previous 2 days and I was saturated... again.

I opened the cane sugar rum -– then smelt it and put the lid back on.

Day 7 – Galapagos Islands

The boat sailed from Santa Cruz to Sante Fe island, we did walks on both islands and snorkelled off the coast of Santa Fe and saw Reef Sharks, Turtles, Manta Rays but by far the funniest were the sea lions – which are huge.

Our guide seems to be a reincarnation of Johnny Morris and never fails to miss an opportunity to imitate an animal. Any animal. Even ones that are not found on the islands. At first it was barely funny but when he does it outside your cabin window as a wake-up call it is far less so. If he keeps doing it he'll discover I've found a new use for a pelican's beak.

By 8.30 just about everyone was exhausted, our state of inertia not helped by the fact that both lunch and dinner consisted of three huge courses. I was in bed and asleep by 10 – Rock 'n Roll!

Day 6 – Galapagos Islands

Today was the start of our boat tour of the islands.The booking agent told us to be at the meeting point for 9am which we duly were, only to be told by the guide that most of the 12 other passengers would not be arriving until after noon as their plane from the mainland was delayed. The first two other passengers to arrive were Mike and Doug from Vancouver, both were good value and alleviated our fears that we would be stuck on a boat full of geriatric Americans complaining about the size of the breakfast waffles.

The rest of the group arrived and before long we were on our boat Yolita II. When we booked we were given several options but both liked the look of the Yolita and it turned out to be a great choice as the vessel is huge and very modern – had we booked in London the price for 8 nights would have been $2395, going to the islands and paying direct cost just $1050.

We did our first walk on Santa Cruz island (Bachas Beach) and saw a huge amount of wildlife. I could write a million words on the motley crew of birds, reptiles, mammals then another million on the flora, fauna, ecology, biology, history and geography of the Galapagos Islands but you would stop reading, so I won't. Darwin did it better anyway so read his.

Day 5 – Galapagos Islands

Another early morning – this time due to the outrageous heat. Two hiking options were on the agenda today, both trails leaving from Puerto Ayora.

Option one came with the following instructions: 'Follow the main road north 22km from town and turn left at the sign warning that many tourists have been killed doing this trail, follow the badly overgrown path for 3kms over two barbed wire fences until you reach a wooden memorial to a dead Israeli tourist, turn left here and the trail begins to get confusing – bring water, food and a GPS'

The other option was to walk along the beach until tired then turn back. Which is what we did.

We immediately saw a marine iguana coming out from the ocean and spent the next 30 minutes taking about 1000 photos, studying it from every conceivable angle and generally stopping it from going about it's daily business before finally growing bored and moving on. Two minutes later we saw another, then another, then another in fact there are thousands of them so I deleted 998 photos. The highlight was a bird called the blue-footed boobie (insert your own Benny Hill gag here) which happily sat on the rocks a foot away as Ciara and I rolled off another 1000 photos.

In the evening we stocked up on sailing essentials – a bottle of cane sugar rum, an eyepatch and a cutlass.

Day 4 – Quito to the Galapagos Islands

This morning I worked out that we have spent less money in two days in Quito than we did in three hours at Atlanta airport.

We booked a flight to the Galapagos Islands yesterday, where Charles Darwin famously sat down, looked at a load of birds and after much stroking of beard, concluded 'Bloody hell those bishops are lying to us'.

We arrived just after noon at a big shed (or airport as they call it) then took a bus then a ferry then another bus to travel the from one side of the island to the other and the main town of Puerto Ayora. It's fabulous, so we spent the day lazily wandering the streets and as there are only about 12 it shows just how lazily we were wandering. After some negotiations we booked a boat to take us on an eight day tour of the islands.

How is the weather in London?

By popular demand (one person), throughout South America I will be introducing and updating a league table of street food. As a first entry and more than deserved first place we have, today's lunch of:

Fried meat and plantain balls with a shredded salad – $1.50 – Bloody fantastic.

I was also planning a league table of beers, but they seem to only have two in Ecuador, last night I tried one called Pilsner which was bad then another called Club which was better. So tonight I first ordered a Club which was bad then a Pilsner which was better. I think they are the same. This one may require more work.

Day 3 – Quito

The hotel's proud boast of WiFi technology proved something of a fabrication, however, as it also had no working electricity that point was largely irrelevant. Luckily for us the hot water was gas fired – but judging by the state of the boiler the last engineer to fire it, died just after Ecuador declared independence in 1830.

Invigorating, is what you call a cold show at that time of the morning, but I didn't know the Spanish for invigorating so used more flowery terms in my explanation to the owner.

The day before leaving England Ciara and I diligently called our bank to ensure they knew we were going to South America so as not to get a repeat of the situation we had in China where our cards were stopped. So imagine my surprise and unbridled joy when we went to withdraw some money but informed that our cards had been blocked from overseas transactions. We initially thought it may be just one bank so spent the next five hours searching all over Quito for ATMs (the banks were closed by now – of course) with the same result.

With no other options I found an internet cafe resigned to calling the bank in England. It was then that I discovered there was another power cut. Losses cut, we decided to have a drink and think about it.

Suitably reinvigorated and with Quito on the electricity grid we called home and, amid grovelling apologies from the bank, got our cards working. Rather foolishly we then decided to test the limits on all six of them, and thus, we were left sitting – Tony Montana-like – with just over $1200 in cash in 'The most dangerous place on the planet/continent' – delete as applicable.

Late that evening the hotel owner assured me he had been on the case and that I would have hot water. I have. Boiling hot water. Water so hot it strips skin if you stand under it. After 25 seconds it's freezing again.

Day 2 – Quito

Despite not getting to bed until 2am I was up at 7 ready to look around Quito, which if you believe everything you read, sits somewhere between being 'The most dangerous place on the planet' to just 'The most dangerous place on the Continent'.

In the morning, with the sun beating down on us, we visited the beautifully colonial Old Town and (as chance would have it) I met the Mayor of Quito inside The Cathedral. Cynics may suggest he was a confidence trickster, but he really was the Mayor – he told me, then asked me for some money – what mayor wouldn't? I asked why he had sold his necklace to Mr T, then he left us alone. If he was a con-man he really was convincing.

Quito days are currently swinging from extreme heat in the morning to torrential rainstorms in the afternoon, apparently you can set your watch by the change, but as I don't have a watch I got drenched and dived for cover in the National Museum of Ecuador. I had read 'If you only visit one museum in Quito – make it this one' and after three hours I realised why; because if all the other museums were anywhere near as deathly dull as this one the undertakers of Quito would be sweeping tourists off the streets.

My first night was spent in a bar watching a football team from Quito (Liga) play the Brazilian team Flumenese in the South American Champions League Cup Final, every bar was packed and the atmosphere on the streets was superb. I was slightly deflated to learn that this was the second leg and that Liga already held a 5-1 advantage. Game over, surely?

What I, and every Liga fan, hadn't bargained on was two Flumenese goals in the first 20 minutes, a red card for Liga after 25 minutes and their goalkeeper inexplicably choosing to get drunk before kick-off – at least that is how he played (could he be available for England?). Flumenese went three up soon after half-time, before in the 80th minute Liga managed their first shot on target as their striker went on-on-one and defty lobbed the ball over the Flumenese keeper. Unfortunately, it was only lobbed over him by about 12 inches so the keeper easily caught it and belted it back into the Liga half leaving everyone in the bar close to tears and the striker considering the plethora of deaths threats that would undoubtedly be coming his way. Amazingly, four minutes into injury time Flumenese hit a post for the second time, and even more amazingly one minute later, Liga were crowned Champions of South America by getting belted 3-0.

Cue mass hysteria on the streets, car horns being tested all night and no sleep for me.

Day 1 – London to Quito

Here is my list of things to do prior to the start of my South America trip:

1. Reconfirm flights

– check

2. Start taking Malaria tablets

– check

3. Arrange first night's accommodation in Quito

– check

4. Get really, really, really drunk, fall down a staircase and smash my head open on a wall via a glass lampshade

– check

Unfortunately I only managed three out of four on the above list. All was not lost, however, as it turned out I did not have to bother reconfirming my flights. I probably could have done without the trip to casualty but managed to do that two nights before we were due to fly – much to Ciara's delight.

We flew with Delta Airlines who seem to run a unique check-in procedure. First, you check-in at home, print out your boarding pass and bring that to the airport, then you are directed back to the check-in queue to get a REAL (she said it in capitals) boarding pass. I enquired if there was any need for us to have bothered doing anything at home, but was met with a very harsh stare, although that could have been the plaster on my forehead.

The food was good, the films were either great (Sin Nombre), good (State of Play), or absolute toss (Terminator 4).

The first 10 hours flew by (bu-dum-tish) however the flight was broken by a three hour lay over in Atlanta, where we were required to join a 500 strong queue of people to pass through immigration and security This took an excruciating 45 minutes after which we were directed around a corner to another queue to pass through the same immigration and security before we could... wait for it... get back on the plane.

After being aggravated by an 18 stone security guard for over an hour constantly barking;

'Move along please, sir' – "I am moving, I understand how a queue works, I'm not Egyptian" I needed a drink.

After being charged $9 for a drink, I needed another drink but quickly realised the folly of this plan. I would like to report that at least I didn't leave a tip but it seems they even take that in advance these days.

Tired and hungry I ordered a Burrito and watched in amazement as the girl used a Tortilla so big it could have been used as a parachute for a labrador (if one were ever needed) and loaded it with enough chicken, cheese, beans and rice to a supply a small army (of labradors perhaps?) or one American.

Although the second part of the flight seemed to have some kind of drinking restriction in place – I didn't see a crew member for nearly two hours – I finally arrived at the hotel 26 or so hours after leaving home.