Trekking day 2 & 3: Salkantay and the Cloud Forest

Oates! That's Scott's pal who took one for the team. Couldn't think of it. Anyway, such drastic measures weren't necessary. Just to drive home how bloody cold it was, when I awoke in the morning the puddle of water on the roof of my tent had sheets of ice in it.
On the morning of day 2 we had about an hour of another steep ascent with what felt like the complete absence of oxygen to the highest point of the trek: 4600m at Abra Salkantay, at the base of the mighty Salkantay mountain. Edwin, our guide (who, by the way, is The Man), led us in a little traditional ceremony that Quechuan people do to show respect to the god of the mountain. It involved a few moments of silence and then placing three coca leaves each under a rock. Just as we finished, an avalanche took off down Salkantay, directly in front of us (though at a safe distance). A native Quechuan would say that the mountain answered us, and having been there, I´d be slow to argue with him. It certainly shut us up for a while. One of the people on the trek (a dead sound English guy, who, along with his dead sound Welsh girlfriend, provided much entertainment) has a great photo of us at the highest point, i'll stick it up when I get it. It looks really hardcore.
The rest of the day was spent descending about 2000m through what's known as the Cloud Forest, an area of highland jungle. So strange to be at the foot of a glacier in the morning and then to deal with heat, humidity and mosquitos in a tropical climate in the afternoon. We passed a couple of tiny settlements of wood and thatch huts along the way, and after crossing the river on a well-dodgy bridge, we set up camp at one of them, overlooking the valley. Here´s the view on the campsite the following morning.
Not sure why I like taking scenery photos with mules in them. Maybe deep down I'm pining for my childhood friend, Neddy the Donkey. How I miss him.

We took off down the valley on the morning of day 3, arriving at a substantial little village called LaPlaya at lunch time. Passed this pig in muck along the road. He certainly looks happy to me.

Also passed this cute little chap, who looked just as happy,though in a different way. The kids are great, really friendly.
The afternoon was supposed to be free for resting, but we ended up playing football for a couple of hours with a crowd of kids from the village. They all had silky smooth skills, but weren´t fond of defending. The star of the show was a chubby little 10 year old Maradona lookalike called Clinton who sprayed the ball around from the middle of the park all evening. My spanish extended to asking one chap in particular to stop kicking the ball at my cajones because I was going to need them (there had been several close calls and one bullseye,which left me feeling the same as I'd felt after the steep ascents at altitude). They were great craic though, a very good natured affair with a lot of laughing. My finest moment was when I kicked a 10 year old in the shins and then fell over. Needless to say we got thrashed. Here's both sides taking a breather, and a good one for "spot the ball".

Had my first proper experience of a traditional developing world rural toilet,which consists of a plastic sheets over wooden poles sheltering a hole in the ground. Nothing like it for reminding you that, at the end of the day, we're just fancy mammals. Slept like a lord that night, due to the absence of heart-pounding cold and the 30 degree slope that had me sliding towards the door most of the previous night. The next day was to be our last of serious trekking, and also the longest, but with our first glimpse of the mountain citadel of Machu Picchu from across the valley to ease the pain. Quelle excitemente!