Our next adventure – the Andes on Horseback

Part 1 - Into the Mountains

We left Cusco early and drove for around two hours into the hills to a small Andean village — a few houses, a tiny café/bar, and the last real sign of civilisation. I wasn’t feeling my best, having flu-like symptoms, but there was no turning back.

This was where we met our small team: Umberto, our guide, two horsemen; a cook; and the two of us. Six in total.

Once the horses were loaded, we rode straight out of the village and into open mountain country. The village disappeared almost immediately, replaced by steep slopes, ancient terraces and a deep gorge running alongside the track. The sense of remoteness was instant.

Not long after setting off, we passed a couple coming down from the mountains, heading to the village for provisions — a two-day walk each way, they did this every few weeks. It was simply part of life for them, but it really brought home how isolated this place was.

We were riding from Untelo towards Umah, around nine kilometres in all. At times it was so cold we would get off the horses and walk to keep warm. The weather stayed fine and the views were incredible.

By about 4.30 we reached our camp at roughly 3,800 metres, beside a small walled cemetery — the only sign of human presence we’d seen for hours. As the sun dropped, the temperature fell sharply.

That was our first night — wild camping high in the Andes, with the harder days still to come.

Day 2 - A day of scary moments and reaching the moon

We left camp early that morning, following a narrow mountain path as the ground began to rise. As it steepened, Richard suddenly noticed my saddle slipping and shouted for me to get off the horse.

As soon as we were both on the ground, the horses panicked and bolted straight back down the track. I can still see them now — galloping away with the stirrups flying from side to side, hooves scrambling on loose stones. There was nothing we could do but watch.

Somehow they kept their footing, and the horsemen eventually caught them and brought them back. We were incredibly lucky.

After that, my morale dipped. We stopped by a river for lunch and, surprisingly, some soup, herbal tea and a bit of avocado helped more than I expected.

The afternoon seemed to go on forever. I stayed on the horse as much as possible, conserving energy and concentrating on getting through. The landscape grew emptier and more severe as we climbed, until it no longer felt like mountains at all.

By the time we reached the lake it was already dark. The place felt desolate and colourless, like the surface of the moon. We camped there for the night, high and exposed.

It was bitterly cold. We slept in our hats, zipped into heavy army sleeping bags, and still shivered as the temperature dropped to around –15°C.

I stepped out of the tent twice during the night, and standing there at two in the morning under a perfectly clear sky, with snow-covered mountains faintly visible in the distance, felt completely surreal.

By the end of Day 2, I was genuinely starting to wonder what on earth I was doing — riding a horse in the middle of nowhere, in the freezing cold.

To be continued…