‘Don’t even get me started,’ she says, turning to me with a serious look of horror on her face while continuing to wedge her belongings into the tight squeeze of her bag. ‘I really wasn’t made for this outdoor stuff. Oh fuck!’ she shouts, as water flies up from the water bladder in her bag and squirts her entire face. ‘How’d that happen?’ she gasps, wiping it away from her eyes.

‘Karma,’ I say, unable to stifle the laugh that erupts, filling up every part of me that felt so empty just moments ago. It spills out until I’m curled over on the ground. I look over and see Zaza follow suit, her head tilting back and her mouth opening as she lets out the loudest laugh I’ve ever heard from her.

‘I’ve got to stop,’ I gasp, tears of laughter streaming down my face. ‘My tummy hurts,’ I add with a giggling squeal, my body confused by the feeling of being full and this noise spilling out of me.

Zaza leans over and nudges me in the arm, her way of telling me to stop laughing at her, although I know she doesn’t mean it in the slightest. I laugh harder. So does she.

It feels so good.

25

Zaza

When I thought about this trek I imagined us meandering along a well-trodden path, taking in the sights and breathing in the fresh air with gusto and uplifted spirits. The weather, however, has changed drastically in the last few hours as we’ve travelled higher. I did not imagine us freezing cold in the fog, unable to see beyond each other or where we are, and feeling pretty miserable as we practically scramble our way up a mountainside. This is more physical and strenuous than I’d envisaged – not that I’m opposed to hard work, but there’s the tiniest possibility I overlooked how tricky putting one foot in front of the other on a trek can actually be when up a mountain in Peru. I might sweat my butt off on our Peloton back home, but at least I can get off after a forty-five minute session and have a nice soak in the bath. What I’m doing right now requires a different skillset altogether, namely stamina and endurance. I’m beginning to doubt my reserves of either.

‘Here,’ Mike calls out, reaching hold of my hand and literally pulling me across a rocky patch.

‘Thanks,’ I mumble.

‘You OK?’

‘Yeah,’ I lie, falling back into the silence which has eerily descended upon us for most of the afternoon, and feels noticeably different to the jolliness we started with.

‘Everyone stop where you are for a moment. Catch your breath, have a drink,’ calls out Scott, who has been leading the way and helping Vicky along up front. ‘Remember, if you need some motivation, time to try some rehydration.’

‘Am I tripping?’ I mumble to Mike.