I bet the Inca didn't bloody walk it!

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Enforced vacation… health reasons you understand

Our time in Cusco started off pleasantly. We had planned to have two days of r&r without much sightseeing before embarking on the Inca Trail, despite Cusco being the former capital of the Incan Empire (Qosco meaning bellybutton of the world) and jampacked with sites of extreme historical interest and beauty. This is because within two days we were going on the famous Inca Trail, the religious pilgrimage undertaken by the Inca and his family from Cusco to Machu Picchu, the lost Incan city.

We arrived in Cusco after a very dramatic landing (I cannot remember ever bouncing so high on the tarmac when landing in a jet) to be picked up by Waykitrek (Wayki being the Quechua word for close friend), the hiking company with whom we had booked to do the trail. There was a bit of panic while we tried to remember which hostel we had booked into. We eventually decided that we would have to first find somewhere with access to internet to check our email that had the name and address of the hostel. But Chas thankfully remembered just as we were pullling away from the airport and so we headed off to the lovely hillside suburb of San Blas. We knew we were in for stairs as the hostel had warned us, but it did not tell us that the lovely streets of San Blas, lined with their very Spanish white house with terracota tiles, were often too narrow for cars and that the block where the hostel was located had no vehicular access at all.

So, after trying a fifty-eight point turn, we hitched our packs and went off in search for the hostel. From the Plaza de Armas, it is up about three or four steep flights of steps; about a 15 minute walk. But I have yet to mention that Cusco is 3500m above sea level. After three steps we were desperately short of oxygen and panting hard. But finally we found Home Sweet Home, our wonderful hostel. It was worth the effort. Being so far up a hill lent it a wonderful view of the beautiful city of Cusco, nestled in its valley surrounded by beautiful Andes. To be positive about all the stairs, we decided that walking to and from the centre of Cusco was excellent practice for the Inca Trail.

The rest of the day was taken up by chilling: we had a meeting with Waykitrek where we met our guide Edgar and then went out for a meal. In Cusco, the tourist dollar is competed for so fiercely that eating out and drinking is ridiculously cheap. Our first lunch consisted of a Pisco Sour appetizer plus nachos and garlic bread, an entree and a main (we had so many choices of each that it may as well have been a la carte) and a desert all for 10 soles (approx US$3.33)!

The reason for all this relaxation is simple: soroche, otherwise known as altitude sickness. Followers of this blog will already know how this plagued Rachel in Arequipa and that was mostly sitting on a bus. What we had planned was four days of hard walking through the Andes, ranging up and down from 2800m to 4200m with much to-ing and fro-ing in between. In order to avoid crippling ourselves with headaches and nausea, we were sitting very still at high altitude willing our bodies to acclimatise. Also, much partaking of the local cure, mate de coca, was required. Tea made of coca leaves. Cusco is one of the only places in the world where it is legal to cultivate and take coca which unfortunately does not get you high unless it is processed into cocaine. The Incas lived by it and used it to become some of the best mountain climbers in the world with no equipment.

The next day consisted of hitting the local markets for all of our group bar Chas, who was needing a bit of space and decided to wander around Cusco having cappuccinos and visiting museums. The Inca Museum was fantastic, so much information on this wonderful culture (more anon) and after two weeks of truly bad coffee the cafes around the Plaza de Armas overlooking the beautiful Cathedral with a Sudoku were just what the doctor ordered.

Just a stroll through the mountains

So we got up very early to meet our bus that takes us the three hours out of Cusco to the start of the Inca Trail. On boarded our guide, cook and 11 porters for our small group of eight (five regulars, joined by two family friends of Ana’s and a stranger)! Everyone in our group except Ana and I had taken the option of hiring extra porters to carry their personal belongings and equipment. Ana and I decided as we had some hiking experience and porters were carrying our tents, food and cooking gear that we would carry our packs. Mine started at around 13kilos and was 16 by the end due to taking Ana’s stuff and a whole lot of water. We were two of very few people carrying a pack, but it made our achievement all the better.

I could not stand the idea of paying someone to carry my stuff for me; it really went against my grain and seemed to take out any challenge of walking the damn trek. But it is how they make a living and we were denying someone work by carrying our packs ourselves. They are very impressive! These men jog up these mountains with 30 kilos (often more) on their backs. They strike camp, leave an hour after you, overtake you, set up lunch for you, leave an hour after you do after lunch, overtake you and make sure camp plus an afternoon snack is ready by the time you arrive. The record for the Inca Trail, a three day walk, is held by a porter: 3 hours and 20 minutes!

Unfortunately, as much as you try to avoid it, there is a huge class divide. The porters all speak Quechua and some only a little Spanish. They keep to themselves and seem resigned to carrying huge loads up and down this track for not much money. The only porter who was curious and friendly was named Walter and we had many a conversation about football and politics.

On one climb, as we walked individually at our own pace, I tried to keep up with porters but could only do it for five metres at a time. I struck up a conversation with one, Raúl, and we had a good natter about politics. Peru had recently voted for a man who 15 years before destroyed the economy and ran off overseas with what was left of the coffers. He returned 15 years later after the statute of limitations had expired on corruption and embezzlement and they re-elected him following the theory that he probably would not do it again. Such is the state of Latin American politics. Raúl blamed the politicians for the state of unemployment that lead to him being a porter; when Peruvian politicians are paid almost as much as US ones it is hard to argue with his position.

Anyway, I have been neglectful in introducing our group. It was the five of us joined by a family friend of Ana's, a Peruvian woman who has been living in Australia for many years with her husband and family called Nelly, and her brother-in-law Rob. As the group was only 8 people, the last slot was filled with a stranger, a lovely English lady named Jackie. Nelly and Rachel got on like a house on fire, their giggling carrying long into the night. Rob was quite a character as well, he had done a lot of hiking in his time but kept on claiming that, due to old age, he would not be able to keep up with us. It was usually about twenty minutes after one of these statements that he would be seen overtaking you and springing up the mountainside.

Day one was as easy as promised. ‘Peruvian flat’ as Edgar happily described it consisted of some fairly heavy climbs but really there was only 12km and we got to camp by 4pm. I was a little disappointed by Day 1 simply because it was full of people. Despite being in a national park, the government has allowed the local people to stay there and maintain their traditions. So we were constantly passing houses, towns, even football fields with chickens and dogs always underfoot. This was not the Andean landscape with distant ruins dotting the mountaintops as I had envisaged.

Lunch set the pace for the whole hike. If any of us were hoping to lose weight by walking for four days in high altitudes we were mistaken. We were served a three course meal, the main course including several massive platters of pork with pineapple sauce, sweet potato, rice… more than stomachs can handle. We were in so much shock from the meal that we had to have a nap where we camped; which was wonderful until James was rudely awakened from having a chicken jump on his head!

The climb and soroche rears its ugly head

Day two contains eight kilometres straight up a mountain (from 2800m to 4200m) and then another 4 down the other side of the mountain. As the climb is so taxing, most tour companies leave a whole day to Dead Woman’s Pass as they like to call it. One guide book stated that if you did not have knee problems before this day, you would have hereafter. Rachel’s travel doctor in Adelaide said the Inca Trail was like walking up and down Mt Lofty four times a day with a twenty kilo pack on. I am going on the record here to say bullshit. I am not going to say it is easy, it takes a lot of willpower to keep walking up a steep mountain for many hours but grandparents can do it (mine have). We set off a little after 7am and James reached the summit of the pass well before 11. He was first and I was second (not bad considering on this day my pack was 15kg).

It had rained constantly throughout the day. Damn rain season! What was at first a refreshing drizzle became steady rain. By that point I was too hot and tired to take out my poncho and waterproofs and so trudged on. By the time I reached the top I was soaked. Even my underwear had to be wrung out. I had to strip on the top of this mountain with cold wind and rain whistling about as I struggled into warm clothes and waterproofs. Not my finest hour but luckily I did not catch my death.

Rachel arrived third at the top. I could not help saying a very smug ‘I told you so’. This was not my finest moment. I enjoy innumerable things about travelling with Rachel and I have thought long and hard about including this in the blog. But it was a real issue at the time and I want this blog to be an accurate relection of our travels, not just a sugar-coated trip down memory lane. My smug welcome was due to her stating daily how unfit she was and how difficult the trek would. I knew it would not be that hard and that her worrying was stemming from fear. As she had done no hiking, this was completely understandable, but she refused to accept assurances from those of us who had hiked and were, if anything, even more unfit than she was. If you think something will be impossible, it makes it that much harder whereas I was trying positive reinforcement. On the hundredth time of me telling her not to worry, that it would be fine, she told me she was allowed to worry. This is absolutely true; what bothered me was how she was spreading her fear among the group. In retrospect it is a very un-Christian sentiment and nothing should be taken away from her achievement on that hike.

Ana’s experience of day two was very different to mine.

For me (Ana) the day started off well. Most of the group took off as quickly as they could up the mountain side. I think for some this day was like some kind of race, to see how well they could do. But Delia and I just took it comfortably, and really enjoyed our climb up the mountain. We were chatting and laughing so much that we thought other hikers must have thought we were on happy drugs.

All that ended about 3 hours into the hike when the soroche started to hit. At first it was gradual, with my stomach starting to ache. I thought I must have just been hungry, so we stopped briefly to snack a little. But then it just got worse. The soroche that affected me was a mixture of intense nausea, headache and dizziness. And then the rain set it. Poor Delia walked ahead of me for a while, stopping every now and again to wait for me. We eventually reached our 'rest stop', where for the group had planned to stop and wait for everyone. But the rest of the group didn't want to wait any longer for us, and had already left. Our guide Edgar had told us about getting some shelter, and I was looking forward to getting out of the rain. But when we fianlly arrived to the 'rest stop', it was just a grove of trees, which I guess had some shelter, but we were still getting wet under their cover. As it wasn't comfortable, we kept trudging on. And it was soon after this that Delia and Jackie, who was taking it slow due to her knees, kept going at their pace.

I remember being bent double from feeling sick at the 'rest stop', and asking Edgar how much further we had to climb up. He told me another 400m, but that we weren't too far, maybe another hour from the top. And that's when I had tears streaming down my face because I was so scared that it was all just going to get worse. I had read about altitude sickness months before, and that if it starts to get worse, the best thing to do is to descend. I was already at the stage where after taking 6 steps, my whole body was stopped in its tracks with these instense waves of nausea. All it wanted to do was vomit, and most of the time it didn't come. But I just couldn't walk along without stopping all the time. It was really awful, and I felt so frustrated because my legs and lungs were capable of performing well, it was just this amazing nausea that kept me from going on.

And so, for part of the track I was walking alone, and I felt so incredibly deserted. All I wanted to do was crawl up in a ball in the pelting rain and cry because I felt so weak, abandoned and that I wouldn't make it. But fortunately, Edgar our guide was behind, and when he caught up and walked with me, he was incredibly patient with all my stopping and starting, as I knelt down to vomit on my way up. And he eventually persuaded me to take my pack as well, which I had been so reluctant about because I didn't feel that he should have to take it and I didn't think that it was making that much of a difference anyway.

But anyway, we eventually made it up to the top. And feeling miserable, I refused to take a break. Besides, all I wanted to do was descend down into the valley. We soon caught up with Jackie, who was taking it slow down the slippery path that had turned into a stream by that time with all the rain. And from there, I had no problems. I still vomited on my way down, but the further down I got, the better I felt.

I can't say the experience has put me off hiking. And I would still recommend doing the Inca Trail. It's just unfortunate that soroche hits some people and not others, and the majority of people are okay. I also felt relieved that if anyone in our group was going to be affected, it was me. I would have felt so terible if it had happened to anyone else as I was the one who had organised it all, and I wanted everyone to have a positive experience of the hike. I just now know that hiking in altitudes is not quite for me. So I will have to cross Mt Everest off my list! And to be positive about it all, at least I didn't have diarrhoea!

A new day thankfully dawns

Day three was by far the favourite of the walking days. The valley we had camped in the night before was surrounded by glacier topped mountains, there were rivers and waterfalls everywhere and the first climb took us to our first Incan ruin. We should say 'archeological site' because, as our guide Edgar liked to point out, they are not ruins. They are 90%!c(MISSING)omplete. It is almost inconceivable that anything be built today on top of these mountains and, after being being abandoned for 500 years to the encroaching jungle and elements, still being in the amazing shape of these sights. Runkurakay, the first one we came to, was pretty but really just a good excuse for a break and a history lesson. Most information on the Incas is conjecture due to magisterial success with which the Spanish, first with conquistadores and secondly through the church, completely destroyed the Incan culture.

Over the pass we came upon the second site, Sayaqmarca. It caught us completely off guard as you come around a corner on this cliff-hugging path, seated on the top of a very high ridge line. It is one of many temples along the Inca Trail as the Inca Trail was not a commoners route to Machu Picchu but one reserved for the Inca and his family to travel along as a pilgrimage, making offerings to the various gods and mountains along the way. It had stunning views and as aforementioned was built along the top of this extremely narrow and high ridge of a mountain. Where the Incas excelled, and where they personally still amaze, is that they built cities so high up in such precarious places. The local people still farm mountain sides! They built civilizations where we, with all our modern technology, would not put a snack bar because it would be too hard.

Ana was still suffering a little from the altitude so after a quick look around and another lesson from Edgar I (Chas) rushed her down the valley to where we were stopping for lunch. After lunch Ana was much refreshed and so we took off up the last pass. This was magnificent! The solitude I had been searching for was granted and the forests began after several days of walking through sparse andino grasses. The forests started off as wonderfully Burton-esque or Dr Seuss; combinations of spindly moss-covered trees and marked the beginning of the Bosque de los Nubes or Cloud Forest. So named because it is constantly in clouds, as you might have guessed.

The Andes vegetation is very interesting. Due to altitude, wind conditions, water sources and soil, you walk from desert to lush tropical forest from one corner to the next. The ‘micro-climates’ as Edgar called them were shrewdly and imaginatively used by the Incas. Their vast terraces up mountainsides were used for experimentation; they tried using the different altitudes and wind conditions to farm tropical crops such as the coca leaf. There is an amazing site near Cusco (where we sadly did not reach) called Moray where several terraces about 5m high have been constructed in concentric circles. Even though they are only 5m apart in height, each terrace has its own climate suitable to a different crop such as corn or coca or potatoes or yams. I found this concept again wonderful.

The end of day three was a bit tough. As we reached the top of the last pass and were about to walk a long way down, the rain started to pour. It was torrential. We all went as fast as we could. The path became, in many places, a stream of flowing water. Delia’s mantra was I am a mountain goat and I am wet. Needless to say we got very wet and it was a long way down to our campsite, near the Inca site of Wiñawayna. This amazing site we were sadly too exhausted to explore; all we had energy for was a couple of beers and some card games. As it was Nelly's birthday in just a few days, I (Ana) made her a birthday card from all of us, complete with my poorly drawn but funny pictures of us on the hike. And then before dinner, we all sang her happy birthday.

Before we climbed into our sleeping bags, Edgar got our whole troop together, to say thank you to all the porters for their magnificent help. He went round the circle and introduced everybody with their names, how long they had been porters and where they were from. He then introduced us to the porters, and when he got to Rachel, lots of the porters called out, asking if she was single!

The next day we were getting up at 4am to get to the main event. But first we had to walk up Wiñaywayna, which was another enormous amount of terraces scaling the side of a mountain where the Incas again experimented with micro-climates in order to cultivate sea level fruits and crops at high altitudes. Interesting but hardly captivating knowing what was coming up!

The site to beat all sights

Pardon the pun, please. Machu Picchu, the lost Incan city. Abandoned by the Incas in the face of the Spanish onslaught and, thankfully, never found by the Western world until 1910 when it was discovered by an American explorer. When I say discovered, there was a family of locals living in one of the former granary buildings when he arrived looking for the completely different cities of Vilcabamba and Llaqtapata. Ana and I had visited Machu Picchu (which was the name of the mountain it is on, not the name of the city which is also lost; it means old mountain) four years previously and had been absolutely blown away by it. Then, as on this day, it was foggy. Walking through the abandoned buildings when you cannot see very far was magical; they look inhabited they were that complete! We kept on expecting Incas to just pop around the corner. We were a little worried that it would not be so great second-time around, but Edgar’s promises came true: you take something different from it every time, and this is coming from a man who sees it over three times a month. It is truly a monument to its civilization and worthy of its tenuous title of one of the wonders of the world.

Eamon, one of the Irish guys we met in Rio, had said to us that he had not been that impressed by Machu Picchu. It was built in or around the 14th century AD and he told me back home in Ireland he had pagan altars in his back yard dating from several centuries before Christ. As a wonder of the world, it competes with the Great Wall of China (started 5th century BC) and the Taj Mahal which are far more epic and ornate. But to compare them misses the point. This civilization was, until the 16th century, isolated from the outside world. It only came to power around the 13th century and within a few hundred years commanded an area that now contains four countries, performed stone and metalwork the like that has not been seen since and built entire cities on the tops of extremely high peaks that were self-sufficient! All of this sadly lost to us.

So, back to the Inca Trail, on our last day of walking we got up very early and started walking along a lovely track surrounded by tropical plants, including some particularly beautiful orchids. Two hours of walking brought us to the Intipunku or the Sun Gate. This gate is at the top of a pass looking down onto Machu Picchu and is located at the exact point the sun is seen to rise on Machu Picchu on the summer solstice. The sun had just risen behind us and looking down on Machu Picchu was thrilling, despite it mostly shrouded in mist and cloud. The city peaked out at us. Ana and I had never seen it from this angle and it was certainly impressive. All that remained of the Trail was a lovely jaunt down the Incan highway (past a huge stone altar, also in line with the Sun Gate) to Machu Picchu. By a stroke of luck we easily found Rob's partner Sharon at Machu Picchu without pre-arranging a meeting place.

Once there we spent a good hour relaxing, checking our packs in storage, eating, etc before actually exploring Machu Picchu. Delia and I sat and thoroughly enjoyed munching on Dorito chips, and declared that those were the yummiest ones we'd ever had! While just walking around the city is astounding with its numerous terraces, silos, artisanal quarters, Main Square and temples, there are several particular points of interest. You start with the Temple of the Sun which is built on a huge stone, with a temple on top and a ceremonial room below. The bricks are perfectly cut to meet the grooves of the stone and, after so long and joined with no mortar, you cannot get a razor blade between the stonework.

I (Ana) felt quite happy and satisfied walking around Machu Picchu in our muddy boots and rumpled look as it was as though we'd deserved such a treat after our hard work. Most people that visit Machu Picchu come by train, and there were some ladies walking around in heels! The downside was that most of us felt a little self conscious as we were a little smelly too!

You continue on up the hill to several very interesting temples, including the famous Temple of the Three Windows which are sadly starting to fall apart. This is simply due to the fact that Machu Picchu is falling off the mountain. Why? Because over two thousand people visit it a day and the vibrations is killing it. The Peruvian government is vaguely searching for alternatives (cable cars, reconstructions) but refuses to limit the number of visitors to its cash cow. But it gets worse. First of all, there is more of Machu Picchu that remains to be uncovered and reconstructed and studied, but no money forthcoming to their greatest archeological site of the entire continent. Secondly there are more Inca trails leaving the city that have not been explored! The could be more sites and lost cities to be found but again, despite the earning potential of such recently discovered cities such as Vilcabamba and Choquequirao, the government is largely apathetic. Thirdly, the Peruvian government allowed the main Peruvian beer company, Cristal, to film an advert on top of Machu Picchu and during filming the crane hit the only remaining Incan Intihuatana in the entire world chipping off a piece of their history and national heritage! For once, I am rendered speechless in apoplectic rage, disbelief and dismay.

At the top of central Machu Picchu you find the only remaining Intihuatana or sun dial. The Spanish conquistadores and church destroyed every one they found as symbols of pagan worship except this one. The square carved stone casts a shadow that reaches the corners only within three days of equinoxes and solstices and heralded the major religious festivals of the Incas.

All that remained was to wander to another temple to the earth with another huge stone altar and to gawk at the fact that the channels carved in the stone steps still run with rainwater into drinking fountains despite the fact that 100 years ago jungle had completely reclaimed the city. But! There remained…

One last climb

Huayna Picchu or young mountain. The mountain that towers in the background of the classic shot of Machu Picchu which, when climbed, yields stunning views of the city. We (Ana and Chas) had climbed it last time when we had come by train and bus instead of four days on foot. The whole group, all five of us, sat at the bottom staring up, one by one deciding whether to go up or not. When we last climbed it, the cloud came down below us and we could not see a thing. This time did not bode any better as it was beginning to rain. Chas was the last one to decide. He decided thus: Buggar this, I am going to climb it. I do not care how tired I am or whether I climbed it last time. Three of you are here for possibly the only time in your lives and you are going to look at that and say ‘It is not worth it.’ I do not want to be one of you people.

Once I (Chas) decided, Ana changed her mind and was not going to be one of those people either. The climb is supposed to take an hour and we did it in 42 minutes despite our legs crying out in agony. We flew past all the day hikers in their jeans and trainers, sure of our footing and determined. When Ana got to the top she was so happy; she felt vindicated after day two of the trail. Remembering the feeling that she was not going to make it up the mountain still makes her want to cry so it was good to know that it was only altitude that had been holding her back.

Once reaching the top I also wanted to cry, as for the second time in my life I had climbed Huayna Picchu only for the glorious view below to be shrouded in a bloody selective cloud. We explored the three Inca houses up there for a while (to get to their front door they walked up steps sticking out of the side of the mountain over a 2km drop! I get giddy just thinking about it) and just as we were about to start climbing down, the cloud lifted and it was truly glorious. The Incas never left.

The wind down

On our way by bus to Aguas Calientes (even though Chas and I did decide to do a little more mileage up Huayna Picchu, we did opt not to take the 2 hour walk down to Aguas Calientes), we passed a little group of kids right at the top of the mountain, shouting and cheering. The road down the hill has 12 switchbacks (it looks like a zig zag from a distance), and there was a little kid that ran down a direct path, stopping to cheer and wave whenever the bus passed him. And he beat us down there. Once he sprinted along the bridge at the bottom, the bus driver let him on where he sang a song in a variety of languages, including Quechua for us. And that's how these little kids make their pocketmoney because after that he came round asking for tips.

Chas and I had decided on behalf of our group to spend a night in Aguas Calientes before returning to Cusco for more exploration of the Incan Empire. Aguas Calientes is one of those towns that only exists because it is near a popular tourist sight and has hot springs (very similar to Chivay). In furtherance of extracting the tourist dollar, they have in a spectacularly commercial fashion renamed themselves Machu Picchu Pueblo.

The town consists of an amazingly good tourist market (which satisfied Delia and Rachel’s shopping craving), hostels and cheap restaurants. When we trudged through the rain to the hostel, we were dying to have a hot shower. Regrettably, our decision to go with a cheap hostel resulted in cold showers. Chas then slept for 14 ½ hours straight! The rest of us enjoyed a nice dinner and an early night.

The next day brought good food, renewed spirits, a wonderful long soak in the hot springs with rain falling on our steaming bodies (Ana was difficult to cox out of the water, she kept saying, '5 more minutes?'), shopping and long train ride back into Cusco.

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Photos

Glaciers
Poor mountains without ice and snow. Never as pretty

Llaqtapata
An Inca site that controlled the surrounding agricultural areas

Day one sweat
You don't even want to know about day two!

Ana and Delia on day one
With pack and without pack

Pre-soroche Ana putting on gators
For the first time since she spent a lot of money on them three years ago. Not that it bothers Chas at all

Dead Woman's Pass
With a suitably pissed off porter in the foreground

Day two at the top
Semi-naked, soaked to the bone, knackered and freezing cold

Day two at the top
Much recovered and now warm and waterproof!

More Andes
Just can't keep the damn things out of the photos

Sayaqmarca
As mentioned, on a mountaintop!

See what I mean?
Dr Seuss eat your heart out. Goes to show nature has more imagination than us all

Edgar and Chas teaching each other card games
We feel like we should publish a book of card games for travellers

Machu Picchu appearing out of the cloud
As taken from the Sun Gate or Intipunku

The sun temple built on a giant rock
This is one of two examples of the best Incan stonework.

Look how the stone meets the rock perfectly!
They cut these stones without hard metals and joined them without mortar perfectly and WE DO NOT KNOW HOW!

The Peruvian govt does it again!
No money for the biggest earner in the whole country

Machu Picchu from Huayna Picchu
Supposedly in the shape of a condor. I cannot see it but it still blows your mind that they built a self-sufficient city on a mountain

Ana victorious
After we climbed Huayna Picchu in 42 min. It felt great after all her soroche

Running steps
Just below these steps is a 3km drop. Those Incas had balls

The water still runs through the channels
Amazing after 500 years of abandonment and having jungle reclaim it

The sign reads 'Long/Medium/Short'
If only it read Short Medium Long

Comments

[Esteban]

Well done
I've just been looking at some of the other blogs on the Inca trail and you're not the only one to struggle up the Dead Woman's Pass. Some have turned back altogether so well done Ana for pushing on and overcoming the dreaded soroche!