Finished my second day of Spanish school in Banos, Ecuador, today and with the afternoon rains just having started outside, think now is a good time to attempt an update on what´s been happening.

After my last entry, I did eventually get away trekking in the Cordillera Huayhaush (pronounced something like "why-wash") with only a couple more days delay. Ended up taking a nine day trip with three Germans: Tabea, Jorge and Jonas; our guide, Ronni, and donkey driver, Almundo. After stumbling onto a bus in the wee small hours on the first morning, our trip kicked off with six hours of buses, taxis and more impressively overloaded collectivo minivans. With a one final collectivo journey, where the grandmother I squeezed in next to explained that I needn't worry about getting cold because my legs were hairy like a monkeys, we were ready to stretch our legs and start walking.

On extracting ourselves and our mountain of gear from the minivan, we discovered we weren't going anywhere immediately, with the donkeys that had been arranged to meet us nowhere to be seen. A couple of hours wait and two donkeys did eventually arrive, trotting down the dusty track followed by their owner. Peru time apparently. Our guide used the delay to explain to us how terrible his boss was while sorting our supplies and deciding we didn't have enough food for the nine days nor sufficient gas to cook it.

Despite now having donkeys, it was obvious even to those of us unfamiliar with the load-bearing capacity of a donkey, that two was not going to be anywhere near enough for the gear we'd brought along, so after much negotiation at the nearby village we added two more to our number and were finally off. A relaxed few hours later up valley we were unloading donkeys and thoroughly confusing ourselves erecting tents, before eating and collapsing into our sleeping bags.

The following morning had us making our way up and over the first of the circuit's eight passes, none measuring less than 4700m, the loftiest reaching 5200 metres. On top we waited for our donkeys to join us, with condors cruising the morning thermals, the Cordillera Blanca at our backs and the bulk of the Huayhaush peaks beckoning us to the south. After an hour with still no sight of the donkeys we dropped down the other side, leaving them to catch up. Arriving at our designated campsite and still lacking donkeys, we took a walk to a nearby lake, returning two hours later in the rain to the welcome sight of grazing donkeys and, strangely only a one solitary tent. On entering it we found our guide and donkey driver in a heated debate where it eventually became apparent there had been some "issues" with the donkeys on the pass. Even with my non-existant Spanish I made out the words "Muerte" and "Burro". Apparently one of our donkeys got it wrong crossing the pass and took a tumble off the track, sadly killing itself and making a mess of our gear in the process.

So after a hot drink and meal using our now badly dented stove and gas bottle, we managed to get our tents up in the rain and crawl inside, hoping the next day brought no more disasters. Thankfully it didn't, so with a borrowed donkey to replace the previous day´s casualty we set off in the morning sun and for the remaining seven days enjoyed superb snow and ice-encrusted mountains, lung-burning high passes and hard earned rice and potato based meals, all without any more major mishaps.

Highlights along the way would have to include being driven into our tent by snow at 4500m only to wake the next morning to a cloudless sky, sunshine and a brilliant pure white landscape.We also made to the foot of the mountain, Siula, where, after reaching the "spectacularly dangerous" summit two climbers struck disaster ending with one being forced to cut their rope, leaving the other to plunge into a gaping crevasse and presumibly certain death, only to return to base camp a week later having crawled out of the crevasse and down off the mountain with two broken legs, a survival story made famous in the book and film Touching the Void. Other memorable moments were lounging in hotsprings for half the night four days into the trip and drinking river-chilled, donkey transported cerveza in the sun on our last afternoon.

So nine days after setting out, our food and gas having lasted just long enough (supplemented with whatever we'd managed to beg, borrow, or steal along the way), we were back in the village from day one and straight onto a bus bound for Huaraz, smelling ripe but unlike our unfortunate donkey having survived Huayhuash.

Two days R&R in Huaraz and I decided my mountain hankerings had been well and truly satisfied. Next stop, Mancora, well known Peruvian beach resort, surf spot and gringo hangout a few hours south of the Ecuadorian border. So following an overnight bus journey, followed by another bus and another and then another, I arrived hungry, thirsty and exhuasted on the doorstep of the Loki de Mar hostel, twenty five hours after leaving Huaraz.

The next day found me doing what everyone does in Mancora, which is actually very little. After eating breakfast in the sun, I went for a swim in the sun followed by some lying and reading in the sun that eventually led to some sleeping in the sun. Predictably, by the end of the day, those body parts that rarely saw the light of day while trekking had taken on an angry red glow forcing me to seek temporary solace beside the bar along with my amigos from the Santa Cruz trek Matt and Stef who hadn't yet managed to leave Mancora despite having sworn everyday for the last week "tomorrow we'll buy a bus ticket".

After another lazy day in Mancora I was back on the bus, this time bound for Ecuador, keen to have a crack at improving my Spanish and wanting to avoid Mancora´s I'll leave tomorrow, probably trap. So with a day watching the slowly greening landscape slide by another bus window, broken only by a straightforward but unnecessarily drawn-out immigration stop at the border, I arrived in the colonial city of Cuenca for my first night in Ecuador.

Beginning with the bus ride in, you could notice the changes from Peru, the roads were definitely in better shape and Cuenca itself obviously had more money about for things like cleaning the streets and keeping public gardens. I surprised myself by really enjoying the "western" feel of the place and being able to do things like drink coffee that wasn't Nescafe. Made friends with an Ecuadorian tour guide at the hostel and after swapping tour guide stories we found a bar tucked away in a basement where, after a promising warm up act, a hilariously awful band played with plenty of raw enthusiasm but unfortunately no musical skill whatsoever.

Having decided that Banos, a small town further north could be a promising spot to spend a few weeks improving my terrible Spanish it was farewell to Cuenca and onto a north-bound bus. After a day getting a feel for the town and organizing lessons and accommodation I was signed up for Spanish classes and living in an apartment with my teacher-to-be and his grandfather. At eigth oclock the following morning I arrived for school, shiny new exercise book in hand, keen to improve on my first and only attempt at learning a language, a mark of twelve percent in Third Form Japanese.

Two days in and I'm pretty confident of bettering that. Strange, but kind of cool to be back at school, being giving homework and having to learn a subject completely from scratch. Doing four hours a day at the moment which is about maximum I think I could process with all the new information. Planning on having two or three weeks here which should hopefully get me up to a level where conversations in Spanish can consist of slightly more than just smiling and nodding.

Wish me luck, or, in Spanish deséame suerte!