First I must declare an interest. Having met my husband on a Children's Society charity trek in Nepal, my feelings toward charity walks may be more benevolent than most. Neither of us were obvious candidates for such a trip.
Charity and crowds are two words I normally don't like to see appearing in my travel itinerary, and Mother Teresa I'm certainly not. My only regular contribution to the good of mankind is a twice-yearly trip to Oxfam to dump unwanted clothes.
When it comes to holidays, my idea of overpopulated is anything more than two people, one of them being yours truly. So it was with a degree of surprise and enormous respect for my friend Penny Smith's powers of persuasion that I found myself accompanying her to Peru with an intimate group of 65 complete strangers. Our purpose was to complete a five-day sponsored trek for the Children's Society on the Inca Trail.
Our first night in the great outdoors passed surprisingly amiably, thanks to two of our trekking group, a builder and a banker (living proof of the egalitarian nature of these walks), who made themselves very popular by discovering the spirit of free enterprise alive and kicking in the Andes. They found a wooden shack just off the trail in which a family had set themselves up as an off-licence, selling beer, beer or beer.
I was disappointed to find that my wilderness was not as remote as I'd thought but decided to drown my sorrows with a few gulps of the local nectar. By 8.30 we were all tucked up in our sleeping bags in preparation for a 6am start, the norm on such trips in order to maximise the daylight hours. And so began five of the best days of my vacationing life. I made friends, upped my pulse rate and relaxed completely. My favourite time of day was late afternoon, when we would straggle back to camp in ones and twos, weary but content, to sit by the fire with a cup of hot tea and listen to new acquaintances relate their day's adventures.
Until my Peruvian experience, I'd always considered walking a solitary activity designed to clear the head and stretch the legs. I was pleased to discover that having a large group in tow does nothing to detract from that experience. People quickly establish their own pace and style of walking: for those civilised folk who like strolling at a gentle pace and having a good chat, there's a never-ending variety of companions to choose from; for anti-socials like me, who like to stride out and lose sight of their fellow man, that's an equally available option.
It turns out that the camaraderie on trips such as these forms a large part of the appeal. Within a matter of hours you go from regarding each other warily on the plane to forging friendships that last anything from the duration of the trip to a lifetime. In these insular days, it's easy to find yourself trapped in a social group defined by income, geography or age. Charity trips let you break free of those restrictions. Whether you're gay or straight, single or divorced, widowed or dragging your family along in your wake, you'll meet people you wouldn't normally encounter - in my case, I picked up a husband!
The age range on both my treks so far spanned half a century. Two of the most energetic walkers in Peru were an Irish and Scottish duo who shared my predilection for coca leaves (a local crop that does wonders for altitude sickness but could be classed as a drug!) and earned themselves the nickname 'the coca grannies'. Mairead and Susan had met in China on a previous Children's Society trek and become firm friends. In nodding distance of their sixties, they were energetic walkers, hilarious companions and kept us awake most nights with their chatting and giggling.
My Inca Trail trip marked the beginning of one of my few good habits: a biennial adventure during which I get to contribute to a great cause, meet a vibrant cross-section of people and enjoy a physically challenging stroll in some of the world's most beautiful terrain. If that makes me sound like a Miss World contestant, so be it. Every once in a while you have to put your hand on your heart and swap irony for enthuasism. If I was surprised to find myself on my maiden trip, I'm flabbergasted now to be looking forward to a third group adventure in Chile.
Although having once complained because I'd brought along a hardback book that was making my knapsack too heavy, I'm now a little concerned about the extra challenge with a baby daughter strapped to my belly.
