As I crested a rise I saw someone walking beside the road. I couldn't make out what he was carrying until I'd gone past so I doubled back to talk to him.

Unfortunately I've lost his name. He is on a pilgrimage from the Chilean border in the south to the Ecuadorian border in the north, a distance of two thoysand kilometers as the condor flies and probably three thousand by road.

He has no money and relies on the genorosity of passers by for food, drink and shelter.