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I love croissants. I really do. I believe that they're god's gift to the world of pastry — via the French. And they're not so easy to find, either, down here in Peru. That's why when I saw a pasteleria here in Huaraz a few days ago, that was selling croissants, I eagerly bought some. And they were delicious. Yesterday, I returned to this treasure-trove supplier of wheat-filled goodness, only to discover that they were out of croissants. But I must be more memorable than I realise (what with my hairy beard and all, these days): because all that I did was walk past the croissant shop this evening, and the girls working inside called out: "¡Amigo — hoy dia, tenemos croissantes!" (lit: "Hey mate — today we have croissants!").

Went shopping around this morning, for a ticket on a night bus north to Trujillo. Got to the terminal of a company called Linea at 9:45am, and was given some hilarious news. Their 9pm bus to Trujillo was booked out for tonight: but they had 5 reserved seats that hadn't yet been paid for; and if nobody came and paid for them by 10am, they'd give them away first-come first-serve. So I took the advice of the guy at the desk, and waited for 15 minutes. By 10am, two reserved seats had been claimed, but the other three were up for grabs. I grabbed one of them, fast.

Got back to Huaraz this evening, from my 5-day Santa Cruz-Llanganuco hike, to discover that Jo's Place is full. I'd asked them to reserve me a bad for tonight, when I left on Wednesday: but they said that they couldn't make any guarantees, as they were already booked in advance for 28 de Julio (Peru Independence Day) weekend. Anyway, I begged the very-hospitable Mrs. Jo to find me somewhere — anywhere! — to crash for the night; and she let me sleep in the cantina (the breakfast kitchen / dining room). I didn't care where I slept tonight; I just cared that I slept. Which I did. Soundly.

My 5-day hike through the Cordillera Blanca — Peru's highest and most spectacular mountain range, north of Huaraz — has been a tonne of fun, and a unique experience. It's the first hike that I've done (on this trip) purely for the natural scenery, rather than for the ruins, or for the animals. And it's the first hike that I've done solo, without a group or a guide, and without anyone to help me along the way. In my opinion, you can't say that you've backpacked through South America, until you've done something like this, and lived to tell the tale.

When I realised that I'd gone the wrong way this morning — to the Pisco high camp, instead of to the famous Laguna 69 — I thought that I wouldn't be able to make it to the laguna today. But as it turned out, I was able to have my cake and eat it too: I made it to Laguna 69; and boy, was it worth it. Quite a stunning place indeed.

For my 5^th and final day hiking in the mountains, I intended to just go and visit the famous "Laguna 69" (no idea why it's called that — but it is a cool name!), which is about a 2½ hour walk from my campsite (from last night) of Cebollapampa. Nothing more: simply visit the lagoon, then come back. But instead, I accidentally took the route up the mountains, to the Pisco high camp. Anyway, all turned out well in the end, and I had a much bigger and better day than I originally bargained on.

The fourth day of the Santa Cruz hike was a short but interesting one, as well as being very scenic. Spent all morning continuing to hike down through the Huaripampa river valley; then I reached the teeny mountain town of Vaqueria, and from there caught a combi over to Llanganuco. I've reached the road, now: so I could have just gone back to Huaraz tonight, thus resulting in my skipping the fifth day of the hike; but why would I wanna do that? Still way too much fun to be had.

Christian is a Belgian guy, and part of the (largely) French group that I bumped into yesterday afternoon. As I was hiking with this group all of this morning, and as Christian was the only one in the group to speak decent English, I ended up talking to him a fair bit. Really nice guy, just down here for a few weeks, for his summer vacation. Yay: more Belgians!

After getting back down from Punta Union, the rest of the hiking in day 3 of the Santa Cruz hike was very pleasant. From lunchtime onwards, it was all downhill, through the Huaripampa river valley, to the camp of Paria. Beautiful scenery, much-improved weather, and a steady pace all the way. Plus, I bumped into my friend Angel.

Angel (pronounced in the Spanish way: "an-khel") is a cute, 10-year-old boy that I met this afternoon, on day 3 of the Santa Cruz-Llanganuco hike. He was sitting all by himself on the side of the track, minding a small herd of donkeys and horses, while his father went off to catch trout in the river nearby. I chatted with Angel for a little while (he spoke good Spanish — not just Quechua!), and I gave him a pen, which all the kids around here ask you for (they need them for school). Happy little chappy: who knows, he could be a tourguide one day.