Heights scare me, but many years ago I was persuaded to pose on this primitive bridge of logs stretched across a remote Peruvian gorge by my first husband (not an Englishman). We were travelling alone in a U.N. jeep in the largely uninhabited Huara Valley, some 6,000 feet above sea level, intending to spend the night in a small tent. When I initially refused to give him the picture he wanted, he strode onto it himself, jumped up and down a few times to prove it was safe, and then goaded me by saying how he’d grown up admiring the Battle of Britain Spirit of my countrymen. There were alarming gaps between the logs forming the bridge, and no handrail. But what was I to do?
Naturally, I did my bit for England and hope my countrymen are proud of me.
The terrain was magnificent, but wild, with the few local people we came across only speaking a smattering of Spanish. You might also like to see a group of travelling musicians that we came across later, our road at 9,000 feet, plus a more sophisticated shot of me on the roof of the top hotel in Lima. No nerves there.
Holiday snaps can be boring, but we weren’t on holiday and I think some of these are a little out of the ordinary.