From the dusty foothills of the Andes am the Flat Footed Adventure: an explorer, adventurer and aspiring writer from London, England and now living in Western Australia. My aim is to share his stories to inform, entertain and, hopefully, inspire others to explore the world — while also ex

In hindsight, falling down the stairs just days before I was to leave for Peru was not my finest hour.

But the strange thing is, after 5 days hiking on bruised and blistered feet, when I stood at Inti Punku and looked down on the "lost" city of Machu Picchu, I felt like I could do anything.

I’d wanted to hike the Inca Trail for years: like a lot of things I wasn’t getting around to. Then, when my aunt died of cancer, I stopped thinking about it, I sold my ticket for a summer music festival to pay the deposit, and I signed up for the trek to raise money in her memory.

Standing at the 'sun gate', I cried. Big, embarrassing, gasping, snotty sobs.

As expeditions go, the Inca Trail ranks up there in almost any listicle you'd care to mention -- or that is worth your time reading.

Through cloud forests and winding mountain trails, you visit the ruins of this once-mighty civilisation, touching the stone walls in the foolish hope of an echo or vibration of the people that built it.

The dusty paths stretch up before you to places like Dead Woman’s Pass, or down into green valleys where alpacas graze.

It's also accessible to almost anyone of reasonable fitness and determination, who doesn't mind walking for 8 hours a day. Machu Picchu can also be reached by train and bus: but nobody gets remembered for the things they didn’t do.

I always tell people: I have flat feet and no sense of direction. If I can do it, anyone can.

My tumble down the stairs at home, pre-trip, was also one of the best things that could have happened to me. It sounds strange, but bear with me. Injury made me more determined to succeed, and at the same time slowed me down. Instead of wanting to charge ahead and always be on to the next thing, I had time.

When you're in Peru for the first time in your life, you don't want to rush through like you're late for work on a Monday morning. You appreciate the

I discovered on the Inca Trail that not only were my feet flat but my legs were also bowed: this meant that hours of walking up and down mountains would leave me in pain and barely able to bend my knees at the end of the day.

Standing on the top of a mountain, I looked down at this once grand Incan city. I cried when I thought about how far I'd come, about how my aunt would have felt seeing it, and it was standing at Inti Punku that I realised this was only going to be the start of many adventures.

When you've seen how big the world is how can you make do with this?