Last weekend, I went away to Hay-on-Wye with a small but wonderful group of people. People who, I have realised over the last couple of weeks, are very special to me.

Back in September 2000, I was part of a group of about 40 charity trekkers who met at Heathrow airport heading for Peru. We had all signed up to raise money for the children’s charity Barnardo’s by undertaking the trek across the Andes to Machu Picchu; almost all of us total strangers who met for the first time in the small hours at check-in. It was a once in a lifetime experience – well, apart from the trek I had done in Nepal the previous year! – and I realise looking back that there is a story to be told about that trip. The photos and collective memories are quite precious and marked a point in my life when things were starting to get back on track for me.

But that story is for another time.

Together we battled altitude sickness and fatigue. We ate together, drank beer together, chewed coco leaves and munched on guinea pig together. We explored some wonderful places and shared in the incredible view of Machu Picchu at dawn from the sun gate; unforgettable moments. I came home, I think, profoundly changed. I was not a social traveller and disliked being in large groups and being herded around on coaches, and small talk is not my strong point. But the flip side was the support that was always there without being asked for. I had spent a morning delirious with the altitude and not only did my friends help me cope, they turned it into something that I actually remember fondly. I remember the solitude and hurt of the final climb up Dead Woman’s Pass being replaced by the applause that greeted us at the top. And the happy relief when we got back to Aguas Calientes and were able to laugh and relax in the hot springs. Far from preferring my own company, I had been part of a group and found it quite enjoyable.

The trekkers were wonderful people. I know there is a bit of selection bias here – we are dealing with a group of people who were willing to spend a great deal of time raising several thousand pounds each for charity and undertake an enormous physical challenge (it has to be said, in a place we had all dreamed of visiting). We represented all parts of the country with a huge diversity of background and different motivations for taking part. It could have been awkward. But I left Peru with a great fondness for every single one of those people who I trekked with, and looking back through my photos last week I got quite emotional looking at some of the faces I hadn’t even seen once in the intervening period.

A year later, about 30 of us met up with partners at a reunion organised by Barnardo’s. We stayed in a hotel, had a few beers and a meal, exchanged photos and reaffirmed friendships. It was lovely and many of us, not wanting to lose touch, agreed to meet up the following year. And so we did, first taking in Snowdon, Scafell Pike and Ben Nevis, and then having a bit of a tour of other great walking areas in the UK. Not everyone could make every year, and a few people fell away as time went on, but before we knew it we were celebrating ten years since our initial trek in Peru. And then 15, and then 20. We’re all a bit older now, knees and hips are creaking, and we don’t do the mountains any more. But crikey – we are still meeting up!

This year I passed a milestone of sorts; the trek is now more than half my lifetime ago. It also marked the 25th anniversary of the original trek, and I was desperate to go even if only for one night. Of the original trekkers, only four of us were able to make it this year, our numbers swelled to six by partners (and by now surely honorary trekkers). Being in Devon, it hasn’t always been easy for me to get to some of the more remote places for a weekend and so to my regret I haven’t been a regular at the reunions, but to still be meeting up after 25 years is incredible.

And my fondness for my friends only deepens each year.

I only had 24 hours or so in Hay, my trip cut slightly short by family commitments and the most horrendous motorway traffic I have seen for a long time. I put my tent up and strolled down to the Swan to be greeted by Cathy and Bill, Fraser and Brenda, with Dharmesh joining us a short time later. It was just great to see everyone, everyone happy and relaxed, wanting to know what we had been up to and how everyone was. After the meal we looked at my Trek Peru photo album and spent a raucous hour in the Three Tuns, and after a good night’s sleep we met up again to walk part of the Wye Valley Trail. It rained and the pub on the OS map had closed a decade ago, but it felt like old times again. We went up a hill and joked about coco leaves, sat and shared some fruit at the top, compared notes on kit. It was all very low key but absolutely tremendous. I loved every minute.

After a coffee it was nearly time for me to go. While the rest of the group went back to the B&B for showers, I just had time to have a quick browse of Hay’s famous bookshops, before a farewell party of the trekkers came to see me off. I left them planning another evening in the Three Tuns and was full of regret that I wouldn’t be staying. On the drive home, I hoped that we would be able to continue next year. Perhaps I’m overly sentimental, but the idea of not meeting up after keeping it going for so long saddens me. I don’t want to lose the physical and social connection that binds us all together and keeps the memories of Trek Peru fresh.

Friendships like these are not easy to come by.