This has been the saddest day of my trip.

It’s one thing to read or see film about an earthquake, the loss of life and destruction. It’s quite another to visit a town totally destroyed by one and the subsequent landslide.

The earthquake triggered a massive landslide from the 6664m Huscuaran Norte mountain which towers above the town. It happened in 1970 at 3.30pm in the afternoon. There was an international football match on television so many people were inside watching it.

The whole town was buried under five to ten metres of rock and rubble. It was all over in three terrifying minutes.

Twenty thousand men, women and children were killed.

The only survivors were the children who happened to be at the football stadium watching a circus and those people who were or who managed to get up to the town’s graveyard in time.

The site has been consecrated as a cemetery and the church tower was rebuilt.

The principal streets have been marked out on the ground and the central square, Plaza de Armas, was easy to find. There are four palm trees that protrude through the rubble. Only one is still alive.

Many memorials have been erected where whole families were killed. The sites of former houses and quadrangles are now simple gardens filled with thousands of roses which were swaying gently in the wind.

There is a tragic and haunting contrast between the complete silence, the beautiful flowers, the sight of Huscuaran towering over the town and the thought of the bustle, laughter and noise of a busy town, of children playing in the streets and the sudden death and destruction minutes later.

I walked over a small stream as it gurgled and rippled it’s way down the hill and I bent down to smell a red rose.

It was exquisite. It’s sweet scent made the tragedy even more unbearable.

Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming sense of grief and sadness. I felt a lump in my throat and tears welled up in my eyes. Tears rolled down my face.

I was planning to ride over the highest pass in Peru, Punta Olimpica, at 4,890m, on my way to Chavin but I was too upset to cope with the high concentration levels that such a narrow dirt road would require so I took the easy, tarred route instead.

As I gently wound my way to Chavin on a gloriously sunny day I kept thinking ‘If there is a God how could He let such a terrible thing happen?’

Visit www.fowb.co.uk for more details on this and previous trips.