Full of insight, some damn good prose, and a winning self-deprecation that comes off as honest rather than posed. Harrison's midlife trek doesn't follow the remnants of the entire Inca Road, for most of it is under the Pan American Highway, lost to the pummel of rain, or too inaccessible for today's walkers however fit. I thought there'd be explanations of how the way of the Sun, the Info Ňan, was built, and who ran across its vast span, but these details aren't what the author offers. Instead, Harrison's observations attend to the landscape, the people, and his donkey. He tells of his midnight-to-dawn climb up the volcano Cotopaxi vividly. This adventure benefits from GPS, and shows the Andean backcountry probably just before electricity, smartphones, and the global media made their massive intrusions. However, Harrison's careful not to romanticize poverty, nor does he soften the brutality that's been exacted upon the indigenous people, by the Inca or Spanish empires, or of course by more recent influxes of governments, mining, tourism...