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. Measuring 8.0 and lasting for three minutes, it destroyed 80% of the town of Pisco, killing hundreds. When I arrived in Pisco at the weekend, now over two years later, the evidence of this natural disaster is hard to see at first glance - it is like any other dusty and shabby Peruvian town.

I was met by volunteers from , an organisation that was set up to help the thousands of people who lost their homes. Later I spent the night in one of the shanty towns, called , on the outskirts of Pisco.

I was in the area for less than 24 hours, but have been left very saddened by what I experienced. In truth I found it hard to re-motivate myself on the bike to the task ahead, which didn't seem quite so important as it had before, in the context of the struggle for basic human existence and rights that I had seen.

As the volunteers showed me around, it soon became clear how wrong my first impressions had been and how their work here is now almost the only outside help that the town receives.

After the earthquake, millions of dollars were donated to the town for reconstruction. The residents I met in Pisco told me that before the last election, the government erected walls with doorways and window holes to be built throughout the town wherever a building had fallen down. These, so called, 'walls of shame' hide the fact that people are living in whatever they have been able to rebuild themselves.

For thousands this means houses of bamboo, plywood and cardboard in shanty towns with no sanitation or running water. I saw where buckets of faeces were thrown in the field beside the houses and listened to the community leaders telling me how ill the children are becoming. I was invited to spend the night with Maria and her family. She, like others, seemed desperate to tell her story.

On the surface she was cheery and strong for her family and community, but to me she admitted that she was still sad for her friends and the life she had lost, felt angry at the government for not helping despite many promises and how she lived in fear of another earthquake. Her house was one of the nicest in the community, with a painted front, concrete floors and fitted walls, but by almost anyone's standards she still lived with almost nothing, and little hope of any change in the future.

During the evening I was sitting in her tiny house on stumps of wood, when she brought me a plate of chicken. I asked her where hers was but she insisted they would eat soon and to carry on. Without having the Spanish to ask more questions I did as told. An hour later I was devastated to watch Maria and her two daughters eating a dry white roll each for their dinner. Later Maria admitted on camera that chicken was very expensive for them. I felt terrible but at the same time very humbled by their hospitality in spite of their situation. I slept on the floor and was up at 5am to film everyone already up and working.

I have seen and past through areas of absolute poverty in countries including Pakistan, India and Kenya, but I have never stayed with the people and heard their stories. It was very saddening and an experience I won't forget.

It is amazing how many contrasting and extreme situations I have experienced on this expedition - it is too much to remember! However, something I won't forget is the wonderful welcome and spirits of the people of Pisco, despite the challenges they face.

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