Day 300 - Orpington, UK

I think either the chef, the trout or the alpaca had it's revenge on me for the mix up over the food back in Cusco as I was very ill for four days after eating it. I could barely spent a couple of hours away from the toilet as I was losing bodily fluids from both ends at an alarming rate, what made it even more worrying was that I could only just hold water down so there was a danger that I would become seriously dehydrated. I felt rotten.

However, I wasn't going to let that deter me and on arrival in Arequipa Rich and I made a beeline for a nearby tourist office to go and book our trip to The Colca Canyon. We had the choice of either a one or two day trip but because the one day trip meant getting up at 02:30 the following day we decided on the two day option.  I'm glad we did too as my tummy was decidedly unhappy that evening and I didn't get much sleep at all. Our bus came and picked us up at the hotel the next morning shortly after 08:00 and I immediately tried to catch up on sleep on our way to the Canyon. I was pretty miserable for the whole journey and slept a lot keeping my fingers crossed that the Immodium would do its job, and thankfully it did for the most part. The most frustrating thing about travelling on tourist buses is that the toilets are nearly always out of action for some reason, either this or the companies just can't be bothered to empty them. Mind you, the state I was in I don't blame them. 

At around midday we arrived at the town that we were going to stay the night and the bus took us to an expensive looking restaurant for a lunch stop. Most of the people on the tour marched straight in and ended up paying a fortune for a very mediocre lunch while Rich and I walked five minutes down the road and into the main square where we had a very reasonable meal for a handful of Peruvian Soles. I'm not sure it was a good idea to have eaten anything but thought I should try as I was starving at that point. I managed to keep it down for a few hours at least.

After lunch we were dropped off at our various hotels. We had decided to 'upgrade' ours to a more comfortable cabin style room which was still very basic so I can't imagine how primitive the standard one was. It was comfortable though and I immediately fell fast asleep on the firm bed which looked as tired as I felt. We both decided that we didn't fancy the trip to the thermal springs as we'd already done that elsewhere so it was nice just to get my head down for a couple of hours.

A bit later we were taken to a Peña where we got to see some traditional music and dancing and try some traditional food. The only traditional food I could even think about eating was a cheese and tomato pizza - i.e. the blandest thing on the menu. When it came I couldn't even face that so I survived on a glass of water that evening. The waitress kindly gave me a doggy bag though so Rich could eat the pizza for breakfast the following day. Waste not, want not...

Rich clearly got carried away by the cultural display because when one of the dancers dragged him up on the dance floor he offered very little resistance. In fact I think she was a little taken aback by his keenness to join in, particularly since the 'dance' involved taking it in turns to lie on the floor and be whipped by your partner while doing something very unusual with an orange. It was all very early Channel 4!

We were woken early the next day to drive further into the canyon to Cruce del Condor, or Condor's Cross. This is a fantastic viewpoint about 3,500m above the canyon floor where condors rise and swoop on the thermals rising from the sides of the canyon. I paid the price for the small morsel of dry bread roll that I'd attempted to eat for breakfast and as soon as the bus stopped I belted past the guide and found a conveniently placed rock behind which I could evacuate my stomach. The guide sheepishly asked me whether it was something I'd eaten, perhaps worried about the restaurant he'd taken us to the previous night and therefore concerned what might be written on his feedback form.

We got to the viewpoint and it was great to watch these massive birds gliding around in the sky, soaring around and around and hardly beating their wings at all. As the morning warmed up the air currents got stronger and carried them further and further. It was a great sight but after ten minutes of that I had to go back to the bus and sleep a bit more whilst I left the others to it. I probably would've been OK had it not been for the local women cooking up dribbly looking eggs by the side of the road and flogging them to the hungry tourists, but the smell of those made me feel extremely queasy again.

I slept for most of the six hour journey back, including during the lunch stop at yet another expensive looking restaurant.  Back in Arequipa we took a little walk around the main square and I managed to find a chemist where I could stock up on more Immodium and re-hydration powders. By this time I felt so hungry and my stomach so empty apart from perhaps a few dusty cobwebs so it was definitely time to find some simple food that I might be able to keep down. I ordered some plain boiled rice and a bowl of vegetable soup which seemed to do the trick as I held on to it for about an hour, so I must've extracted a little nutrition from it. It's very strange when you feel that ill because all you can think about is what you've eaten over the last week and I was really sensitive to any foody smells, too. It didn't help that Rich had eaten garlic bread with his meal that evening and so all I could smell was the rancid odour of garlic every time he spoke to me. It was driving me mad.

The next day I was still too rough to do anything, including eating breakfast and I had to leg it from the restaurant back to the room to dehydrate myself further. I was getting pretty cheesed off with it at this point and had visions of being checked into hospital and being plugged into a drip and all sorts. It's funny how your mind works. After staying in the room for as long as I could get away with and continuing to dose myself with antibiotics and god knows what else I was actually beginning to feel a little better. We left Arequipa that afternoon and made our way to the airport to pick up our flight to Boston (via Lima & Newark!). By the time we arrived at Newark I was actually feeling much better and I even managed to keep the in-flight meal down that they'd served us. What a great relief, it had almost disappeared as quickly as it had arrived (the illness, not the in-flight meal). While waiting for our plane to Boston from Newark the first thing I wanted to do was go and get something to eat so I sank my teeth into the juiciest and biggest burger that I'd seen in years. In fact if there had been a security camera focused on me at that point they could have used the look of wanton satisfaction on my face for an award winning advert.

We got to Boston eventually and checking into the hotel made me immediately forget all the discomfort of the last few days. The room was bright and clean, the towels fantastically white and fluffy, the soap and shower products all promised to cloak me in the sweet perfume of coconut and lime and the hot water from the shower was gushing and plentiful. Best of all, there was no bin by the side of the loo in which to deposit smelly bog roll. Oh the joys of being part of the civilised world.

We were only in Boston for a couple of days, but I loved it there. Great glass and steel buildings sit comfortably side by side with old colonial churches and wooden clad houses. The people are relaxed and the city is green, luckily we saw it as it's best as it was still spring and the brightly coloured tulips adorned most of the green spaces. As usual we did plenty of walking to get the most out of the city and we even managed to find a couple of decent bars in which to sample the local beers. Despite a very British/Irish influence to the city, they still can't quite make beer the same way we do. It looked similar but the balance is all wrong, either being too high in alcohol or hoppy flavour, or both. The food was pretty plentiful too which was apparent by the size of some of the people we saw waddling around. I couldn't help myself staring a couple of times as I couldn't see how their internal organs could support such a gargantuan size, but I kept myself in check. We walked up to Harvard University which is the oldest in North America and it was quite like walking onto a film set. What with all the old buildings and groups of students wandering around I half expected someone's backside to be poked out of one of the fraternity house's windows in true Hollywood "Animal House" style but luckily they must've been busy painting themselves blue and covering themselves with turkey feathers or whatever else it is those 'frat-brothers' get up to.

We're now home after a shortish hop across the Atlantic via Dublin and it feels wonderful. It was a great relief to walk through the front door to find nothing wrong with the house other than a few extra cobwebs and a couple of desiccated house plants. There's so much to do now though, the garden needs sorting out, the rucksacks are bursting to the seams with dirty washing and there's a lot of family and friends to catch up with. All this needs to be done in between sitting back and smiling at what an absolutely fantastic year I've had and trying to get my brain back in the right mode for job hunting. One thing's for sure though, with everything that I've seen and done over the last 300 days of travelling, things aren't going to seem the same for a very, very long time.

Coming home!

Day 293 - Arequipa, Perú

The bus journey to Cusco was horrible, it started by being an hour late and then crawled along through some very unsavoury districts, picking up various dodgy looking characters on the way. I'm sure everything was perfectly safe but all advice recieved says not to travel on these buses at night and it was getting darker by the minute. As we approached Cusco at around midnight, I heard someone 'Psssssting' me and asking me something in Spanish that I didn't at first understand, but once I'd got my brain into gear I realised he was just asking if we wanted to stay at his hotel. This was the shape of things to come in Cusco, you can't walk down the road for more than 20m without being asked if you want to buy something, take a tour somewhere or have a massage. I soon became sick of my own voice everytime I politely said 'no gracias'. I got less and less polite as the week wore on.

Having said all that I really fell in love with Cusco pretty quickly. After being driven through some pretty awful Peruvian towns on the way it was a lovely surprise to see how well maintained and pretty Cusco is. The whole city sprawls out between various mountains and the buildings have a very Meditteranean look to them with their terracotta pan-tiled roofs and narrow balconies overlooking the various plazas around town.

There's loads to do here too if you have plenty of time and money as it is more expensive than I though it would be. I went into the cathedral on our first day here and was blown away by it. It is stunning. Rich waited outside as he'd seen it last time he was here and didn't want to pay another 25 Soles to get in. It is actually three churches next to one another but all knocked through to create three distinctly different spaces under the same roof. Everywhere was choc-full of religious art which was extremely blingy, but my favourite was the huge rendition of The Last Supper painted by a Peruvian artist. Instead of the Paschal Lamb adorning the table of Señor Jesus and his disciples, there was a roasted guinea pig lying on a silver platter with it's little crispy feet sticking up in the air presumably pointing to heaven. So Peruvian!

There is a lot of dodgy currency circulating around Perú so we had to be pretty careful when accepting change from people, making sure we closely check each note. In another church on The Plaza de las Armes we paid our entrance fee and the bloke behind the counter tried passing a fake note onto us as part of our change! He knew damn well, too as he just laughed and glanced sideways to his frizzy-haired counterpart in the booth with him. This from the Catholic church, too!!

Seeing the holy cooked guinea pig earlier in the day must've struck an adventurous chord with me. That evening I decided to try the local delicacy for myself, thinking that it would be served jointed like a rabbit and dressed up a little. How wrong I was. It was basically the whole side of one of the little animals, complete with head and huge teeth, roasted and plated up with a couple of potatoes and stuffed chillis. It was gruesome. The skin was like a charred rubber chicken and I couldn't even cut it with the steak knife provided. I was told that the easiest way to eat it is to pick the thing up and tear chunks off with my teeth. In order to do this I had to rip off the head so I didn't skewer my cheek on it's spiteful rodent incisors. It tasted pretty awful too, it was cooked with 'special traditional herbs' that tasted more like week old grass clippings. I wish I hadn't been so adventurous and I think Rich did too as he couldn't finish his steak and had a decidely queasy grimmace adorning his face.

We went to Machu Picchu the next day by train which was a four hour journey from Cusco including the transfers either side of the three hour train ride. It was worth it though. The whole site is breathtaking; as you wander around these ancient ruins with huge, tree covered mountains surrounding the whole site you really get a good impression of how the town was at the height of it's occupation. The craftsmanship of the buildings is staggering and it is mind-boggling to imagine how they dragged the huge building blocks around high up on the side of a mountain. Each massive boulder was polished with crushed granite to give a perfect finish and each one in turn fits perfectly to the next one. The way they used the sun and the moon as solar calendars was also very ingenious.

We spent the day after Machu Picchu wandering around town trying to make use of out Boletos Turisticos or Tourist Tickets. These things cost about 23 quid each and last for ten days giving you access to various sites in and around Cusco. It would be quite good value if you could visit all the sites but they're so spaced out you'd have to be a pretty efficient sight-seer to manage them all while the ticket is still valid. Before we did anything though we trapsed around the numerous so-called 'English' establishments looking for a proper English breakfast. We were both sick to death of starting the day with jam and bread and hankered after something a little more substantial. Our search was proving pretty futile though because although these places made bold claims about serving a traditional English brekkie, most of them didn't open until 12:00. Useless. We eventually found our sausage and bacon salvation at a place called The Cross Keys, though we were the only punters in there and I wasn't convinced the two confused looking woman had any idea what constitutes a full English breakfast. They proved us wrong though and delivered the said eggs, bacon (sort of), sausage (singular), mushrooms, beans and toast. It was actually pretty good too and set us up until our evening meal. After breaking fast, we made it to Saqsaywamán (pronounced Sexy Woman) and Qenqo (pronounced Kenco) but much of the two sites was roped off so you couldn't actually see the most interesting bits. Very annoying.

That evening we went back to The Cross Keys for dinner. I opted for a chicken curry (no surprise there!) and it was just like one of those Vesta affairs from the 70s, complete with shrivelled sultanas. Rich chose a chilli con carne and when faced with a choice of chips, rice or tortilla chips he laughingly said to the waitress 'tortillas, as long it's not just a bag of Doritos from behind the bar'. Guess what? He got a bag of Doritos from behind the bar and a very soupy looking bowl of meat of dubious origin. The food in this town lets it down somewhat.

We were booked on a tour to the mysterious sounding Sacred Valley the next day. At last, we had the opportunity to use more of our Boletos Turisticos. The first stop was a photo opportunity with some very obliging alpacas and a trio of traditionally dressed locals. It looked like grandmother, mother and daughter taking the herd to market but made a nice picture. Second stop was Pisac, another set of Inca ruins set high up on a mountain. Clearly our guide couldn't be bothered to take us to the top to see the most interesting part, claiming that we wouldn't have time. Shame as there would have been great view. After a stop at the market, where the guide seemed to know most of the traders, we headed towards the middle of nowhere where we were unceremoniously dumped off the bus to obtain lunch. Luckily we'd taken our own as we know what these tours are like, but the others staggered out of the only restaurant in town at the thought of paying $25 and went without. One Argentinean bloke survived on a bit of old sugar cane he found in his bag.

After lunch we went to Ollantaytambo which is yet another set of Inca ruins. This one was very impressive though, especially the head carved into the side of a mountain where, on the summer solstice, the sun is in exactly the right position to light up his nose.

We thought we'd try another restaurant that evening, in fact one of the girls on our tour recommended it to us. We placed our order and after some considerable time Rich's food came. I'd ordered an Alpaca kebab but the bloke decided to bring me a trout kebab instead. After telling him it wasn't what I'd ordered he went downstairs to the kitchen, trout in hand, and I heard a bit of a to-do between him and the chef. Five minutes later he returned the skewered trout to me and assured me it was alpaca. I tasted it. Definitely trout. Down it went again, back to the kitchen and 20 minutes later I had an alpaca kebab. Rich, of course, had finished his food by this time so it was yet another disjointed meal - just like all those we had in Asia.

Now we're in Arequipa and have only one week left of our grand tour. We'll be home on May 1st and I can't wait. Some things I'm looking forward to are:

• Being able to flush used toilet paper.
• Pubs.
• Walking down a street full of finished buildings.
• Not having to say 'No thank you' every five minutes to hawkers.
• Not living out of a rucksack.
• Not worrying after every meal that you'll end up with a dodgy tummy.

The list goes on, but I'll spare you.

Day 288 - Copacabana, Bolivia

We survived the three day trip from Chile to Bolivia and it was a brilliant experience bumping up and down in a knackered old 4x4 with six other people. Together with Rich and me we had a French couple, an Italian, an American and the Bolivian driver. Brian, the American, turned out to be a really nice bloke. He's one of those people that is always smiling and who's glass always seems to be half full (to coin a cliché), unlike many of the other self-opinionated and over-confident Americans that we've met.

We saw loads of stuff on day one including Laguna Verde and Laguna Blanca. The first night of the trip we were staying in a refuge in the middle of nowhere and it was very basic. I had visions of Tibet and the 40 watt lightbulb all over again but it was marginally better than that. There were no showers or hot water but I think the fact that six of us were sharing a room heated the place up sufficiently to sleep comfortably. It was quite cosy in a prisony sort of way. The only thing that let it down was when the frost on the roof melted at sunrise and started dripping on my bed, creating an embarrassing damp patch.

Day two took us to Laguna Colorada which is a huge lake with water the colour of terracotta and huge flocks of pink flamingoes tip-toeing around looking for the occasional shrimp. Being early morning, the sunlight was stunning and really showed the scenery off to it's best. Further on into the journey we saw more smaller lakes and then came across a place called Arbol de Piedra (tree of stone) which is a collection of gigantic boulders in the middle of the desert. One of them is almost completely eroded around it's base making it look a bit like a big tree if you use your imagination and squint a lot. That night we stayed in a salt hotel which, not surprisingly, is a hotel built out of bricks made from salt. Instead of carpet the entire floor is covered in a thick layer of salt crystals which gave the impression of crunching through snow. Luckily we had fantastic showers here so we could freshen up from the last couple of days.

The highlight of the trip was when we reached the salt pan, or Salar. In every direction all you could see was startling white salt on the ground and perfectly blue sky. The sunshine was scalding and you couldn't remove your sunglasses without your eyes feeling like they were cooking. Because of the featureless views, we took the opportunity to take some silly photos. Rich got a good one of me looking like I'm being squished between his thumb and finger. How original...

We arrived in Uyuni on Easter Sunday to find that there were no buses out of town to La Paz so we had to stay the night. We managed to find a decent hotel and had a lovely comfy night before spending the next day wandering around Uyuni looking for things to do. It was a fruitless search as there is absolutely nothing there worth seeing - even the museum couldn't be bothered to open.

To kill some time we went for a pizza in the hotel where we were staying, I opted for spicy llama as it's not something you usually see in Domino's. We caught our bus at 8pm and I was surprised how comfortable it was. At least it was until some Israeli bloke fell asleep next to me and rested his smelly, hairy head on my shoulders for most of the eleven hour journey. What made it worse was that the road was terrible so his head was jumping all over the place and bruising my shoulder in the process. I've no idea how he managed to sleep through it but the only time he woke was when I asked him to vacate my shoulder. It didn't last long though and he was soon bobbing up and down again.

La Paz was a bit of a disappointment for me really. I knew it was going to be a big city but I had no idea how busy it would be and the traffic was choking. Being the highest capital in the world you can imagine that it's quite hilly walking around. This wouldn't be too much of a problem usually but as it is over 3,500m above sea level the air is quite thin so any sort of physical exertion just leaves you breathless. We booked a good day trip while there to a place called
Tihuanaca which was a short drive outside of La Paz. It's a pre-incan site with fascinating structures that were used as solar and lunar calendars. Like many of these sights they rely a lot on your imagination to picture the entire layout but it was impressive nonetheless, especially the hole gouged out of a big stone that allowed voices to be amplified to a crowd or to listen in on the faintest whisper.

On the last two nights there we couldn't be bothered to go out looking for somewhere to eat so we stayed in the hotel restaurant. The food was pretty decent and on the last night we were served by a waiter I hadn't seen before. He took our order and shortly afterwards bought me something completely different. I told him it wasn't what I'd ordered and he shuffled off, looking very upset and confused, to explain to the chef what my order should've been. A few minutes later the same waiter let out an almighty groan and collapsed on the floor in a convulsive fit. I felt terrible as the other waiters grabbed hold of him and dragged him down to reception where he laid for the rest of our meal. Poor thing, I hope he's ok.

We left La Paz the next day by bus and arrived in Copacabana a few hours later. It's a small town full of ramshackle, unfinished houses nestling on the shore of Lake Titicaca between two mountains. It could be really beautiful if only the locals would finish building their houses before moving in and they got rid of the bright yellow peddalos shaped like nightmarish ducks. We booked a boat trip for day two to Isla del Sol (Sun Island) where supposedly the sun and the moon were born according to local belief. We were dropped off on the north of the island and took a good four and a half hour walk to the south where the boat returned us to Copacabana. What they didn't tell us before booking the trip was that there would be a steady stream of locals dotted along the route trying to get us to buy tickets to enter their little areas. It was a right racket, despite being only five bolivianos or about 50p a ticket. It was the principal. I had visions of returning in a few years time to find them all decked out in Versace and trading their llamas in for Toyota Land Cruisers.

We're leaving Copacanana today and heading to Cusco by bus. It'll be great to see Machu Picchu, though I'll be glad when it's all over as I hate being at this altitude. It's quite a strange feeling that the trip is coming to an end and that we'll be home in less that two weeks. I'm already thinking about the work I'll need to do in the garden...

Day 278 - San Pedro de Atacama, Chile

Mendoza turned out to be a bit of a gem. When we first arrived I was a little put off by its initial appearance as it isn't the prettiest place in Argentina but after walking around the place for an afternoon it sort of grows on you. The first thing we did was to go and sit in the park with some bread, cheese, chorizo and a bottle of wine that Rich won in a bingo game on the bus. What a great way to pass a couple of hours, it really felt like a holiday again rather than just ticking places off of a list.

After more walking we found a shop that made ice cream from the locally produced wine and indulged ourselves. Big Style! It took us about forty minutes to work our way through the big tub of ice cream and it was great just sitting around in the cool shade and watching the world go by.

The following day we took a bus to Maípu where we hired a couple of dodgy bikes and cycled around the vineyards, olive oil producers and a chocolate factory. Of course, there was some serious tasting involved which made the 24Km round trip a little more interesting, especially when two of the spokes popped out of my bike's front wheel and threatened to throw me headlong over the handlebars. Getting back to Mendoza city centre however was a nightmare as we had no change for the bus ticket machine and it's virtually impossible to get any from anywhere. After asking about half a dozen people I eventually got some from a woman running a small winebar. She clearly found my inept Spanish and gushing gratitude funny by the way she was babbling away hysterically and didn't stop until I'd left the bar.

We left Mendoza early the next day and made our way to Valparaiso in Chile. Again, the bus was good but it was only a short journey of about eight hours. Crossing the border between Argentina and Chile was a painless affair, only marred slightly by being asked for a tip by the customs handlers. The cheek of it!

Valparaiso is an odd little city, split into two distinct halves. The lower section, at sea-level, is called "El Plan" while the rest of it, and most interesting part, stretches up along the hills around the bay. It's a strange collection of little buildings, painted bright colours and often perched precariously on stilts on the side of the hills. There is graffiti everywhere but it's not the naff, amateur pseudo-political crap you often see around some other cities; some of this is really quite good and cheers up the place in a really unusual way. The view of the sea is brilliant from up in the hills and just slightly let down by the cobweb of phone and electricity cables that seemingly connect all the buildings together. The place reminded me a lot of St. Ives in Cornwall but on a much bigger scale and a lot more run down. It has a definite feeling if faded glamour and somewhat of a tarnished reputation because of the number of tourists that are mugged there every year. Luckily we didn't experience that thrill.

We stepped into a cafe one evening and decided to try the popular local dish called Chorillana. It sounds fairly exotic with it's Chilean name but is in fact just a massive plate of chips topped with fried eggs, fried onion, fried pork and cheese. It is cardiac failure on a plate but is excellent when served with a couple of ice cold beers.

Another evening, after a city walk, we stepped into a bar for some refreshment and ended up staying far longer than we imagined mainly due to the great 80's British music they were playing. We only had about five beers but I made the mistake of being persuaded to sample the barmaid's special cocktail. She wouldn't tell me what was in it but I'm guessing toilet-duck and lemonade as I was as sick as a dog for the next two days and could hardly manage to keep anything down for more than three minutes. A great way to lose a bit of weight but a bit drastic. She seemed a bit upset when we left the bar, chasing after us and asking why we were leaving so soon. It's lucky we did otherwise she may have been mopping the floor a bit more than usual that evening.

During my marathon hangover we took a walk into Viña del Mar which is only a few kilometres from Valparaiso. It was a nice walk along the coast, especially seeing the sea-lions hanging around the pier by the fish market for a few scraps. It was a bit more upmarket than 'Valp' but only just.

We are now in San Pedro de Atacama which was a 25 hour bus journey from Valparaiso and only just tolerable. Thank heaven's for those reclining seats and a dose of immodium. We arrived here at about 23:30 in the pitch black but were still greeted by touts trying to get us to stay in their hostels. We'd pre-booked one though so made our way there trying to look like we knew where we were going and not to attract attention. The map we had though was rubbish so we ended up walking around in circles and had to ask someone in the end.

We've done a few trips while we were here, the first one of which was to Valle de la Luna or Valley of the Moon. It really does look like the moon because it is so desolate and dusty, really interesting though. On our bus was a group of about six blonde twenty-somethings whose collective voices were high enough to shatter glass. The only superlative that they new was 'Amaaaaaazing', and so everything they saw would be described thus. An older Australian bloke on the bus with hair dyed jet-black and a dolly bird from Santiago would translate what the driver was telling us (as best he could). He also made an attempt at translating the Spanish descriptions in the museum but I could've done a better job myself. Not that this bothered the gaggle of giggling girls, he could've told them anything and I'm sure they would have still told him what an 'amaaaaaazing' job he was doing. As they were flocked and chattered on the back seat of the bus, they started slagging off one of their 'friends' who happened to not be on this particular trip with them and they were horrified at the fact that she 'got off with someone who was about forty'. Being my 40th birthday today I couldn't help but laugh as I realised what a relic I must have appeared to them.

We were up early yesterday at 03:00 in the morning as we had a sunrise trip to go and see the Tatio Geysers which are the highest thermal vents in the world (apparently). These things were great though, especially in the morning when it was so cold as the difference between the air temperature and the hot water gushing out of the vents made them really spectacular. They are at about 4200m above sea level (nearly 13000 feet) so the water actually boils at around 85 degrees. Some of the tour companies were boiling eggs in the hot springs to give to their guests for breakfast and at first I was a little put out that ours didn't. I was glad in the end because he told us that because the water isn't at 100 degrees it doesn't kill the salmonella in the eggs and bacteria from the water can leach into the egg through the shells. Apparently, some people have been quite ill.

One of the other great things there are the thermal springs and we went for a swim in the lovely hot water. Just before that though the guide recommended that we stay about 2m from the edges as the ground is quite thin there. Some people have been boiled alive where the crust has come away and scalding water has cooked them while they swim. Nice!

We leave Chile tomorrow after having been here just over a week. We're heading off to Bolivia on a three day trek by car and staying in some sort of salt hotel at some point which will be an experience. It gets really cold at night in the desert so we're going to have to dig out our thermals and coats again. I'm hoping that Bolivia will be cheaper too as Chile and Argentina have been so expensive up until now. Rich makes a point of saying (in his usual loud voice) how expensive everything on the menus is whenever we go into a restaurant. It's starting to get on my nerves a bit now as it's no longer a surprise and we just need to accept it if that's the going rate. There's nothing the waiter can do about the pound being so weak at the moment.

Not sure when I'll get a chance to write another entry as Bolivia is going to be a little less advanced than Chile. Bye for now...

Day 268 - Salta, Argentina

Our next bus trip wasn't so much of a chore as the last one as it was only about four days to Bariloche. We were there for only a couple of nights which was probably a good thing as it's pretty much the chocolate capital of Argentina. It is very Swiss in appearance what with the numerous little log cabins, cafés and chocolate shops adorning the place. The first day we spent wandering around the town and soon made our first purchase. No prizes for guessing what we
bought but it was delicious.

We spent the next day walking some of the Circuito Chico which was really pleasant as we were practically the only ones there. We took a bus to and from the main part of the walk in the national park which saved us a fortune as we didn't need to take an organised tour. That evening we took advantage of the hostel kitchen and cooked some pasta along with some of the local sausages. I got a bit carried away though and there was enough for about six people so I donated the remains of it to the communal fridge. Hopefully someone enjoyed it.

We had a long journey the following day as we were heading to Buenos Aires on the bus so we stocked up on a small supply of chocolate to keep us going. Actually it wasn't that small a supply, but we savoured every mouth full. The bus we booked was one of the long distance buses that Argentina does so well. We got seats on executive class which I thought just meant that the seats reclined further enabling a better night's sleep. Oh no! We had the full service; TV screens showing recent films, meals bought to us on trays along with wine and blankets and pillows when it was time for sleep. I wasn't prepared for all this and least of all when we were offered Champagne or whisky after dinner. All that was missing was a roulette table and fine cigars but since I don't smoke or gamble I didn't feel too deprived. What a way to travel, half the cost of a flight and no need to book a hotel for the night. Bargain.

It was boiling in Buenos Aires and the twenty minute walk to the hotel carrying a 25 Kg rucksack was horrible, especially since we couldn't check in until 2pm. All I wanted was a shower but the best I got was to wash my sweaty face.

Walking around town we headed to an old antiques market to soak up a bit of atmosphere and stumbled across a little corner where a couple of septogenarians were dancing a tango. It's a really lovely thing to see as it's so passionate and romantic. The old boy was leading his partner while she moved around him with almost feline, fluid grace. It was really touching. The music really set the scene but it was a little sad to see a huge amplifier linked up to a complicated sound mixing desk by a tangle of wires just to create the sound of a lovely old gramophone. The bloke operating it spent a large portion of his time just trying to make it all work. I don't know why he didn't just learn to play the accordian and have done with it.

In the evening we sought out a place for dinner that Rich had seen listed somewhere that claimed to be a traditional British pub. What a find! We got talking to the barman, a big bald bloke from Durham, and started griping about how bland Argentinian food is in general. They're pretty timid about eating spicy food so it was great to see chicken curry on the menu. The barman used to be a chef so knew a thing or two about food and things looked promising. We placed our order for a curry each and the bloke gave strict instructions to the chef to 'make it Englishman hot'. That's exactly what we got and it was brilliant, it really pushed the right buttons. We stayed for a couple beers and tried the locally brewed ale which was quite pleasant until the barman told us it was about 8%. I had a raging headache for the rest of the night and went to bed with a bottle of water and a couple of Neurofen.

Rich decided to use the bidet that evening but the hot tap got stuck on. Luckily he didn't scorch anything delicate but the next day the bathroom was like a sauna. A bloke came to fix it later in the day as well has the hot tap on the sink and the pathetic flow from the shower. He was banging and clanking away for over an hour and eventually came out chirpily telling me it was 'Listo', meaning ready. Indeed the sauna was no more but the tap still didn't work and the
shower still dribbled so plumbers are pretty much the same the world over. I'm just glad I wasn't paying him for his time.

During the day we explored the city and did all the usual things. The Casa Rosada where Evita addressed the adoring crowds was smaller than I had imagined it but pretty nonetheless. The cathedral was pretty impressive but I wasn't overly enamoured by the rather bland obelisk that stands proudly in the Plaza de la Republica right in the heart of the ridiculously wide Avenida 9 de Julio.

On the third day we made a visit to the small chapel and cemetery where Evita's family mausoleum is. I was stunned to see how small and unassuming it is given how she is such a huge figure in Argentina's history. The diminutive structure rests between hundreds of others and could quite easily go unnoticed if it weren't for the scores of tour groups clamouring round it trying to take photos without their reflections showing in the austere, shiny black marble. Given how poor the Argentines have been in the past it must be quite a slap in the face to see these upper classes spending so much money building huge and elaborate memorials to their dearly departed.

That evening we decided to treat ourselves to a good meal in one of the numerous parillas dotted around the city. We chose to go to one that Rich had been to before in 2004 and it was the right choice. We started off with empanadas and sausages which was then followed by the biggest pair of steaks I'd ever seen. These things filled the plates that the waiter carted over to us and tasted superb. Along with the salad, plate of chips and huge bowl of ice cream afterwards I thought I was going to pop. Those gauchos really know how to fill someone up. The waiters were great, too. Most of them looked way past retirement age and were decked out in white shirts, bowties and waitcoats and shuffled around like they were on their last legs. Don't get me wrong, there were no airs and graces in this joint, it was just plain old school and I loved it. There was a small group of younger waiters huddled together by the till chatting idly and I couldn't help wondering whether they would still be working in that place when they reached the same age as the old timers. They probably would be and I doubt much will have changed in the place by then. There would probably still be the whole lambs spreadeagled on spikes and cooking over a firepit in the window along with the medieval looking rack hoisted up on chains and cooking the steaks, sausages and ribs. And, I expect, the two sweaty chefs manning the whole operation and drawing in the slavvering crowds from the street. Wonderful!

Iguazú was our next stop, albeit a brief one. Again the overnight bus was superb, though this time we had the champagne and whisky nightcap. I don't know what possessed us to turn it down on the previous bus, shock I suppose. Anyway, on reaching iguazú we checked into the hostel quickly and then took a bus straight away to the falls. It was only a little local bus so was full of all sorts of characters. One young woman, more than generously proportioned, stepped onto the bus and paid for her ticket but she didn't use a purse to keep her money in. Instead she reached deep into her bra and pulled out a perfectly folded but filthy looking 20 peso note. The driver took it from her, holding it by the corner to avoid too much finger contact, and slung it in his money drawer. I'd never seen that before, other than in comedy films, but nobody said a word so I guess it's quite common here. Luckily I wasn't likely to get that note back in my change.

Calling Iguazú just a waterfall is an understatement as this place is spectacular. It is immense and the roar of water rushing over it is astounding, in fact the only thing there that was louder was a group of oversized Americans shouting things like "Yeah man, that's what I'm talkin' about" every time they got a bit of spray on them. Why they have to announce their presence to everyone is beyond me, but it's very rare to meet a quiet one.

The mist created by the gushing water creates dozens of rainbows, some of them brightly coloured, others just an arc of pure white light hovering above the watery fog. It's wonderful to watch but the light reflected off of it can be quite blinding.

We only stayed in the town one night ad there's not a lot else to see there so we took a bus to Salta. The only one running meant that we didn't get executive seats this time and Oh what a difference. It was horrible. The seats were cramped, they didn't recline fully and driver insisted playing his Latin American rap music really loudly to everyone's annoyance. It was only when Rich got up and shouted at him to turn the racket down that things got slightly better. We were given a meal of some cold rice and a scraggy bit of old chicken covered in crumbs and fried which was also cold. The best thing about it was a child sized carton of ice cold orange-flavoured drink covered in pictures of Lisa Simpson. It was like a bad school dinner. Somehow I just knew the champagne would not be on offer on that bus. The ridiculous thing is just how little difference there is between the price of executive and bargain-basement.

Salta is a great city. After an initial mix up with the hostels we ended up staying in a very interesting area where a certain type of 'lady' would stake out her corner of the street and meet lots of male 'friends'. They would then disappear for about thirty minutes before the woman would return again to meet another 'friend'. It didn't bother me that much apart from the constant clacking of the heels of their knee length white boots on the pavement in the early hours of the morning.

We had a walk around the city on the first afternoon there and soon found ourselves sitting outside a cafe in the main square drinking beer and eating empanadas. For a plate of twelve plus a litre of beer it only cost us 29 pesos (about £6) which was a right bargain. The city is small enough to easily walk around and there's a good mix of modern and colonial buildings. We tottered into a tour agency to see what was on offer and quickly parted with a fair wad of cash for an excursion the following day. This took us up into the mountains, the first part of which was following the track of El Tren a las Nubes or The Train to the Clouds. We drove through some pretty amazing desert like scenery where the hillsides were dotted with huge Cardones. These are massive cactus like plants that look very much like those things you see in Westerns. I was amazed to find out they can live for up to 500 years. We also visited a village called Testil where the villagers were doing a roaring trade in selling their wares to the cash laden tourists. I bought a couple of small bits which I don't usually do but the locals were so friendly and happy. Their simple little nic-naks were mostly llama products either knotted or woven from the wool but were really nice.

As we carried on increasing altitude the driver pulled out a big bag of coca leaf and started offering it around. The idea is that you chew it a bit and then just rest it between your cheeks and gums. It's a mild stimulant that is supposed to prevent, or at least help, altitude sickness. It's perfectly legal in Argentina but shortly after taking it we started to feel very happy, even giggly at the height of it. It would have been quite a pleasant experience if it didn't taste so foul. Luckily I'm not an athlete because apparently you can test positive for cocaine for weeks afterwards! We eventually reached Salinas Grandes which is a huge salt pan and quite pectacular in its bleakness. There was kilometre after kilometre of completely flat ground surrounded by mountains and it was totally encrusted in thick, blindingly white salt crystals. You could feel the sun reflecting off of it and it would have burned us in minutes had we not basted ourselves in factor 25. Sunglasses were essential and when you took them off to take a photo you could really feel the hardness of the reflected sunlight. No wonder the salt miners working there were covered head to toe, even in the searing heat.

The scenery just got better and better and on the way back we passed a place called The Mountains of Seven Colours. I'm usually quite sceptical about names like that as they're often exaggerated but these were absolutely spectacular. It was about 5 o'clock in the afternoon so the sun was a bit lower causing the colours to be even more vibrant. There were reds, greens, yellows, blues, purples and more and it was so vivid. It was a long day but thoroughly worth the journey to see so much amazing scenery.

We're now on another bus heading towards Mendoza. It is, of course, executive class but not nearly as comfortable as the previous company. This one has leather seats which sound nice but in reality I kept sliding down it all night and hardly slept a wink as the blanket was more like a wide scarf. We only got one glass of wine, too and NO champagne. What is the world coming to? Still, Mendoza is a major wine producing area of Argentina to I expect we'll have all the 'vino tinto' we can manage.

Bring it on!

Day 255 – Esquel, Argentina

There are probably many reasons why this part of the world is called Tierra Del Fuego which translates literally as Land Of Fire, but for me it has to be because of the skies. Almost every night, without fail, we are treated to the most fantastic sunsets. The strips of thick black clouds look like burning embers of wood with the most fantastic orange glow illuminating them from behind and the grey and white wisps of cloud mingled with them look like smoke swirling around the embers. The skies seem to change a lot quicker too with the clouds rolling around each other and forming the most brilliant patterns and colour combinations, but ten seconds later they are completely different. It’s fascinating to watch.

On our first night back in Ushuaia I slept like a log because, I suppose, I was in a bed that was no longer moving around under the gentle rolling motion of the sea. It felt strange at first but I soon got used to it. My mind must’ve been relieved too since I had the most vivid dreams that night which involved me being shipwrecked after the boat was thrown into somersaults after a violent storm which resulted in me being kidnapped and help captive by a gang of angry walruses. I was eventually rescued by Jane and Sarah (my sisters) at which point I woke up to a feeling of great relief. Weird.

It was great being on land again and we took the opportunity to do something that we’d not been able to do for almost three weeks and so we went for a walk. It turned out to be a 20km round trip, scrambling up loose scree on the side of a mountain to take a look at the glacier at the far end of Ushuaia. We were going to take the cable car to ease the pain, but after we found it costs almost £13 for a trip of 500m that ends nowhere near the glacier we thought better of it. It was a good walk though and we were both shattered afterwards. I can’t help thinking that Ushuaia is living on borrowed time though because the glacier was miniscule and this is one of their bigger attractions. Besides, after Antarctica, it was going to take a lot to impress me.

Our next destination was El Calafate which was a little farther north and the change in scenery was incredible. We got off the plane and went to wait for the bus into town and the landscape was just desert, mountains and sky. It was beautiful in its starkness and I started to wonder how far from town we actually were as there was nothing to see for miles other than the airport. It turned out it was a bit of an illusion because in 30 minutes or so we were dropped off at our hostel. The town itself was a bit of a dustbowl, at least where we were staying but it was pleasant enough. We spent our time there wandering around the nature reserve that turned out to be flooded so was a little disappointing. There were more empty beer bottles bobbing around in the water than there were fowl so I think we just timed it wrong. The next day we took a trip to Torres Del Paine in the Chilean National Park. This, of course, involved crossing the border which was pretty painless but slow. There were a few highlights of this trip, one of which was seeing the Torres (high mountains) which were being beautifully lit by the sun and stood behind a huge lake of the most iridescent emerald green. Apparently the lake is that colour due to the large amount of copper deposits in it. It was stunning. Another highlight was a little fox that looked startled as our bus pulled up in front of another lake. He was a lovely little fella, all bushy and dappled grey unlike the mangy little scavengers we get at home and he soon plucked up enough courage to just sit there posing for photos for us. Very obliging!

The hostel that we were staying was comfortable enough except that it was crawling with cocky teenagers and early twenty-somethings. Many of them were from the middle east where apparently they come out of their national service with a wad of cash and want to travel the world. I don’t care where they came from but they were over-confident and strutted around like they owned the place; especially the kitchen. I wasn’t happy one evening as I stood there drumming my fingers on the worktop as I waited to cook steak for our tea. It was worth waiting for though as the beef in Argentina is the best I’ve tasted anywhere. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to cook our own food but we were in the hostel one night when we saw this guy slap a very Fred Flinstone style slab of steak in a wok (this was the only vessel big enough to take it). He’d only paid the equivalent of about £2 for this gargantuan hunk of protein so we thought we’d follow suit a couple of days later. It was lush but I felt like a python trying to digest a small calf afterwards.

A few days later and we took a bus to El Calafate where we did some amazing walks. This little frontier town is tiny and was only built so that Argentina could lay claim to the land before Chile got their mits on it. It shows as it is a shabby collection of mismatched buildings and temporary shacks but full of character. Our first day there we took a six hour round-trip walk to yet another glacier. The walk itself was fantastic as we ambled up mountain sides and through woods and valley floors, beside glacial streams and sandy knolls. Ultimately, after about three hours we reached the glacier which was really quite disappointing and we headed back after a short while retracing our foot steps. The weather was bizarre in that at the start of the walk it was quite sunny and really quite warm with very little wind, however, as soon as we started to reach the glacier there was snow in the air and the wind was becoming quite fierce. Again, once we reached the start of the trail, all was calm and sunny.

We ate a local stew that night called Locro made from lots of beans and curious cuts of meat which we washed down with locally made beer from the onsite microbrewery. Delicious.

The following day, still knackered from the previous day’s walk, we decided we’d tackle a walk to another mountain called Fitz Roy. We struggled initially, but pressed on and got right to the stage where we had a fantastic view of the mountain without having to scramble up any steep paths. Our little picnic was very welcome as we sat there gawping at the brilliant scenery. We came back to town with a slight detour as we wanted to take a look at Laguna Capri which was a small lake about two thirds of the way back into town. As with everything around us, it was stunning and while we sat there a little bird came hopping around our feet to see why we were intruding into his little world. It was perfectly peaceful.

We left El Calafate the next day to join the bus heading towards Esquel along Route 40. I wasn’t around when Rich booked this part of the trip as I’d gone off to find a cash point, but I soon found out that it’s actually a two day journey. The first part of which was exhausting, despite sitting there and doing nothing, but the road is only sealed on short parts whereas the rest of it is just very dusty and bumpy gravel. My teeth were chattering after the twelve hours that it took to reach Perito Moreno, a backwater town with nothing much going for it, where we stayed in a vile hotel that made the one out of The Shining look bijou and inviting. We even had the wind howling through a broken window making the curtains billow in true hammer-horror style. It was just missing a thunderous storm and a couple of bats fluttering around to complete the picture.

We set off the next day at 7.45am to another ten or so hours on the bus. The guide had arranged a taxi pick up for us so that we could get off the bus and head towards Esquel as the bus was taking the rest of the passengers straight to Bariloche. Fortunately the taxi was there by the time we were which was lucky because I really didn’t fancy being dropped off in the middle of nowhere with the nearest town almost 20km away. I have a sense of adventure, but there are limits.

We’re now in Esquel staying in another funny little hotel which looks like it was last renovated in the 1950’s. Think melamine, plywood, nylon sheets and vinyl seats and you’ll get the picture. Still, the beds are nice and firm which is a miracle given that they’re probably older than me. We took the bus to Trevelin this afternoon which is an old Welsh colonial town about 18km from here. The guide book doesn’t say much about it but Rich was quite keen to go because of his Welsh heritage. We went to the museum where I chatted to the attendant in as much Spanish as I could remember. I told her that Rich’s parents were from Wales whereupon she started speaking to him in fluent Welsh. He was obviously taken aback and sheepishly told her in English that ‘Yakee Dar’ was all he knew. Excuse my spelling of that, but I don’t do Welsh either. The museum was fascinating and crammed full of Welsh artefacts from the early settlers. After that we went to sit in the park for a bit and our conversation went thus:

Richard: "I’m a little disappointed, I thought the people would look more Welsh but they all look like Diego Maradonna."
Danny: "Even the women."
Richard: "Especially the women."

This summed up the place really. After that we headed to the real attraction and went for afternoon tea in one of the two recommended tea houses. The book said not to have lunch beforehand as what you get at tea is really enough for two and it went on to suggest that you share one tea between two. However, when we sat down and ordered the complete service (not knowing what it entailed) we were brought a pot of tea, two scones, some jam, bread and cheese. We thought that maybe the book was a little out of date and that they’d scaled down the portions in the name of profts, so we tucked in and were quite satisfied with what she’d presented us.
However, seconds after I had popped the last crumbs of scone into my gob the waitress then re-emerged with a large plate of five different cakes for us. Two slices of each! We were gobsmacked but because each one was so delicious we managed to plough our way through the bountiful feast and finally sat back with distended stomachs and a requirement to be winched out of our chairs. She came back, looked at the empty plates and nodded in a semi-approving / impressed manner which spoke volumes. I don’t think most of her customers usually manage that much sugary food in one sitting so I think we did her generosity proud.

We took a slow walk back to the bus stop and are now back at the hotel trying not to move too quickly in case there’s an explosion of some sort. The first thing I did when we got back was to cut my hair (badly) and take a shower – I think I’m subconsciously trying to purge myself. Maybe a sly finger down the throat would be more effective…

Day 243 – 60°40’ S, 065°01’ W, Drake Passage, Southern Ocean

We’re currently in Drake Passage which, although sounds like something from a Carry On film, is actually a narrow stretch of water separating South America with Antarctica. We’d all heard terrible stories about this stretch of water as it can either be as calm as a lake (Drake Lake) or really stormy (Drake Shake). At the moment it’s not too bad, hardly lake like but could be a lot, lot worse.

We’re on our way home from having spent five days around the south Shetlands and the Antarctica Peninsula and those five days have been incredible. After dinner each night Woody gives a little summary of what we’ve been up to during the day and his short talks are usually littered with the word ‘stunning’, people started criticising his overuse of the word, but it’s difficult to sum the place up any other way. It is just breathtaking.

Our first day of officially being in Antarctica was when we reached Point Wild at Elephant Island. We took the zodiacs out for a cruise around the turbulent waters there and saw a monument to Commander Pilato Pardo of the Chilean navy who, in 1915, rescued 22 members of Shackleton’s Endurance expedition that were stranded there for 135 days living in upturned boats. I just can’t imagine what they went through as there seemed to be no visible place to land and the wind was a howling gale for us. They we there in the depths of the Antarctic winter so the ice would have been much thicker and the temperatures much lower. Our hands, feet and faces were numb from the cold after just an hour out in the zodiacs and we are here in the summer. This was also our first experience of riding the zodiacs through brash ice and skirting past glaciers and it was a brilliant feeling. The fur seals and chinstrap penguins looked at us like we were mad and as we got covered in icy, salty sea-spray I was inclined to agree with them. Apparently, we heard a few days later, one of the elderly women on another zodiac had a big panic attack out there as she was absolutely petrified of falling in the sea. I’m glad I wasn’t with her at the time because it was worrying enough but I did feel sorry for her.

The following day we headed off to Half Moon island, so called because of its crescent shape. We took a walk with Annie to a high point on the island while watching out for skuas that quite often attack walkers if they get too close to their nests. It was only when I saw how big they were that the threat seemed more serious than I’d first imagined. They are huge birds with very sharp, strong beaks and I was regretting not taking a hat out with me that day as Annie had previously mentioned that they can quite easily take a chunk of head with them if they choose to. This is the place that I also saw my first Weddell seal and managed to get a nice picture of it for the Weddell’s back home. We walked back to the boat the other way round a big hill in the middle of the island and then took a look at the chinstrap penguin colony. There were very impressive views from this island and the occasional thunderous noise where a big lump of ice had ‘calved’ from one of the glaciers to form a new iceberg. The trouble is that it’s quite hard to see this happening as the sound reaches you a few seconds after it has actually cracked off so you can often only see the ripples or waves in the water.

That afternoon, after lunch, we headed round to Deception Island which is actually a huge caldera created by a massive volcano eruption some time in Antarctica’s distant past. Many of us were on the bridge of the ship as the Captain manoeuvred us through the tricky 230m wide opening into the mouth of the caldera. Many ships have met a sticky end in this entrance as there are some spiteful rocks just 2.5m below the surface of the water on the port side. There was a brilliant air of tension in the bridge but once we were in we were all amazed at the sheer size of the space. This volcano is not extinct either and there have been recent minor eruptions and seismic activity so in theory it could have gone off at any time during our visit. The fact that you’re reading this though means that it didn’t. Obviously. We were told that there are a series of hot springs under the water in this secluded bay and that there are not many animals around as they can’t feed on the ‘cooked’ sea-life. A swim in the warm waters was recommended and many of us had our trunks and swimming costumes on underneath our waterproofs when we finally got to go on land. However, what they didn’t tell us was that the water was only about 1.5 degrees warmer than the rest of the Antarctic so was actually freezing cold! It didn’t deter some people though, mainly the younger people in the group who, I guess, had something to prove to each other. They didn’t stay in for long and dashed in and out while bravely shouting and egging each other on. That was one experience that I didn’t mind missing out on. At one end of this island is a big gap in the wall of rocks called Neptune’s Window and from here we got our first really clear view of the Antarctic Peninsular – the bit that sticks out from Earth’s most southern continent. We were really excited at that point and couldn’t wait to set foot on it.

Another evening of over-eating in the dining hall passed and we woke to the sight of Charlotte bay where we were taken out in the zodiacs for a short cruise to look at the icebergs. Many of them were immense and we felt dwarfed by them as we got closer to them and could see how much bigger they are under the water. Depending on the density of the ice, they generally only show a tenth of their mass above the water line and the remaining nine tenths is carved into the most beautiful blue crystalline shapes by the movement of the water around them and bubbles escaping from the ice. We also saw pancake ice forming on the surface of the water where small patches of ice are pushed together by the movement of wind and water to form small circular patches of slushy ice. These would eventually freeze together to make pack ice. In the afternoon we were hoping to have our very first landing on the peninsular so that we could truly say that we’d set foot on the continent of Antarctica. However, it wasn’t to be. The guides scouted the landing site but due to the thick ice it was impossible to land. We had to content ourselves with touching the rock at Spigot Point and Rich took it one step further and poked a wellied foot out of the zodiac so that he could say that he set foot on land. I don’t think it really counted but he was happy that he did it. Rather than exploring the land, we cruised around Orne Harbour in the zodiacs and explored more icebergs. We also got some good sightings of a couple of humpbacks which was a real treat. We couldn’t see them too well as they were well in the distance but we saw lots of spouting and could hear them well enough.

On our third day in Antarctica we took a trip to Port Lockroy which is one of the biggest tourist sites in the area, mainly due to the well stocked souvenir shop and fascinating museum. The museum is crammed full of items that show the history of the place and is manned during the summer by 3-4 people. There’s no heat or electricity so it must be a pretty hard life there, though they keep busy by running the shop and the post-office and counting the penguins in the colony that shares their living space. We were the last ship to visit for the season as they were packing up for the winter so they hitched a ride with us and we’ll be taking them to Ushuaia. Just next to this island is Jougla Point where there is a huge colony of gentoo penguins. Here I got a little bit annoyed with one of the guides, Axel the German, as he shouted across to me to make sure that I steer clear of the penguin chicks and that I was too close. He was hollering all this and making me feel a quite embarrassed just after I’d spent five minutes or so taking pictures of him holding his hands out to some other chicks and getting them to peck his fingers or let him stroke them. Bloody hypocrite. I laughed to myself later when I heard that one of the woman in the group who’d also got pictures of him doing it had shown it to the senior group leader who in turn had given Axel a bollocking for interfering with the penguins.

When we left Port Lockroy we sailed up the Neumayer Channel which was just stunning. It was a narrow channel enclosed in high, snow covered mountains. Large icebergs and bands of smaller ice chunks floated alongside the ship in the inky black water and looked fantastic. A small pod of Orcas swam alongside the boat, keeping a respectable distance and this was a really rare thing according to Kirsten, our animal expert. Despite the freezing wind on the upper exposed decks, the place was packed with people taking in the view and snapping away on their cameras. It was only spoilt slightly by one of the group that constantly talks into his ancient video camera and gives commentary to everything he sees. He’s a nice enough bloke but a bit of a geek making him the source of amusement to quite a few people on this ship. Last night there was a bit of a party atmosphere on the boat and some of the young clique decided it would be a good idea to stamp Simon’s face with the ship’s ink stamp so he was walking around the deck with green smudged pictures of the company logo all over his cheeks. He must have rubbed his face raw trying to get them off. Poor sod.

Our day was rounded off with a barbecue on deck which was a bit surreal. There we were tucking into sausages, ribs, steaks and burgers while decked out in as many layers as we could put on and enjoying the amazing backdrop of snowy mountains and icebergs floating by. Someone bought back a huge chunk of glacier ice to put in drinks which was a great touch.

Our final day in Antarctica turned out to be the one that I will remember most, not through any planning or design but by pure, old fashioned luck. We finally got to land on the Antarctic peninsular at Neko Harbour and after everything that we’d seen so far it was a relief to finally complete the journey. I really hate the overuse of the word journey as it seems that every reality TV program has some sort of journey or other that the punters are taking. However, this really felt like the climax of a great adventure. We’d all been working up to it for so long and having booked the trip almost 18 months ago it was nice to finally step foot in such a wonderful place. We walked around a fairly large gentoo colony and climbed up a steep hill covered in thick, compacted snow and ice. It was a bit precarious, but safe enough despite clambering along in treadless wellies. Once at the top we had the most fascinating view of Neko Harbour and could see for miles. The sun was shining on a group on mountains far in the distance and against the dark grey sky it looked stunning. We had a great view of several glaciers and one of them looked like it was teetering on the brink of calving. Huge fissures marked the edges and the crevasses were the deepest, most fantastic blue colour I’ve ever seen. Having spent a while on top of the hill, we clambered down, trying not to slip on the steep, icy path and headed to the zodiacs for a quick berg cruise before joining the boat again.

In the afternoon we sailed to paradise harbour which, on the face of it, didn’t look any more like paradise than any of the other beautiful places that we’d seen. We sailed across to the landing point in the zodiacs again and was treated to a proper landing gangway as there was an Argentinean science base there. Gentoos wandered around the place and it dawned on me that this was to be our last landing on this fantastic continent. Despite the stench of the penguins, I’m really going to miss them and their funny little ways. We walked to the top of another hill for yet more fantastic views and a final few pictures. On the way down Mary, a Scottish ex-head teacher that we’ve become friendly with, was obviously overcome with excitement as she laid on her back and tried sliding down the hill like an excited kid in her first snow. It was great to watch a normally sensible lady laugh like a drain.

On the way back to the ship, we took one last cruise around the harbour in a zodiac with Kirsten, taking in more fantastic views of the glaciers and icebergs. Shortly into the cruise we heard the sound of whales blowing so Kirsten steered us towards it. Just then we saw two Minke whales in the near distance. We stopped the engine and drifted for a little bit and seconds later one of the whales came right alongside our boat. We were all absolutely taken aback by this fantastic giant and were all shrieking with joy. As it swam round, it blew out a big blast of air from it’s breathing hole and we saw the huge plume of bubble rise to the surface of the crystal clear water. This creature was so close we could see the barnacles around its mouth and head. It then surfaced and blew again before disappearing under the calm water. There were around eight of us on that little zodiac and we were all grinning from ear to ear. I could hardly talk because of the encounter and it was one of those moments in your life when you feel more alive than you ever have done before. The second minke swam under the zodiac to join the other. After regaining our composure, we started heading for one of the huge glaciers to take a look and were distracted again by a crab eater seal. Kirsten was hugely excited as she had never seen one being so interactive before in over ten years of research. This seal was following our zodiac, popping his head out of the water and studying us and at one point even tried climbing into the boat with us. This is completely unheard of. Crab-eater seals are notoriously shy usually and there’s very little research carried out on them because they usually clear off before you can even get close to them. We finally set off to look at the glacier again and in the distance we heard one of the glaciers breaking off huge chunks of ice into the water. It sounded like a loud thunder clap but this time we managed to see the ice actually falling off rather than just hearing the sound and seeing nothing. At this point, one of the other passengers on the boat saw a huge jellyfish floating by and passing under the boat. It was massive, about the size of a big beach ball and was a brilliant orange colour with long tentacles and a what looked like a Spanish flamenco dancer’s skirt fluttering around underneath it. Beautiful.

We finally got to look at the glacier before getting a call over the radio telling us to head back to the ship. I was pretty much in a daze for the next few hours after seeing the whale and it has fulfilled one of my biggest lifetime ambitions. Later on, there was a charity auction in the bar where money was being raised for a ‘Save The Albatross’ campaign which is something that one of the guides supports. To get the bids flowing they were dishing out free champagne which was a very welcome end to an absolutely fantastic day.

The weather turned a little last night and the sea got a lot rougher on the start of our journey back to Ushuaia. I didn’t sleep very well at all but I think much of that was because of the adrenaline still running through my veins. I was a very happy man as I drifted in and out of my broken slumber.

Day 237 – 59°23’ S, 050°12’ W, South Atlantic

We eventually reached South Georgia and the temperature got noticeably colder. I’m glad I packed the thermal undies because they were essential on our excursions to land. The weather had changed quite a bit too and on reaching Possession Bay the conditions weren’t right for a landing. Instead, we headed around to Salisbury Plain in The Bay of Isles just on the North of the island. What a sight! We’d seen a few King Penguins at The Falklands, maybe six or seven, but the numbers here were astronomical. It was absolutely incredible to see around 100,000 thousand of them all at varying stages of maturity. Axel, our German bird expert, dubbed the young chicks ‘fluffies’ due to them being decked out in puffed up brown feather coats. They looked nothing like their adult parents and early explorers thought they were an entirely different species. As we moved amongst the surging penguin crowds we saw adorable displays of affection between mating couples, the male performing what’s known as his ‘advertising walk’; a sort of John Travolta swagger with surreptitious glances back to see if his ‘bird’ was following him and therefore interested. If she was attracted to him they would then start preening each other before he started getting serious and stroking her head with his beak. Eventually, if he’d wooed her enough, she would lay down looking all vulnerable yet submissive and he would jump on top of her while the going was good. Some people got pictures of this ‘penguin porn’ and happily shared it around amongst the other passengers.

The following day we had moved down to Fortuna Bay and were woken up early to the most beautiful sunrise. From the boat we looked at the view of the snow capped mountains bathed in the vivid orange glow of the rising sun and I was mesmerised. I’d woken up really grumpy that morning for some reason but that black mood soon disappeared when I saw what was waiting for us on land. We zipped across the bay in the Zodiacs and were soon on the beach to meet the welcoming committee of baby fur seals and king penguins. The fur seals were ridiculously cute and would come up to us practising being fierce but as soon as you looked at them and took a step towards them, their bravado disappeared and they retreated with a whimper. I was so tempted to steal one and put it in my rucksack but I think storing it in my cabin may have been a bit of a problem. Walking along the beach was a real joy as the sun was just beginning to appear over the mountain top as day broke and the rich, warm light flooding the place made it magical. I was in a world of my own wandering along the beach, and spent much of it walking alone and taking endless pictures of seal cubs being adorable and king penguins looking at me curiously. Despite all this beauty and apparent calm, I was reminded just how hostile this environment can be when I came across the skull of a seal pup picked clean by the scavenging birds. Further along, there were carcases of more dead seals and the occasional penguin husk. A really sad image was of a seal pup wandering up to one of the baggy dead skins and sniffing at it the way that it would greet another of its colony. It pondered for a moment before heading off to the sea for an early morning swim.

I carried on walking to the end of the beach where the others had starting congregating and got a good view of Fortuna Glacier that dominated the west side of the bay. This is where Shackelton had descended before heading to Stromness on the other side of the saddle. This was a nice place to just sit down and enjoy watching the king penguins. Again, being so inquisitive, it wasn’t long before they starting egging each other on to come and explore me and my camera. They are very considerate as this makes it easy to take some lovely photographs of them and I’ve got some fantastic shots. It helps also that the light that morning was perfect.

The afternoon was a completely different matter. After lunch, the weather took a real turn as it has a habit of doing in this part of the world. We took the zodiacs to Grytviken which is an old whaling station that started business in 1904, five weeks after Larsen first landed there. It was chosen because of it’s calm location and is effectively a bay within a bay. The first thing we did was make a beeline for Shackelton’s grave where we gathered to make a toast to the great explorer. This was Woody’s idea, our tour leader, who is a bit of a Shackleton freak. The grave is set within a small whaler’s graveyard and it was his wife’s decision to have him buried in the place that he loved. We lifted our plastic cups, half full of flat Guinness, and toasted his memory during which some of the group posed for photos while draping themselves over his headstone, Guinness in hand. Very respectful, I must say. This was all carried out to the grunting and farting chorus of a small group of female elephant seals that had wiggled their way up onto the tussac grass.

The group was then given a choice of three things to do, we could either go for a walk to Brown Hill with Annie, do a photographic walk with John or just wander around exploring the old whaling station. I decided to go for John’s photographic tour of the place which turned out to be a complete washout because as soon as I got my camera out, the heaven’s opened and we were engulfed in a torrential downpour. I took refuge in the whaler’s church and took the opportunity to give the bell a ring. Nothing happened on my first tug of the rope, so I gave a slightly harder tug. Still nothing. On my third go I pulled with all my might and I thought the bell was going to be wrenched from the rafters! It clanged like there was an earthquake and I literally ducked at the thought it coming crashing down from the belfry. I slipped out of the church hoping that nobody had seen me and I think I got away with it. It would have been terrible if I’d brought the roof crashing in as it’s been standing there since 1913!

I spent the rest of my time at Grytviken wandering around the remains of the whaling station and my mood sank at the thought of the wholesale destruction of so many whales there. This was murder on an industrial scale and though I realise that attitudes were very different in those days I still found it difficult to comprehend just what a slaughter it must have been. The water in the bay ran red at the time and it’s said that the smell of whale oil still lingers in the rusting old vats that remain there. Huge cookers that rendered down the flensed blubber into oil are still pretty much intact and though the whole site is decaying into rust it is still scary to see the huge scale of the operation. Even a few of the old whaling ships remain, partially submerged and hauled up onto the banks of the bay, ironically much like their quarry from the past.

The museum was an interesting little place, full of more Shackelton memorabilia as well as various stuffed birds including a wandering albatross, some moulted seal fur and skin, the pelt of a king penguin and a four month old blue whale foetus in a jar. The gift shop didn’t have any fridge magnets so I was most disappointed that I won’t have a souvenir from there.

While I was waiting for Rich to come back from his walk with Annie to Brown Hill, I had a walk around the bay towards King Edward Point. I didn’t get all the way as it was still pelting with rain but I did see the most fantastic rainbow stretching right across the bay. It was the first time that I had seen both ends of it within my field of vision, but alas no crock of gold. Typically, the sun started to come out once we were aboard the zodiac and heading toward the ship again.

We spent the following morning at Gold Harbour and the weather was spectacularly bad. We were drenched before even getting out of the zodiacs and I didn’t even bother getting my camera out of its bag. There were more adult fur seals there and even a few big bulls. We made sure that we definitely stayed out of their way as they were very aggressive. We were warned not to get too close to them by Kirsten who suggested that if we were bitten we would be ‘leaking puss for the next three weeks’. Not a very attractive prospect so we took her advice and gave them a very wide berth. This was the first time that we’d seen male elephant seals, too and they are immense. We’d seen pictures of them in some of the presentations but until you see one up close you have absolutely no idea of their size. Kirsten reminded us that they were only adolescents and once they reached maturity they would be almost twice the length and about five times the weight. These things can reach up 3.5 tonnes and grow to 5 metres long which is about 44 times my weight and 2.5 times longer than I am tall. Truly they are giants and they have an smell to match their weight; they stink of rotting kelp and fermenting gasses which they expel noisily from both ends of their bodies. They are certainly not attractive, and even the females don’t choose them on their looks, they go by which one has the best part of the beach.

The penguins and baby seals stole the show again though, purely because they are just so amusing to watch. Needless to say, due to the very appalling weather, we didn’t stay long on that particular excursion. We queued to take the next available zodiac to the ship while the crew battled with the waves and seal cubs nipping at their boots. It took more than 24 hours to dry out my waterproofs after that little trip.
We’ve now been sailing for two days solid as we make our way to Antarctica proper. We’ve seen so much on this trip already and even as we trundle along the south Atlantic sea, battered by waves and fierce howling, frozen winds we are still seeing hundreds of birds, miles from land as well as groups of whales making their presence known by the occasional blow of air in the distance. The talks continue in the presentations rooms and our days are pretty full of things to do between the constant bouts of eating. Some people have been pretty sea sick due to the rough weather, but my pills are doing their job well and I’ve not succumbed to the evils of the weather. Mind you, each time the ship slams into a wave I keep thinking that we’ve hit one of the numerous ice bergs that we’ve seen in the distance. My symptoms are more of anxiety and an over active imagination than any reflexive stomach action. Thankfully.

Day 232 – 53°20’ S, 42°53’ W, South Atlantic

This is our sixth day on the ship now and we’re settling into a nice little routine. Breakfast is generally at 07:30, followed by lunch at 12:30, afternoon tea with cakes and biscuits at 16:00, happy hour in the bar with snacks at 18:30 and dinner at 19:30. This is in addition to pre-breakfast coffee and tea with pastries at 06:30 and constant hot beverages throughout the day. As if that wasn’t enough, lunch is a three course feast and dinner is four or five courses depending on whether they put the cheese out or not. My trousers now feel like they’ve all shrunk and I’m having to loosen my belt by a new hole every few days. It’s terrible; I’m going to be enormous by the end of the trip and I’m frightened that if I breathe out a little too quickly I’m going to take someone’s eye out with an errant button from my straining waistband. I tried skipping lunch yesterday but inevitably I felt starving by 14:00 as my stomach was missing its [almost] hourly feed.

There are some interesting characters on the boat. On the first day, Rich and I were talking to a couple from Sevenoaks who were telling us about their previous trip to Easter Island. As Rich had been there in 2004 he had something in common with them and starting recounting his experiences and stories that he’d heard. The woman he was speaking to, Meg, a demure and diminutive old bird suddenly snapped and told Rich how juvenile the story was and immediately dismissed it all as poppycock. We excused ourselves and left her and her grinning, mahogany coloured husband to wallow in their own middle-classness. While sharing a table with her at lunchtime yesterday, Rich had another run in with her as she blithely dismissed the impact of global warming. Fortunately, the people in the cabin next to us are more down to earth. Joe, a freelance factory designer and his stepson Chris, a writer for The Times are much more easy going but prone to leaving the connecting door to our shared bathroom locked. Rich went round there last night to ask them to unlock it and was greeted by Joe, a weathered 50-something, dressed in nothing but a pair of snug-fitting briefs. He came back quite pale.

Our first stop was one of the Flakland Islands, or more specifically Carcass Island where we saw hundreds of Magellanic Penguins all huddled around busily moulting. The millions of feathers flying around and littering the ground looked like a thin covering of snow. They get really quite grumpy during this three week period as they can’t feed or drink and their little bodies are all swollen and sore by their new crop of feathers pushing out the old ones. They look really scruffy, too. After wandering around the island and the beautiful clean, white beaches we walked across the coastline to the only settlement on there which is inhabited by Rob and Lorraine McGill and a few Chileans. We were told to expect a welcoming tea but were blown away by their hospitality. Our group, nearing a hundred people, all traipsed through their house to be greeted by a dining table literally groaning under the weight of scones, cakes and biscuits. It seems that whenever they are expecting a boat to come, all the neighbouring island’s inhabitants go into some sort of baking frenzy and send trays and trays of home-cooked goodies to the McGill’s place. It’s a nice little money earner for them but they were genuinely lovely hosts as well.

In the afternoon we went to Saunders Island and were treated to the sight of hundreds of Magellanic, Gentoo, Rockhopper Penguins, as well as Caracaras, a few King Penguins, Black-Browed Albatrosses and King Shags. It was a fabulous sight to see the little Rockhoppers perched high up on the hillside, hundreds of metres from the sea and bounding from one stony perch to another. They were like little feathered mountain goats. We walked down to the beach on the North East side of the island and sat there a while amongst the hundreds of Gentoo Penguins. We’d only been there for ten minutes before a small group of them starting walking towards us and eyed us with more curiosity than we were paying them. It was a fantastic feeling to have them come so close without any fear and the more we pretended to ignore them, the bolder they got. They really are spectacular little creatures.

The next day we landed at Stanley which was an almost surreal experience after seeing so much of it on the TV back in 1982 during The Falklands War. There’s a very touching museum with all the usual maritime memorabilia but also a collection of photos taken by some of the locals at the actual time of the invasion. The images look as if they were taken from someone’s bedroom, peeking through the net curtains which gives the whole thing a very dark and anxious feeling. Throughout the town there are little references and monuments to the conflict and street names such as Thatcher Drive and H Jones Road serve as stark reminders to that time. The whole place exudes a feeling of gratitude towards to UK and its troops and the warm welcome provided by the people there reinforces it further.

Shortly after first arriving at Stanley we were bussed out to Gypsy Cove which is an area of coastline that’s pretty well protected now due to the large number of fenced off areas that potentially contain mines left over from the war. Of course, in fencing off those areas they are now havens for wildlife and we saw dozens of penguins enjoying the seclusion of the long white expanses of beach. Dolphins played in the kelp that drifts lazily around the shallow waters and meadow-larks competed with cormorants to find the sunniest spot. All very idyllic, I just hope the penguins don’t get heavy enough to set off a landmine though, otherwise the explosion of feathers and flippers is sure to frighten off the diverse fauna enjoying their unbroken solitude.

Stanley is a beautiful little place, and has often been described as a distillation of all things English. I can see why. Red telephone boxes still stand on the corner of the streets, little corner shops sell everything from tea-towels to pots of jam made from the local diddle-dee berries (I’m not joking) and the local airport has a daily announcement of who is flying where so there is no chance of flitting off to a neighbouring island for a discreet liaison with someone. Even the pubs serve fish and chips and chicken curry – how English could they possibly get?

We left Stanley two days ago now and have been sailing solidly since then towards South Georgia. I managed to put my back out a few days ago so I’ve been lying on the cabin floor willing the pain to go away between meals and lectures. I really thought that the sailing between places would be boring, but we’ve been thoroughly entertained by a series of talks by the staff on the ship about everything Antarctic including tube-nosed petrels, the unique odour of elephant seals and the impact that scientists are having on the environment in the area. We’ve been given very strict guidelines about the bio-security measures we need to take prior to landing on any of these islands, including sterilising our footwear and waterproofs every time we get back on the boat, hoovering our bags to remove seeds and any organic matter and brushing our clothes down with an old toilet brush to remove any traces of bird poo. However, we hear stories of how the scientists blast ice crevasses to fill them in so they can drive more easily from one place to another (thus contaminating the area with poisonous explosive residue), digging holes in the snow to use as latrines and filling boreholes with diesel fuel to stop them freezing over again. It all seems a little hypocritical to me.

We’re due to reach South Georgia by around midnight tonight. There are huge colonies of elephant seals and king penguins which I’m really quite excited about seeing – despite their rich aroma. They’re not called ‘smelly-ellies’ for nothing.