Slimer's Adventures in South America

I clean myself up during a lazy morning and get a lift into town with Uttam and Fran on their truck. The crew were taking it in for repairs via a Mc Donalds Drive Through in town. How disgraceful! I find a HSBC cash point, leave Uttam and Fran but gain Isi and Lynn and join them as they go shopping. Argh! What was I thinking? But, I even get in the mood myself and buy a replacement white fancy shirt. I shredded and wrecked my existing one at the pool party last night. I then leave them as they also head to Miccy Ds for lunch. I try to get to the Itaipu Hydroelectric Dam, one of the Seven Modern Wonders of the World!

I jump on a local bus after getting a knowing nod and an "Ugh" from the driver after asking if he goes to the Dam. We wander down some main roads and some dodgy looking neighbourhoods before I'm ejected and pointed in the general direction of a big river. I wander around some roadworks, past some police and onto a large bridge. Still not seeing the Dam I figure I'll walk across it and pick up a taxi on the other side. Only as I cross over I get this foreboding feeling I'm not in Kansas any more. It's dirtier, scruffier, has lots of billboards and adverts for shopping centres and electrical goods. And what's with all the military police with assault rifles? I look around in more detail and the truth sinks in... I've nonchalantly and accidentally blundered into a foreign country, bypassing both sets of passport control and border police. I'm in Paraguay! Whoops! Concerned that I'm really not supposed to be there I retrace my steps back to Brazil, dodging the Brazilian border police by nipping in between passing traffic. Having not stamped out, I foresaw big problems trying to get back in again via the official route. But after some skilful dodge moves any stealth ninja or secret assassin would be proud of it all works out and I crawl safely back to Brazil. It's all good and I end up getting a Brazilian taxi to the Dam (by drawing a picture of it in my notebook - my Spanish sucks!)

I pay R$30 for the special tour as it takes you inside the Dam and you see a whole lot more than the free one. My tour guide is a really cute looking girl - I feel lucky. I'm the only one on the tour, she's my personal guide, she tells me I'm lucky! The excess flow from the Dam is gushing down the overspill creating an impressive fountain as it launches itself into the river, unusual for this time of year. Apparently I'm really lucky! Inside the immense Dam, one of the 12 giant hydroelectric generators was being dismantled for repairs allowing me to peer inside. Again, I'm told I'm really lucky. But then my luck runs out - the tour ends and the girl walks away.

I meet Allan (guy from the other truck) in the souvenir shop who's just been on the packed out free tour. I use him to get a bus back (I figure it's a wise choice given my last attempt at a bus ride). We talk about how we'd like to go to Paraguay until the bus stops. I look out of the window and it's where I got kicked off last time. We look at each other, jump out and hoof it over what I now know to be the Friendship Bridge. This time I pass passport control and get stamped! It's gone 17:00 and unfortunately all the shops are already closed. The most we can do is grab some beers and chat. (He has the same Birthday as me - but is 10 years older.) In a pizza place we order a veggie pizza and a chocolate pizza! How cool is that! Once we demolish a sweetcorn pizza (presumably the veggie) we enquire about the chocolate pizza and receive... another sweetcorn pizza!? Confused we enquire again and look up the word for sweetcorn in Spanish - it's "Chocolo". Doh! Stupid misleading Spanish language! So it seems we already had 2 Chocolo pizzas. Oh well.

Back at the hostel it's Amar's (aka Borat) Birthday so it's beer and chocolate cake (not sweetcorn cake) at the bar 'till late.

On the road again we leave Brazil and enter Argentina. We do supermarket shop - I'm involved as Retard (aka Mark) and I have to cook tomorrow. It's a "massive" shop and we clog up the small supermarket with trolleys filled to the brim! Back on the truck we get stopped by police hoping to make some fast money. They try to scare us by bringing a mean looking dog onto the truck. It doesn't work; we all "coo", pat the dog and take photos instead! The police leave empty handed.

In the afternoon we reach San Ignacio, home of some modern Jesuit Ruins. We spend a good ½ hour looking around - but no-one is really impressed or has an interest, especially as the light rain makes us all damp. I annoy everyone by splashing around in puddles in my flip-flops. We try to find to cafe for a beer, fail and get coffee instead.

At the campsite we all pay an extra 80p to upgrade to beds in dorms for the night. The Frenchies make an interesting Lentil dinner followed by brown chocolate crepes! We all decide to head into town for beers but the numbers soon whittle down to just me and Isi when they realise town is a 15 minute walk away! Pansies.

Isi wanted to get drunk and with the following prices, we did!

1 beer + ½ pint of whiskey = 7 pesos (£1.20)

We found a slot machine arcade, made 6 pesos from 1 and chilled outside a pool bar, people watching and observing the locals joy ride in stolen cars! We even saw police turn up, quickly and quietly cuff a guy in the bar, throw him in the back of police pick up truck, give him a swift shoeing and drive off with someone standing on his head! It was interesting to note that the perpetrator didn't put up any struggle at any point, he just accepted his fate. Maybe he knew it'd be worse if he did!?

It was a fun night out which saw us home for 04:30.

The Mission: 3 trucks in convoy to Carlos Pelligrin to view wildlife. Do we make it? Do we bollocks. Even just parking up outside the campsite one of the trucks parks at such an obtuse angle it's nigh on toppling over. It's unable to reverse and going forward would certainly tip it over. Hmm... OK, everybody off the truck!

All 3 crews mess around with ropes, winches and angles for an hour while we passengers crack open a few tinnies, sit down and enjoy the show in true British tradition. The event got even more exciting with the advent of traffic police turning up to direct traffic around the incident . The show climaxed with the other 2 very carefully positioned trucks dragging the stranded one back onto the road with ropes. One pulled it back and the other held it upright. All 3 drivers admitted they thought it'd go over at some point.

Excitement over with we hit the road and stop at a service station to ask about the condition of some notorious back roads we need to take. Our last known intelligence was from 3 days ago and claims it to be impassable. But hey, that was 3 days ago right!? Lets try it anyway! Still we have to drive down a highway first.

I'm in the middle convoy truck of 3, bombing along in the rain. Another lorry at the front (unrelated to us) brakes hard as it unexpectedly happens across some major pot holes - on coming traffic giving it no room to manoeuvre. The first truck follows suit. We brake harder and begin to swerve, avoiding traffic. We slide, we gain control back. The last truck throws out the anchors, gets a coating of mud on the windscreen obscuring it's view. Still under heavy breaking the driver flips on the windscreen wipers just in time to see our truck filling up his vision. The impact crumples his cabin and collapses the steering column in between his legs. His passengers are flung forward and feel the brutal force of a sudden stop. We get shunted violently forwards before coming to a standstill. Billiards with 5 tonne trucks isn't much fun when you're inside. Luckily it's cuts and bruises all round, no serious injuries. Police later inform us another lorry driver died in an accident at the same spot earlier that morning.

The convoy limps around the corner to survey the damage. The lead truck is unscathed, our truck has a crumpled back locker and a seriously buckled rear frame. The last truck: crumpled cabin, smashed windscreen, a sheared bull bar and a mangled radiator. The crew formulate a plan - we bush camp right there for the night whilst they work on the trucks. Salvaging parts from one truck they're able to rewire our rear lights to make it street legal. And only minor sledge hammer work is required to re-align crucial parts of the rear frame. Luckily most of the damage on the other truck is superficial and the engine is largely intact. With a nifty bit of Heath Robinson work they fashion a new water reservoir from a Jerry can and replace most of the hydraulic tubing to gain power steering back.

As for the passengers, the unscathed truck break out cook gear and get some brews going (how very English). All while the girls cry and down rum, neat from the bottle like there's no tomorrow, to "steady their nerves" and "give the bottle back right now you f*cker, we need it and aren't in the mood for jokes." The boys do what boys do best, crack sick jokes and act generally unsympathetic to the girls. Meanwhile I set about making dinner for my truck - I'm on cook duty! (Shame there weren't any fatalities I could have boiled up!) Being Chef I get everyone else to chop stuff up whilst I do the all important sampling and spicing. I muster up Sweet'n'Sour Chicken with a mild curry Butternut Squash mash - or as I told everyone else when they asked, "Chicken in red sauce with orange porridge." The flavours in both came out fantastic - I was extremely pleased with my taste creation. Though the mash was too soggy to cope with the runny red sauce. Something I didn't think through. Oh well. Dessert was pineapple slices marinated in Orange Vodka warmed with sugar. Boy'O'Boy did that work well! It even doubled up as us cocktail shots later!

A log fire gave the girls a chance to whinge about how a minor nic would ruin all their future holiday photos and the boys a chance to brag about whose injury was the worst. The title went to John who took out a table in the truck with his ribs, shearing off 4 of the 5 bolts that held it to the wall. And me? I was asleep at the time with my legs jammed up against the seat in front, cushioning the blow. I barley felt a thing but was somewhat disgruntled about being rudely awaken from my slumber. How inconsiderate!

Our truck being legal(ish) is to take all 24 passengers from both trucks straight to Buenos Aires where hopefully it can be fixed properly and have its frame straightened. The mash up truck is just going to limp to the next town where they're going to have it towed to a respectable garage - it's gonna be out of action for a while. The unscathed truck is on a different trip so they head off in a different direction.

Today is a drive day, all day. I sit with Nick and chat about all the usual un-important stuff like politics and religion. We drive and drive 'till we get to a small town called Colon (!) and pitch camp by the river Uruguay - so called because Uruguay is on the other side of it. (Does that mean they call it river Argentina in Uruguay?)

As our truck is a now a full house (24 seats and 24 people) Isi now has to share a tent and feels the need to get drunk to cope with the trauma! White wine is the way forward. The evening is spent staring at clouds in the bright, moon lit sky with Isi and Safari Steve.

After a mornings drive we arrive in Buenos Aires for 14:00 and park up outside Hotel Astoria right in the Centro district on Av de Mayo. To get there we drove down Av 9th de Julio - the Widest Street in the World! 8 lanes in either direction arranged in a 2-6-6-2 formation. I'm given a triple room to share with truck buddies Lloyd and Dauk.

Lloyd in his 60s is a stereotypical Aussie tourist: skinny, short shorts, socks pulled up to his knees, checkered shirt, an ill fitting rucksack and giant shades to cover his glasses. His mind and humour are still razor sharp but his body is beginning to fail him a little, as such he doesn't want to be a burden and soldiers on regardless. e.g. in the Hotel foyer Lloyd starts to climb the stairs, slips and slams into the marble steps. Everyone cringes as the resounding thump echoes around and let loose an involuntary "Ooooooo..." Lloyd bolts upright with a startled stare and immediately blurts out, "I'm alright, I'm okay, nothing wrong with me," and begins an anguishing limp up the stairs. Everyone else looks at each in silence, all feeling Lloyd's obvious pain - and then starts laughing!

A lot of our group are befuddled with the seemingly useless air-con system, until they realise they have to ask reception to have it turned on! Dauk, Lloyd, Nick, Rich and I walk around town to orientate ourselves, stopping at Coopers, a dingy bar, for a beer, a burger and couple games of pool (on very well kept tables I must say). We passed a monument dedicated to the Falklands War, decorated with the name of all the Argentinean soldiers killed during it. We resisted the temptation to re-decorate it with Union Jack boxer shorts and spray paint it with one : nil slogans.

Back at the hostel everyone passes out for an early night. Everyone except me. I wander the dark streets of Buenos Aires looking for a beer. Everywhere is closed - I put it down to it being a Monday night. Buenos Aires is a very laid back and a fantastic looking city. Not as commercial as London, not as stayed / boring as Zurich. It has character - I think I'm going to like it here.

The day starts with a City Tour on a coach. We drive around the various districts / zones and get our bearings. We nip out at the La Recolta Cemetery for a speedy whistle stop tour. The place is awesome and I thoroughly plan to go back for a longer stay. No grass here, this place is just a myriad of tombs and crypts along narrow passageways and is littered with creepy Gothic angelic statues. It's a film set for "The Omen" if I ever saw one. It's also crawling with cats - a black and white one follows me persistently. I mention to Isi that the cats eat the dead people. She says they "are" the dead people and carry the souls of the re-incarnated. "Great," I think, "I'm being followed by a dead person."

Next stop, La Boca, the home of Tango. It is here that Tango was created and flourished many years ago. It's about men dancing with each other as they eagerly waited in line for prostitutes during an influx of dock workers. Large Tango effigies on the balconies of the colourful houses depict the scene. Okay, so the place is a tourist trap but it is bright, colourful and full of energy. It has a vibe.

Isi gets most of our truck to meet up for 19:00 for dinner. She ensures she has a full body massage before hand to deal with the potential stress. Good thinking Bat Girl! Lloyd takes the lead and charges down Av 9th de Julio (the widest street in the world). We pass one good restaurant after another and see plenty more nestled down the side streets. No one knows what Lloyd is looking for. We ponder outside one place, and feeling the tension in the group I politely tell Lloyd, "We're staying." Dinner (beef medallions & salad - the day's special) was pleasant and the several beers and the whole bottle of white I consumed complemented it nicely!

The conversation turns to lap dancing and strippers. Lynn, a naive and innocent Chinese looking girl, claimed she had never seen one... so a plan is formed. Upon leaving the restaurant I seek out a dodgy looking man at an intersection who is more than happy to guide me and my guests to the strip club he's touting. Dauk, Lynn, Isi and I enter but no matter how hard we try, we can't convince Lloyd (bless) and Michelle to join us. We descend the stairs to the dingily lit saloon bar below. The decor is fantastic, a neon representation of the New York sky line splattered against one wall and giant plastic molded poker cards are embedded in the ceiling, Intimate, yet colourful, sofas are dotted around and mingles well with the modern electronic music. During a bustling and heated evening I truly think the place could be a venue to be reckoned with. But as it was, it was dead. Only us four punters there.

Headstrong Isi charges in and gets a price - 30 pesos (£5) each for drinks and a girl for 3 songs. She makes absolutely certain that we're to pay no more. Fantastic, I grab a whiskey served in the usual ½ pint measure. We move round the corner with a stripper and Lynn, being the happy conversationalist she is, starts chatting to her about the usual:

• How many kids do you have?

• How old are they?

• What do and don't you like about your body?

• Have you thought about implants?

• etc...

My recollection of the rest of the night is sketchy at best - I was very, very, very drunk. The girls put it down to the bottle of white wine. I put it down to the whiskey. But no-one is in any doubt that I drank a lot. Here's what I can piece together:

The sensible ones go to bed whilst Isi and I wake up Michelle and drag her out to the bars in the Docks. The poor girls then had to deal with some of my endearing drunken qualities. Like when I was repeatedly banging my head on the table. Isi put her hand in the way. I stop and stare at the table with a befuddled expression, attempting to work out where else on the table I can bang it. I can't, so I stop. Isi goes to the toilet and a frightened Michelle looks on in horror as I do handstands over the rails by the side of the Dock. I failed to impress. Or fall in the river. But all is good and they're both still taking to me!

The evening ended with Isi and I wandering down the magnificent Av 9 de Julio looking for more bars. We are the hardcore. Bed for 04:00.

I wake up. I have a hangover. My head doesn't hurt. My stomach is settled. But my brain is mashed and refuses to engage. I spend the day attempting to do menial odd jobs like getting cash from a cash point (my mobile doesn't work in Argentina so I have to buy a phone card, find a public phone, etc...). Everything takes brain effort, everything takes an extraordinary amount of time.

In the evening I suit up in my new white shirt as we're going to a Tango dinner show for 160 pesos. It's a lovely looking ritzy restaurant with a theatrical stage at one end, complete with lighting rigs. I order steak and salad and boy is that what I get! One of the biggest slabs of meat I've ever seen (except when I visit the bathroom, obviously!) and it's grilled to perfection. Once served the show starts. There are musicians at the rear (Pianist, Double Bass, Accordion and a Violinist) and the show consists of singing, musical interludes and of course, dancing. It is most excellant. By the time it finishes (long after dinner) everyone loves it and everyone wants Tango dance lessons.

We leave at midnight and we all pile into the Dark bar (a goth bar) next to our hotel. The aging owners know they'd be foolish to turn down such a sudden influx of custom. As much as they'd like to do otherwise they stay up serving 'till 05:00. It was noted that Michelle always looks possessed in photos, especially when you zoom in to her eyes! It was a good chatty night and a couple of good quotes were said:

• "Do you want to share a massive one?" - Fran

• "I don't like it, it's not on my i-pod" - Nick

The night ended when Isi and I leave for pizza.

Just when my diary is almost full and I think I won't have to spend anymore tiresome hours writing tedious accounts for my blog, Isi buys me a pressie - a new diary complete with fresh pens! How thoughtful. Thanks Isi!

I meet Isi and Michelle for breakfast (at 14:30!), it's raining. I order Brekkie wanting coffee and toast. I get hot chocolate and cake. My Spanish still sucks. We all trudge through the heavy rain and the resulting road rivers to a beauty salon. Shelly wishes to turn her hair blue and I'm after a massage. (I've had muscular pain in the left side of my back for a few weeks now.) Elaina, the masseuse, comes recommended by Isi and WOW is she good! She was very technical and moved effortlessly around the table working the golf ball sized knots out of my back. I had to choke back bursts of laughter several times as she relentlessly racked the back of my ribs with her elbows to the point of extreme pain. And then there's the time where she tells me to relax at the same time she's trying to snap my neck and rip my head clean off! The net result is that I exit feeling very spaced out. It lasted a very long time. It's a good thing, no!?

Most of the truck go to an "all you can eat" grill place in the evening. Well, as I've been doing that for the past month I don't feel the need to partake. In fact, I've been trying to slim down my portions - not increase them!

The girls and I use the Metro underground to get to an Indian curry house, Kathmandu. As Madras was off the menu I order a Vindaloo. Despite not being spicy hot in the slightest, it was most excellent. We all want to go to Club 69, described as "Electronic music for the freaks, the sophisticated and the office worker". We decide that Shelly, dressed up in sparkly blue makeup, blue hair and a tight polka dot blue dress is the freak. Isi and I are still arguing over who's the sophisticated one. ("You are!" "No, I'm not, you are!")

Isi is well in the mood for a good bounce on the dance floor and refuses to eat food in case it spoils her alcohol fuelled "buzz". She also claims that everyone who eats before going out falls asleep and goes home before 01:30. (In the words of Bugs Bunny, "She not know me very well, do she now!") So with hyper Isi bouncing down the road like a pogo stick on speed we wander down Cordoba St looking for a pre-club bar. Club 69 doesn't even open until 01:00! Cordoba St sucks. It is dead. The only places serving alcohol are cafes and even they close up as they see us approaching. We do find us a bar down a side street though and I get concerned when Isi, with her visible hyper personality change, orders herself a Vodka & Speed! (Speed = energy drink, think Redbull. They call a spade a spade here!) But I soon forget about that when she orders me 2(!) large Gin & Tonics, Shelly a cocktail and a bottle of white wine for us all to share.

On entering the club (at 02:30) Isi impresses the guy in front with her Spanish and receives a free ticket. Shelly and I have to pay 25 pesos each. Inside Isi does her pogo stick impression and disappears in to the heaving throng. (Is this a girl after my own heart or what!?) I buy drinks for Shelly and I. The music is disappointing - slow and soulless. But still, I'm clubbing!

Argentinean blokes are a dodgy lot. Shelly had her drink spiked and instantly almost blacked out - but recovered after a tactical chunder and left early (she only mentioned the incident to us the next day). Dance Diva Isi was being constantly felt up on the dance floor all night - I even had to forcefully remove a couple of hands from her. She discovered that if we bounced close together then the hands tended to keep away. The club had this paper cannon which blasted out bursts of reflective pieces of paper over the dance floor at the crescendos of songs - it looked really cool. A couple of other fellow truckers turned up and disappeared throughout the night, spending most of their time in the chill out / gay room.

Come 07:00 the club closes and Isi and I exit with a very hammered John, a fellow trucker, and grab a taxi. John immediately falls asleep. He wakes up half home and shouts to the taxi driver to stop and bails out thinking we've overshot the hotel. Isi and I have to manhandle him back into the taxi and convince the taxi driver to keep going. Drunken fool! Breakfast had just started to be served at the hotel and John helps himself. Isi and I have other plans...

On return from Club 69 Isi and I grab gear from our rooms, leave John at the breakfast table and head out to La Recoleta. We visit the $6,000,000 giant metallic flower (Floralis Generica) which closes up at night and opens for the day, before we explore the cemetery. The cemetery is still a very cool place to be. the freaky thing is, for the whole 2 hours we were there for, I was being constantly stalked and closely followed by the same black & white dead person as last time! Photos revealed identical markings. Ooeerr...

A relaxed brekkie in a tourist cafe and we wander home on foot. Only we get lost. We knew this because after an hour of strolling down back streets we begin to see the same shops and hotels roll by again. Arse. So we call time out for a few beers. During which we observe dog walkers - they'd walk around the corner with their 8 - 10 dogs and park up for a drink whilst the dogs sit down quietly. Then they'd just walk back round the corner again. What a great job!

We finally make it back in time for a shower and meet up with the others in the Dark bar. Later we end up at the bar in "Hotel Colon" chatting to some Americans 'till the early hours. I get talked into Brekkie at Miccy Ds and we're back home just in time for Isi to switch off her morning alarm!

When I get to my room I start packing - we leave Buenos Aires today. That morning I discovered I'm a failure. I tried to get money from a cash point, only they're all locked up inside the banks (it's a Saturday). I tried to get a cut throat shave, the shop was closed (it's a Saturday). I tried to post stuff back to the UK, only the parcel's too heavy. I tried to upload photos to the blog, it didn't work. I'm a failure.

The truck turns up 2 hours late - it was still being worked upon until the last minute. It all looks good. Bye bye Buenos Aires, I'll miss you. I will always have great memories of Buenos Aires.

It's a long uneventful drive to our bush camp. We arrive late and have to get up in under 4 hours. Lots of people can't be arsed to pitch a tent and decide to stop in the truck, my tent buddy Rich included. So I share with Retard (aka Mark) instead. It takes sometime to setup but then we stay up chatting over a beer and both have a fantastic deep few hours sleep. Chatting to the truck people the next morning, they all complain of a loud'n'lousy, uncomfortable nights sleep with people snoring left, right & centre. Tee hee. Ha ha!

We're up and off whilst it's still dark again. It's another long drive day. We cross into the quarantine zone and the truck gets searched by Police sporting baseball caps and orange sashes. They're searching for highly toxic & venomous substances. They search our fridge and our lockers and are shocked at what we're trying to smuggle in: apples, oranges, red peppers & salami (but our ham is okay, obviously!?). Rather than have them confiscated we decide to eat them all ourselves, there and then! Happy that we're not going to contaminate the area (well, until we use the toilet!) the Police let us continue.

We have a quick supermarket stop and Isi and I buy a 1 litre bottle of local vodka for 8 pesos (~£1.20) and some Tropicana orange juice for 3 pesos (~£0.50). Life on a full truck is stressful!

We enter Patagonia} and pull into the campsite in Puerto Madryn - the landing site of the early Welsh settlers. It has hot showers! Which is great because this far South it's beginning to get really cold!

Isi is grateful for her own tent as Michelle is ill. After we drink the voddy, it's bed for 03:30.

I'm up with only 10 minutes to spare before the truck leaves on a day trip to the famous wildlife-tastic Valdes Peninsula - only Nick and I have decided not to go. We're Welsh and in Patagonia and have our own pilgrimage to attend. We use the truck to get a lift into town, jump off and head to the bus station. Nick's travel book has instructions on how to get to Gaimen, a Welsh town, by bus. The rest of the truck don't fancy our chances given my previous experiments with public transport.

We first buy a ticket to Trelew. It was all a bit confusing because there were 2 operators with buses to Trelew (Empresa 28 de Julio and Mar y Valle) from Puerto Madryn with a shared timetable. We went to the window of Empresa 28 de Julio as directed by the Tourist Information only to be redirected to the Mar y Valle window, where we buy a ticket. I visit the bathroom to do my morning stuff and we check the bus times. We've just missed one so we grab a coffee and wait for the next. But the only bus to turn up is the one we don't have tickets for (Empresa 28 de Julio) and everyone else's ticket looks very different to ours! In fact, closer inspection of our ticket reveals that it is explicitly states it's for 09:00 and not 09:45 as what the time is now! Feeling bolshy we try to blag it anyway. No such luck, as upon boarding the driver notices our dodgy tickets (wrong operator, wrong time). But then, in an un-expected and very un-British turn of events, he dashes off the coach and into the office, comes back with new seat allocations and lets us on at no extra cost!? Result!

After an hour in the wilderness we hazard a guess that we're in Trelew, hop off the bus and notice we're on Lewis Jones St! How cool is that!? A Lewis Jones St in Argentina! Makes a change from the usual Av de San Martin!

We find a museum (that used to be a train station) that charts the history of the town since it was founded by Welsh Settlers. Not exactly riveting but interesting. We note there is a real sense of a Welsh community there with Welsh chapels, Welsh community centres, Welsh lessons and the obvious historic monuments.

And then the bizarre happened. We blundered into a little Welsh chapel and were greeted by two little old ladies. We a gave a "Bore da" (good morning in Welsh) and got a barrage of Welsh back in a very strong Welsh accent! One of them spoke pigeon English, neither really spoke Spanish, Welsh was definitely their first language. And neither of them had even been to Wales! "But," I'm thinking, "I'm in Argentina, South America!?" We tried to chat for a bit and promised to learn more Welsh before bidding them our goodbyes (my 4 words weren't really of that much use).

A quick pizza and a beer and we catch a bus to Gaiman without incident. It's another hours ride for another insignificant amount of money (6.50 pesos). We're here for more Welsh goodness. It is also meant to have a large Welsh community and museum (which was closed that day). We wandered around the Ghost town and up and down the picturesque river front before settling down in the one of the many Welsh Tea Houses for afternoon tea.

So, dinner was a pot of tea and huge plate of assorted cakes! Hmm... I thought it was a very English Afternoon Tea (with the addition of a couple of small brown Welsh cakes) but the decor was decked out with tea-towels with maps of Wales. That and the owners spoke perfect Welsh.

There we met Sarah and Dom (Brits living in Hong Kong, she from Camarthen) and joined forces to find a mythical "real pub" which was marked on the map (Brains, Brains, Brains... give me your Brains!). It didn't exist (Boo!) so we settled for a local bar and larger instead. We whinged because we thought the 1 litre bottles were too expensive at 8 pesos each (£1.20). The owner catches my eye as we leave. He's drinking Mate - a local brew comparable to strong tea, drunk through a metal straw to filter out (most) of the chunks of tea. He offers me a drink from his gourd, it's a sign of friendship and is considered rude to turn down. So I accept and note it's a form of appeasement for the beer prices.

Sarah and Dom accompany Nick and I back to Peurto Madryn on the buses, observing some spectacular sunsets on the way. We part company as they head to a hostel. After a long walk and a small taxi ride (where are they when you need one?) we arrive back at camp. The others saw Killer Whales, very rare for this time of year. Bastards! Oh well.

Lynn and Isi were busy cooking a flaming stir-fry and flame it did! No idea how it worked, it was alcohol free!?

Needless to say, it was another late night.

Again we pack up our tents in the dark and hit the road. Long boring Patagonian roads of windswept nothingness. We drive until we reach Cabo Dos Bahias, a penguin colony. Penguins are cool! Okay, so they don't actually do that much on land, but they're really cool to watch. For the most part they look back at you, twisting their heads to view you from different angles. And when they waddle around the shore or to the sea... fantastic! They occasionally squawk and have a go at each other. Fight, fight, fight! But it doesn't last long, they soon give up. The other truckers, having spent all day yesterday watching penguins and sea lions get bored and soon head back. That left Nick and I gazing at these amusing creatures for longer than the others wanted. Penguin time was over when the truck started honking its horn. Boo. The best part about Cabo Dos Bahias is that it's off the beaten track, so apart from an old German couple we were the only people there.

I can't move on without mentioning Armadillos! I've seen real wild Armadillos! (Okay, so they didn't do much either, but still...)

On the way to the campsite I sit and chat with Safari Steve about Rally driving, Oil rigs and working in Amsterdam (which now grabs me as a really good idea). The "Party Truck" falls asleep as usual so I entertain myself by clambering around the truck and taking photos of dead people from obscure angles.

On arrival to the campsite a couple of people talk about climbing the hill next to us. I eagerly wait for the climb to begin but interest soon wains amongst the lethargic party people. Frustrated, I take it upon myself to peg it up the mountain on my own before it gets too dark, as the sun was already setting. There was a lot of scrambling on all fours to get up the sandy hill-side - but that just made it all the more fun to run back down! My photos from the top proved I still reined supreme. I rule, I rule! But no-one (in particular, the girls) were that impressed.

Here, meet the guests aboard the Party Truck!

Yet another drive day. My camera battery drains dry due to all the girls clamouring over my Party Truck photos, moaning at how I could do such a wicked thing to them - then laughing at everybody else. Girls, eh! They're so funny!

Today we arrive at a campsite in daylight! Better than that we have many hours of daylight left in the day. Wousers, that's gotta be a first! So it's out with the footy for a prolonged game of headers and volleys. Nick was the most skilful, closely followed by Rich and Retard. I, of course, had to be told what a football was, quickly followed by what a header and a volley is! "Put the ball down Steve!"

I was on cook duty today - it was decided we were doing cottage pie (or stew'n'mash) for 26 people. I quickly assumed my usual role of the spicer - I make food taste good! After raiding the spice cabinet and amongst many concerns from the back seat chefs of over doing it ("You can't be putting 'even' more in, can you?"), I produce a spectacular tasty dish which leaves no left overs. I even get hugs from the female cook crew for making it a resounding success! Yeah, I rule, I rule! And this time, the girls were impressed!

The night is spent chatting in the freezing cold, mainly about which famous people we all look like. Rich looks like Mr Anderson from the Matrix. (And he can do the voice too! Awesome!) People agree that at times I could be a dead ringer for Richard Branson but I also get Steve Irwin (same birthday, curly hair and animal antics - you should see my penguin impression!) and a boxer called Colin or Simon something... Anyway, I kill the conversation when everyone goes deathly quiet after I say Emily looks like a girl I saw in an FHM spread. I get the feeling Emily was the girl in the FHM spread! Cor!

The cold air and the cold beer get the better of me and I head to the tent before Rich - first time ever! I was shivering with cold as I penetrated my sleeping bag, which is obviously no good because it took a long time for me to warm up, even with all the draw cords pulled tight. It turned me into a large green wriggling grub! (Sleeping bags don't heat you up, they just retain any heat generated - so if you don't generate heat, you don't get warm!) Still I was nicely warmed come morning when we had to pack up our tents in the dark again.

Today we're heading into Tierra Del Fuego (Land of Fire!). It's still in Argentina but due to some weird land division the only road there passes through Chili!? So it's into Chili we head via a Ferry over the Strait of Magellan. It's out of season for the tourist ferry so we take the bog standard transport ferry. It's such a tight squeeze for all the vehicles that only us skinny people are able to get off the truck to visit the tiny crowded observation deck.

But we're please we do because we get to see... Dolphins! Lots and lots of strange black & white, cow coloured dolphins speedily weaving through the clear water next to the motoring ferry. They would jump up, dive off and shoot back again. They made everyone happy!

At the Chilean border all fresh food was confiscated and thrown into an underground pit. Fair enough. But what surprised me was that the officer, considering he does this all day every day, threw the goods (eggs, apples, etc) into the pit with such gusto it was akin to a Nazi officer burning books!

The excursion into Chili was dull. We just drove down the road for a bit until we reached the Argentinean border. Whereby I followed signs for the public banos (toilets), relieved myself and met up with the others outside. They were all coo-ing over their new passport stamps. It was only then they asked to see my Argentinean entry stamp that I replied, "Bollocks" and walked back into Chili to visit passport control. This seems to be turning into a bad habit!

As I always jump off the truck from the top step I was interested in seeing how everyone else exits. So I filmed them at a border crossing. Nothing much to note, everyone does it a little differently. But it does take 1:30 minutes for all 24 people to exit in a hurry - which seems a little long to me in the event of a fire or other emergency.

For the rest of the drive Isi and I made plans to steal Michelle's teddy in a frog suit which she seems to have suddenly become overly attached to. e.g. "Ooo, lets have a look at this... does he have a name?" "Give me back my fucking teddy bear, now!" We reckon Shelly's sweet personality changed when she stopped wearing her pink flip flops and donned her hard stomper walking boots instead. Her shoes command her personality.

We arrive in Ushuaia, and not wanting to cook, we head straight into town to find restaurants to eat at. Isi, Michelle and I find a quaint little place (and are followed by a few of the others). The long days on the crowded truck were starting to get to us, so it's a bottle of house white each for us on the table! Everyone originally wanted a night out in Ushuaia, but after setting up tents and a few beers in the camp site bar, unsurprisingly they all give in and have yet another early night. That is, of course, all except me and Isi!

We chat to the bar people and head out to a Karaoke club called Centro Beagle. By day the venue puts on dinner shows about Darwin and his Beagle cruise. By night it's a Karaoke club for locals! We were the only Gringos there. It was less Karaoke and more entertainment for one woman dominated the mike - she had an excellent strong voice. A few blokes tried their hand at singing - they didn't last long - they were crap. Somehow time flew and we left when it closed at 05:30. So, bed (well, tent) for 06:00 then!

I drag myself out of the tent for a tour that starts at 09:30. For the short drive in and out of the National Park I try desperately to grab more Zs. I need to start going to bed earlier! The first stop is outside the Isla Redonda on the Beagle Canal. A beautiful spot complete with a little hut and an old man - who, for a small fee (3.50 pesos or 60p) will give your passport a full page stamp (complete with penguin sticker) from The End of the World! I chose to have mine on page 1! We were taken to see a few other sights, strolling around well trodden paths. We saw the end of the Pan-American highway (Route 3), a beaver dam, a nasty looking spider with lots of eyes and some beautiful spots in general. Though I'll remember it most for picking up some Spanish phrases from the guide - my favourite being "Buenos Gambos!" or "Nice Tits!".

The afternoon I spend wandering the streets of Ushuaia looking for a place to stay, for my truck trip is officially over. I find a Posada (Posada Fueguina) for 380 pesos a night with a 10% discount for cash (equals £55) which I book myself in for 3 nights. I figure that'll give me time to sort some of my gear out before moving into a shared room in hostel.

Ushuaia looks and feels like an out of season ski resort (it does have the 1 piste in winter!) with fresh cold air. The fact it's the End of the World gives it an added sense of adventure. It's a bit of a boom town with concrete & scaffolding set amongst palace hotels and wooden sheds. Cool graffiti litter the walls - a place not just for the old. It feels raw. I love it!

I head back to the campsite for dinner, they're having a steak BBQ which I can buy into. The BBQ is so big it wouldn't even it into Ian Summers's house (sorry Ian, it's true!) and it's choc full of chunky sizzling meat. It's so worth the wait for it has to be THE best steak I've ever had - it simply melts in the mouth like ice cream, cooked to medium rare perfection! Some greedy gits (mentioning no names, Nick) even have 2!

Isi and I head into town so I may shower and change at my newly acquired place and wait for the others to turn up at the Irish bar. But not before Mr Sit-on-the-fence, not-wanting-to-rock-the-boat, straight laced, innocent Dauk steals Michelle's teddy in a frog suit from her tent and backhands it to Isi and me! We naturally take a couple of hostage photos straight away!

Tonight is also the night the new members of the truck turn up for the next leg of the journey. (Think of the truck as a bus, constantly circulating South America with people hopping on and off in different countries). They're all boring and stay in for an early night. Forgive me for judging by first appearances (because I'm usually wrong) but I swear most of them are diesel dykes!

Anyhow in the Irish bar I discover the expensive (14 pesos a pint) yet beautiful Beagle Stout. Isi orders a Cape Cod which happens to come with extra sugar dissolving at the bottom!? A few of the others turn up and drag us over to the other Irish bar (Dublin) for a round of B52s. From there we head to the Nautica Night Club and join more of the truck - the place doesn't really kick off until 02:00. By which time we're all half way to being mullered and all pile onto the dance floor to shake off some stress.

I think we've all been cooped up in the little truck on too many long drive days, for tonight is the night everyone lets go! Excess drinking followed by excess dancing followed by more excess drinking. We all had a need to get battered! It was an awesome night out with a couple of, um, new relationships formed! It got very messy, or as Isi puts it, "It was a gong show!" (?)

Isi and I leave at 06:00.

It's early afternoon by the time I leave the hotel and join Isi for "breakfast". Isi mentions that her life is always happy bouncy and full of good fortune, hence the sun always shines wherever she is. She then blames the rain outside on me, as my life apparently (despite all my hard work and best efforts) tends to be full of humorous misfortune. But it's not so bad as together we make... Rainbows! - sorry.

In a stroke of genius I buy an English newspaper and some glue, we head to a modern Internet cafe, borrow some scissors, print photos of Michelle's teddy bear and spend the afternoon making... Ransom notes! Awesome!

Early evening and we head back to the camp site for Isi needs to pack and sort her stuff out (she has a lot of stuff!) and everyone is hungover and full of drunken stories from last night. Over and above the obvious events which we all saw, Nick (in his bladdered state) persistently tried to chat up some local girls - which their boyfriends didn't take too kindly to! The bouncers threw him out. As they did Uttam, for falling asleep on the dance floor. John dropped his glasses and was only able to retrieve them once they'd been danced upon (think lots of little pieces). And Tony bust the main zipper on his tent trying to get out for a pee.

That morning everyone had plans to go hiking, take boat rides and plane rides, etc, etc but without exception, all slept in until at least midday. (Isi felt bad for waking Michelle at 19:00!) No-one woke up that morning - not even Nick and Sue who had to fly out to Buenos Aires that morning to get back to the UK! Luckily for them, Retard woke up 10 minutes before they had to leave, realised Nick was passed out cold next to him and kicked him out. Sue followed suit. Just before entering the taxi, Nick brushed chunks off his shirt and realised it was damp and rather smelly. That's right, he had chundered all over himself and decorated his tent at the same time, giving Retard a lovely leaving present. Judging by the size of the chunks the only advice we can give to Nick is, "Chew your food!"

On entering to the camp site bar, last night was THE topic to chat about. I just felt sorry for the new comers to the truck as this was their first impression, which they obviously took to be the norm. It was also here that Michelle received her first teddy bear ransom note. She wasn't happy. She swore a lot. I made the mistake of handing Emily my camera to look at photos from the club last night. "Look, here's another ransom note!" she blurts out and promptly hands the camera to Michelle. The ruse is up. Emily ain't no friend of mine.

Next stop is the Dublin Irish bar for St Patricks Day to pacify Irish Michelle and her violent tendencies. For the occasion they were serving beer in plastic glasses as big your head! (I'm serious, it's not a camera trick!) It is all very well but in need of more lively entertainment, Isi, Uttam and I head out to the Casino!

Isi naturally assumes the role of our guide to the establishment for she (amongst other things) is a qualified Black Jack Dealer! So, unsurprisingly, we all gravitate towards the Black Jack table, each with chips to the tune of 100 pesos. In the first instance I watch. I watch as Isi effortlessly doubles her money and Uttam looses his! Then it's my turn.

The dealer is fast, too fast. In fact she practically plays the game for you. If you have 11 or less she automatically deals you another card. If you have 17 or more she assumes you'll stick and carries on. That means that on average it's only every 3rd game she actually asks for your interaction, and if you want another card or not. It's played so fast (and my drunken stupor contributed to this some what) that I'm usually still counting the numbers on my cards when they're whisked away and I see my chips either double or disappear!? On the few occasions my interaction is required, there's no time to add the cards up, I simply look at them and decide if the total looks big or not! The girl does this for 8 hours a day, everyday, she doesn't need to add them up. She can just look a them and know. But there is a certain amount of skill involved and Isi taught me well. The net result, after trying hard to loose all my money, I leave with 120 pesos. That's 20 pesos up! Yeah! I rule, I rule! Isi isn't impressed. She has 200 pesos.

The winnings I spend on the entrance fee for Uttam, Isi and I to get into the Red & White bar, a Pole Dancing Strip Club. Well, the Dublin bar was too smokey to head back to! (Good excuse Isi, I'll remember that one!) Isi led the way. Well, she is a qualified Pole Dancer (to grade 1 out of 6)! Is it me or does this girl just get better and better!?

Due to our female company (no Uttam, not you!) we were forced to sit upstairs in the dingy establishment because the girls were working the tables downstairs. It's good value, 10 pesos (£1.60) each entrance fee with free drink, e.g. the usual ½ pint of whiskey! The place was very active and busy inside which came as a pleasant surprise as it looked d-e-a-d from the dark and damp outside. After a good chat as whether or not the girls downstairs were prostitutes (as they didn't seem to be making much progress if they were) the pole dancing begins. Each was very different to the last, one had fake tits, one had none, one was painted all over and one just blatantly used to be a man! (Check out the manly arms, oversize hands and feet, and is that a banana in your pocket?) And a few of them demonstrated most excellent pole skills, shimmying up to the top (eye to eye to us) before flipping backwards and sliding, upside down, the 2 stories to the bottom. Given that they're essentially naked, how can you not admire that!? We leave when the madam / owner takes over and turns it into a Karaoke show. Thanks, but no thanks.

A quick burger from a fast food joint and we spend the next ½ hour frantically rushing around in the rain trying to find a taxi to take Isi and Uttam back to camp before their truck leaves without them. Eventually an empty one does turn up and I'm left standing alone in the cold and the wet, nursing a hasty peck on the lips as my best friend of the past few weeks disappears into the neon lit morning dark. (Sorry Uttam, no I'm not talking about you!)

Bed for 07:00.

I wake in the early afternoon. I feel lonely. I feel sad. Isi has gone. The truck has left. New found companions are no more. The rain has stopped. It doesn't help.

It is an unexpected turn of emotions I hadn't planned for.

I seek comfort in the solitude of computers and start catching up on the past month of missing blog entries. One of the staff, who was amused by the ransom notes yesterday, kept asking me where my wife was. His English isn't that good, it's difficult to explain.

In the evening I decide to phone Mum, only I get the whole time ahead, time behind thing the wrong way round and wake her up in the early hours of the morning. Not that it matters much as I caught her on Mothers Day. Bonus!

"Steve, it's so nice you phoned on Mothers Day!"
"Oh, that's okay Mum!"
"I assume you did know it was Mothers Day?"
"Hey, why else would I be phoning you!?"

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.

I wake up feeling drained and thinking of someone I shouldn't. I hunt down a hostel on Av 25 de Mayo (25th May - an Argentinean Independence Day). The weather is cold, wet and crap - it suits my mood. I check into Refugio Del Mochilero Backpackers Hostel for 30 pesos (£5) a night. It is very warm inside and reminds me of dorms on cosy school trips. David, the man behind the desk is very kind and helpful. It cheers me up some. He directs me to a courier on the sea front who may be able to deliver the parcel of holiday goods I have addressed to my Mum. I try them but unfortunately they only deliver internally to Argentina.

I walk on, around the estuary to the little airport. As the weather had cleared up I thought I'd grab a light aircraft flight to the mountain glaciers. The walk took a lot longer than expected. As I approached the airport gates the sky turned black, the wind picked up and the mountains became obscured by cloud. Even if the plane could take off, in this I wouldn't be able to see anything. So I turned round and walked back. As I approached the town centre, the sky brightened up, the clouds cleared and the sun came out. With the amount of heavy black rain clouds that dominated the sky just moments ago, it was some supernatural change! The airport seemed too far away for a second attempt. I walked on.

Craving for a pizza I visit the restaurant up a hill on a side street that Isi, Michelle and I went to on our first night in Ushuaia. A small group of 3 students sat on a table opposite. I was immediately attracted to one of them. I think I must have a thing for dark hair and red glasses! My thoughts are disturbed as I hear screaming kids fused with prolonged thunder, followed by a colourful blur whizzing by the window. I wait for it happen again and dash to the window for a look. It's kids, 3 up on a large skateboard, tearing down the hill! Brilliant!

I spend the night in the Internet cafe.

Over breakfast in a cafe I decide to give myself a shake and walk to the local glacier (Glaciar Luis Martial). As an aside I notice that the same 3 students I saw last night were also in the cafe. I set off at 14:00 and it's a good 40 minutes walk out of town to the start of the woodland path. It's a really good, well trodden, well marked trail with yellow rings painted around tree trunks marking the way. I put on a good pace for an hour, forever acceding until I reach a sign post. It informs me that I can either turn left up a road to use a chair lift or I can turn right to climb a really steep, difficult trail to the top. Naturally I turn right. This path is definitely not well trodden. The lack of footprints in fresh mud tell me it's not been visited for days. It's a healthy, uneven climb to the top through a couple of unforgiving mud swamps.

I note I've not seen anyone on the whole trail, except for a woman eating lunch towards the start of the first section. I figure she must have been heading down, as anyone who's organised enough to make a packed lunch must be organised enough to set out in the morning. (Note: I only had a bottle of water!) At the top of the chair lift things are different. A constant stream of people (old and young) are descended down from the mountainous walk to the glacier. (It's too late for normal people to be walk up! Just me and another lazy couple.)

Half way up I see the 3 students descending with the others. I say, "Hello!" as the dark haired girl had also noticed that I had kept popping up. A mad scrabble to the end and I make it to the glacier in under 3 hours. 3 hours uphill at pace - that must have been a shock to the body. It's been sat on a bus, drinking beer for the past month!

On the glacier itself a group of 3 guys are attempting to climb higher - 2 with crampons, 1 without. The one without has an ice axe and is struggling both on the glacier and on the rocks. I quickly survey the landscape, whip across the ice, over a rock face, up the bed of a trickling stream and wait for him at the top of the section. It's one of the few things I "know" I'm good at. (Girls keep telling me I'm good at other things, but they could be making it up!?) He seems a little upset and as he starts acceding the next section he says, in a very public school boy accent, "And I suppose Mr Fancy pants here will waltz past me again reading a newspaper!" "I'm afraid not," I reply, "I forgot to bring a newspaper." Again, I survey the landscape then begin scaling a sheer rock face as my companion struggled up the icy glacier with his axe. Halfway up I'm over come by common sense and decide to descend instead. Should I slip (very unlikely but I've heard it's possible) I had no means to arrest myself and I'd feel guilty relying on 3 strangers to attend to any resulting injuries.

I enter the cafe at the bottom of the chair lift after walking down the snow-less ski slope, only to greet the 3 students again who were just leaving! I felt it impolite not to introduce myself. They leave, I order a beer, I notice they were all drinking soft drinks. I whizz down the wood land trail, run out of the woods and spot the students again. I greet them with a, "Either you walk too slow or I drink too fast!" suspecting the answer to be a bit of both. I chat to Vicky, Claire and Jez on the walk back to town and get invited to dinner. They're cooking in their hostel so I take round a bottle of white, a bottle of rose and a bottle of red - just to cover all tastes! (Shesh, it cost me twice as much as dinner out would have!)

Dinner was a perfectly reasonable Bangers'n'Mash with green beans and sweetcorn. We then retire to the lounge upstairs with more wine, to join the guitar playing foreigners. Not my ideal setting but the girls make up for it by being riveted to my stories of jungle, machetes and adventure. So much so, Jez gets bored and packs in early! Oops! Unfortunately the lounge closes at 01:00, the girls head for bed and I leave, but not before we arrange to meet for dinner the following night.

Spent most of the day on the Internet catching up on blog entries. I asked in a travel agent and had a quick look on the net for a trip to Antarctica. It seems I'm too late; the last boat left a fortnight ago and was fully booked up too. The boats only sail in the Summer time when the weather is good. I could have looked much harder, if I were desperate, for both a boat AND a free space on it. But even in the height of Summer I'd be looking at a bare minimum of $3000 US for what is, essentially, an old persons cruise. For that price I may as well fly back next year and do it properly / more leisurely.

I meet up with Jez and the 2 girls for 21:00 and I take them to a cosy looking restaurant (Dreamland) I found on the way over. Only it turns out to be more of a bar, serving bar food and poor Vicky and Jez end up sharing a giant plate of cheese and ham chunks (beer snacks). It went down well with their 7-Up! Though I was able to lure them into the Dublin bar with the promise of fine Beagle Ale for dessert. Fair play to the girls for drinking ale and stout but why did they have to call it a night after just the 1? (At least I had 2 and another in Dreamland). Shesh, what's up with students nowadays!?

They didn't ask to meet me them the next day.

Mental Note:
Never skip on a first date (even on the way to the pub). It doesn't impress.

So I have this parcel I wrapped up in Buenos Aires that I've been carrying around ever since. It's about 1½' x 1½' x ½' and contains my 50 foot handmade rawhide lasso, my horse hobbler, photo CDs, etc. Holiday stuff I want to send back to the UK. When I tried to post it in Buenos Aires I was told it was too heavy to send. Even though I'm still in Argentina I thought I'd try my luck here in Ushuaia.

At the Post Office every parcel has to be inspected and officially sealed by a customs official. I now know the procedure to be that you bring your unwrapped parcel to the Post Office along with paper, scissors and tape. You have it inspected (searched) and you wrap it up there and then. As it was, I had this pre sealed, tightly wrapped bundle with more layers than an over zealous game of pass the parcel. This did not amuse the customs officer who, after carefully slicing thought the sellotape on the outer parcel with a razor blade, was presented with another smaller parcel taped up on the inside! Then another, then parcels of tightly wrapped plastic bags! Tee he! But then, after destroying my hardy work of art he had no sellotape to put it back together again!? Doh! We had to bum some from a fellow parcel wrapper. I then had to fill out 4 forms (not 1, not 2, but 4!) detailing what I was sending, why I was sending and it's worth. But still, heavy or not, they finally took my parcel. But given there's only 3 bits of tape holding it together (and Ushuaia is next to the Falklands - don't mention the war!) I don't fancy its chances of making it to the UK.

Back to the Internet and I realised I really want to take a ferry / mini-cruise somewhere. There's the Navimag ferry around the Chilean Feords but in April, when I'd be wanting to take it, it's closed for repairs. Then there's the Australis ferry that sails around the Cape Horn and into Chile which leaves in a few days time - but I can't seem to book that particular day on-line. Grrr... I plan to phone them up tomorrow.

All the local sea-food restaurants around here seem to specialise in King Crab dishes, obviously a good catch in the area. So I thought I'd splash out and spend £10 on a crab meal. It was King Crab in a creamy paprika sauce, but as nice as it was I couldn't get it out of my head that it tasted like something cheap and not so exclusive back in the UK. This put me off the special and exclusive meal for a bit until I realised what it was - my dinner tasted like Crab Sticks!!! Like, no shit Sherlock!

Well, back to my favourite Internet cafe / bar until 02:30 watching their big flat TV screen. They had on some dark, futuristic, semi computer animated American film about Inca Gods coming back to Earth, possessing bodies and killing mutants. I've no idea what it was about really, I was only half watching it, half blogging and drinking at the same time. But it looked cool and freaky. A mate who works in the bar, Ezequiel, kept telling me it's all true and that, that shit really happens!

Woke up around Midday not wanting to spend another whole day on the Internet so I decided to take a little boat trip around the Beagle Channel to see some wildlife. I book myself on the Barracuda, Ushuaia's first tourist boat. 80 pesos for a 3 hour round trip. She's some 50 years old and looks quite beautiful as her interior retains many of the original fixtures and fittings. We set sail with just 5 other passengers - a Spanish couple and 3 Israelis who just happened to be the other occupants of my dorm room. They had just moved in and recognised me as the person they disturbed getting up that morning.

I chat to Elaina, Ella and Mark until we get to our first Island (Alicia Island) and see South American Sea Lions - Roar! Large lumps of blubber so called because the older males have big shaggy manes. Each male has his own harem of ladies that are usually strewn on and around him. The ladies in one group were all so comfortable with their master that they didn't bat an eyelid when he let loose a big mushy pile of chocolate moose right from under him (and them) and emptied his bladder at the same time. Now you try doing that at home in bed with your missus and see what happens! We also saw lots of King Cormorant birds too with bright shiny, deep blue backs.

It became obvious at this point that the island is a big tourist attraction because various other large and ugly tourist catamarans were bobbing about near us. But none got anywhere as near to land as our vessel whose bow practically skimmed the island as it floated past under slight motor control. A very skilled captain indeed. We then motored to the next Island, Isla de los Lobos. We were passed by a couple of the other modern cats, not that we cared - out boat was so cool we wanted to take our time and spend as much time on it as we could. Next stop, Fur Seals. These were smaller and more playful than Sea Lions. Much cuter.

We pass a small rocky outcrop. It is told that in 1930 the German captain of the German passenger ship Monte Cervantes made a couple of grave errors on a perfectly clear sailing day and grounded, and subsequently sank his ship. The museum says the captain was the only casualty as he decided to go down with his ship. Our guide continues, "Which is just romantic Bullshit for tourists as the ship remained grounded for some 25 years. What actually happened was the captain made excuses to return to the ship to retrieve some documents and such was his shame, he put a gun to his head and shot his brains out." She was a nice girl, our guide.

Later I phone Australis about their cruise tomorrow. It's all booked up but I could hang around tomorrow afternoon and see if there are any cancellations. Bugger. I had planned to leave Ushuaia tomorrow morning when all the buses leave but I'm persuaded to stay an extra day on the off chance of getting on the mini-cruise.

Rockafore Cod & Salad for dinner (the best!) followed by Internet at my favourite place until 02:00 watching American Werewolf in Paris. "It's all true!" shrieks Ezekiel again. Strange boy.

The day begins with the Ushuaia usual. A late start followed by Internet and cafe con letche. Come 15:00 I head to the Travel Agents on 245 San Martin. I tried not to arrive with high hopes but I popped in yesterday and the woman (who spoke very good English) took my details on the off chance of making a reservation. She said they often made last minute bookings after cancellations. I couldn't see the same woman today so I spoke to someone else - her English wasn't as good. She spoke to me as if I was stupid - of course I couldn't book a ticket, it's sold out! I persisted and mentioned cancellations again and again. She quickly consulted someone else, who had no time for either me or her. They were fully booked up and could only fill cancellations after checkin had closed. But checkin closed at 20:00, after the arrival of a plane from Buenos Aires, by which time the travel agents would be closed - so no deal. (Well that's what I finally got after 15 minutes of her telling me they can't sell cancelled tickets!?) I felt cheated, not necessarily because of not being able to buy a ticket, but because I'd spent an extra day in Ushuaia when I needn't have. Grrr... so I buy a bus ticket to Puerto Natales for 150 pesos for 08:00 tomorrow.

Happy to be finally leaving Ushuaia I treat myself to another excellent fish meal at the same place as last night. (I was recognised and it was commented that I ordered exactly the same meal!) It was accompanied with Beagle beer, followed by more Beagle beer at the Banana bar, followed by pints of Beagle beer at the Dublin bar (whose alcohol content seemed watered down somewhat compared to the bottled variety) followed by Jonnie Walker Gold at Tantra Sara, followed by Jonnie Walker Negra. Surprisingly I was back in the dorm room before the Israelis at 03:30. (I find it difficult going to clubs on me todd.)

Beep, beep! Beep, beep! Beep beep! It's 06:47 and my watch alarm goes off. I need to be at the Travel Agents for 07:30 to catch the bus. I'm confused as to why the Israelis aren't up and about for I was sure they too left that morning. I sit up and double check the time, 08:42. Bollocks, it can't be. I check the alarm again, yep, it's set for 06:47. I get up and check the clock down stairs, 08:44. Bollocks. I've missed my bus. I must have passed out for a few hours. I'm trapped in Ushuaia for another day. I go back to bed.

I get up, shave and the Israelis quiz me as to why I'm still here. They're amused. I'm still not. Ushuaia strikes me as Purgatory. It feels as if it could deliver so much in terms of adventure and experiences but seems to deliver so little. I'm trapped there day by day, unable to escape, into adventure or otherwise.

It's gone 15:00 before I join the Israelis downstairs for coffee. They're playing cards with other Israelis and have just started drinking wine. I write today off as a wasted day and join in. I take a break from loosing at cards to find a Travel Agent to buy another ticket to escape tomorrow morning (with the Israelis). No such luck, they're all closed. It's Sunday. Everywhere's closed. I'd been purposefully avoiding the Internet cafe, after making a big deal of leaving Ushuaia yesterday to Ezequiel, I'm embarrassed about still being here. No such luck. He's on the street corner, taking a break and smoking a fag. He doesn't make a big deal about it but invites me back to the cafe for a chat and a complimentary coffee. As nice as the coffee was I find myself heading back to the hostel for more booze and card games.

They're playing Arsehole, where at the end of each game the loser is denoted the Arsehole and the winner the President. The Arsehole then has to swap his best cards for the Presidents worst before the next games begins. I catch on quick and after observing various people play for a few games I rise immediately from Arsehole to El Presidente in a singe game! It's a move no one has ever seen before - I hold my title for 4 more games until the card session ends. I rule!

I'm introduced to more Israelis, one is so impressed at meeting his first Welshman he feeds me an impressive cocktail of J & B's finest whiskey mixed with Champagne! (½ pint of course!). Randomly I then have a burger (dinner) at the Irish bar with 3 Dutch girls who'd just turned up at the hostel (they recognised me in the bar). I pop into the Internet cafe to see Ezequiel and we head to the Casino for drinks. I enquire about the Las Malvines (Falkland Islands) and it seems most Argentineans (despite all the monuments) couldn't care less, they're only some 20 Argentineans living there!

Bed for 04:00. Up again at 04:30 to try and escape Ushuaia one more time...

Up before 05:00 to walk with the Israelis to the bus stop (a random street corner). The driver doesn't care that I don't have a ticket and tells me to get on the bus anyway - I happily oblige! I'm leaving, I'm leaving!!! We change buses at Rio Grande at 08:30 where I'm told to walk into the ticket office to buy a ticket. I decide to follow the Israelis to Punta Arenas for 105 pesos, there are penguins there! The Chilean border police have cool playful dogs and they search the cargo hold looking for a bit of smelly old rope they hid there earlier!? Then they get us to drag out our bags from the hold for an individual search - they find nothing.

We take the ferry across the Strait of Magellan into Chile, but this time no dolphins. We get ousted at Punta Arenas in the late afternoon and there's a mini-bus from a hostel waiting for it - credit to them and their initiative. For 3,000 Chilean pesos (£3) a night, we take it! It's called the Blue Hostel and seems to operate in a weird way. i.e. their flyer advertises a Fire Alarm - like, Wow! No locks, just padlocks everywhere. Basic bathrooms and us 4 in the 1 room. We head out for cash (I go through my usual hassle of phoning Visa first, need to pay for the phone call in US dollars 'cos I haven't got any Chilean cash yet!)

Later we head to a duty free shopping zone so the Israelis can buy some camping stuff (coats, gloves, pots and pans) for Torres del Paine. I just buy a combination lock for my main pack. Figured it's about time I had one! I set the combo to 666 - it should keep my stuff safe from all those thieving Jews! They cook us all some chicken - only it turns out to be a prehistoric turkey instead - mega tough! Bed for 01:00.

Up at 06:30 to wait for the penguin taxi at 06:50. 06:55 and no taxi and no-one at reception. Fearing I'll miss the boat (as I don't know the set up) I have to ring the doorbell to wake someone up! "It'll be here in 5 minutes," he says as phones his Bro to come pick me up. When it does, it drives 2 blocks down the street and drops me off! I could have walked that in 3 minutes! I'm bundled into a mini-bus with others and it's only then do I ask where everyone is going. "To see the penguins!" is the right answer I was looking for. After ¾ hour we stop off at a jetty in the middle of nowhere - no civilisation, just road, this jetty and and a really cool, wicked looking space rocket of a boat moored to it! Yeah baby, yeah! And yes, it is the one we board too - Awesome!

On the way to Magdalena Island (where the penguin colony is) we all took it in turns to sit through the front hatch whilst we were bombing along. Magdalena Island is bigger than I expected - more than just a rock and it has a rope path leading you to a lighthouse and back. All the while you're surrounded by Penguinos! (I love that Spanish word!) The wind is ferocious and I realise that if the upcoming Tour of Pain (trek around Torres del Paine) is going to be anything similar then I'll need a hat and gloves. We only get 1 hour on the island (½ hour less than normal) due to impending bad weather.

We motor over to an island of Sea Lions but stay on board and watch them from the boat. Then we undertake one of the coolest and most exciting boat rides I've ever been exposed too. And for 1½ hours back to the jetty too! The bad weather came, the swells and waves rose and I should have figured something was up when the crew donned waterproof seal skins and goggles! This boat can fly! And fly it did as it constantly lept from the crest of one wave to the crest of another, giving back breaking jarring thuds on every impact. My stomach constantly felt as if it was on a roller coaster ride. The blokes all loved it, the girls wished it would stop and all the while there was this fat midget sat at the back of the boat laughing non-stop. It was like a really bad horror film! Bizarre! But like all good things it had to come to an end.

When I got dropped off back in town I went in search of, and bought some cheap fleecy gloves and a beany hat. Required. I buy a bus ticket off the hostel to Puerto Natales for 6,000 pesos (£6). It left at 15:00, took 3 hours and was un-exciting.

An email from the Israelis tell me they're at Juans Hostel. I try to get a taxi there, only the driver had to make several phone calls before finding it (bare in mind Puerto Natales is very small). This hostel place has no signs, a locked front door and when I go in to ask where I am, nobody would tell me - it's all hush hush. Until someone pipes up, "Oh, you're the English guy that Elaina said was turning up!" Then it's all, "Friend this," and "Friend that," and "Come in friend, you're welcome." (Everyone is called "Friend" here.) It turns out I'm in a Israeli Commune for Jewish people. I'm not Israeli and I'm not Jewish but it all seems okay once they know this outsider has been vetted by someone who is. I think I'm the first non-Israeli Jew to stay there. People don't seem entirely comfortable with it, I stick out like a sore thumb. They all stare at me and call me that, "English guy." All the signs and posters are in Hebrew. (Like I have enough trouble with Spanish!) They have Israeli flags on the walls. I feel like I've penetrated some strange religious cult. Still, I'm in a twin room for 3,000 pesos (£3) a night!

The Israelis (Mark and the girls) plan to start a 4 night camping W trek tomorrow - it's too soon for me. I need to acquire a tent and food and the shops are beginning to close already. I Internet for trek details but all the guided tours (usually foreign) cost around $1,500 US - Woah! That's like, really expensive! My room mate, Guy, has just come back from doing most of the "The Circuit" with a few others. He says you camp at designated campsites and the trails / paths are in good condition and well marked. The Circuit as a whole takes some 10 days. The more he talks about it (like it's only $100 US for food and tent hire) the more I get a really stupid idea in my head!

I visit a couple of adventure places but their treks don't start until April (tourist season is over see). They cost a fortune and I don't want to waste my time. I find out about a free talk on trekking the park being held daily at the Erratic Rock Hostel at 15:00. The guy talks like an ex-army drill sergeant.

Q. "Hey Bill, if I want to start here, then walk here, pop over there and end here in a day, what do you think? Can I do it Bill? Can I huh?"
A. "I don't know. I've not walked with you before, I don't know how fit you are, what exercise you do or what your pain threshold is!"

Q. "Does it get cold Bill? Does it huh?"
A. "I don't know, some people get colder than others. I'm fat and hairy, I'm a bear, I don't get cold!"

You camp at designated campsites, the paths are well trodden and clearly marked. All I need is a tent, food and a stove - easy! The afternoon and early evening then turns into a mad scavenger hunt for all my stuff before the shops close at 20:00. All in all, I'm like a mad hectic dog running around from 12:00 to 21:00. I can't settle, I'm concerned about the trip I start tomorrow. I've never done anything like it before. On my own! For 10 days! This feels like the stupidest thing I've ever done!

My left Achilles heel still pains from the Glacier walk in Ushuaia! (I injured it during an impromptu 8 mile run home from the pub in Australia, October last year.) Though I did pick up a neoprene support for it. I go out to write my last blog entry and eat a slap up meat meal (sausage, lamp chop and 4 beef grill steaks). At the restaurant I try my first Pisco Sour (a local drink) - it tastes like a Whiskey Sour made from moonshine!

Back at the hostel it's back to wearing my Dog Tags in preparation! I see this as a mental as well as a physical challenge - I mean, I'm on my own! I think I'm bonkers! Why am I doing it? I start packing at midnight and finish at 03:00. The bus / coach I ordered arrives at 07:30.

Hello - this is a short "interim" blog spot just so you all know were I died if you don't here from me again (!)...

I'm just about to attempt the Circuit of Torres del Paine, on my own. Ooer! Some people do a day drip to the park, fewer do the 4/5 day W trek, even fewer attempt the whole 8/9 day circuit and definitely even fewer attempt this alone! Ooer!

I've bought a shed load of un-nutritious food, rented a small 2 man tent, bought gas, a stove, mess gear, hat and gloves. The rest I hope I already have. (I'd better have, all the shops are closed now!) Only the bare essentials are to be taken.

There should be sun, rain, hail and snow! Could be worse... um?

For those of you who may be concerned that I don't know what I'm doing - don't worry, I'll put your mind at rest by spelling it out - I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!

I hope to make contact again in 10 days-ish... no promises!

Right - I gotta go and get my last meat fill for the next 2 weeks at a restaurant before they close too... I leave first thing tomorrow morning.

This is Stevie, signing off.

Steve Eynon
21:30 28th March 2007
Juans Hostel
Magallanes Street
Puerto Natales
Chile

Up at 07:00. I didn't sleep at all. Even I'm worried about this little adventure! I booked the bus for 07:30 with the hostel last night. When it turned up it was largely empty, leaving plenty of room for my oversized back pack and my box of food. The bus was old, shabby looking, lacked any power whatsoever and really struggled up the meager hills during the 2½ hour ride. That might account for the driver having his foot permanently stamped down on the accelerator. For everywhere but the hills he was taking straights and corners far too fast for any ones comfort!

A couple of nice Israeli girls on the bus try to talk me into trekking with them on the W trek. But I can't have couple of flouncy females, no matter how attractive, deter me from fulfilling my destiny :: The Full Circuit - Solo & Self Sufficient!

On entering the park I pay my dues (15,000 pesos - £15) and see a white Mercedes Sprinter van marked Las Torres. Following a tip off from the free talk about the trek, I walk over, tip the driver 300 pesos and he takes my food cache. With a bit of luck I'll see it again in 5 days.

I don't get off the bus with everyone else, instead I stay on until we reach the CONAF Administration (on Lago del Toro) - I'm the only one on the bus! Today I'm doing an extra leg on top of the circuit. (Crazy, I know!) I remember being told the views on this leg are fantastic and unlike anything else I'll see on the trip, but only if the clouds are high and the sky clear. I put my coat on in the CONAF front porch amidst rain, drizzle and thick low cloud. Hmm. Too late now! Hey, you never know, it may clear up!?

I set off at 11:30 with my bleeding heavy rucksack (which must weigh at least 15 Kg easy) - then turn back again. No wait, this way. No, that way. Where do I go? Bugger. I stop, take the pack off and dig out my map. Where the hell is the start of this bleeding trail!? With the help of the map and a park ranger I find it, 5 minutes down the road in the opposite direction to where I want to go! Come 12:00 I've begun The Circuit.

The walk is no different to wandering the hills in a wet 'n' windy Wales! I wonder why I left! I stop for lunch at Campamento Las Carretos - a wooden sign and an open backed wooden hut (shelter). 2 tortillas and pork pate. Yum! I also scramble to Rio Grey to take some much needed water. I try out my stove for the first time and make coffee for my Thermos. It works!

An Irish couple, Frankie and Don, are staying there the night. They recognised me from the Ushuaia bus! But being made from sterner stuff I soldier on for another 3 hours to Camping Paine Grande - a place on the official circuit! Not the usual starting place mind. I am doing this somewhat differently to everyone else! It's windy, cold, damp, 17:30 and I decide to stop so I can set up my first camp in daylight.

In the shelter / kitchen an Irish couple, Rachael & Michael, seem keen to meet me and intent on plying me with Red Wine! They had a crap camping night last night at Glacier Grey whereby the wind destroyed their tent. For tonight they've borrowed one from the campsite owner and have a need to get drunk. It's a good conversation which takes us back to their tent for more wine. I'm waxing lyrical about Guyana and the Jungle again. It seems I still haven't got it out of my system.

I retire to my tent but wake up feeling cold. Later still I wake up with the tent collapsing around my head - the wind is howling. I try to ignore it (I'm knackered) but am forced to get up, take action and re-peg a few. I'm several pegs short. Later still, with the rain and wind battering the tend around me, I wake up cold again. Only this time I'm already wearing all my clothes - I'm not going to get any warmer. I think back to last night in town when I was wandering about in a T-Shirt. Not now, the weather is officially crap!

Up at 09:30 to try out my Brekkie (porridge with milk powder, sugar and fruit & nut) - it's good! Then I have to put my tent away - it's still raining hard, everything's wet and cold. I score some 4 pegs off the camp site owner for free. Result! (I only lost the 1 giving a net result of +3) I'm finally ready to leave at 11:00. Most people stay huddled together in the kitchen, no-one wants to leave or endure the adverse weather. No-one except me!

I arrive at Campamento Italiano in a very soggy state. Decision time. Am I to endure hardship to Campamento Britanico (part of the W) or continue round the circuit? If I went to Britanico I'd have to camp there but a couple who'd just day tripped there said it's a mud pool with a torn and tattered tarpaulin shelter exposed to extreme wind. Given last night, I feel my tent wouldn't last and I'd get hypothermia. Also looking at the map and planning ahead (who, me?) if I continue round the circuit there's a chance I'll get to see the Torres at dawn - one of the main reasons for being here. Everyone else I speak to have / are skipping it too or are just buggering out of the park completely - they can't take it anymore! What sold me the decision to continue round the circuit was another couple who said, "You can't see anything up there, but it's sooo beautiful!" Frigging Tree Hugging Hippies.

So I bug out of Campamento Britanico and round the lakes I go. I'm not impressed with the trail. It's a manicured gravel path and the scenery isn't that impressive. Maybe it's the bad weather or the bleeding heavy rucksack but I find the walk a bit dull.

Camping Los Cuernos is a little bit of paradise. As I approached the skies cleared and the wind became warm - 24°C warm! The wind was still there, but warm! Perfect drying weather and dry it did - my tent, my sleeping bag, my clothes, my stuff, all dry! Plus I'm able to pitch up in the shelter of trees. Using all my pegs and huge boulders to keep them pegged in I build me a rock solid home. I' m well impressed! I'm even able to get a hot shower at the Refugio. It's all good!

Then during the night comes the wind. Boy'O'Boy is there wind! And it's not me either! These gusts were a blowin' and a howlin'! They flattened a couple of tents but not my rock solid effort! Next morning, wind was the talk of the camp site.

I'm up when my alarm goes off at 08:00. Despite the wind it's still a warm and beautiful clear morning. I can even see the mountains behind me for the first time! After porridge, packing up, etc I leave at 10:30. At 11:00 it starts to rain. Bloody typical! The whole day is rainy showers interrupted by spells of sun shine.

As I start to climb higher into Valle Ascencio I appreciate the walk more - the views of the valley below and the mountain range behind me are spectacular. The talk of walkers (including Matt & Rosie, an outdoorsie American couple) was a river crossing with no bridge. They all found it treacherous, wet and very difficult. Strangely enough, I didn't perceive it a problem and simply hopped over. Matt & Rosie also kept being blown over by the gusty high winds, sustaining scrapes and blood injuries. I admit I lost my balance once and wobbled slightly.

After the hard hike uphill to Camping Chileno I realise I have another 1½ hours left to Campamento Torres. Sigh. It's a free campsite with no facilities but where I can base myself for the 1 hour accent to see the Torres (towers) for dawn tomorrow morning. It's a nice woodland trek, even with the bleeding heavy rucksack! The campsite is a lovely picturesque woodland reserve with a stream running through it. All the girlies say, "Arrr..." As the night draws in I begin to feel tired...