Slimer's Adventures in South America

Up at 05:15 and on the trail for 05:45 to see the Torres by dawn. This takes a lot of motivation on your own I can tell you! In the second half of the climb I decide to do without torchlight. I loose the red spray painted dots on the rocks that mark the trail but I figure as long as I climb up I can't go far wrong. Then, the Torres present themselves as I reach the top of the ridge for 06:30. Fantastic! It was a hard slog but I made it! Only there's nobody there. Unusual, I'm not usually the first person to a viewpoint. So I walk on for 15 minutes to the end of the ridge, navigating strong winds and near vertical drops expecting to happen upon some people. But still, nobody there. Oh well, I walk back to take some photos of dawn over the valley horizon. It's only as I start my decent that I notice groups of people hanging about some distance below. Arr, that would be the official viewpoint I overshot then! So I descend on to the onlookers from above, much to their confusion. "Where have you come from?" quiz one couple. "Wales!" I cheerfully respond!

Back at camp I need a new strategy to packing my rucksack - I'll be picking up more food later and currently it won't all fit in. So I externalise my twin dry bags and stuff the tent in the main pack. Enter Twin Torpedo Subsonic Rocket Man Stevie! My pack now looks cool, so different to anybody elses. I feel like an Action Hero! I keep yanking the dangling straps behind my back expecting the Nitro Boosters to kick in and propel me up the hill. They don't but I keep yanking anyway, just in case! I find my new twin turbo packs distribute the weight a lot better. The pack feels lighter and I power down the hill.

I'm pleased to note that despite being days into my trip and trekking under load I'm still mighty cool and looking super sexy! (See inset.)

I coin a phrase - Day Walkers (stolen from Blade) and I loathe them. They're people on a day trip to see the towers, bounding up the hill with nothing but a day pack or a water bottle, complaining about the lack of facilities the mountain has to offer and marvelling at how the weather is always gorgeous in the park. I just want to drop my 20 Kg pack on their heads and kick them in the river to simulate spending all day in the rain. We'll see how well they cope then! Worse still are the Day Walkers with trekking poles, striding on superiority because they're faster! Grrr... I hate them all!

Down at Las Torres I get annoyed, tired and angry that the Refugio is a long way away from the main complex and isn't signposted. Grrr... Anyway Rosie and Matt are there, waiting for the bus. They've just finished the W trek. Matt saw the towers last night and also went the wrong way up the ridge! In the Refugio reception I show the man a photo of my food cache (box) and he retrieves it for me. Result! I grace the AMA charity with 4,000 pesos (£4) for keeping it for me and wonder how I'm going to pack the extra 6 Kg!

A sparkly clean, whiter than white, fresh American couple in reception were horrified to receive their first experience of a foreign country outside of a 5 star hotel. "What!? There's only one connecting boat across the lake a day? We can leave our bags but there's no-one to take responsibility for theft whilst we're out walking? And what do you mean you won't or can't tell us what the weather is going to be like for the next few days?" They look at me and seem horrified. I look homeless. I smell. The receptionist laughs - I'm their typical customer.

The original plan was to stay at Las Torres for the night and consume the 2 bottles of Pale Ale and the ¼ bottle of 12 year Chevas Regal whiskey. But it's only 14:00 and in only 4 hours I could be at the next camp site, fitting 2 days worth of walking into 1! Hmm... I load up, decanting the whiskey into a plastic bottle. I'm carrying the heaviest rucksack ever - I can barely lift it on to my back! Still, come 14:30 I set off in good spirits amidst the sun shine. Come 15:00 it rains again! Great.

I have a good stride until the last hour where my shoulders really being to ache. Damn the pack is bleeding heavy. I've started the un-popular trek round the back of the circuit and there's a noticeable lack of people. In fact, the only people I see are a Polish couple who overtake me 10 minutes before reaching the camp site. It's cold, wet, muddy and it's only the thought of a hot shower, a warm shelter and XXX that keep me going. I arrive. The camp site is closed. No facilities, no shower and no shelter. The Poles are just happy they don't have to pay the camping fee! Then they start slapping themselves in some bizarre Bavarian dance cum Monty Python sketch. I found it quite amusing for a whole 2 minutes until I too was set upon by the hordes of mosquitoes! 1000s and 1000s of them! If I kept my hand still for just a couple seconds, 3 would descend upon it and start sucking up blood. We both set up home as fast we could and dived inside our respective tents. I had reason to believe the camp site wasn't closed but the owners had been eaten alive by mosquitoes and their corpses were still decomposing inside! I drink my beer and count the number of mosquitoes clamouring to get in through the mesh on the tent door. It averaged 8 per square foot.

Morning routine :: Change back into daytime smelly clothes, mend feet, pick nose, make porridge, pack tent, make coffee for Thermos, pack pack. It all takes 2 hours. I leave at 10:00 before the Poles. I expect them to overtake me before long - they have trekking poles and look the business.

The sheep trail path takes me around and through the lakes! It's bonkers. I really didn't want to start wading through freezing mountain rivers!

I climb a hill, turn a corner and woah! I get blasted with 65 mph winds (as measured on my Windmaster watch)! It's so strong I can't walk along the path. Instead I have to lean forward down the hill at an obscene angle as if I was abseiling and side step along the path like a crab! It's brilliant! My eyes were constantly streaming water as the wind perforated my eye sockets. I've not experienced much like it before. I try shouting. My voice carried about a foot and half away, if that!

After walking the wind tunnel I powered on around the fantastic lake scenery on the lovely clear day. I reached the Dickson Refugio in good time (5 ¼ hours). It's dead. Very pretty but very closed and very dead. No sign of the Poles - I've seen no-one all day. I have lunch until 16:00 and decide to carry on for another 4 hours to the next camp site. It's good weather, clear skies and dry. If I'm going to push the boat out on any day and compress another 2 days walking into 1, today's the day. For the next few legs get substantially harder. As it'll be dark by the time I finish tonight and no-one knows I'm here, I leave a note for the Poles as an insurance policy. I feel a need to increase my insurance premium!

The next 3 hours is a fantastic woodland trek through thick forest. The ground is a mass of dead wood and logs, as is the canopy. Dead trees lie twisted and contorted from the wind, holding each other up in precarious canter lever positions. As cool and creepy as it is - it all looks the same and after a couple of hours there is no measure of progress. All you can see is dense woodland. It's not quite Blair Witch ("I've seen that tree before!") but it's not far off! All this time I'm speedily powering along like a stream train, trying to make the most of the fading daylight. I keep myself occupied by thinking about what little boys think about the most! (Nope, not Monster Trucks this time!)

Dark comes, the head torch comes out and now, where'd that path go? Is that a foot print in the mud? Have people been here before? Does that patch of gravel look more worn down than that other patch? Is that a red marker dot or just an orange stone? All these details are really hard to make out by torch light - it gives no definition. I had to back track a couple of times to get back on the right trail.

Working my way round a glacier lake (Glacier Los Perros) I begin to wonder if I had overshot the campsite - 'cos if it wasn't obvious, I wasn't going to see it! Then a torch light in the distance gave me a destination to head for. Success, 2 German girls and an American in the closed (again!) campsite. They were as surprised to see me as I was them! This last leg look them over 6 hours in daylight - I did it in under 4! I rock, I rule! The girls weren't impressed. Regardless, I had Irish Coffee to celebrate.

Up at 09:00 and as well as my usual morning routine I also wash feet and socks in the freezing mountain river. I then walk back to Glacier Los Perros to take some pics as it was too dark for photos last night. I finally leave the campsite at 12:00. Man, my feet hurt. I can do nothing but hobble, nay, limp along. Yesterday I gave it my all - practically jogging along for hours on end. Today I'm drained and exhausted - I have no energy. Every step, uphill, downhill or on a flat takes a huge amount of effort. I am slow, real slow. And today is one of the hardest days on the circuit, up and over the mountain. Still, I take baby steps - lots of them. I figure if I do that, I have to make it eventually! And I'm right, visible progress is slowly made.

I drag myself up and over the John Gardner pass and Wow, Wow, Wow! Look at that! Wow! On the sunny horizon looms snow capped mountains, looking like an idealistic ski-resort. A few steps forward and I see a glacier winding it's way down between them. The next few steps reveal the giant Grey Glacier river flowing along at the foot of the mountains below me. I'm compelled to sit and stare at it right there on the spot. The landscape is stunning. I've never seen anything like it before. As I try to take it all in I realise I'll probably never see anything like ever again either, for I'm viewing the vast glacier from above. Whereas the norm is to view it from below - or even on it. I stagger forward out of the wind and take a lunch break.

Even after lunch I have to stop and stare every few minutes. As the sun sinks it highlights ripples of crevasses set deep in the ice. I'm watching a river literally frozen in time. It's spellbinding. I hit trees again, they obscure the glacier view. Now it's down, down, down. A serious amount of straight down. (Jez, I think your knees would have suffered! Mine did!) The glacier popping out into view every now and again during breaks in the tree line. I stagger into camp for 18:00. The trails for the past few days have been great! Proper wilderness tracks with no people. Not like the front W trail which was a well groomed gravel tracks harbouring a large population.

Today marks my 3 month travelling anniversary. It's a milestone because I always estimated I'd be away for 3 - 6 months. It means I can go back to the UK at anytime and not be seen to be wimping out! More Irish Coffee (+ some neat whiskey) to celebrate.

Hey, not only do I look like a homeless person but I smell like one too! The American and 2 German girls made it here too. One of the German girls spends the night with a Park Ranger in his little lodge on the campsite. When you're camping, there are no secrets! I fall asleep wondering what qualifications I'd need to become a Park Ranger.

Up, packed and out by 11:00 - a lot later than I wanted. I still feel drained, have no energy and hobble along. I think I've bruised a few bones in my feet, they kill! I'm pleased I have an easy day today. I reach Campamento Guardas and stop for lunch. It turns into a feeding frenzy! I eat 3 (not 2 but 3!) tortillas with cream cheese, 2 biscuits, some fruit & nut mix (usually reserved for breakfast) and a toffee mint! Gee, I must be starving!

For the past week I've been wearing a neoprene ankle support on my left ankle and it's worked wonders to settle the pain I'd been feeling. But for the past few days I've been crippled by a different pain on the heel. I decide to take it off... and instant relief! It seems the bruising had been caused by the support seam digging into my heel with the tight boots.

During the past week I've passed a lot of people on the path (well, on the W) and I assess their looks, decide if they're British / American / Native English Speaker (usually rather easy) and greet them with either a "Hello!" or a "Hola!" Now what bugs me is that every single person I've passed greets me with "Hola!" I mean, do I look Spanish? For some reason it's really beginning to grate.

I literally stumble into the Camping Grey campsite. Despite my huge lunch (compared to other days) I have no energy. I set up home and grab a hot shower (well, a hot dribble!) and exit reborn! I no longer smell like a homeless person! This campsite is back on the tourist W trail so stuff is open. I pitch up in a cool spot - on the edge of a dirt beach overlooking the lake and gigantic floating glacier chunks. It was cool until some Americans decide to pitch up right in front of me, stealing my view. Yeah, cheers.

I stick to my original plan which is to go on a glacier ice hike tomorrow and book myself in with Big Foot Adventures for $135 US. My plan also allows me to eat an evening meal at the refugio to give me energy for the ice hike. I wanted to be self sufficient for the circuit and as there's only a 3½ hour walk left (which I could stagger right now if I had to prove myself), I've practically completed my original goal.

Booking so late (17:44) I was lucky to be fitted into a second 20:00 dinner seating. Dinner (compared to my usual dried noodles) was pea soup, pork chop and cream potatoes and salad with tinned apricots for dessert. Lovely. Washed down with a couple of beers of course! I got talking to Liz and Claire who (forgive my sweeping first impressions again) appeared to be a couple of middle aged lesbians. Liz had been working at a research station in Antarctica for the past 18 months, stabilising the stilt legs on which all the buildings sit on. Previously working as a chippie in the UK she said she found the job advertised in the paper! They both should be joining me on the Grey Glacier tomorrow.

Everyone assembles in the hut behind my tent for 09:15 and are given a waterproof day bag (Black Diamond) containing a cup, harness and crampons. Cool! The food and rest from last night seem to have worked, I practically walked out of my tent without limping! There's a boat which does a mini tourist cruise twice a day, departing from much further down the lake. We use this to hitch a lift over to the Grey Glacier in the morning and back to land again in the evening. The firm has a rib which they use to ferry us Ice Hikers on and off the Grey II vessel. Boarding it I felt like a pirate. Rape, pillage, rampage! Or just sit there and admire the pretty floating ice-burgs!

We land on a rock and are given our ice-axes... cool! A bit further and we don our harness and crampons... cooler! With 12 huge spikes protruding out from my feet (especially the 2 that stick straight out the front) I feel all set for a game of football! Once we're suited and booted we're led out onto the ice for a few Mickey Mouse lessons on safety walking for any would be American tourists. There's no self arresting on the glacier because if you don't stop within 2 seconds, it's too late. Instead they assume you're going to slide all the way to the bottom of a crevasse and it's a rescue mission from there on in. Hence we all wear a harness.

Far from the flat ice-rink I was expecting the glacier is full of hills, bumps and deep crevasses. The surface isn't smooth but pitted, uneven and crunchy like a meringue. The Grey Glacier as a whole is literally a river suspended in time and the part we were on was less jagged and more undulating. Apparently the reason being, we were behind a large rocky island and walking on the still, calm, eddie that forms downstream of it - just like what you get on a river! We were taken to some different formations like deep crevasses and waterfalls before we saw and went inside some ice caves and tunnels! It was awesome! There are rivers and streams constantly flowing in and through the glacier. And the blue hues and colours are mind boggling. Apparently the glacier looks blue because that's the only colour that has enough energy to escape the ice (blue being the highest visible frequency).

Then it was time for the Coup de Grace. We were led to the bottom of a 3 story crevasse whilst the guys got busy chiseling and anchoring belays on the top. Time for a vertical ice climb up the glacier! What a treat! Ice-axes were the weapon of choice. Minimal instruction - just get up there and give it go. Brilliant! T-Bone, get jealous!

I blagged dinner at the Refugio again and ate with the lesbians. Only one of them, I swear, kept rubbing my leg with her foot! Unfortunately for her, she was tired from the days activity and had to retire to bed early. I wandered back to my tent a bottle of wine later, unzipped the front and... Crack... Donk! One of the poles snapped in half, crumpling the front of the tent. Great! At least it wasn't windy and the elastic held the two halves together. Pleased it was to be my last night camping I left it as it was, crawled inside and passed out cold as usual.

Up, packed and out by 08:30 - it's 3½ hours to the catamaran at Camping Paine Grande that I need to catch to get back to civilization (for 11,000 pesos). Only I'm not sure what time it leaves, 12:30 I think. But as there's only one a day, should I miss it I've another night in a wasted tent and I would have squandered one of my previous good walking days. So I give it pace, lots of pace. Bones and feet hurt but I need to make the boat. I keep it going and make it in 2½ hours! Ye hah! I sit by the dock and eat the rest of my food as a queue forms behind me. I was the first one there. I was very impressed with the cat when it turned up, it looked like a bullet proof military gun ship and the twin diesel engines throbbed with a bass any club would be proud of!

At the end of the ½ hour ride across lake Pehoe we were met by a horde of buses to take us back into town. I settled into my empty Israeli bus and solemnly gazed out of the window into the sun. On exiting the national park I stuck two fingers up at the mountains; they didn't get me.

On the walk back to the Jewish commune I chat to a couple of Israelis who were on my bus. They didn't understand how / why I'm at Castle de Juan. "It's an Israeli only hostel!" they say. "It was!" I reply. "But, of course you are welcome, friend." I need to escape. I also need to get some laundry done, a massage, go out, be sociable, and get drunk. It's all been too long! But I'm informed it's Good Friday - every where's closed. Great.

I check when the Dragoman truck arrives in Santiago to see how many days I have to meet it. I have zero, it arrived today. I decided in the park that given half a chance I'd meet up with Isi and the truck. So despite feeling shattered I scour the town for Internet and make a plan. I book myself on a bus back to Punta Arenas for first thing in the morning (for 3,000 pesos - £3) whose airport has several flights a day to Santiago. I email Isi to say I'm on my way and to ask where the hell she is! Over a big meaty mixed grill I muse over the possible downfalls of my plan: No flights on Easter Saturday, not able to buy flight with my stupid Visa card and Isi may not reading her email before she flys home. It's perfect, nothing can go wrong!

I return my broken tent to Erratic Rock. Bill, the ex-army drill Sergent, wasn't happy I broke it and wanted retribution. But as it was given to them for free and they could fix it, I was let off. I go back to the commune to pack for tomorrow.

On handing my luggage to the bus driver I overhear the person in front asking to be dropped off at the airport. I follow suit. Result! For the airport is some ½ hour outside of town. On arrival I find the place dead, virtually nothing it is open, so I chat to James, the other guy who was dropped off. He's Welsh, ginger, bearded, talks like an RAF Squadron Leader and is heading to the Falkland Islands for a week. And why not? I break conversation when a guy graces the information desk. The ticket sales office opens at 11:30 - it seems my Spanish still sucks but only ish! I luckily find a phone card I bought some time ago and am able to phone Visa to both draw some cash and buy a plane ticket ($235 US - doh!), it leaves at 15:55. I celebrate and buy James a beer. The Internet place it closed at the airport so it's back to Spanish lessons on my MP3 player. The plane is delayed by ½ hour, I later find out it's because they loaded a comatose man on a stretcher on board, complete with a life support system and a personal nurse. I hope I've got the same insurance policy as him!

On the other side I exit to discover the Internet at Santiago Airport is also closed. Bummer, without checking for an email from Isi I don't know where I'm going! Santiago is massive and houses one third of Chile's population - eek!!! I hazard a guess and blag a taxi to Downtown (or Centro) to a hotel with Internet for 10,000 pesos (£10). Another amazing taxi ride. This guy was swerving in between traffic on the motorway and flashing cars out of his way at over 180 kph! At one point he slammed on the his brakes in what felt like an emergency stop and spun the wheel to the right. There was nothing wrong, we were just exiting the motorway on a slip road! More of the usual red light running and we arrived at Victoria Hotel, downtown, a couple of blocks away from Plaza de Armes - the heart of Santiago. For $60 US a night I had a lush double room. And as promised it had Internet. Isi had returned my email and was in Hotel Espana, just a couple of blocks on the other side of Plaza de Armes. "I love it when a plan comes together!" says Stevie with an A-Team Hannibal smirk. Now where's my cigar?

I pop over to Hotel Espana and drag Isi out of bed to go to a bar (she was a bit under the weather and having an early night). The truck was on its last night in town and they were all out in a bar far, far away in a different district. The plan was to go meet them until we ended up getting wasted on some superb (and very cheap) Pisco Sours at a local bar. Whoops! Oh well, never mind eh!? The truck maybe leaving tomorrow, but Isi is hanging around Santiago for a few days before flying back to Canada. Cool.

I move into Hotel Espana for it's cheaper at $40 US a night and it generally makes life easier. As an added bonus I get the Pimp room. It has red velvet wallpaper and curtains! It's a room built for L-U-R-V-E!!!

It's Easter Sunday and places and shops are closed so Isi and I visit Cerro Santa Lucia. It's on a tall hill and the hot sunny day makes it an excellent choice place to mill around for a few hours. It has lots of narrow steps and staircases that keep winding up and up in between Gothic architecture chiseled out of the rock. From the top you get to view the gigantic sprawl of Santiago snugly nestled in between the surrounding mountain ranges. Very nice.

In the late afternoon I head out for essential supplies (beer & wine!) and come across a Lady Di Hairdressing Salon. Not tacky in the slightest! On the way back I figure I'd best phone home and let Mum know I'm still alive! As a bonus my Bro was there too so we had a good natter about ice-climbing.

Finding a place to eat was a little tricky as everywhere was closed but we happened upon a Peruvian place whose food was excellent. Having just come in from the wilderness my appetite knows no bounds! Oddly enough the owners didn't seem to mind when a large wolf looking street dog followed us in and sat down next to the table.

It may be Easter Monday but this country doesn't seem to observe it - so everything's open. I can get laundry done! Ye hah! Unfortunately that leaves me with nothing to wear except shorts and a T-Shirt and it's not as hot as it was yesterday. In fact, there's a bit of a chill in the air.

For most of the day Isi and I wander around town looking at shops and strange coffee houses with girls in bikinis trying to entice you in! I wasn't really sure what they were about. If they advertised beer then I might have gone in for a look. I'm pleased to be taking the walking easy for I have a noticeable limp due to the bruised bones in my feet. They pain when I walk normally.

We stop off at Isi's favourite cafe (Cafe Tomodachi) for her favourite Hot Chocolate in the Barrio Bellas Artes area. It is hot milk poured over large lumps of real chocolate! Hmmm... I can picture all you girls salivating already!

We decide to eat late. In fact, too late. Everywhere's closed again! We only just manage to get last orders in a late night cafe.

Made it up in time for breakfast and ate it all. My appetite is still great (cereal, fruit salad, scrambled egg, bread buns, cake, cheese, coffee and fruit juice). Isi shows me how to make cheesy egg sandwiches - she's the idea person. There I meet Gale & David, an Australian couple from the truck. They've done the whole of South America on a Dragoman truck in 7 months and are now going home.

Isi and I decide to take a day trip to Valparaiso, a coastal town whose port had massive importance before the construction of the Panama canal. It's supposed to look cool too! We took the Santiago Metro (underground) to the bus station (which always excites Isi, they don't have an underground in Canada)! A 2 hour ride and we're there. Valparasio bus station is in an industrial looking part of town. We wander around, blindly trying to find our position on the map (you have to walk west to get to the town centre) and blunder into a couple of markets where I discover Isi's true life love and Isi discovers "Peas"!!! So Isi buys a couple of kilos of peas in the pod to quaff and I some red grapes. The gluttony stops after ½ hour when she discovers worms in a few pods and I creepy crawlies in the grapes. So we wander into town and fill our bellies at a Chinese restaurant instead.

Valparaiso is on a hillside and has a collection of mutant tram lifts to drag people to the top. We try a small steep one (Ascensor Concepcion) for a quite a pricey 500 pesos (50p). The top is a quaint residential area full of twisting passageways with cafes and Bed'n'Breakfasts. It seems we weren't the only people to think the Ascensor to be expensive as most houses had posters calling for a boycott due to the recent 150% price hike from 200 pesos to 500 pesos. Oops! Walking around I was struck by the vast amounts of colourful graffiti that littered all the walls and passageways. We even passed a work of art in the making with the graffiti artist busy beavering away. We had coffee at a cafe at the top of Ascensor Artilleria with spectacular views of the Technicolour port harbour below. (Isi had dared me not to order a beer!) We then sauntered back to the bus station and onto Santiago.

Due to the inefficiency of email we had missed Sean and Monika in Valparaiso, a couple I'd met in Canaima (Angel Falls), Venezuela. They too were still travelling around South America and happened to be in Valparaiso that very day.

In Santiago we went back to the local bar for more excellent Pisco Sours and got chatting to a very drunk rock couple who'd just come back from a concert. Well, Isi chatted Spanish, I just sat there grinning inanely. I do that best! That was followed by some snack food (beer and Espanola Tortilla) at a cafe next to the hotel where the entertainment was watching a very old, very drunk gentleman fall over. Isi rushed to his aid the first time fearing he was disabled. She didn't bother again!

The day starts off with Isi and I visiting the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes. Nothing much note worthy there except a large empty pitch black room with several stone / copper tablets lit up under individual spot lights at the far end. It was eerie as walking towards them you couldn't gauge distance nor see anything else in the echoy room. It was akin to approaching lost treasure in an Indiana Jones film! It was great! If I could read Spanish then I might even be able to tell you what it was all about. But tough, I don't so I can't! Then there were also some paintings of, essentially, rude female genitalia but kaleidoscoped to make pretty flower shapes! Um, interesting.

For dinner we went to the Central Market. It's a mass of fresh fish stalls interwoven with cafes and restaurants specialising in... fish! Each place has at least one man outside whose job it is to harass passersby in an effort to entice them in. We were after a quiet meal so we picked one which looked like it could deliver the goods and sat upstairs - giving us views of the manic market below. Isi ordered fried fish, I a shrimp pie and a bowl of XXX Frio - a local speciality that Isi had heard a lot about. It sounded like a cold fish stew. It turned up. It was cold slimy fish gut spew. The bowl contained random, nondescript bits of sea creatures, dripping with goo and with the strongest, nastiest, fishiest taste I've ever had to endure. And it was fridge cold fresh. For all I know, it was probably even raw! Even the bits of Sea Urchin I spotted.

Then as we were sampling the fishy delights a man and his guitar struck up by the table behind us at volume. Nice. All in all it was just the quiet, tasty meal we wanted! Given time he stopped, the cold fishy slop was taken away and replaced with a hot shrimp pie. The pie was made of soft crumble but the sauce was still extremely strong fishy tasting. I could only suffer small bites at a time. Then a karaoke opera singer started up at the same table behind us (they were celebrating something). He gave it as much gusto and heart felt emotion as he could muster. Given the circumstances and his serious contorted face, both Isi and I couldn't look at him without bursting into laughter. I tipped him on the way out for he was good and as a means to apologise for our behaviour. It just wasn't what we wanted. We went back to a cafe in Barrio Bellas Artes to Isi could sample another hot chocolate and I so could fill up on chocolate cake!

Isi flies back to Canada tonight so I take her out to a posh restaurant for lunch. It turns out to be an Italian and she's gob smacked at the prices, although I thought £5 for a main meal was quite reasonable! The interior looked great and was full of business men in suits, not a woman in sight (well, except for mine!). We both went for Ravioli, mine being an extravagant Wild Boar in a creamy mushroom and red wine sauce. It was very good. That was followed by Isi's favourite hot chocolate at cafe Tomodachi and more delicious cake. (Creamy orange sponge - yum!) That gave Isi just enough time to pack before I took her to the airport for our last beer together. Sniff, sniff!

Arriving back at the hotel I notice a big stage up in Plaza de Armes - some sort of trainer promotion with people on treadmills, a sound system and "Chile 24" slogans plastered around a big timer. No idea what it was about but I took a photo anyway!

A hot dog completo with all the healthy trimmings and a beer completed my night. Oh, in the hotel I see Ali-G on MTV's Celebrity Deathmatch. Even though it was in Espanol I understood most of what he said, "Booyakasha!" It was cool, he went on a rampage and started killing large portions of the audience with his bare fists! Bring it!

I get up, gorge myself on breakfast and pack. I'm bored of Santiago now - need to move on. I wish to go North to San Pedro de Atacama, the driest desert on Earth. Sean and Monika (who I missed in Valparisio) were heading there also. It's a 27 hour bus ride from Santiago. From the Tur-Bus website I note there is an expensive super deluxe executive coach leaving at 12:30 ish which I quite fancied (not quite ready for cattle class yet). I grab a taxi to the bus station. Only the know-it-all taxi driver says that at the station that I'm going to, all the buses head South. For North I need a different station 10 minutes down the road. (I think I'm beginning to understand more Spanish!) So be it, I mean, what do I know, right? Wrong. I miss my posh coach and get a standard (semi-carma) one at half the price for 26,000 pesos (£26) which leaves at 15:00. The coach is nice enough, except for a couple of the usual screaming, nauseating, smelly babies. Grr...

All the films and TV programs shown are in Spanish. But for films like Tokyo Drift, words aren't that important!

Sigh. From my stressful days in the wilderness I now feel quite rested.

I'm woken up by the bus assistant handing out sweet black tea and packets of mini chocolate cookies. A nutritious breakfast if I ever had one! A few hours later we stop at a town and everyone gets off with their hand luggage. I follow suit even though it's too early to be at San Pedro de Atacama. Me and a Swiss guy are confused but it seems we're to switch buses even though we were both told there were to be no connections. Whatever! The next bus had no air con, was stifling hot and the fan was like having a hairdryer in your face. My watch notched up 35°C. Everyone looked uncomfortable.

We drive through a nothing desert land and stopped at a few bus stations at western looking towns with no signage, leaving me and the Swiss guy wondering if we'd arrived yet. Nope, nope and nope. Then at 16:30 (25½ hours later) we stop in a dusty desert plaza surrounded by mud shacks with corrugated tin roofs, just off a dirt track in the middle of nowhere. We're here!!! This is it - San Pedro de Atacama at an altitude of 2,400 meters. Wow!

Whilst wrestling my bags off the bus driver some local woman approaches me and enquires, "Steve? Amigo Steve?" "Si," I reply suspectingly. She hands me a hostel flyer. I turn it over, it reads simply, "Sean & Monika :) Amigo Steve." I look at the woman astounded that I've been met at a bus station in the middle of nowhere. She says, "Si, Amigo Sean y Monika aci Hostel Elim!" Cool! I grab my bags and follow her.

Hostel Elim is more of a quaint rustic B'n'B, sharing facilities with the owners. It has rocking chairs, hammocks, tables and Sean & Monika! It's great to see them again. They've even bagged me a bed in their triple room! (I'm on the top of Monika's bunk.) We go out, buy some food, chat, drink and play cards. Generally catch up, it's been 3 months! It seems they told the woman (the hostel owner) to look out for a man with a ginger beard. Eh! (Well, I haven't shaved since I started the Torres del Paine Circuit!)

It's the desert. The temperatures are extreme. It's freezing at night (literally) and boiling during the day. But bizarrely enough our room was really warm all throughout the night. I can't figure it out as it has no heating! I sleep well and wake early, much down some Quaker Oat cereal and go out into town with Sean & Monika. We book ourselves some tours on a buy 2 get 1 free basis, starting tomorrow for 30,000 pesos (£30). I change my £100 worth of Argentinean pesos into Chilean pesos. I was hoping to pop back into Argentina so see a few other places but my sudden bolt North put paid to that idea. I'm not really bothered, it's all been good.

Having the afternoon free we hire some mountain bikes off the hostel and venture out to find some Inca ruins. The bike feels light and flimsy and I'm convinced there's something wrong with it until I remember that the last bike I rode had a 750cc race engine attached to it! Sean used to be a serious mountain biker and can't help popping wheelies and bunny hops every 2 minutes. I would call him a show off, but I'd be doing the same if only I could!

Our first find were some caves! They were very cool, Sean and I venture in with a torch, find they keep going and going and go back to grab Monika - it's a must see! Together we reach the end, a large bore hole to the outside world. Monika was initially scared about the caving but admitted at the end that it was cool! The cave was spacious enough for us all to clamber through but had a couple of steep accents. A torch was required, it was dark. Very dark.

We carried on down the road until a river ran through it (!) We walk along looking for a shallow place to cross (Sean & Monika were wearing socks and trainers). We don't find any but there is a jumpable spot. I carry the bikes over in my cool Tevas (I'm not bothered about getting wet) whilst they jump across. There is so much salt around it clings and hangs off the grass and vegetation.

A bit further down we ditch the bikes, ascend up a hill and view the Inca ruins / archaeological site. A few tattered stone walls. We all agree it's not impressive in the slightest. Some guys in Dune Buggies turn up, now they're impressive!

Cycling back this girl tears out of a side dirt track / drive way screaming, "Help meeee....!" with 3 large black street dogs barking and snapping at her heels. So Sean & I do and divert the interest of the dogs. No big deal. The girl was also on her way back from the ruins and took a wrong turn. She had a real nasty, bite mark on her calf where she'd been bitten under similar circumstances the day before. So for the journey back, inbetween fooling around and pulling bike stunts, Sean and I accompany the girl and shoo away any other passing street dogs. It was our good deed for the day.

The veggies stay in and cook whilst I venture out to find steak. I find a cosy place with an open fire in the middle and piano jazz in the background. I feel a bit of a chill and wish they'd close the main front doors. I look up and realise why they don't. It wouldn't make any difference if they did, they have no roof! I figure it was designed by a woman, they don't need a reason! The medium rare steak was nice but like everywhere in this tourist town, very expensive. 6,900 pesos for the steak and 1,800 for a beer.

I wake up at 02:00 sweating my nads off. It's damn hot! Sean gets up for a pee, followed by Monika, followed by me. Only I hang about in the freezing cold outside for 10 minutes to cool off. None of us can go back to sleep for sometime. I'm pleased I do because I start dreaming of a scientist on a naval ship who creates 3 life forms by sucking the life force out from a room of passengers. These life forms then start sucking the life force out of the crew, turning them into piles of sludge. The ship crashes on an island and is responsible for creating plagues of zombies. I later crash land on the jungle island in a spaceship and the rest of the dream is about me and my crew trying to repair our ship whilst cracking zombie heads open trying not to get bit! But then I wake up and have to do the dull and dreary, like wash and get dressed. Boring!

Today, Monika, Sean & I go on a Salt Lake and lagoon tour for the day. Our ride turned up at the hostel at 08:35, some half hour late, by which time Sean & Monika were getting very concerned. First up was the Chaxas Lagoon in the Los Flamencos National Reserve which took a 2,000 pesos entrance fee and a good hour's drive down a dirt track to get to. Our park guide, who didn't speak any English, led us (a group of 6) down a wide path around the salt lake. We were walking on the salt flat itself and the mini walls that lined the path were made from lumps of salt deposits that coated the floor. In Espanol the guide tried to explain the difference between Chilean, Andean and James Flamingos as they lined the lake and flew over our heads. Their bright red fringes really stood out, making them look very striking. The guide scooped up some lake water in a large plastic spoon to show us what the flamingos eat - freaky giant swimming insects! The lake must contain billions & billions of them for there were hundreds in just the spoon scoop! Back at the visitor centre we were sat down to watch a video, which probably repeated everything the guide said but it had English subtitles so it was all news to us!

Back in the van, down more bumpy dirt tracks to a couple of Salt Lagoons. As pretty as they were no-one thought they were anything more than scenic viewpoints and not worth the 2,000 pesos National Park entrance fee.

To while away the hours in the van we chatted extensively to an American girl who'd recently come out of hospital after contracting a facial bacterial infection on the side of her face and on her ear. Some scabby peeling skin was still left. Ewww!

We arrived at a little local cafe for lunch, Sean & Monika strode ahead to pickup their pre-ordered veggie meals only to be told, "Solo Carne!" or "Only Meat!" They weren't happy but after discussion they made some omelets. For me it was a salad starter, meat & potato soup and tinned peach dessert. Next we got dropped off at Toconao with a population of 550. The only attraction was a quaint church tower in the town plaza.

In all it seems we didn't book a tour (with a guide) but rather a driver & van to haul us to the sights. All the other "tours" in town were the same.

Again, I leave Sean & Monika to cook their dinner whilst I head out for mine, I get some Internet in at the same time. I crave pizza, for it has to be cheaper than last night's steak. In my chosen venue the waiter assures me I want a medium pizza rather than an individual as they're only thin crust etc... So a medium Americano and a beer it is then. I score on my choice of beer, it's a bottled Pale Ale! Then the pizza arrives - a gigantic family sized flying saucer of a sausage pizza! I feel stupid for ordering such a monolithic slab and feel the need to eat 1 slice over half to justify myself. It was a little too much greasy sausage and I felt a little ill. Still, I justified myself and rolled home for 23:00 to find Sean & Monika passed out in bed.

I began to get restless again in the early hours, not that it mattered as we all got up at 03:30 to be picked up at 04:00. Whilst talking about whether or not we'd have the same driver (who unfortunately has bucked teeth) and if we'd spot him in the dark, Sean remarks, "Well that smile would be hard to miss!" Indeed, we had the same van, same driver but different passengers; an older German couple and their student daughter, Elaina. It was a 2½ hour, extremely bumpy, drive up through the hills to get to the El Tatio Geyser Field (another 2,000 pesos entrance fee) at an altitude of some 4,200 meters!!! Phew! And at 06:30 it was cold, -8°C cold! Brr...

The landscape was impressive, plumes of hot gas and evaporating steam rising into the air after being spewed out from the copious holes scattered all around the crater we were standing in. The white gas illuminated by the murky dawn light gave an impression of standing on another planet, or even a Hollywood set! As the sun rose we were able to make out multi-coloured mineral formations on the ground. Everywhere you stepped and walked the ground the bubbled and boiled under your feet. The water exits the ground at some 85°C. Our driver made coffee and hot chocolate from a steaming pool next to the parked van.

I chatted to the Elaina, the German girl, for a bit. She felt queasy and unwell due to the altitude. I've always found girls with German accents very sexy. I put it down to watching too much foreign porn when I was younger! "Ooo, yah!" I consider getting a job in Germany on my return.

Next up was a hot mineral bath in a mud pool - good job I brought my swimming shorts! The water was warm, not hot as you might expect. But as you moved around you would find trapped bubbles of scalding air and jets of super heated water. It felt like you kept sitting under the hot water tap in a bath! Getting out of the pool was difficult, the air temp was still below freezing and the mild breeze didn't help either! Brr...

Having seen enough natural foaming mountains of scalding water we moved on and stopped at a small village called Machuca, population 30! After a quick wander around, the cafe opened with a stack of BBQ Llama kebabs, only ½1 each! Mmm...

Moving on it was another 2 hours along the dusty and bumpy dirt track back to San Pedro. The dust was so much that Sean & Monika spent most of the journey breathing through their T-Shirts, using it as a filter. I didn't bother as I figured us Welsh, bred from good mining stock, are used to harsh conditions and made from sterner stuff.

To save money in the evening I was going to buy some eggs & bananas and eat at the hostel but I ended up scranning a cheese, ham & tomato omelet for £2.50 instead!

In the morning we all booked a 3 day tour to take us out of Chile and into Bolivia and I farted about on the Internet until 15:00 when we got picked up for the Moon Valley Sunset Tour. We have the same van and the same goofy driver again. But first we visit Valle de la Muerte (Death Valley). Cool! The driver drops us off and we walk down from the view point to the bottom. Only we had to wait for a bus load of geriatrics to clear off before we could take some un-spoilt photos. Most of the path was soft sand, necessitating bare foot walking - nice!

After being picked up at the bottom we get driven into the Valle de al Luna National Park (another 2,000 pesos entrance fee). They have this fantastic luxury looking toilet with a clean tiled floor and the urinal and the toilet bolted onto the wall of the mud hut. It looks so posh, clean and sanitary but yet so rustic at the same time!

We stop off to view The Three Maries, an un-interesting rock formation from a million years ago.

At the Valle de la Luna itself we're told that the best sunset views are from the top of a cliff, necessitating a ridge walk along this mighty sand dune. Sean sprints off in an effort not to miss sundown leaving Monika and I walking up with a retarded Brazilian guy. (Or maybe just all Brazilians sound retarded?) After we ditch him, it was barefoot time up the sand dune. We perched ourselves on the top of the cliff with Sean up and watched the sun set. It was good. And so was the sprint back down the sand dune afterwards!

In town we all went out for dinner at Todos Natural for Sean & Monika had heard they do good veggie food. I was just pleased we caught them at happy hour so I could order myself 2 Picso Sours for the price of 1 (= 1,000 pesos each) and a beer! The food was great and came out with amazing presentation. My chicken & noodles looked like a giant alien insect eating a rotting brain. So cool! The other meals followed suit and my pancake dessert with ice-cream & chocolate sauce was also amazingly yummy!

Sean & Monika went home, I did some Internet and on the way back I bumped into the 3 students I'd met in Ushuaia. They had just arrived, I'm leaving tomorrow. We only have a quick chat in the street, they're tired and wish to go to bed. Bloody typical, I was quite up for another beer myself! We swap email addresses in case we're able to meet up at later date.

Had a bit of trouble checking out of Hotel Elim as the woman wanted exact change which I didn't have. Luckily her hubby turned up with breakfast bread and change before we had to leave for our bus. We walked our bags into town and claimed seats on the large mini-bus, as did a few others including a thin German woman. She paced on the bus, paced off the bus, paced on the bus and all the while audibly swearing and muttering to herself in English. "Fucking Irish, I hate the fuckers. Better not be any fucking English speakers here. Shit, they're always too fucking loud." She sit restlessly at the back and to no-one in particular, "Shut up! Just fucking shut up before I stick my fucking foot in your mouth!" She's crazy, we ignore her. The bus fills up and we move off. A no-nonsense Swede sits next to her, "Where are you from?" he asks. "Fuck you!" "Well, fuck you too!" At the Chilean immigration we all line up to get our exit stamp. All except the crazy woman who paces up, down and around the buildings muttering to herself. We observe a wanted poster for Juan Pablo! That's like the Latin American equivalent of John Smith!

It's a 20 minute off road ride to the a mud hit, sorry, Bolivian immigration. It's 1,500 Chilean pesos to get in - I use up my loose change, hurrah! Another 10 minutes and we're at the White Lagoon. Here we split up into groups of 5 or 6 as for the next few days we're in beat up Toyota Land Cruisers. Sean quickly grabs Kumi (a small Japanese girl) and Ana (a British Indian) so we don't get lumbered with the crazy woman. We are joined by Isabelle, a French woman. We're happy to have her aboard, she speaks fluent Spanish!

We cruise into the dessert and stop at the toxic copper Green Lagoon, through the Valley of Salvidor Dali and arrive at some mud geysers. They were brilliant, nay, fantastic! Steaming holes of bubbling mud. Air escaping out of one pit sounded like a jet engined aeroplane standing at an airport, it was so loud it left a ringing in your ear. The smokey vapour wreaked of a sulphur eggy smell. But it was so cool watching large lumps of technicoloured steaming mud bubble and spit. Only the video clips can even attempt to do it justice. Back on the jeep for more Bolivian Pan Pipe music courtesy of out driver - Arriba, arriba!

We stop at some hot springs for a soak, it was truly bath temperature. The crazy woman makes us all ill by proving she doesn't believe in shaving her legs. Urgh! Lunch followed but I didn't eat much because I felt queasy from too much sin (um, I mean sun), the hot soak and the altitude. I drank lots of Coke instead.

We stop at a small lodge overlooking the Red Lagoon for 16:30, we're to stay the night. 6 beds / 1 jeep per room. The beds were wooden slats with cardboard as the mattress / support. Soft they were not! We took a walk part ways around the mammoth Red Lagoon (containing the same pigment as carrots) to stalk some flamingos (a pun!), carefully avoiding the crazy woman. Veg soup, spaghetti with tomato & onion salsa for dinner. It's bed and lights out for 20:30. Everyone is fully clothed in sleeping bags under thick blankets. We expect it to get cold, some -8°C cold.

We pile into the jeep, tall Sean riding shotgun again as it has the most leg room. As we leave the lodge we're pulled over. We have a flat tyre. "Right, everyone off the Jeep!" The driver changes the wheel and we're off. Before long the jeep begins to make funny noises and the suspension seems to bottom out a lot. We stop and look, the rear right suspension is not just broken but it's sheared right off the axle! "Right, everyone off the Jeep!" Not to worry, the driver ties it back on with a big elastic band! (A bit of bungy cord previously used to tie our luggage to the roof.)

The first sight of the day is The Stone Tree, a wee rock formation that looks nothing like a tree, not even if you squint! But there were other large rocky mounds that gave us lads a chance to try out our hand at rock climbing and show the girls what they're missing out on!

We stop at a couple of viewpoints, lagoons and volcanoes before stopping at a tiny village for lunch. I talk to the crazy woman much to the amusement of others. Her sentences change topic midway through and don't make sense. Either she should be on medication or she's stopped taking it. She's crazy.

Another hours ride and we find the road blocked. It's blocked by a large pickup truck parked across the dirt track (between the hillside and a river) and some 20 men and women sat around it, staring into space. They were demanding money as a contribution for repairing the road. I look around, they have 3 shovels between them and are just sat there twiddling their thumbs. It is nothing short of daylight robbery. We're not playing. The female leader scoffs when we tell her we have no money. She isn't amused either when Sean asks if they take Visa Credit Card! The "workers" look menacing and they don't intend to budge so we turn around. Luckily there's another road through the valley so we quickly burn off before they have a chance to block that one too!

Further on, the middle of a desert plane, we slow for a "Stop" sign. Eh!? It looks very surreal, stood there in the middle of nothing. But it turns out to be a train track crossing.

We arrive at our Refugio just before dark, later than expected due to bonitos and jeep repairs. The place looks relatively new, tiled, clean and even boasts hot showers! Most of us take a shower and a quick walk around the village before dinner. It didn't take long, the village only consists of some 3 streets! The jeep had a small chat before lights out at 23:00. I pass out cold as usual and despite my bed being located next to the bathroom I don't hear any of the 18 night trips and slamming doors.

Not only do I leave the Refugio in the morning but I also leave my pack towel and pyjama bottoms. Doh! We drive out onto Salar de Atamama, the largest Salt Flat in the World! We motor at speed straight out onto it, this vast expanse of salt is flatter than Kate Moss's chest! Flat, white nothingness for as far as the eye can see. The venue of choice for land speed records! With such a perfect white background our driver introduces us to some crazy people perspective photos. So guess what we did for the next half hour!?

We speed on, apparently directionless towards a black dot on the white horizon. As we approach the black dot grows and manifests itself into Cactus Island. I bet you can't guess why? We pay something like 60p as an entrance fee and follow a trail around the island. From up high, on top you still can't see where the salt flat ends - it truly is huge!

We speed on across the faceless flat to the Salt Hotel. A small building built entirely from bricks of salt, even the tables, chairs and beds. As nice as it is Sean and I head outside instead to take more cool perspective photos.

A bit further on we observe mounds and mounds of salt being piled up by workers. This salt gets purified and ends up on your dining table!

We arrive at Uyuni and are given our first taste of a real Bolivian town. It's a dusty, desolate border town and is full of market stalls. Most (if not all) the women wear the traditional dresses and pinnies with long platted hair and a bowler hat (as stipulated by Spanish decree a few hundred years ago). We check into a hotel for the night, 70 Bs each (£5) for an en suite triple room. I change all my Chilean pesos into Bolivars and find an open cafe for dinner. I have me a beer, Llama Steak & chips. It was beautiful! We buy a bus ticket to Potosi for tomorrow morning, a 6 hour drive for 30 Bs (£2).

I receive some "interesting" news from home in an email which substantially wierds me out. I feel a need for lots of beer. As our jeep is still together we head out to Los Loco, a French bar! I loose a game of "Round the World" darts to Sean. I put it down to me drinking more than him. Then an American guy comes over and says "hello!" He knows me and I rack my brains to remember him... It's Blake, a geezer I met on my very first night in South America in the hotel in Caracas. We can't chat for too long as he has female company. He only has a couple more weeks to go before he flies home. Everyone leaves until it's only Ana and I left. We drink beer until the bar closes. We were hoping to find another late night bar for a couple more but it was not to be. Bed for 01:00.

A small panic at breakfast, the crazy German woman claimed she was on the same 09:30 bus as Sean, Monika and I. But phew, she then also said she was on the another bus at 10:00 going somewhere else. She's crazy.

Our bus was more of a mini-bus, painted in primary school colours and Spanish for "Super Luxury" painted all over it. The signs lied, it wasn't super luxurious in the slightest, nor was the 6 hour ride. The bus quickly filled up. An old grandma with baby sat adjacent to Sean, or so we thought she was until she flopped her jugs out and started breast feeding. Other old women sat in the isles atop of huge bags of vegetables and meat. Others decided to air their large pots of llama milk. A couple of French Canadian Girls in front helped ease the pressure of overcrowding by sitting various kids on their laps. A combination of heat, bus movement and strange smells meant the babies and kids started puking and throwing up - adding to the wonderful sweaty bus fragrance. A 7 year old girl sat next to me. For lunch she bought some bread which went into a plastic bag. She ate the bread out of the plastic bag. She threw up the bread back into the plastic bag. The circle was complete. She then fell asleep on my shoulder, plastic bag of puke tightly gripped in hand. We were happy to finally roll into Potosi even though it's at an altitude of 3,800m.

Rather than sticking to Sean's Footprint guide book we were talked into staying at Hotel San Pedro for 30 Bs pppn (£2) by a geezer at the bus stop, it seemed a pretty central place. He flagged us down a taxi and told us and the driver that the hotel was to pay the fare (free transportation) and off we went. Potosi has a lot of narrow, one-way streets, is on the side of a dock off steep hill and we were driving up to the other side of town. We were grateful for the taxi. Note that no-one drives downhill, all drivers actively switch off their engines and coast downhill instead. Even if it's only for a few seconds. Sean and I convinced ourselves that it's a useless practice for short coasts, for surly they'd use more fuel firing up the engine than what they'd save coasting?

We arrive at the hotel, the receptionist doesn't want to pay for the taxi, he doesn't know what we're talking about. Luckily the taxi driver does so we let them both battle it out. The taxi driver wins. Wandering around town we book ourselves a tour of the mines for tomorrow (with the reputable Koala Tours) and eat at an Italian. They didn't have my first choice (Llama), they didn't have my 2nd choice (Cheeseburger) thankfully they had my 3rd choice (Hawaiian pizza). We find this happens a lot in South America. The pizza wasn't great, by contrast Sean & Monika's pasta was!

Returning to my tiny room I find it cold and the bathroom smells of sewage. Hmm.

I wake up and shave. No ordinary shave though, I follow Sean's suggestion and go Red Neck! Today I'm gonna be handling Dynamite and I wanna look the part. At the start of the tour we're driven to some one's back yard and given wellies, safety helmet, head torch & battery pack and jacket & trousers and then driven to the Miners Market. Here our group of 7 were led to a stall and out guide gives us a quick history lesson of the mines, including descriptions of Blasting and handling real sticks of dynamite!

Mining conditions are harsh and still very labour intensive. They work for themselves in small groups (usually 2 - 7 people), up to 1½ km deep in the mountain with no electricity and no machines. They use pick axes and hand cranked drills to bore blasting holes for the, now very ineffective compared to modern explosives, dynamite sticks. The fuses and detonators are still the archaic burning black powder type and if they don't hear a stick go off they have to wait 24 hours before checking on it. All, except a few larger syndicates, carry all the rocks, ore and minerals to the surface by hand in 35 Kg ruck sacks. Some of the upper levels have rail tracks and carts but again they're manual and the miners have to push and drag the full wagons by hand. Bear in mind that despite being in the mountain, they're still at some altitude of 4,000m, there is no artificial ventilation to pump air & oxygen in, the dusty atmosphere is full of arsenic and asbestos and the only light they have is provided by the torch on their helmet. These electric head torches only came into effect a few years ago. And we get to experience it all. Oh yeah!

Women aren't allowed to work the mines, it's bad luck. (Just think, "women + sharp object = disaster" therefore "women + explosives = major catastrophe!") Miners are real men. They work all day with nothing but Coca leaves, fizzy pop and cigarettes to stimulate and sustain them throughout the day. Then on Friday night they get blotto'ed on Ceibo, a 96% volume alcoholic drink and chase the Chicas. I feel compelled to buy them some pressies. From the stall I buy them a Completo (1 stick of dynamite, a 4 minute fuse, detonator and a bag of ammonium nitrate for that extra kick!), ½ litre of Ceibo, 2 litres of fizzy pop, 2 bags of Coca leaves, ½ litre of some 45% grape spirit, a couple of chocolate bars and 2 Completos for myself - all for under £5. I love this country!

Before we hit the mines we first visit the processing plant. This is where the rock and ore gets crushed, separated and tested for purity by various large and very exposed heavy machinery. We're also told now is the time to try the Coca leaves to help with the altitude. Needing no further invitation I pummel a fistful of leaves into my mouth and start chewing. It gives a strong yet pleasant tea flavour and quickly makes my cheek and tongue go numb. The rest of the group are slow at taking up the initiative. The guide explains you're not supposed to chew it like chewing gum because you ingest it too quickly, giving you diarrhoea. I instantly stop chewing. Instead you pick the leaves off the stems and stash them in your cheek, much like a hamster, mixing it with saliva and letting the juices slowly seep into your blood stream. So I did that and lost the flavour and the feeling returned to my tongue and cheek. Feeling no other stimulus I wondered what the point was but kept the stash in my gob regardless - it added to the Red Neck Hill Billy look. Yeah!

Head torches on we enter the mine. The tunnels are no larger than need be and barely fit a small standing Bolivian miner. They are only reinforced where cave-ins had started - you had to duck under these sections. Underground we enter a mini-miners museum. Here they have effigies of El Tio, the devil spirit of the mines. Each morning the miners adorn him with Coca leaves, cigarettes and booze in the hope of receiving a good stash of minerals in return. We also learn of more mining hardships, e.g. in only 1942 thousands of women and children were shot and massacred in 5 hours by the Bolivian Army as they marched to ask for a pay rise for the miners.

During this break I take the opportunity to shovel more Coca leaves in my mouth. Even at this early stage we loose 2 of our group of 7 who couldn't hack the claustrophobia. Monika wanted to leave too but Sean dragged her deeper into the mountain. Here we had to crawl on hands and knees and slide down wooden shoots to progress further. The altitude and chemically contaminated atmospheric dust proved to be a real challenge. In these upper levels we came across many miners, both digging, pulling wagons and resting. They all seemed happy, or at least content, with their lot.

To give a real experience of what it's like to mine we were asked to help out and shovel a wagon load of rubble into buckets, but quickly before the next wagon load turned up. In the thin air and dusty heat we were soon sweating and heavily out of breath. It was but one wagon load - miners do it repetitively for 10 hours a day. Their stamina is impressive.

We clamoured down to level 3, there are 8. That was hard and deep enough for the group, all except Sean and I. After a "little" persuasion the group split and Sean and I were taken deeper, down to level 4. This involved slithering down a vertical hole in a side passage no bigger than a human, with no ladder, just using pressure from arms and legs to keep yourself from falling. We loved it! We then raced, crawled and climbed back to catch up with the rest of the group. There were no rests nor breaks until we did and our lungs were bursting, craving oxygen. We were breathing deep as if we'd almost drowned.

For some the sight of daylight at the end of the tunnel was a welcome vision. For others the sad end to a fantastic experience. But not sad for long for I had 2 Completos to blow up! Our guide showed me how; unwrap the stick and roll the explosive dynamite into a ball, stick the detonator & fuse in, compress the paper wrapper back around it and tie it tightly in the plastic bag of ammonium nitrate. I lit the 4 minute fuse, it began to burn. The guides and miners seemed unbothered as if there was all the time in the world, so I pose for photographs with an ignited explosive by my nuts, watching the fuse slowly melt away. With only 2 minutes to detonation I begin to get nervous, no-one had taken an interest in my death device. Then a miner grabs the dynamite and he and his mate, also with fists of burning explosives, peg down the hill. They drop the dynamite and run back up the hill as fast as their little legs could carry them, as if their lives depended on it. Which it did.

Us tourists hang back, cameras in hand, waiting in anticipation. We were not disappointed. Bang! Boom! We felt the shock waves of the explosions, saw plumes of dust and smoke erupt into the air and our ears rang with the deafening roar. Awesome and very satisfying!

Later we ate at the Koala Cafe, upstairs and next to Koala Tours for a cheap meal of juicy chicken and delicious mashed potato. I return to my cold and smelly room. It's been an excellent but hard day.

We walk all the way downhill to the other side of town to the bus station and buy a ticket to Oruro for tomorrow morning. A wee walk back up the hill to a market and we jump on a mini-bus to XXX Lagoon. There's a small queue of buses that only leave when they're full, and that doesn't mean just when the seats are taken either!

We pass a hand made road sign for XXX and ask if we should get off. "No, mas directo aci!" they shout and point further down the road. We get off where instructed, next to a barely visible sheep trail on the side of a rocky hill. The guide book says a 45 minute walk. In 5 we were approaching the small heated lagoon. Parked next to it was a large motor home with an old German couple who for the past 3 years (excluding a couple of "holidays" back to the Mother land) had been slowly working their way down the continents from Alaska!

We were asked to pay 5 Bs (33p) to swim the naturally heated lagoon by an old man floating around and told not to venture more than 3 meters from the edge. The lagoon was a nice warm bath temperature with a soft muddy bottom (if you could reach that far!). Sean and I swam most of the way round until we decided that there weren't any monsters lurking in the middle of the lagoon but rather most local Bolivians (being in a land locked country) couldn't swim. Hence the 3 meter warning.

Afterwards we scooted back down the rocky hill just in time to flag down a return bus, with the same driver no less! More breast feeding antics in an overpopulated confined area and we're back in Potosi for 4 Bs. Dinner was back at the Koala Cafe for more Chicken and Mash.

We leave the hotel to catch a taxi at 06:30 to take us to the Bus Station. The taxi was originally a right hand drive but had been modified - the steering column & pedals had been ripped out and stuck on the left hand side. The passenger seat (where I was sat) still had the working dashboard and the drivers seat (well, ex-passengers) still had the glove compartment. This seemed perfectly legal, even though the driver couldn't actually see the working dash!

We find and board our bus. The usual sales man stands at the front and begins to address us in Spanish. Nothing new here, people do this all the time, selling sweets, drinks, pastries, books and bread. The verbal spiels don't usually last longer than 2 minutes but this guy... He's a crack pot medicine man selling a potent potion in the form of a tea to cure all known digestive problems. Half an hour later he's still preaching. All I want it a little peace and quiet so I may doze away the morning hours. But no. I almost pay him just to shut up!

We roll into Oruro just after lunch and check into a yellow hotel just over the road as recommended by Sean's Footprint guide. The staff were rude and unhelpful. We walk 10 blocks to the town centre. Oruro is an ugly, oppressive market town which long lost the importance of it's mining background.

Sean and Monika take me to a Veggie restaurant for lunch - it's to be my big Veggie experience, a 3 course meal for 50p! The starting soup was nice but the main was merely a plate of tasteless slop. Over boiled plain rice, black soggy veggie mush and nasty soya lumps. Dessert was a tiny glass of ice-cream. Now you can't go wrong with ice-cream can you? Wrong. It was artificial plastic ice-cream wanna be, with some nasty chemical flavour. Not even Sean or Monika liked it! I decide to stick to my Meat.

Come evening Sean & Monika head off to a Hari Krishna Veggie restaurant. I stay at a fake Hard Rock Cafe knock-off, they serve Llama Steaks!!! The place looks cool with sections of an old red Chevy stuck to the wall. Part way through dinner I chew on half the green pepper garnish. My mouth beings to burn, badly. I swallow some. My throat begins to burn, badly. I begin to sweat. My eyes stare into space as they begin to water. I drink some beer - the heat intensifies. I chow down some rice - the heat is unbearable. Nothing helps quell the raging spicy pain. All I can do is sit and wait it out. Wow, is that some spicy chili! I eat some more over the course of the meal but leave some for Sean's arrival.

I fear I've turned into a spice pussy and need a control experiment. When Sean and Monika turn up I ask Sean if he likes spicy food (knowing he does) and hand him the innocent looking green pepper. "Is it spicy?" he asks. "Yeah, a little," I reply as he stuffs half in his mouth and starts chomping away. His motions slow and he stares into space. He utters a single word to Monika, "Water." "It won't help!" I grin excitedly. I watch as Sean goes through the same stages of pain as I did earlier. I'm happy. I not a spice pussy. That evil green thing is hot! Luckily Sean is more impressed with the heat of the chili than he is upset with me! We enquire with the waiter as to what the green spice is. "We call it, 'Lo Coto Pepper'!" he replies with a grin.

A lazy morning, we all wander the 10 blocks into town for breakfast at the Hari Krishna place. They do massive bowls of fruit, muesli, yogurt and honey. We buy a bus ticket to La Paz, a 4 hour journey for 15 Bs (£1) but when we return with our bags we're given our money back and the tickets taken off us. "Blockades," we're simply told. We believe it.

Only one other company was still selling tickets to La Paz, but for an over inflated price of 23 Bs (£1.50) to run the blockades. Not wanting to hang around any longer in this ugly town we take it. Half an hour and a couple of sales people later we experience our first blockade, some 25 people sat across the road. It didn't look terribly impressive but it served it's purpose. We use a dirt track that followed the road to navigate around.

Another hour and we encounter our second blockade. The same amount of people, plus support vehicles and they'd also peppered the road with thousands of giant rocks and boulders rendering it unusable. We followed a lorry and another coach off road for they seemed to know where they were going through the secluded desert. Getting back on the road proved tricky for it was on a lip / rise. If we were to attack it straight on we would ground the coach. So instead we join it like a slip road under the watchful eye of many onlookers and seriously risked rolling the bus. Luckily we were okay and continued onto La Paz.

We arrived on the outskirts of La Paz at an altitude of 4,100m which gave spectacular panoramic views of the city centre sprawl below. A taxi from the Bus Station to La Solerio Hostel in the centre of town cost 10 Bs (66p). Sean and Monika got a double room together and I moved into a 4 bed dorm for 25 Bs per night (£1.65).

We strolled around the busy narrow market streets in the evening, noting that amongst the colourful handicraft stalls were stalls selling lotions, potions and unborn Llama foetuses. Apparently if you bury one under the floorboards of your new house it brings you good luck! Just walking around the hilly cobbled streets is hard work for it's too easy to forget you're at 3,700m!

For dinner we found, and fell in love with, the Angelo Colonial Cafe with main meals for 30 Bs (£2). The interior decor is littered with old pistols, cameras & paintings and come dark it is lit solely by candle light. Beautiful.

It was back to the Colonial Cafe for breakfast (mixed fruit, real coffee, bread & honey, just squeezed orange juice, bacon & scrambled eggs) for 17 Bs (£1.20) - yummy! Today's plan was to walk around town - the first stop, the cathedral. I hang around whilst Sean & Monika fath about with camera bags or something and, "Hola, do you have some time to speak to us?" I'm approached by 2 girls. Fearing a scam 'cos given my Red Neck look I look like a tourist if there ever was one, my pockets suddenly become hyper sensitive - but they seem harmless enough. They're studying English at the local Uni and want to practice their skills. I call Sean over for I figure if they're using me for English we should use them for local knowledge. A fair exchange, no? Plus Sean is a talkaholic and likes to goof around in front of girls!

We chat and they take us to the main Post Office and to a bakers where we want to purchase a sweet pie. It was a toss up between a Lemon Meringue Pie and an Apple Pie. The Apple Pie won on sheer weight to money value. It weighed in at some 3 Kgs! For Sean, Monika and I it meant a kilo of Apple Pie for only £1 each! That's 45 Bs for a whole Apple Pie. The bakers didn't want to sell it to us in fear of us underestimating the cost.

"You know it's 45 Bs?"
"Cool, we'll take it."
"But it's 45 Bs!"
"Yes, we know. 45 Bs it's ours!"
"That's 45 Bs, are you sure?"
"Yes, 45 Bs for the pie." They consult another member of staff who says,
"It *is* 45 Bs!"
"We want the bleedin' pie for 45 Bs!"
"But..."
"Here's a 100 note! Now hand over the damn pie!"

They take the note, finally! Sean and I guard the pie with our life.

The girls take an interest in our English / Spanish phrase books and photo copy them. We then take them out for a drink at Oliver's Travels, a 100% fake English pub! Sadly come 16:00 Jenny and Lucero had to bus home.

Sean and Monika want an early night. It's Friday night in La Paz, I want out! So I change and hop back to Oliver's Travels hoping for some lively action. It's 11:30, dead and serving last orders. Sigh.

Sat at the bar is a much older woman. I can't lie, she's fat, unattractive and no amount of alcohol would change my mind. She also starts talking to me. I politely talk back and convince myself that, as I lacked any better ideas, I should join her for a drink over the road at the Sol y Lunar Bar. She's Bolivian, a landowner, speaks good English (when she remembers) and if the Penguin from Batman II had a spouse, she would be the spitting image of "Elba"! 2 pints later and it's time to go, only she wants walking back to her hotel. Being British, how can I not oversee her safety? So I do, and all the while I'm wondering how much I should charge should she wish for "Extra Services"! Luckily the walk uphill practically does her in and I escape with a hand shake and a paltry kiss on the cheek. I race home to bed for 02:00.

We feel the need to do something constructive today so after an Apple Pie breakfast we head out to Madidi Travel to book a Jungle trip. There we meet and have a good chat with Rosa Maria Ruiz, the well spoken founder who helped set up and get recognition for the a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madidi_National_Park"Madidi National Park/a. Booking was a long and timely process, mainly due to the useless, nay brainless, fat girl behind the desk who had to make lots of phone calls to answer every little question:

"Can we fly out in the morning?"
(She makes a phone call) Bring... Bring...
"Yeah, there's a flight in the morning."

"At what time?"
(She makes a phone call) Bring... Bring...
"06:50."

"Are there 3 seats available?"
(She makes a phone call) Bring... Bring...
"No, it's full."

"Is there another flight?"
(She makes a phone call) Bring... Bring...
"Yeah."

"What time is it?"
(She makes a phone call) Bring... Bring...
...etc and so on...

And then she couldn't work out how to use the Credit Card swipey machine. After making 5 dud impressions of all our cards we stepped in and showed her how. Grrrr...

Despite the forecast being rain for the next few days, today is a beautiful sunny day (unlike rainy yesterday) so we decide to chance the weather and The Death Road tomorrow. We choose B-Side Adventures for Sean (being a Mountain Biker enthusiast) is really impressed with their Overbuilt Iron Horse bikes - full front & rear suspension with 7" of travel, front and back 8" disk brakes, etc... For some reason booking this and filling in the paper work also took a long time.

The afternoon is spent looking for camping shops. I want to replace my pack towel and Sean's after a pair of zip-off trousers. There are none - just a couple of specialist climbing shops. I also look for a Cambio to change a Traveller's Cheque. It's Saturday, they're all closed.

Around the hostel are around 12 hairdressers / barbers all back to back. Whenever I walk past with my long unkempt shaggy hair and a bushy beard they'd all go crazy and start waving and shouting at me! On the way back I sucome, pick one and get a cut throat shave and a haircut for 20 Bs (£1.20). I asked for an inch to be cut off but get scalped instead! I've not had short back'n'sides for almost a decade! Sean & Monika are amazed at my transformation and reckon I look 5 years younger and my pulling power has increased 10 fold! I'm not convinced but think I may keep the look for Timbo'n'Corrine's Wedding in July anyway.

Sean, Monika and I have dinner at the Sol y Lunar Bar where I was last night. The food was very nice. Then I go out on my todd again to try and find some lively bars - it is Saturday night after all! In particular I'm after an ex-pat place called Mondos. I don't find it but I do find Boom-E-Rang, a bar with a live Bossanova band and lots of couples grooving to it. I drink at the bar watching the talented dance floor divas.

Later I discover Theolinus Jazz Club which initially looked quite full until everyone emigrated to the stage to form a 16 strong band! The first song sounded a little sloppy but the rest (once they'd warmed up) were fantastic! The conductor was a half cast stereotypical jazz enthusiast complete with flat cap! The band enjoyed themselves and it was well worth the 20 Bs cover charge. I note a couple from the Boomerang walk in, the guy takes to the stage and takes over the drums. The next song he has a go on the piano! Clearly a well loved, talented lad. The bar waitress looked as though she worked in an American diner complete with long blonde curly hair. I realised I thought she looked cute when I couldn't s