Mogsie's Wanderings

Caledonia's Calling . . .

mogsie08-09 — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 01:30:00 GMT

From Victoria I caught a bus up to Swartz Bay and took the ferry across to Salt Spring Island to visit Claire, who I'd first met with her friend Joy way back in Australia when we'd all shared many a laugh together while in Broome. I'd not managed to see Joy when I was in Melbourne but it was good to be able to catch up with Claire on her home turf. Salt Spring is a nice wee island and on a Saturday there's a great market in the town of Ganges which we went down to. Picking up another friend, Andrew, on the way it was just about 15 minutes drive from the house (a wooden place nestled amongst the trees and with great views out over the sea and some of the other neighbouring gulf islands, and with deer regularly visiting it was, for me, an idyllic setting) into town. We arrived just as the market was opening and stalls were being set up around the park. We sat on a bench overlooking the grassy square and enjoyed a lovely locally roasted cup of coffee and big sticky cinnamon bun - the perfect breakfast! I then enjoyed wandering the market and round the little town. The market was quite busy even early as it was and there was a good mix of produce and crafts. All stallholders must live on the island and all goods sold must be produced on it too, which I think are excellent conditions to impose. I enjoyed several samples of local cheeses, mustards and jams aswell as some baking, and admired some of the handicrafts on offer. There must be many talented people on the island and its great that there is an outlet such as the weekly market to sell their wares. It certainly seems to have a good reputation and people regularly travel from both Vancouver Island and even the mainland to visit. From the market I drank in the tranquil view out over the bay where there were a few little yachts and dinghies moored before continuing my exploration of the town. It has attractive shops, wide streets and plenty of open space. There seemed to be a good mix of cafes bakeries, grocery stores, galleries, book and gift shops and all the people I met were friendly whether it was shop workers, stallholders or just other people in the street. Its certainly an easy place to like.

Meeting up with Claire again she took me for a spin round the north of the island. It really appealed to me. There is lots of forestation, little market farms, sheltered bays and greenery and it was quiet, homely and familiar feeling. Back at the house I admired the Arbutus trees we'd seen earlier and which surround her property. The only native boadleaf evergreen in British Columbia, the tree has a red flaky bark which peels to leave a fantastic smooth copper like trunk which glistens in the sunlight. This in turn then peels to leave a smooth silky soft pale green trunk which will turn red again after the rains. There are also delicate yellow flowers making it a continuously attractive tree, and not unlike some of the Australian eucalyptus trees in many ways. Later, out meandering along a creekside trail amongst the super trees and hilly banks, the sunlight picked out the numerous shades of green while the creek burbled and the birds sang overhead and I made my way down to Beddis Beach to enjoy the scenery some more. Neighbouring ex-pat Scots, Rosalind and Fraser, came for dinner and we had some fantastic succulent and meaty crabs which we'd got from one of the boats at the dock earlier in the day. Our evening of chat, teasing, laughs and story telling was rounded off with ice-cream, Rosalind's homemade cookies, local rhubarb and some excellent home produced Maple syrup from Claire's family's farm in Ontario. I can savour the flavours yet!

Up early next morning for an overnight jaunt to the west of Vancouver Island, we had only reached the bottom of the hill when we found a large box sitting in the middle of the road. Going to tidy it away we discovered 9 unopened cans of beer in it so they were duly rescued and put in the boot for later! It was to prove the first of a succession of free food and drink we were to obtain over the weekend. On our way again we caught the ferry from Vesuvius to Crofton. I was interested to see that the little ro-ro has no bow or stern doors, just some orange hi-viz mesh tape to pull across the deck entrances. I doubted Calmac would get away with that! Anyway, safely across to Crofton which is adorned with lots of murals depicting life in the area over the years, making a good social history lesson, we carried on taking the highway past Nanaimo towards the west. We paused at Cathedral Grove which is a reserve of giant tall and straight Douglas Firs, Western Hemlock, Cedars and a whole variety of ground level plants. A whole range of shades of green, there were also many windblown trees left to act as host nurseries for saplings and other plants, living stumps, huge root balls, and on some the cut-outs on the tree stumps where lumberjacks had wedged their platforms above the hardened area where roots join into the main trunk were clearly evident. It was a great place to stretch the legs. Then, with the road becoming more twisting and undulating as we crossed the island we finally reached the western coast and stopped at Long Beach. Living up to its name it stretches the 40km or so from Tofino to Ucluelet. A mess of huge bleached trunks and logs are washed into a mass by the tides and winds and create a barrier between beach and forrest. The water crashed gentlyish onto the sandy foreshore and dozens of crabshells and strings of seaweed and kelp littered the beach. Needless to say I had great fun reverting to childhood and jumping on the weed's air sacks and scuffling about on the huge planks and logs. The sun was out and the air was soft making for a great walk along the coast - though most certainly not the whole way! On reaching Tofino (by car!) we'd a stroll round the town and admired the lovely views over the bay to the hills before checking into the hostel. A rummage through the free food bin there produced a couple of tatties some carrots and lettuce, so after baking the tatties and making up a good salad with our lunchtime leftovers and the other ingredients we went back to the beach and had a great picnic tea washed down with our free beer from the morning - no bad at all for nothing!

Raking the free food box again in the morning we got enough bread for our toast before going to visit the plush Wikaninish Inn just out of town. Its a high class hotel nestled into the woods directly overlooking Long beach so has some fantastic views over the ocean and, although the building itself is a dull grey weatherboard type construction, the interior is amazingly tastefully decorated with magnificent wood carvings, solid wood doors, marble tables,figurines and the like all paying homage to local wildlife and first nations people. Its a work of art in itself and thankfully the staff are quite happy to accommodate backpackers just in for a nosey! We even managed to cadge a free cup of coffee there to add to our ever growing tally of free food and drink. Moving on again we had a quick jaunt down to the pretty but functional little town of Ucluelet before starting to make our way back to Salt Spring. En route we called in to visit friends only to find Dorcy having just finished hot-smoking a salmon and Joan having baked a rhubarb pie so we enjoyed more free food! By the time we got back to the island at night (after a visit to the butcher's and some tasting samples) we reckoned we must definitely qualify as acomplished Freegans (and, no, Freegan is not just a modern PC name for greedy beggars, just those who appreciate good food which may otherwise go to waste!) and were certainly not hungry in the slightest!!

Leaving Salt Spring Island I travelled back down to Victoria for a short visit and enjoyed meeting up with Isobel and Allan Oliver again. We had a nice time blethering in the evening, and once again I was captivated by the lovely view across the bay to the distant Olympus Mountains from their front windows. I had a stroll round the town the next day before I had to catch the ferry across to Vancouver.

I was staying with Janet's brother Hugh and he was a great tour guide for my short stay. His knowledge of plants, birds and wildlife was a real bonus on our wanders round the wonderful Stanley Park. We took the seawall path which provided attractive views across the harbour and bays as the morning haar lifted but the smell drifting across from the bright yellow piles of sulphur was less appealing. We took a small detour up a creekside path and the sunlight coming through the trees was beautiful. There were lots of berry bushes and we managed to pick some salmon berries to taste. They looked like a cross between pale raspberries and brambles but the taste was a bit blander than that. Further on on our walk we visited the rhododendron garden and although most were just past their best there was one particularly spectacular bush with bright red flowers. After a pause at one of the beaches we took a little boat across to Granville Island. It has a great produce and crafts market and lots of little speciality shops so made for a very pleasant afternoon of browsing and admiring. An evening visit up Burrard mountain to the campus of the Simon Fraser University allowed brilliant views out over the city and surroundings, nice landscaped grounds and some wooden sculptures presented by a Japanese sister city to Vancouver. The carved totem-like poles depicted gods and peoples of the Japanese indigenous culture and I was interested that the creatures of bears, whales, owls and eagles seem to come up time and time again as key features of indigenous culture all across the world whether that be fist nation Canadians, Japanese, New Zealand Maoris, Russian buryats or many others. Just as in modern life and customs, there may be many differences on the surface but at the core there is a common thread running across the world. If only more people could appreciate the similarities between us all perhaps there'd be fewer tensions across the globe.

My last port of call before leaving Vancouver was at the small but interesting Museum of Anthropology. Alongside a collection of intricately carved totem poles were a number of amazing and huge feast dishes used at first nation potlaches. A potlach is a kind of fiesta and feast for social gatherings and celebrations where hundreds of people may arrive to visit, eat and buy items for sale: a kind of cross between a party and a boot sale I think! The potlach dishes were enormous and were carved and painted to resemble animals. Also of interest to me were bentwood boxes. Carved from one piece of timber, gouges would be channelled out to make seams. The red cedar wood was then steamed until it was plyable enough to be folded up and stitched closed with sinew. Once complete they could be used as sturdy containers for storing food, liquids or possesions. The craftsmanship involved was really impressive. There were also a couple of temporary exhibitions which I found slightly less interesting but overall I thouroughly enjoyed my visit and it was a great place to round off my visit to western Canada.

I may have been sorry to have to leave Vancouver so soon, but I was also excited to be heading to Winnipeg and the bus ride across the country passed quickly considering the distance between the two cities. It certainly didn't feel like thirty odd hours before we were crossing our last section of the praries and pulling into town. John was at the bus station to meet me and we were soon rolling up to Renfrew Street. It was funny seeing mum and dad again - to me it only seemed like 5 minutes since I'd waved goodbye but they seemed to think it was longer ago than that! Marj and Hank looked well too and it was brilliant for us all to be together again. In no time the blethers and catching up of everyone's news started and that kind of set the tone for the next few days. We had excellent weather, wonderful company, good food, nice sightseeing jaunts, and just an all round funtastic few days. Thanks Marj and Hank for your super hospitality and thanks John for your excellent tour guiding and chaufeur services. I'll look forward to a spin in the Model A next time I visit but hope to see you across here again before then!

Winnipeg is an attractive city and it was great to spend time there again. There are many nice monuments and statues but I particularly enjoyed seeing the collection of decorated polar bears which roam the city. Some were very cleverly designed and one with a cub poking out its bright jacket was a favourite for me. I was a nice link to, and reminder of, my last visit and John and I's trip up to Churchill to see the real McCoy.

Adding to my list of parliament and legislative buildings I've visited on my wanderings we visited the Manitoba Legislative Building too. Its the largest outside Ottawa and although its relatively modern it is an impressive piece of architecture with columns, grand staircase, polished marble, ornate domed ceiling, carvings on the sandy coloured stone and all topped off by a towering 17 foot high 'Golden Boy' casting a bright light over the place. My favourite visitor attraction though was definitely our visit to Lower Fort Garry. Constructed in the 1840's the fort was not a military post but a vital trading centre for the Hudson's Bay Company. Agricultural and industrial areas provided goods and supplies for the northern fur traders, receiving pelts and other goods in return. Today the limestone walls have, where necessary, been restored to provide and outer boundary to the complex of buildings within. Even before reaching the main fort buildings we passed an old York boat of the type used so frequently for transporting goods across the country. Also present were the farm managers house and guest cottage both decorated in the style of the times complete with furniture fittings and crockery. A teepee and smithy stood nearby and in all these places guides were dressed in authentic period costume and explained about their work, craft and lifestyle as if still in that era. An old general store and fur loft, retail store, warehouse, doctor's office, mens quarters and 'big' house completed the ensemble. It was fascinating to learn so much about the lifestyles of the company's employees and to be able to imagine the hive of activity the fort would have been. Back in the teepee it was interesting to learn that about 15 people could sleep in it yet it would be erected by just two women in around one hour: 3 poles (about 30 feet long) would be bound together on the ground then hoisted upright, 10 other poles were slowly spiked into the frame and bound in by the rope connected to the original tripod. Finally the last pole, to which the sailcloth was attached, was slotted in and the fabric unwrapped over the frame and tied with bone or sticks to seal the edge. The clever design meant the whole thing required the women to reach no higher than head height yet was stable, sturdy and warm. Trees have been known to fall on such a teepee without crushing it. The engineering and design awareness of previous generations with far less technology than in present day never fails to impress me.

Having enjoyed my visit to Lower Fort garry I was interested to compare it with Fort Gibraltar which was a reconstruction of a wooden North-West Trading Company fort dating from 1815. My visit to it was just as memorable. Although much smaller than Fort Garry there were guides in period costume and character here too, so once again the place came to life. We got into conversation with one guy who explained a great deal of the history of the fort, the North West company, the competition with the Hudson's Bay Company, the relationships between the native peoples and the settlers, the feuding between Lord Selkirk (an HBC bigwig) and Mackenzie (a NWTC man) and the merger of the two companies just a year after their deaths, aswell as associated stories and anecdotes regarding various TV series about the era. It really brought history to life for me and left me wanting to read far more about the period and the major players, so that's another thing now added to my 'must do' list!

Rounding off my visit to Winnipeg the six of us went out on my last evening for a meal at a buffet style restaurant. Surprising no-one, I'm sure, we all managed to make excellent use of the delicious eat as much as you can/want feast. The range of salads and soups for starters seemed never ending, then, for mains there were two types of spare ribs, roast pork, chilli, pasta and numerous vegetable and potato dishes alongside for you to visit as often as you wanted. If you still had space after all that there were several cup-cakes, cheese cake, gateaux, trifle, fresh fruits and ice-creams!! While we all managed extremely generous helpings and there was much leg-pulling about our repeated visits to the buffet, none of us had to stretch out on the bench seats clutching our stomach between visits like the woman at the table behind us did!! Definitley a case of her eyes being bigger than her belly!

With very mixed emotions I left Winnipeg: it's always exciting moving on to a new place, and going to Ottawa was no exception, but I'd been enjoying myself so much over the past year and I new that the capital would be the last stop on my wanderings (well, these ones anyway) before returning to Scotland. The bus journey there was uneventful and like so many others before it passed quicker than you might imagine. When I arrived I went to catch the city bus into the centre but promptly jumped on the bus going in the opposite direction to where I wanted to go! I think that was the first time I'd done that but just goes to prove you shouldn't get blase about arriving in new places! Fortunately the bus driver was on the ball and directed me round the corner to the bus stop I should have used and I was soon safely esconsed in my hostel!

The next couple of days were spent touring round the beautiful and very likeable city. We managed a fair bit of walking, a boat trip on the river, a hop-on-hop-off bus tour round the city highlights, and a visit to the houses of parliament. There are many attractive buildings, parks and pleasant walking paths along the canal, locks and riverside in the lovely city, and so coupled with the warm sunny weather we enjoyed you would have been hard pushed not to have had a great time. The undoubted highlight for me however was a visit to the wonderful Museum of Civilisation. It's the type of place where you could go back again and again and probably still not see it all or remember half of what you learn. Our visit also happened to coincide with Aboriginal day and so there were some additional displays and shows being staged over the weekend. We stopped at a demonstration of traditional dancing and were enthralled by the performers. First on stage were three dancers performing some Metis Jigs and they were excellent: the footwork was so fast, and as they pointed out there were elements of Scottish, Irish and French dance incorporated into their steps resultant from the historic influence of the culture brought by the settlers from these countries. The stage floor was well polished and they did well to keep their feet - especially considering the speed they were going. They performed a 'standard' jig a friendship come 'pick-up' dance, a belt dance (it was very similar to a Scottish sword dance) and a very impressive broom dance. Next on stage were a far more sedate couple of dancers acting out a narrated story but following them was a woman doing a hoop dance. She was amazing. Like the first group her movements were non-stop and incorporated at least a dozen hoops which although now plastic would traditionally have been willow. her agility to pick them up with her feet, twirl them round and over her body and arms, individually or in a bunch, was incredible. She could form them into spheres, twist, spin, juggle and so on. It was just mesmerising. Next on stage was a guy fully bedecked in traditional shin and feather decorations who danced to some traditional drum based tunes then invited the audience up to join him in a Friendship dance. It was a kind of cross between a circle dance, the conga and Auld Lang Syne! The final performance was far more modern and contemporary but not so much to my taste. It was almost Innuit hip-hop and although the lyrics of his first piece were ok the backing track diminished the power of the poetry in its own right. (Though what credibility I have as an arts critic is highly debatable!!) Leaving our hip-hop wannabe performing to those prepared to give him more of a chance, we moved along the hall and stopped to speak to a guy demonstrating birchbark carving. He had examples of some of his work and boxes and model canoe on display. Speaking to him he showed us how strong the bark can be and how to recognise a good piece for working with. Then, as he explained about the spruce resin used to waterseal the canoes' seams and needle holes he mentioned how he had previously helped Ray Mears to build a canoe and was going to be meeting up again soon for a future programme. I mentioned I'd seen the programme and enjoyed it so he then etched a little picture onto a piece of bark for me as a souvenir. Moving on once more the rest of my time at the museum was largely spent in the halls of First nation history, tools, clothes, carvings and culture. Even the lighting to the displays was atmospheric and subtle background noise appropriate to the theme of each display added to the effects and kept me hooked to try to see and learn more, but as I alluded to earlier there was far more info than I could possibly hope to take in at one visit. Trying not to overload my wee brain with too much on one topic I moved to the section on post-confederated Canada. It was well done too, taking you from east to west across the country moving from one province or territory to the next. The sets were again outstanding with shops, homes, railway stations, timber processors, airport and streets being recreated. Particularly impressive was the French quarter where the illusion of twilight sky was so realistic I did a double and triple take to reassure me that it was a replica and not that I'd spent too long in the museum! Finally, however, I knew that I'd seen more than I could do justice to so left and headed back into downtown Ottawa.

Before I knew it my visit to Ottawa, Canada and the Wider World was at an end and somewhat reluctantly I had to make my way out to the airport and catch a plane back to the UK. In no time at all I was checked in for my flight, through security, and boarding the 757 for Gatwick. I'd been hoping to sleep on board but thanks to turbulence over the maritimes, then drinks being sold before our evening meal was served, there was only about three hours before I was being woken for breakfast just prior to our descent into London. Safely landed it felt decidedly odd to be back in Britain - a bit like it was another foreign country really. Waiting at baggage reclaim it took ages for my bag to appear on the conveyor belt. I was just thinking how ironic it was that I could make it safely round the globe without losing anything only to be stumped in London when it trundled through at last - I'm sure it must have been the last item of luggage unloaded!

My bus back to Scotland wasn't until nighttime but I had a very pleasant wander round Covent Garden Markets and then St James Park. London as a city is not my favourite in the world but I have to hand it to them they do have some beautiful parks. It was lovely to enjoy the plants, pond, birdlife and people watching as I reaclimatised to being back in the UK. It was then out for a catch up with the 'London branch' of the Cormacks and a lovely evening with Randy, Janet and Aistair. It was great to see you again guys and I hope its not so long until I see you again. From their's it didn't take long to get to the bus station and once aboard I slept all the way North until we were approaching Edinburgh. I have had an absolute ball over the last year and have seen some wonderful places and met some great people along the way. Scotland will always be home for me though and I had a wee smile to myself as I headed to the airport to meet mum and dad (they were arriving back in Edinburgh that morning too). Ian was there to collect us (thank you) and we were all soon back in Glenrothes.

My wings may have been clipped for the time being but the last year has certainly given me the bug for further travelling - its so easy and enjoyable to wander aimlessly and carefree and anyone who even half fancies the idea should just bite the bullet and do it - its great fun. Far from shortening the list of places and things I'd like to see it has increased it! I've learnt of new places to go, there are the places I'd hoped to reach but never got to this time round and there are all the places I want to revisit (almost all of them!). I may have to make do with shorter trips in the future but I'm sure my itchy feet will take me there eventually. . . watch this space!!

Hello Uncle Sam

mogsie08-09 — Fri, 5 Jun 2009 11:26:00 GMT

After a slightly bumpy but otherwise reasonable flight north I landed and was "de-planed" (the announcers annoying phrase not mine!) in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, early in the morning. With the day to wait before my onward connection I tried to find something to do... not an easy task apparently. After fruitlessly searching three of the four terminals for information I finally found a friendly member of staff who suggested a visit to a local shopping mall, so a shopping trip it was. I was just window shopping but it passed the time and as I was returning to the airport there was a tremendous thunder and lightening storm which provided a bit more entertainment.

Back at the airport I was finally able to get my next flight and continue to Las Vegas. It was bumpy most of the way and the incredible thunder and lightening storms continued to play out alongside so I didn't sleep much and was pretty tired by the time we landed. I was amused by the banks of bandit machines which greeted you as soon as you entered the terminal building - Vegas really lives up (or down) to its reputation! I caught a bus to "The Strip" and spent some time having a wander up and down to see the sights. It was a real buzz of activity with the bright neon lights, noise from the busy bars and casinos aplenty. Barack Obama was visiting the same day as me but he didn't appear to be frequenting any of the casinos I poked my head into, I guess he was being entertained in Caesar's Palace! Vegas was amazing to see but a short visit was enough for me, and not tempted to gamble away the last of my travelling budget, despite the lure of hundreds of thousands of dollars, if not millions, in potential prize jackpots, I made my way down to the Greyhound station to await my bus to Flagstaff. I was soon to discover that US bus stations, like the buses themselves, are the worst of any I've travelled so far. A bit sterile and unwelcoming, not particularly comfortable places, manned by gruff looking security patrols and with authoritarian tannoy messages blurted out periodically it was a long wait until the bus was due. Finally on board the crowded bus even I suffered from limited legroom so heaven help taller people, but by that time I was so tired it didn't take long before I fell asleep despite the cramped conditions. I was joined by a guy from NZ, but now based in Dubai, who was a bit of a character and we had a good few laughs over the course of the journey at the expense of the driver and a woman in one of the front seats who managed to talk non-stop about nothing at all from beginning to end rarely drawing breath or listening to each other! A bit unkind of us perhaps but it was fun and it helped pass the time as we rolled through the vast desert.

When I got to Flagstaff I liked what I found. It's not a huge place, with about 60,000 people, but has a friendly small town atmosphere to it making it feel even more compact. There are a number of attractive heritage buildings around the centre and with Route 66 and a busy railway line running through the middle of town it was a pleasant place to wander and spend time. The hostel was quite nice too and with plenty people travelling Route 66 and/or there to visit the Grand Canyon there was a good mix of folk. On my first night in particular there was a nice crowd in the hostel and we passed the evening quickly as we chatted, laughed and enjoyed some pizza and red wine. If time hadn't been running short on me as the end of my trip approaches I could easily have spent longer in the area. My main reason for visiting the area though was to see the Grand Canyon and I certainly wasn't disappointed by what I saw. Even the run out there from Flagstaff was nice: it was a bright clear morning and the wide empty road crossed green fields and grass floored woodland and the mountains still had little pockets of snow clinging to the tops. Arriving in the national park I got out the bus and with little in the way of signage to suggest which direction to go I wandered through a souvenir shop and as I came out the other side I found myself looking straight into the vast beautiful expanse that is the Grand Canyon! It is incredibly deep and an amazing array of sheer rock faces, intertwining valleys, rocky stacks, caves and overhangs. The colours are amazing too: deep red sandstone, bright light limestone, dark black rocks and also quite a lot of greenery either clinging to the canyon walls or edging the rim with cactus, potentillas, wild flowers and pine trees. I stared out just mesmermised by it all. Its a real mass of rock and valley and stretched off to the east, west and straight ahead to the other side of the canyon. When I say other side it maybe gives the impression of a clearly defined chasm but thats not really the case, complete as it is with indents and side valleys. It is so deep too that its generally impossible to see the valley floor. Over the course of the day I walked various sections of the rim and once or twice I could make out the wide river below but that was an exception and even then it looked more like a little muddy trickle rather than the wide river it is. Taking one of the shuttle buses, which constantly run back and forth throughout the canyon area, I went along to Yaki Point. As I sat there drinking in the landscape a couple of Californian Condors soared overhead adding to the spectacle. From there I walked along the rimside trail as it followed the edge sometimes closely sometimes set back a little through the surrounding bush. It was just lovely, and even when a few peels of thunder rang out, the black clouds raced in and the heavens opened it was still attractive. I took another bus, this time in the opposite direction and got out at Hopi Point. By the time I got there it was dry again but the black clouds and rain mists hung within the canyon, and, being lit by the twinkle of the reemerging sun it made for a very dramatic picture. The path at that point was unsealed, narrower and rougher than in some other sections so it was also quieter and I enjoyed the walk along to Mohave Point where I finally had to leave in order to return to the centre in time to catch my bus back to Flagstaff. It was a great day in an incredible environment. If I had had more time to play with I would have loved to go back to the canyon and hike down into the valley, or head to Sedona to visit the incredible red rocks and hiking trails around there, but, with travelling time now rapidly running out I had a schedule to stick to and had to catch the bus to San Francisco.

The buses in USA were mostly completely full and heading to San Franciso was no exception. Another irritating trait is stopping in the middle of the night for a driver change: unlike in other countries here you have to get off and reboard, and generally the stops come when you're in your deepest sleep and would like to remain like that for a few more hours! Nevertheless we made it safe and sound with only the crossing of Los Angeles providing much of a diversion from the endless multilane highways. LA itself was busy and grey and the famous Hollywood sign was only just visible in the gloom, and it was a bit surreal driving past the famous street and area names such as Santa Monica Boulevard, Hollywood, Burbank and so on. When we finally arrived in SF, however, I really enjoyed my time in the city. The place has a bit of character to it. Virtually all of the buildings have some degree of cornicing, bay windows and or colour washing to them making them quite attractive and not seeming like endless streets of exact replicas. Also, with the city being built on a series of hills you go up and down whichever direction you walk so the views are always changing. It was while climbing yet another of these hills that it donned on me what effect the altitude must have been having on me in La Paz, though I didn't appreciate it at the time. There I would always be peching by the time I got to the top of a hill, but climbing a similar incline in SF I was fine. I had a really enjoyable time wandering the city whether it be around different neigbourhoods, up and down the "crookedest street in the world" (famous from so many movies the tight zig-zag bends are edged by hedges half hiding the cars on it and almost making them look as if they're totally enclosed), through little gardens, along the pleasant harbourside walkway and attraction packed 'Pier 39', or in large parks and reserves. Much of the time the weather remained disappointingly overcast but on one day while I was visiting Golden Gate Park and the De Young Art Museum the sun broke through and it turned into a lovely bright day. While I didn't find a lot to my taste inside the building, the angular structure itself was a bit more interesting. Very modern in style it's clad in hammered copper, has a hanging corridor seemingly balanced in the air and a tall observation tower providing a lookout point across the city and ocean. With the sun coming out it reflected off the copper making it sparkle enticingly. It was while up in the tower that I could see that the Golden Gate bridge was no longer hiding in the mist either so I decided to walk down to have a closer look at one of the city's most famous landmarks. Leaving the park I headed off down main avenue in that general direction. I figured it should be a pretty straight road with just a slight deviation onto another path not too far from the bridge. Hmm, well, lets just say it didn't quite work out like that! All was fine until I reached the point to deviate off the main road. As I skirted round a local neighbourhood park to join up with my next path I must have got slightly disorientated and after a while I realised I must have been walking roughly at right angles to the direction I should have been. However, once again it was a pleasant area and after altering course again I landed at the entrance to the Presidio, another huge reserve of parkland, and a sign indicating a hiking trail to the Golden Gate bridge. As I followed it it took me through some lovely forest paths in complete peace and through lovely areas of ivy and wild flowers. In a clearing amongst the woods was a striking sculpture called "The Spire" which was constructed from a few huge tree old trunks. As the path wound on and on I thought I'd never reach the bridge. It was a lovely walk but at the same time it was taking ages, time was marching on, and I wanted to get a decent view before the light faded or the mists rolled in again. Just as I began to think I'd been really daft not to have hopped on one of the many buses which had passed me earlier I finally reached Crissy field. It was an air base back in the 1920s and 30s, is now being redeveloped into a nature reserve, is a super wide open space and provided me with a good view of the iconic bridge. It was great to finally be able to tick it off my list of places I'd wanted to see, but if I'm honest the Bay Bridge closer to the city centre is a more impressive piece of architecture in my eyes! Fortified after a visit to a cafe there I started back into the city along the bayside trail. It was yet another lovely walk between the shore and marshy ponds and the bog-liking and salt loving greyish leafed plants which accompanied it. As I got closer to the centre and back beside the busier roads I marvelled at some of the grand houses and their amazing views over the ocean. Some had huge picture windows looking over the water and I couldn't help but think their window cleaners bill to keep them so sparkling must surely equate to some people's mortgages! Needless to say I was pretty shattered by the time I finally got back to the hostel but it had been worth the miles of walking.

A visit to Alcatraz had been another of my 'must dos' for the city and while the prison is much smaller than I'd envisaged it was an interesting visit. The ferry ride across only takes about 10 minutes and on disembarking a park ranger gave a little spiel about the island itself. A short film then plays giving a brief history of the place from its initial use as a military fort guarding the bay in case of wartime attack, to the high security prison, its prisoners and the correction officers and families who stayed there, then, after the prison was closed, the occupation of the site by the Indians trying to highlight the decades of their misrepresantation and mistreatment of their land by succesive governments. After watching it I entered the prison proper where audio guides were provided and led you round from area to area telling the stories of some of the more famous inmates, various escape attempts, and general conditions and regulations. It was intersting and amazing to see the tiny cells in which the men were kept and to look at the gun corridors overlooking the cells and think of the guards patrolling there. The cells were three tiers high but there were only four rows of them and only about 200 men were in there at a time. Completing the complex was a large and apparently well used library hall, dining hall, tiny visitors wall, then just the wardens office, admin block and contol room. I enjoyed the interesting commentaries and although the building is now empty and benign it wasn't too difficult to imagine the atmosphere of tension, anger and resentment which would have once permeated.

With San Francico added to my list of cities I'd be happy to revisit I once again was on the move and heading towards Seattle. I was interested to watch as the landscape got greener and more wooded again as we headed north. Washington would certainly seem to live up to its licence plate claim to be 'The Evergreen State'. By the time I reached Seattle I was back into hot sunny weather so I checked into my hostel (which turned out to be comfy and really handily located - a real bonus as I'd struggled a bit to find one at all) and got washed and changed as quickly as I could in order to enjoy what was left of the day. After a quick circuit round the centre of the city on one of the free town bus services the friendly and helpful bus driver suggested I visit the sculpture park, and so I got dropped off at the appropriate stop. I never did go in to it though as I was lured by the charms of the adjoining Myrtle Edwards Park. On such a lovely day it was fantastic: a boardwalk was edged by lovely planting and bushes as it hugged the clear waters of Puget Sound. There were a few logs floating in the sea and at the reclaimed and re-established Pocket Beach a little sandy bay was adorned with many more sunbleached old logs making a perfect resting place amongst the rocks. The bay has been cleaned up in recent years, apparently, with kelp beds established to encourage fish back to the area. On the other side of the path a nice grassy area had several little trees dotted along it and benches to allow you to sit in the shade and enjoy the views and quiet despite the proximity to the city centre. There was a little rose garden coming from the variety of blooms and also several little beds of seapinks and minature conifers. I kept walking along enjoying the sun, warmth, the lapping water, pretty landscaping and darting swallows until I reached a grain pier at the end of the park. Much of the grain arrives by train and just then a great long trained pulled in reminding me of the huge horn honking processions in Flagstaff (they seem to start sounding their horns at one side of town and don't stop until they're leaving the other side so there is no chance of ignoring them!). With time going on I turned back and got to the hostel just in time for the free spaghetti dinner on offer. I expected a very basic affair but it turned out to be a huge and tasty spread. Alongside the pasta there was a meat and a veggie bolognese, a mixed vegetable medley, platters of lettuce, tomatoes, peppers and garlic bread and a big bowl of parmesan cheese. Needless to say it was a popular offer so the place was buzzing with people blethering making for an enjoyable night. As if we hadn't eaten enough the night before a complimentary breakfast was provided too: bowls of orange segments, pineapple pieces and chunks of banana; bread and spreads, jugs of pancake batter for you to cook as you wanted, eggs for scrambling and the ubiquitous pots of coffee. All in all there was no way anyone would go hungry at "The Green Turtle"! Afterwards, with only a morning left for Seattle, I went across the road to the Pike Street Markets and had a great time browsing round the stalls and little shops. There was an incredible array of fish, flowers, fruit, jams and pickles, cheeses and local craftwork. It was a busy and colourful sight and there were lots of sampling opportunities to be had (as if I hadn't had more than enough to eat at breakfast!).

Time passed quickly and before I new it it was time to catch the ferry to Canada. Despite dire warnings on board of potentially rough seas it was a super flat crossing and I was entertained by a group of 5 ladies of a certain age who were sat at the table behind giggling and laughing infectiously as they planned their girls' week away. Then came their realisation that they had bought pounds of necterines and cherries at the markets but you can't take fruit across the border into Canada! You can, I'm sure, just imagine the hilarity that followed as they tried to munch their way through as much of it as possible, all the while trying to work out if and how they could smuggle the rest into the country!! When we did dock in Victoria my luggage was soon unloaded and I was quickly stamped through immigration. My only slight disappointment was that with only Canadian officials present in Victoria I wasn't able to get an official US exit stamp in my passport to complete my now sizeable collection, but, hey-ho you can't have everything. It was, however, a very strange feeling knowing that I had finally reached the last country on my itinerary.

No Sign of Paddington

mogsie08-09 — Mon, 25 May 2009 12:57:00 GMT

I could hardly believe that my arrival in Puno, in Peru, heralded my last country in South America and my seventeenth country of this trip! It wasn´t a particularly inspiring town but it did allow me to go out to visit some more of the islands on Lake Titicaca.

Leaving on the slow boat from Puno the water was green with thick weed and algae but as we got further out into the bay it got clearer and bluer. Considering how calm the water was we rolled around a bit - boat design doesn´t seem to be the strong point of life on the lake. It was a pretty sail though and although there were not many birds around I did see a couple of steamer ducks racing across the water. After about an hour we reached the floating Uros Islands. Constructed entirely from Totora reeds, a floating bed of the roots about 1-2 metres thick acts as the foundation then more reeds are laid on top for another metre or two providing a soft springy floor. Reed houses are then built on that floor and hey presto the island is complete. A new island takes about a year to build (there are about 50 of them in total of varying sizes) and will last for about 25-30 years with continual topping up of the reed floor base until the whole structure gets too unstable. It was very interesting to see and although we were on a small island of just 8 or 9 families some of the islands are much bigger and include a school and medical centre aswell. Traditionally the Uros people were fishers and hunters of birds but tourism has become a big part of their culture. It was, I guess, pretty commercialised really with wares set out all around the island for us to examine and purchase, but at the same time it was fascinating and at least people do still live on the island maintaining the majority of the traditions and customs. There was also a traditional reed boat on hand to ferry you across to a second island. It was fantastically graceful and peaceful as we punted along. Nowadays little dinghys with small outboards are more common, or even plastic bottle filled tubes of nylon tarpaulin bound with twine to create a basic raft, but it was nice to enjoy the traditional craft. The reeds used for islands and boats can be harvested year round from the 36000km2 national park area and take only a few days when stacked to dry out suffciently for using. The young shoots can also be used as a calcium and iron rich food. Tasting it it was quite pleasant - a kind of cross between sugar cane and piñones!

When we left the Uros islands we chugged for another couple of hours across the flat blue lake to Amantani Island. In the tiny harbour the engine was cut and we were punted round to dockside where on disembarking we were met by a number of traditionally dressed women in their flared layered skirts, decorated blouses and shawls. These were our hosts for the night, and divided into groups of various sizes, dependant on how many people they could accommodate, we set off to their homes. I was with a Swiss couple and we climbed up the little hillside, across little fields to our family´s mud brick property. Our room was up an extremely rickety wooden ladder and though basic was quite comfy. A little outside toilet sat at the edge of the garden area where much of their crops are grown. A little barn, reminiscent of the Bayfield tattie shed, acted as kitchen and eating space. We were served a nice meal of Quinoa soup followed by grilled cheese with tomatoes, potatoes and Oka - a local type of potatoey veg which looked a bit like gnarly purple fingers but tasted like a cross beween potato and chestnuts. Later we all met up in the village square to walk up the long steadily climbing path to the sacred inca temple of Pachatata which sits atop the island at a height of about 4100m. I was glad to be a bit acclimatised to the altitude by now as it was a fair trek up past some of the terraces used for growing crops. Some of the stone walls bounding the fields were almost like lacework there were so many gaps between the stones - it was certainly a far cry from our dry-stane dykes! Finally we reached the top with the intention of enjoying the sunset but it was not a very spectacular setting sun. Nevertheless there were some nice views over he island and down the lake to the mountains and altiplano beyond. It got really chilly as the light faded so it was good to go back downhill and meet up with our hosts again for tea. Afterwards we were all dressed in traditional garb before heading to the village hall for a fiesta. With my short green flared skirt, multicoloured waistband, embroidered white shirt and long rainbow coloured floppy cap I looked like a cross between wee willie winkie, a colour blind little red riding hood, and an old fashioned milk maid!! The only saving grace was that everyone else was similarly attired. Over the next couple of hours the four piece band played traditional music and we danced the night away - a bit like having a Peruvian ceilidh! By the time we´d danced the night away with all our finery on I most certainly wasn´t cold, but I was extremely glad I had fresh batteries in my torch for the walk back to the house and to climb the stairs to my room!! It had been both an interesting and fun day and nice to explore two very different island ways of life despite their relatively close proximity to each other.

Next day it was across to my third island, Isla Taquili. At the tiny little harbour there was a stone path which worked its way up the hillside giving more nice views over the lake and terracing. Talquili seemed much greener than Amantani with more in the way of flowers as well as crops and grass. The men on the island are fanatical knitters, famous for their hats, and anyone I met walking down the hill was knitting at the same time. Later I was to learn that the islanders live very closely by the 3 main inca laws of: Don´t steal; Don´t be lazy, and Don´t Lie. Taking the don´t be lazy law very literally they are always doing something, never idle, and don´t even have llamas or mules to carry their goods uphill, opting to do everything themselves instead. Finally reaching the village there was a nice arched entrance to the square. The square itself was rather bare however with just a few old and well-worn buildings. The exception was the the very modern looking town hall which looked a bit out of place. After a bit of a wander, which didn´t take long, I sat people watching for a while, then it was off to lunch and to get an explanation of the symbology behind the hats worn by he men: A part white hat dictates a single man, whereas without the white he is married. A community leader wears a brown trilby type hat. For single guys if the hat flops to the left he has no girlfriend, but to the right he has! Women wear a black shawl with pom-poms, small ones for a single woman, larger for a married lady. Its a bizarre arrangement in many ways but interestng that the customs remain despite the ever increasing number of tourists coming to the island, which previously survived solely by knittng and crofting. I wonder how long it will be before western influences see the traditions dying out. Already they are losing the younsters to the mainland once they finish school. Later it was back down a long set of very uneven stone steps to a picturesque little harbour at the bottom to which our boat had travelled round while we visited the island. As we headed back across the lake to Puno the engines were cut out a couple of times while our driver pottered about with the engines from a cupboard at the back of the boat. I´m not sure what he was doing as it made no noticable difference to our slow chug back to town. Boat travel is definitely a leisurely affair on Lake Titicaca - like life in general really!

I was pleasantly surprised by Cusco when I reached it. Its a lovely city with lots of Inca architecture remaining and in the centre in particular the beautiful old buildings all seem to have terracota roof tiling which, given the hilly layout of the town, makes it seem blanketed by a warm dusky orange as you look out over it. It was also very fortunate that the town is likable and nice to wander round and through because I was to discover a rail strike and road blockades over trhe nexr few days were to prevent me doing and seeing everything in the surrounding area which I would have liked! For instance I´d have liked to do some trekking but if I went I might not have been able to get back in time to do anything else in Peru. As a result I spent my first day in town running round between train ticket offices, bus offices and tour agencies trying to work out some sort of itinerary for myself! Unable to trek or take the regular train route to Machu Pichhu, but not coming all this way to miss out altogether, I ended up going by a bit of a convoluted route which turned into an experience all of its own. Heading out by minibus we drove through the farming orientated landscape and green hills, then steeper mountains, until the little town of Ollyantambo. It´s a quaint little town of narrow cobbled streets, uneven houses and a busy little square overlooked by tiered inca ruins. With no time to explore further we set out again and climbed up a long series of hairpin bends. The countryside was like a yellowy-green patchwork quilt below us as we continued up passed cactus plants complete with red apple like fruits and heavy with dust from the road. After climbimg amd climbing we evemtually crested the pass and atarted to descend again. By this time we were in patchy but thick mist and I couldn´t decide whether or not that was a good thing: on the one hand it meant there was no view to enjoy, but on the other hand it hid the alarmingly sheer and enormous drops at the roadside from sight! When you could see anything you looked down hundreds of feet onto the trees futher down the valley, patches of the road were strewn with boulders and rocks which had fallen from the crumbling hillsides requiring a bit of weaving about to avoid them, and at some of the corners the rivers of water came flooding across the bends requiring us to slowly ford the the fast flowing water. Up til this point the road had been sealed but it gave way to ripio and we rumbled on past little homesteads and small villages in the middle of seemingly nothing, and all the time huge leaved plants and cactus comtinued to line the roadside. At Santa Maria we turned onto an even rougher narrower track and the very single track road twisted along the hillside with no protection from the drop at the side which must have been hundreds of metres in places! The dusty road was omly just wide enough for one vehicle and with hairpin bend after hairpin bend the horn was used aplenty to herald our presence. I´m so glad we only met a couple of other cars, and at a point where there was just room to allow us to squeeze passed each other as I really did not fancy having to reverse in the tiny space we had available on our perilously high track. I was never so thankful as when we slowly began to descend a little agin and reached the wee town of Santa Teresa! From there it wasn´t too much further along the narrow tracks above the river below, and across perilously fragile looking bridges where the wooden planks were almost nailed together so the rumbled like a train, but were still so narrow you couldn´t see the edges from the car, before we reached the little train stop at Idroelectrica - much to my relief. There were several little tarpaulin sided stalls lining the old rail line where a train was waiting for the surprisingly large number of people arriving for it. Some like me by bus but many having trekked and cycled along some of the jungle trails to get there. It set out through the jungley growth on a series of very noisy clanking zig-zags until we came to a stop. Moving again we managed to leave some wagons behind so had to go back for them!! Restarted we continued through the trees until stoppimg once more. We sat and sat and sat for about 45 minutes before the engine which had left us returned and we carried on to Aguas Calientes the village nearest Machu Picchu. Purely by random chance I found the guy with my hostel booking (not having got a name for him or it before leaving) and after a fine tea of grilled Alpaca I was happy to call it a night in readiness for an early start in the morning. Getting the first bus in the morning it took about half an hour up a series of switchbacks through the trees to get to the site entrance of Machu Picchu. There was already a short queue waiting to enter but joining it we were soon allowed in and I went straight up to the gatekeepers hut and got a wonderful panorama looking across most of the site. It really is impressive - a huge site in its own right and with Huayna Picchu mountain looming over the corner it adds to the atmosphere. It was a clear morning and the sun was just appearing oner the surrounding densely forrested mountaintops making a truly wonderful scene. I found my way over to the Ceremonial Tock where I met up with our guide. With his limited English and typical laid back attitude it wasn´t a fantastic tour of the ruins but it did provide a flavour of the place, teach me a little bit more about the Inca lifestyles, and by listening in to some of the other guides I was able to fill in some of the blanks. The rock where we started was huge and was where llamas would be sacrificed to ther gods on ceremonial occasions. Other areas we visited included some of the agricultural areas, the temples of the moon, sun and condor. It has a huge carving of the Condor forming two halfs of a doorway with the head inlaid on the floor. We saw where mummies were displayed for worship, rowers and fountains, amazing stonework including one section where the difference in styles between the "upper class" and the peasants areas was clearly seen: for the royals the stonework was much more exact and had absolutely no gaps at all whereas it was lass precise for the peasants. The incas basically had three tiered class structure" the specials, the locals and the messengers. The locals were not allowed to look at the specials so there is a window room where sound can be amplified through the cut out windows allowing communication between the classes. The condor was revered for its size and grace and ability to soar close to the sun and the puma and vicuña were the most respected land animals. All three can be seen depicted on many featyures and carvings. At the astronomical observatory there was further evidence of the academic awareness and abilities of the incas. The time dfial is set at 13degrees, the same latitude as the site and perfectly positioned so that the rising sun indicated the seasonal solstices. All in all the buildings are just incredibly complete, and with llamas still cavorting round the place it didn´t take too much imagination to think of it when it was full of people amd messengers would be running back and forward transporting goods, people and animals or messages to the other cities in the area, such as Cusco. Apparently MP is even laid out in the shape of a condor bu I struggled to see that. I was only sloghtly disappointed not to be able to have time to climb Huaynu Picchu because there so much to see and wander round in the complex and such amazing views anyway that it didn´t really matter. When the time came to leave I caught the bus back down the hill to Aguas Calientes and with the daylight I was able to appreciate how sheer the mountain sides are above the town - it having been dark the previous night and in the morning preventing me fully appreciating the location. The town itself is also quite pretty for a tourist cemtre with the river´s white water tumbling through the centre and the railway line beside it. After a bit of a browse it was time to catch the train back to Idroelectrica and to start the return journey to Cusco on the road from hell. I fluctuated between trying to convince myself it wouldn´t be so bad as I remembered on the way in and trying to reason with myself that it would be horrendous and just to be prepared. In the end it was just as bad going back! By the time we reached the comparative safety of Santa Maria I had very sweaty hands and damp fingerprints on the knees of my trousers where I´d been clenching them as I leant and pointed them into the hillside as if that´d save us if we started to slide!! Definitely not a road for the fainthearted! Back on the right side of the valley it was then back along the rough roads and through the villages until starting to climb back over the mountains. The rain then started aswell, and as we climbed up and up the twisting hairpins in the dark and wet I was a little concerned at times that the silence and hypnotic effect of the rain would send the driver to sleep too and we go tumbling back down to the valley floor way below. I really wish sometimes that I hadn´t inherited mum´s sometimes overly vivid imagination! I´m really not a good passenger in difficult conditions - too alert and concious of potential dangers. Really beginning to feel the driver was getting drowsy I was happy when he swapped with his newly reawakened pal. The pal drove exceedingly slowly however and after only a short time they swapped back. The break had done him good though and we safely made it back to a short stop in Ollantaytambo. By the time we reached Urumbaba however there was a police checkpoint in operation with all vehicles being stopped for routine checks. At that point we discovered our driver had no documentation, licence or insurance information with him and so the van was impounded and we weren´t allowed to go any further! The fact that his mate had nothing either further heightened my suspicions from his earlier efforts that he wasn´t actually a fully qualified driver! After hanging around for a while with no sign of a replacement driver or vehicle and our "drivers" disappearing into the night we were stranded. Then, one of the policemen called over another legitimate van driver and arranged that he´d take us back to Cusco. And so after going to fetch our new driver´s wife to accompany him on his trip, we finally set off and raced the last hour and a half back to Cusco. A real adventure of a couple of days in so many different ways, but worth it overall for the amazing sight that is Machu Picchu!

Back in Cuso with nothing worse than a sore throat and a bit of a cold to show for my adventures I enjoyed a couple more days around the city. Still unable to get out to the Sacred Valley I made do with a visit to some of the inca sites close to the city. Qorancha Cathedral was originally an Inca temple but was built over, around, and partly demolished when the Spanish arrived bringing catholocism to the area. An earthequake reexposed some of the exteernal walls in the 50´s and inside there are still plenty of signs of its previous form. Its now an unusual mix with perfect angular inca walls complete with perfect cut-outs for hinges and locks, square cut windows and fantastically ornate ceilings, rendered walls, extravagent oil paintings of christian religious themes, remnants of inca monuments and so on. There is one super painting of the milky way highlighting the animals central to the inca culture, and one depicting all the elements important to them: sun , moon, puma, people, condor, farming etc. The latter picture was in gilt and very striking indeed. Leaving the cathedral and its manicured little grounds it was up to Saqsahuaman. This enormous fortress is in an archaelogical park just outside the city. Massive, and constructed in intricate tiered stonework, each layer gradually decreasing in size, there are three separate gateways leading into the fort and along the walls you can see how the stones have been cleverly laid to include the outlines of animals such as the cuy, condor, serpent, llama and so on. Entering the fort there was a great view out over Cusco below. The city was originally planned in the shape of a puma but I couldn´t recognise it now. The next site was at Q´engo. Here a rocky construction consisting of narrow tunnels through towering stonework with carved out seats and ledges hides a cavern within in which a table is carved out of the icy cold rock and on which mummification was practised. Outside an amphitheatre was formed around a huge rock representing the surrounding mountains and where the mummies would have been sat in the carved seats as important events were celebrated. A further "everday" fortress and staging post, and a pefectly constructed watering post completed the impressive array of sites. The water was filtered down from the marshy grounds above until flowing completely purely. Drinking from it is said to bring eternal youth so I made sure I took a good gulp of the icy water just in case! Not quite all Inca´d out, just captivated by their skills, I managed a visit to the inca museum in town before finally leaving the charms of Cusco behind and heading for the town of Nasca.

With the buses only just returning to action after the strikes I headed to the bus station in reasonable time, only to discover my bus was to be delayed for an other hour and a half. When we did get going it turned into a long slow journey and taking 18 hours in total rather than the advertised 12! Part of that was due to the debris still strewn across the roads from blockades and round which we had to manoevre, and some was due to roadworks on the narrow roads forcing us to wait at control boards on several occassions, but mostly it was just due to the laidback South-american attitude to time keeping. Needless to say I was happy to reach Nasca and to find a decent hospedaje, despite the taxi drivers sending me off in the wrong direction when I didn´t require their transport. Fortunately that was the first place I´ve been where I was knowingly given false information, and not typical of the rest of people or places I´ve come across along my way. I had an early morning flight over the stange Nasca lines etched into the desert booked, but when I got up in the morning there was a seasonal fog hanging low over the area so there was no prospect of flying for a while yet. Hanging around chatting and waiting the sun slowly began to burn through until we finally after three hours we got the nod to race out to the airport. Several other groups were waiting inside the little terminal but the 5 of us from the hostel got ushered straight through and across the apron to our waiting Cesna. With the two couples filling the rear rows I was co-pilot! Once strapped in and checks were done by our reassuringly captainly looking pilot we taxied off and were in the air in no time. It was very bumpy and coupled with lots of banking I didn´t like it at all. As we circled to see our first shape - a whale - I couldn´t look down! The pilot laughed at my frantic tapping on his arm as the plane went along at nearly 90degrees, him with no hands on the controls pointing out shapes on the ground and on our little info map. (Fraser it was a hundred times worse than that time in Aberdeen when we went on that little rollercoaster!) He assured me "normale normale" as my over vivid imagination worked double time. Gradually as the flight went on I relaxed more, didn´t clench the seat back or base all the time and was able to look and take more photos. By the time we landed in fact I would have been happy to have gone round again! As far as the limes rhemselves go some were far easier to see than others. Generally they were not as vivisble as I´d imagined - especially with so many other lines in the desert sands and hills made by dry river beds, roads and general scuffing. We did overfly the astronaut, monkey, dog, condor, hummingbird, spider, hands tree and parrot before we turned to land and whatever the reasoning behind them and whoever etched them into the ground its certainly a strange and interesting spectacle. Back on the ground it was then a mad race back into town in oeder to catch the bus to Lima.

The trip to the capital was largely unevemtful as we trundled across the desert and along the coast. The only entertainment came when bimgo cards were handed round for a game with a prize of a bottle of Pisco on offer. I´d heard other travellers speaking of bus bingo games but hadn´t experienced one for myself so it was nice to chalk that up before leaving. By the time BINGO was called I had only three numbers left, but that was three too many. I will be practiced though for my return to the UK should National Express have taken up the practice by time I get there!

Lima itself was a bit of a dull city really. Not overly endowed with attractions, and with a constant hazy fog hugging the Pacific coast there wasn´t a lot to entice me to stay longer or to return in the future. The old central square was bounded by highly ornate architecture, and there was a very colourful procession of dancers and bands going on while I was there, but that seemingly was that. Even passing the old railway station all was quiet with not a sight nor sound of Paddington Bear or his friends. I obviously didn´t venture deeply enough into darkest Peru this time round, but with no time left to go back and have another look, I wasn´t too disappointed to move on. Hopefully more wonderful sights await me on my quick trip to the USA.

Living the High Life

mogsie08-09 — Mon, 11 May 2009 06:40:00 GMT

San Pedro was, I suppose, a characterful litle town but it was also a bit of a tourist trap so I wasn´t too disappointed to leave it behind and set out on a three day trip across the desert and saltpans of Bolivia to the town of Uyuni. Seventeen of us and our luggage were squeezed into a minibus and taken as far as the Bolivian border, only an hour or so away. Having climbed through the beautiful orangey-red desert and high mountains to get there, we were at 4400m by the time we reached the border, and it wasn´t warm, so I was ready for the hot coffee and breakfast that was laid out waiting for us! Breakfasted and stamped into the country at the tiny border post, we were divided into three jeep-loads for our trips. In mine there was me, Christophe from France, Julia from USA, Kirsty from Dumfriess, and Bine and Tobi from Gemany. It was to prove a really nice group and we all got on well together having many a laugh along the way. Our driver, Franz, was less talkative and proved to be a bit of a mixed bag. Formalities over we set out, still climbing, through the magnificent colours of the plains and mountains to our first stop at Lake Verde. It was certainly quite green but also crusted white with ice and the reflections of the mountain gradually became clearer as we watched. Our second halt was at the Dali Desert - a collection od stones reminiscent of his work with colour and abstract shapes. Moving on again we got t some hot springs at Laguna Polques. There was a lovely circular hot pool in which we bathed. It was like our own little infinity bath wih the view over the lagoon and streams with blues greens and yellows abounding. It was beautifully hot and lovely to splash about in. On leaving there we climbed again to bubbling hot geysers at 4700m! It was sulphury and bubbly and steamy and amazing to see the many pools of grey sludge in the orange surroundings. The gravel road from there rose and fell and twisted along until we reached Laguna Colorado to see the lovely pink flamingosand some vicuñas which were shoreside. The vicuñas are like guanaco but paler and more yellow in colour. After watching for a while we went the short distance to our refugio for the night. It was certainly basic and proved to be VERY cold at night but it was full of character I suppose. Our little group headed out for a walk round the lake and passed through grassy tussocks and marshy ground watching llamas on one side and fantastic pink flamingos on the water. The laguna was dark blue at the edges turning to sludgy red futher out. The path criss-crossed little streams with stepping stones then rose up a hillside before descending to the lake again. The blue edges turned to shades of green and yellow and then further round to a big bank of white. It was a phenominal setting. Walking I was aware of breathing at the altitude- not too bad but just concious of having to do it and with a slight tightness to the chest- whereas when I was still it wasn´t a problem. As the sun set the temperature plummeted in contrast to the day time heat. Waking next morning I had a raging thirst. The air is so dry that your mouth soon feels like it´s turned to sandpaper! When we set out for the day it was across further beautiful empty wide flat valleys with the multicoloured mountains bounding the plains. Our first stop was at the Stone Tree. An incredible collection of tall rocks rising from the plain. The centrepiece did look vaguely like a tree but some of the other multitextured rocks were just as impressive. Meanwhile the drivers of some of the jeeps in the area were piled round ours trying to fix some problem in the engine - honestly I reckon I must be some kind of mechanical jinx on the vehicles I travel in! Fortunately after a bit of a hose transplant to the water coolant(?) we were soon on our way again. Again we climbed up yet morecolourful scenery and at Laguna Honda we stopped to admire the fantastic reflections of mountains in the water, which still had an icy crust on it from the night before despite the strong daytime sun. Next stop was Laguna Hedionda where we strolled along watching flamingos feeding in the mineral rich lake. At Laguna Cañapa, our final one for the day there were more reflections, more flamingos and more laughs. From there we drove through increasingly stoney rugged terraine to our picnic spot amongst super textured red rocks overlooking the grey steep sided and smoking Volcan Ollague. Afterwards we descended steeply through a rocky channel becoming sandier until we came onto a large expanse of rolled flat looking desert. It was a mix of sand and salt and stretched off into the distance in all directions. We trundled across for ages with mirages beginning to appear in the distance. It was hot in the car but if we opened the windows the dust soon became unbearable. We came to and ran parralel to the Uyuni to Calama railway line for a time. The rails glistened in the sun and the dark colour was a marked contrast to the white of the salty desert. Soon we reached the little village of Chiguana which seemed a friendly place with kids playing, a bit ofbanter between locals and so on. Driving off through the dusty mud-brick buildings we played silly number games and were amazed when the previously taciturn Franz joined in. The salt plains got purer and purer and more and more expansive with the mirage looking as iof there were large lakes and high cliffs. Reaching the edge of the plains the hillsides were covered in the spooky towering cacti. The ground became more earthen and cultivated as we passed a few homesteads and then fields and fields of Quinoa - the native Bolivian grain. Not long afterwards we arrived at our hostel in San Juan. It was completely made of salt: brick walls, granular floor, stools, the lot. Having bought some wine to toast our last night of the tour at the wee shop earlier we had a fine night of blethering and laughs, joining up with one of the other groups later in the evening. We had a very early rise the next morning to travel out on the salt flat to watch the sunrise. Franz was in a bit of a doleful mood and we soon realised he had been drinking! As the sun rose there was a super golden red glow on the horizon gradually getting more orange and pink. After an hour or so we reached Isla Pescado and getting out we walked up the path over the rocks and between the huge cacti as the daylight came in. The wind was very cold and chilling and I found the cacti a bit creepy but the light was beautiful, as were the views out over the salt flats. They extend to over 13000km2 in total and with hills in the distance you only really appreciated the vastness when you sawa vehicle on the salt highway and realised how small it looked. Coming down from the rocky hilltop once the sun was fully up it was great to get the stove on for hot water and a pancake breakfast. Franz hadmoved the jeep into the sun but it was still cold. Like all the other tourists about we had fun posing for silly pictuires on the snow-like salt fields and marvelling at the geometric gexagonal markings. Meanwhile Franz was back on the beer and as we set out weaving madly across the pan he derided our protests, burbling on a bit and throwing empty beercans out his window began to look a bit sleepy. Needless to say we were far from impressed and I remained scared and nervous for the rest of the tour. I was so glad we had Christophe in the car who spoke good Spanish and was able to keep talking to him to ensure he remained as alert as possible. Reaching the original salt hostel which is now a museum there were several nation´s flags planted outside. There was a tiny ragged union jack but no Scottish flag. Kirsty hada big St Andrews cross so we managed a flag-raising ceremony and it was great to see it flapping in the breeze as we left. We stopped again briefly, this time to see the pyramids of salt sitting drying out surrounded by little pools of water before being gathered and taken to the processing plant in readiness for exportation all roundSAand beyond. From there we paused at the little village on the edge of the flats and it was good to see Franz reverting to Fanta and seeming to "come to" a bit again. It was then a short drive to the drab little town of Uyuni, only lifted by the colourful traditional dress of the Bolivian women. They wore bright layered skirts, wool jackets, brightly coloured shawls or papooses for carrying their young children and had little bowler type hats (which looked about two sizes too small) balanced on their heads! It hadbeen a great tour but I can´t really say I was sorry to say goodbye to Franz.

Our group had gelled well over the past three days, though, so it was nice that four of us could travel together to our next destination of La Paz. We bade farewell to Kirsty and Christophe, who were travelling elsewhere, and boarded the overnight bus together. With seats at the back it was a bit cramped as we lurched along the desert at alarming angles. Not a bus in the peak of condition, with rattling windows and squeaking springs, no sealed road, many many pot-holes and lots of hills it was like driving across a cattle grid all the time as far as the noise went and like driving across the Findhorn Dunes as far as the angles went! We carried on like that for several hours before I realised we had joined a semi-flat road again and then it was straight through until we reached La Paz. Reaching the outskirts of the city the buildings were of the squat sqare style synonimous with the area, with old or hand painted signs above the doors of shops and businesses. Traffic got more and more conjested with the many many micros, busses and taxis peeping horn at every turn. As we started to go downhill into the city proper I could make out the incredible sight of the tightly packed red brick houses backing all the way up the slopes of the enormous steep bowl in which the city clings. The place has a real character to it and although not usually a fan of big cities I liked the place and enjoyed the few days I spent there.

The little street our hostel was on, like every street in the city apart from the main thoroughfare which runs through the city at the bottom of the valley bowl like a river, was steeply sloping. Even with having already spent time at altitude climbing up the streets in 3660m high La Paz could take my breath away - and not just because of the views! Despite that it was a great city to wander round with all the colour, noise and atmosphere. Most of the woman still wear traditional dress of bright skirts and shawls, there are more shoe-shine boys touting for business than you could imagine - even trying to get you to let them clean training shoes, the seemingly hundreds of minibus collectivos constantly go by with callers yelling out destinations from the windows at the tops of their voices in order to try to be heard above all the others. Its a fantastic spectacle. Even at night its fantastic to see all the lights stretching back up the hills like stars in the sky.

There are dozens of markets and streetside stalls at every turn too, and wandering through them it was a riot of colour. It seemed you could get anything and everything from tissues to toiletries, fruit to flowers, grass seed to glass jars, plastic bottles, clothes, tiles, toilets, screws nuts and bolts. With no particular sectioning either anything could be next door to anything else. You just had to be wary because with so many people packed into a small space and Bolivia having such poverty it was a pickpockets dream. We had no problems, but we had been well warned to be sensible. One of the markets was called the "Witches Market" and was primarily handicrafts. There was some lovely work and was fantastic for browsing amongst aswell.

The city has several good lookout points but the best was Mirador Killi Killi. I thought the steep climb up was going to killi killi me at one point but the effort was well rewarded. The 360 degree views over the city were fantastic. The light reflected on the red brick buildings and the snow topped mountains glistened. La Paz really is unique I think in its shape and geography and was mesmerising to watch over.

Another interesting attraction in the city is the Coca Museum. There was so much information about to take in however that I know at least half of it probably didn´t register. Used simce pre-inca times the coca leaf has aided life and work, particularly at high altitudes, with its stamina enriching and anaesthetic properties for generations. As with many traditional "medicines" it only really became a problem when western society started to process it with other chemicals into cocaine. In its natural form it has been used in Coca-cola, medicinal drugs and as a traditional drink with no problems. certainly as we´d crossed the desert to Uyuni many people were chewing the leaves to alleviate any altitude sickness symptoms, and I enjoyed the Coca tea. Whether or not it helped with altitude I don´t know but it was refreshing and tasty. Coca can grow in the harshest of environments so is a good crop for local farmers. The leaves are also high in iron, fibre and vitamins. The problems of its processing into cocaine can´t be ignored though and despite efforts by Bolivia to crack down (pardon the pun!) on productio it is difficult to ptightly police with chemicals being flown straight into jungle factories by some western pharmaceutical companies. It was also intersting to note that 36 countries, including USA, GB France and germany are licenced to legally produce cocaine! In Bolivia now coca is still perfectly legal in its raw form for traditional use. Its only when processes that it is highly illegal and possession severely punishable.

During my stay in La Paz I also was able to try eating llama on a few different occassions (sorry all you vegetarians) and I´d have to say its quite nice. I don´t think it´d ever be my favourite meat but its quite tasty. The texture is a bit like pork but the flavour is a bit more lamby, and it goes down very nicely with either a beer or a glass of wine!

When it came time to leave La Paz we four had become three, Julia having already moved on, and our next destinantion was Copacabana on the shore of Lake Titicaca. to get there we travelled across the altiplano and I found myself wondering where all the men go and what they do. In the city its mostly women you see in stalls and such and in the country its mostly women you see in the fields. Some men are obviously the drivers and shouters on the collectivos but I don´t know what the rest do. Also its funny that generally the women seem hefty while the men are slightly built! Anyway, carrying on through the countryside I got my firdt glimpses of the lake then we descended to the littlñe town of San Pablo de Tiquina where we had to make a short boat crossing to San Pedro de Tiquina. We bus passengers had to get out as it boarses a few planks of wood bound together with a little bit of edging and a small motor to make the short crossing. It certainly was not robust! Meanwhile we had to board a separate little boat for our crossing. It was small and basic with a loosely floored bottom and the little outboard encased in a wooden shelter which meant that the fumes came back into the hull where we were seated along the sides. It only took 5 minuted to cross but the boat was pretty shoogly - mum, I reckon you´d even have preferred to cross to Davaar in dad´s little dinghy!! Once safely across and reunited with our bus we climbed up the hills which were slightly tiered for planting and in which whole families in national dress seemed to be workimg, many with the help of donkeys. Any animals were tethered rather than in fields as such and stacks were commonplace. Twisting up and through the hills the lake looked lovely with the deep dark blue water glinting in the sun, Then we descended again, this time to the tiny dusty lakeside village of Copacabana from where, after a night in a nice hostel complete with a nice grandaddy type man sorting his tatties in the little courtyard (I thought of both you dad and also of grandad!), I was able to go out to the Isla del Sol.

Setting out for the island it was a slow chugging ride, but nice with the morning sunshine on the blue water. There were only one or two birds to be seen but on some of the cliffs we passed there was lots of flat bushy fronded cactus glinting in the sun. Just over an hour out we reached the south end of the island where some got out then the rest of us carried on to the north end. The southern hillsides looker lovely with lots of planting in little terraces all the way down from the village perched at the top of the hill. At the northern end, where I got out, the path, after leaving the little village, crossed a sandy little beach with a couple of boats in the bay before heading uphill past a few more houses and a grazing donkey or two. The views over the lake were great and there was plenty of green on th cultivated areas but I couldn´t help think bck to lake Baikal. Titicaca wasn´t as enthrallimg as Baikal was, despite them both being huge scenic bodies of water. However, I did fair enjoy the walk along the ridgetops and out to the inca ruins. It was a bit difficult without a guide to know exactly what I was looking at but the stone table and multiroomed stone buildings perched on the hillside with commanding views were certainly admirable in their own right. The trail down to the southern end of the island was well made though rough stoned and a seemingly endless series of long hills to climb in the hot sun, and at mearly 4000m the altitude does nothing to make it any easier. Fortunately with many great views over the grey rocks, tiered plantations, cacti strewn ground, numerous little bays and the miltishades of blue on the lake and high snow covered mountains in the distance on the mainland there was no shortage of excuses to stop regularly. Nearing the end of the trek some local people were laying out tree branches to dry in the sun and the aroma from the foliage was lovely and fresh and reviving. Finally I reached the little village of Yumani and found a nice little place to stay for the night. Eating in a little family reataurant just below my hospedaje the service may have been slow but the food was good. I had lovely vegetable soup then the local speciality of trout with rice and veggies. I had been looking forward to watching the sunset but I sat so long eating and admiring the fantastic view from my table that I was too late for it! Nevertheless I watched the dusky scene and listened to the kids playing and donkeys braying having come up the hill laden with goods as families returned to the village in the evening.

Entertained by the two little girls from the house over breakfast in the morning, I then sat for a final look at the view before setting off down the hill to the harbour and the return trip to the maniland. It was about 15 minutes down the stone path and steps that is the "inka staircase" and for much of the time I was following a woman, her son, and their donkeys as the headed to their terraces for the day. When I got down to the bottom I had time to enjoy the litlle bay with boats in the harbour and the hive of activity in the terraces above before we set off on our very slow chug back to Copacabana. There was a mum with her wee toddler girl on board too who was attempted to be entertained by a couple next to me. the toddler sat big eyed and unimpressed by them for the whole journry though, which in turn entertained the rest of us and livened what would otherwise have been a slow and uneventful crossing!

Back on dry land it was time to say farewell to Tobi and Bine as I headed to the Peruvian end of the lake and to the little town of Puno.

Bodegas and Gauchos

mogsie08-09 — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 07:31:00 GMT

It was another long bus journey to reach Mendoza but finally, after having left the semitropical north behind and passed through farming country I arrived in the semi-arid area in which the city sits. I found a busy city with a large central square which acts as the meeting and gathering point for many. The city centre is then bounded by four further squares which mark the outer corners of the centre and each is a celebration of past connections with different countries. The city is nice enough and certainly comes to life at night when people gather in the squares and market stalls set up around the place (Jill, it reminded me of the craft markets when we were in Rome) but for me it wasn´t a perticularly outstanding place in its own right. What I did love though, surprise surprise, was my visit to the wine making area of Maipu just outside the city limits! After a nasty start to the day I had had a fantastic time by the time it ended. Having caught the local bus to Maipu all was going fine as we went through the city outskirts until, as we headed through the last few strrets before my stop there was a sudden bang at theside of the bus. Momentarily I thought nothing of it given the jolting and pot-holes there are in the streets but as I turned I sawc acloud of dust and bits of a car careering across the air/street into some trees at the corner: it had smashed straight into the side of us. I didn´t want to look too closely but it was clear from the shocked faces of onlookers in the street that we would be going nowhere fast. Once an ambulance was called there was nothing else we passengers could do and we were ushered off the bus and away to look for another bus on the main road. With Argentinians there to explain to the next driver why we were on his bus, we got on our way again and I was soon dropped of outside "Mr Hugo´s". It was there that I hired a bike, was given a bottle of water and little map of the local wineries and such, and set out for my day of touring and tastings. Knowing I´d have to be careful on the roads I was concentrating hard as I set off but promptly turned the wrong way onto the road!! Fortunately there were no vehicles there, I realised my mistake and corrected myself, and the watchful Mr Hugo saw me and shouted at me too! I didn´t make the same mistake again - but did have to concentrate to remember to negotiate the roundabout the wrong way round! Safely on my way my first stop was at the Museo del Vino Rural. An interesting place the small winery had a guided tour showing the process of wine making and some interesting artefacts from days gone by. After our tour we were given a large sample of one of their wines to try. All the while we were watched by the originally mainly white winery cat who follows tourists round angling for petting of titbits. I say originally white because with the dry air and dust it certainly wasn´t an advert for any washing powder! The wine itself was ok but not wonderful so I moved off to the next place on my list. Historias Y Sabores makes chocolate, liquers and chutneys. The tour there wes very basic - really just pointing out what they produced but the tasting was better! First up were the liquers and with three to pick I had a Chocolate and banana one, a mint chocolate and a grapefruit one. The chocolate ones were too sweet - the minty one even reminding me of nightnurse(!) but the grapefruit one I liked. How easily I could picture drinking it oner ice on a hot sunny afternoon. After the liquers it was chocolate tating amd again we could pick three types. It was ok but not like belgian chocolate or even Thornton´s continentals! The preserves I did enjoy though, particularly an aubergine one which I new I´d like as a dip or on bread so was easily persuaded to by a jar. Leaving there I headed to what was to be my favourite stop of the day by a country mile! Tempus Alba had a lovely entrance with dry grass and slabbed landscaping, and an attractive Stone wood and metal building. A little pathway took me past some of the vines and into the entrance hall where there were further interpretive panels. Upstairs was the wine bar and sun deck, complete with shading sails, where I could pick which three wines I wanted to try. I picked a Malbec, Temptanillo and a Merlot. Sitting in the warmth but shaded from the sun, looking over their vines and olive trees, my wines were brought to me and then I was joined by the lovely Cristian! One of the family who owns the small estate he was proud to talk about their wines, the ISO certification process for tourim which they were currently in the middle of, but also just to sit and blether about life and travel in general and drink our wines, all of which were equally delicious, smooth, rounded and lip-smackingly tasty! Joined for a time by an English couple it was all very relaxed and convivial - just like we were all old friends sitting in the garden having a drink and a catch up on our news. The english couple moved on before I did and once they left Cristian gave me some of his Cabernet Sauvignon to try aswell. It was fantastic with a real raspberry like flavour. In some form of exchange I gave him some whisky recommendations to taste and/or visit, as the sensible man explained whisky and red wine were his two favourite drinks and he and some friends are coming to Scotland later in the year to tour some distilleries. So, Vicky, if Cristian Soper and friends from Argentina arrive at the visitor centre sometime in the next couple of months look after him for me will you!! When I finally left the charms of Tempus Albus it was almost literally just across the road to Viña El Cerno. Trying just two wines there: a chardonnay (unusual for Argentina) and a Merlot. Feeling the need to soak up some of my liquid intake I also managed a steak and salad from their Parilla. The steak was fine too, though not as good as the others I had in Argentina. My last stop of the day took me further along the busy road over the bumps and potholes and gravel edges and out to the Familia Di Tomaso. A small homely enterprise we sampled three different Malbecs - basic, better and best (although my favourite was the middle one) and a sweet wine. Never a fan of sweet wine, this was no exception - too much like a sweet sherry for me. A tour of their premises followed, seeing some of their vinyards, equipment, and the old fashioned brick storage tanks which they now just use to hold finished bottles of wine. From there I raced back to Mr Hugo´s to get back before he closed for the evening. I needn´t have rushed however as I was sat down on their terrace with others to have a complimentary glass of wine to round off my day before leaving. We were entertained by a tiny kitten and big Alsation dog which wandered about, the best of friends, as we sat. They pleaded for scraps as we ate the delicious empanadas which were on offer, but they were so tasty there was nothing leftover for the animals! On leaving Mr and Mrs "Hugo" made sure we all had change for, and caught, the right buses and then it was a straightforward ride back to town after a great day out.

From Mendoza I travelled up to the city of Salta. The journey took me through the arid desert landscape contrasted on one side by the Andes mountains. Unable to really see them from Mendoza city they dominated the skyline with multi v-shaped valleys up and down the hillsides. Continuing through the pempas there would be clusters of square brick or wooden shack houses so prominent throughout the countryside and poorer parts of the towns. The colours were mainly dominated ny yellows and greens but at one point we passed Pampa Blanco - a wide white expanse of salt pan looking just like snow at the roadsides. Finally we crested a large hill and descended into the sprawling city of Salta. Going out to explore I found it a much bigger and busier place than I expected with lots of narrow streets in the centre making it feel a bit enclosed. There are though a couple of pedestrianised streets which is a rarity in Argentina as far as I can tell, and the cental square is bounded by an ornately decorated cathedral, museums, theatre and similar ornate or grand buildings. One of my main reasons for visiting Salta had been to travel the "Train to the Clouds" but on enquiring I discovered it didn´t operate in April! A bit of a disappointment. Wanting something else to do I organised a visit to an estancion to go horseriding with a gaucho. Estancion Sayta is just outside the little village of Chicoana about 40km from Salta and it was nice having the drive out of the city. The little towns or villages we passed through seemed much more Argentine than the hectic city somwhow (though salta is very much south american with street corner trading, mad driving, peeping horns, traffic jams, and a noticably more ethnic appearance to many of the people). Arriving at the estancion I found a nice place - old house, various outbuildings, dogs running round the sheds and two horses tied to a tree at the gate. Welcomed by the friendly owner Enrique I was taken across to the veranda for tea, bread and a bit of a chat before being kitted out with a set of leather chaps and introduced to Refucho, my gaucho. We got onto our horses, he schooled me on the gaucho way of riding, we collected Mackay the dog and set out. He didn´t speak English but we managed basic conversation and he knew enough to check me if I wasn´t doing something quite right or needed directions. It was a really enjoyable trek going along the unsealed country roads, along a little stream, through the woods, passed farmland and little fincas, through a little village, over rough ground and back down the gravel tracks and roads to the estacion. The colours were amazing: lots of yellow from the tall crysanth/daisy type flowers, deep blue petunias, green black bean plants in the fields, maize, skies turning blue as the cloud lifted and the mountains becoming more visible and striking as the light on them changed. The only noise was the clip-clop of the horses, barking of dogs, a few birds and a tractor chugging along in the field. Even the smell was nice - a fresh mix of earth grass and flowers. It was so tranquil I was enjoying plodding along happily. At one point Refucho got me to have a bit of a gallop which was fun, even if he did stop me to improve my posture and technique before letting me go on again. In the fincas men pottered around, women did their washing and young kids played and giggled. Entering the village it was a friendly place with the customary higgledy-pigglety houses and wide concrete or dusty earthen tracks. Old trucks and cars sat in various states of collapse, and folk wandered in and out of the butchers, cafe or such. We crossed down to the football pitches before I was allowed another bit of a gallop, then round by the wide but dry river before walking through the bushes and back to the estancion. So relaxing and so enjoyable. safely dismounted I was ushered back to the table for a glass of wine, some fois gras (a gift from previous guests) and more chat. Sitting in the warm sun I was in my element and could have sat there for ages but all too soon it was time for my lift back to salta.

Back in town I climbed Cerro San Bernardo the hill overlooking the city and enjoyed the panoramic views. On they way back I stopped for an ice-lolly and once again found the freezer locked. It makes me laugh when nothing else ever seems to be locked that its the ice-cream freezers that are. It must be a precious cargo indeed.

Mother, you can relax: not having found a gaucho to sweep me off my feet, and the lovely Cristian not asking me to stay at his winery, there was nothing to stop me moving on or to prevent me meeting up with you in Canada in June, so I organised the next leg of my trip! Bolivia was calling, and although I fancied trying to visit the area made famous by Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, the transport connections were a bit more complicated and irregular so I opted to Zigzag in to Bolivia a little further north, via San Pedro de Atacama in Chile instead. As we headed north towards the border area we passed through countryside with grazing cattle before we started to climb and climb and climb and the road twisted up and round numerous hairpin bends. The vegetation gave way to scrub land as the mountains got steeper and stonier, then huge creepy looking cacti appeared. At first there were clumps of them but then they just grew singly. Tall and branchless they were eerie and alien looking! The colours of the mountains were amazing greys, reds and pinks. The earlier pouring rain stopped and either the cloud lifted or we rose above it as we crawled uphill and the sky became clear blue. The deep valleys became drier and drier until even the cacti stopped growing. Ocasionally there´d be a little pocket of green in an oasis but that was it. Roadside we passed a few donkeys, goats and llamas. Dry and barren there was nevertheless the incredible mix of reds greys and orange. By this time we were about 4000m and a tiny river provided another pocket of green before we finally reached the argentine border at Paseo Jama and had reached 4200m! The frontier was little more than a few mud brick houses, a fuel station and the customs and migration office. Despite the officer double checking my passport photo really was me I was soon stamped out of Argentina - my 8th crossing of their borders! I wasn´t sure whether I felt the air different because of the altitude or whether it was just fresher and clearer than the cities of late, but even with the warm sun there was a bit of a nip in the air. Once we were all back on the bus the road dipped before climbing still more this time passing a damp marshy area in complete contrast to the planetary desert which reminder me of Tongariro. Soon we began our descent, though, and eventually crossed the Chilean frontier and arrived in the small dry dusty little town of San Pedro.

All Roads North

mogsie08-09 — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 00:45:00 GMT

If it had been a super-fast ralley run South to Ushuaia it was completely the opposite as I headed North. The journey seemed incredibly slow across Tierra del Fuego with everything seeming to overtake us. Even the border crossings back into Chile, although not a slow process, seemed to add to the time it was taking. There wasn´t much to alter the scenery as we went but we did meet a farmer, his horse, dog leading his sheep along the road at one point. It was a real stereotypical Patagonian scene but nice to see it in reality. Eventually after about eight hours we finally reached the ferry. Two huge lorries were first in line for boarding but when the time came it became obvious that there wasn´t enought clearance for them to drive on. There then followed a bit of headscratching until the lorries had to turn and try reversing on. With a bit of repositioning of the ferry, a relay of numerous wooden boards acting as ramps and being packed underneath the wheels and constantly repositioned as the lorry was inched back under the eagle eye of the crew and other drivers, first one then the other were finally boarded. It was a bit of drama and entertainment for us watching interestedly from the wings! Once we were all on board and set off we were then joined by several Commersons Dolphins surfing and jumping round the boat. Their black and white colouring stood out wonderfully against the milky grey green of the sea. They stayed just a short while before disappearing, and then we reached the other side and were on our way too, and soon crossed back into Argentina again and continued Northwards. With just a change of bus at the uninspiring town of Rio Gallegos, it was a long drive up to my destination of Puerto Madryn. For the most part the scenery remained the wide expanse of emptiness although as the sun got stronger and hotter the vegetation changed more towards prickly short bushes and less grass. Travelling at what seemed a very sedate pace for hours and hours and hours we finally arrived and I was more than ready to get out and have a look around the town. Quiet during the day by early evening it got busier and was pleasantly bustling. There is a wide seashore promenade where everyone seems to gather - families walking, youths hanging around, kids playing, beach walkers, rugby coashing classes, you name it it happens there! It makes for a great atmosphere and with the setting sun throwing a deep red glow over the area it was a lovely evening.

The main reason for my stop in Puerto Madryn was to visit the Valdez Peninsula. There were just 4 of us on my trip which was nice and we set off climbing through the plains to Istmo Ameghino. The isthmus there divides the Gulf of San Jose from Gulf Nuevo and marks the entrance to the peninsula. All roads on it are gravel so it was a dusty and bumpy days travelling but well worth it. First stop was at Punta Norte which is only one of a couple, if not the only, place in the world where Orcas, hunting the young sealions which bask on and aroud the beach, are known to actually take them straight from the sands themselves! They seem to use echo sounding, and though there are known to be about 16 whales regularly patrolling the area only 5 or 6 are thought to have the skill to actually take the pups from the beach. Its a nice spot with the dark beaches stretching round the corners, the grey sandy soil having blown over the few bushes amongst the desert, the sea a lovely rich blue with white waves breaking onto the shore. Lots of sealions were to be seen on the beach and swimming in the shallows. As we waited and watched we saw 3 or 4 orcas also patrolling the coast. They cruised back and fore hunting and diving and we watched, on one hand willing them to demonstrate their incredible hunting skills but at the same time hoping the cute looking pups would be safe for another day! In the end the sealions were safe and the orcas continued on round the coast. I'm not quite sure why this location is the oly place the whales act like this, it must be something to do with the geography, but it means there is an almost permanent delegation of Natinal Geographic of TV film crews in the area. We left and in the car park watched an armadillo parading around until it found a bit of banana and scuttled off out of sight of its audience. We left and drove down to watch a colony of Magellan Penguins. There was a mixture of maturing young and molting adults sheltering in holes in the sand cliff, all down its slope, on the shore at the bottom, and playing in the water below. Some slept, some preened themselves or each other, some watched us and some played in the water - evidently delighted to be clean and back in the sea after shedding their old feathers for new. It was great to watch and nice to add a third breed of penguin to the list of those I've seen in the wild this trip. Leaving there we carried n down past Caleta Valdes, a 30km sand spit, and at its end we stopped at a little estancia come visitors complex where we were able to see Elephant Seals basking on the sands below us. The Southern Elephant Seals are the largest of the 18 types of seal and can dive to an incresible 1500m. That day they were only resting and sleeping. We finished our tour in the little village of Puerto Piramides. With no pier or proper harbour the boats are transferred to and from the water by tractor and trailer similar to at Mahau in NZ. On one side of the sandy bay was a high cliff and at the foot of it was a slightly unusual flat topped, round edged, and neatly tiered staging of stone embedded with shells. It looked artificial but was in fact completely natural. After a walk in the village we returned to Madryn. There was an Asado (traditional Argentinian BBQ) organised at the hostel at night and it was a super evening of eating drinking and chatting rounding off yet another good day. The big asado grill is heated with the ashes from the huge adjoining fireplace and was filled with lamb, chicken, sausages and morcilla. These "blood sausages" are the equivalent of our black pudding, were absolutey delicious and every bit as good as Charley Barley´s! If I´d had room I could have easily had more but my plate was already full with all the meat and the accompanyong salads and bread! Delicious!!

My next stop of my road North was Buenos Aires itself. Never a huge fan of big cities it usually takes me a few days to get used to them and BA was no different really. However, I arrived on Easter Sunday and found the city slightly eerily quiet with everything closed up for the day. I intended heading out to explore the next day but it didn´t quite work out like that. I must have developed an allergic reaction to something and when I woke in the morning my eyes were so swollen I could hardly open them. Fortunately with amtihistamines from the pharmacist, more from a doctor staying in the same hostel, and a day sat bathing them in water they soon improved. On the positive side I did learn some new Spanish phrases as a result, though admittedly "I woke with a face like a balloon" is hardly the easiest phrase to work into everyday conversation: in fact if I´m honest I´ve probably forgotten it already! When I was able to venture out without looking like I´d come straight from the boxing ring I went on a couple of good walking tours to see more of the city. The contrasts of wealth and poverty in the city are marked. Sitting almost alongside shanty town are some of the most oppulent streets, stores and buildings. After World War 1 Argentina was able to export its plentiful resources of meat, animals and leather to Europe bringing a lot of riches to the country. On the ships returning from their exporting trips the wealthiest families were able to import goods from the "style capitals" of europe such as France. With one trying to outdo the next it wasn`t uncommon for whole buildings to be brought back and reassembled in Argentina. There are many grand buildings throughout the city as a result but little that you could say is typically Argentinian. Even the parliamentary buildings are copies from other countries. Walking from the government Consular Palace down to the very pink Pink House, which is the Presedential building probably made most famous by Eva Peron, we passed the Plaza de Mayo. Its there that is the venue for the weekly parade of "The Mothers". Interestingly we were told that the local Porteños have little support for them now. The feeling is they have become a political lobbying group and lost sight of their original cause. A splinter group "The Grandmothers" is more highly regarded and continues to work with much success to try to trace the lost and disappeared from the Dirty War years. Our tour ended at the iconic towering white obelisk in Republica Plaza which is probably the most revered symbol of Argentina for its citizens and the gathering point for major celebrations. The Recoleta Cemetery was another interesting place. With the wealthy and well-heeled and famous buried there the BA determination to try to outdo his neighbour continues with row after row of ornate anf elabotare mausoleums. Unlike our rows of headstones here there are rows of buildings acting as shrines or tombs for the departed. Not an inch of open space remained and it was a bit bizarre. Sometumes there was no evidence of an urn or coffin but spookily sometimes there was - in varying states of decomposition! Among those burried there of course is Eva Peron, and her family mausoleum was bedecked with floral tributes in stark contrast to the others. An unusual tourist attraction maybe but interesting nonetheless.

One evening three of us went out to a Parilla called El Denevil. A typically Argentinian grill restaurant it was relaxed with a casual atmosphere. Packed with locals and tourists alike the food and wine was good. The steak was magnificently tender and cooked to perfection. The traditional Chimmichunga sauce was equally nice, either with the meat or just with bread. Argentina´s meat certainly lives up to its reputation. In turn for my last night I went to a tango show - after all I couldnt go to BA and not see the tango performed now could I? The show was really in two parts and although the first half was more an interactive song and dance performance but as it was conducted all in Spanish so I barely understood a thing. The second half was more of a demonstration and the footwork of the dancers was incredibly quick and intricate and great to watch. The band was good aswell: comprising a violin, squeezebox, double bass and piano the tunes were traditional and were certainly enjoyed by the mainly Argentine crowd who happily joined in the dancing and singing whenever possible.

Next for me was a visit to the wonferful Iguazu Falls. Arriving in the town of Puerto Iguazu in the morning I caught the local bus out to the national park thinking that a day would be enough. How wrong I was! I ended up spending two days on the Argentinian side, then nipping over to Brazil for the day to see them from that angle! I have to say, though, that it was far less spectacular from Brazil really. Sure, you get some panoramic views but it was far more interesting and beautiful in Argentina. Throughout the large park there, there are a number of trails taking you round the various cascades giving a variety of places to admire them from. There is a little train aswell which runs from one walk to the next but I enjoyed meandering through the forest between places. The trees and bamboos were tall and offered a bit of shade from the heat but also amazed me with the range of different colourful butterflies which were around. There were big ones, little ones, many vividly coloured others quite camouflaged, and some with markings that looked for all the world as if they´d been branded with a number 88! The woods were also the home of a lot of Coatis which wandered around scrounging for food. They were a strange mix of long snouted, stripey tailed, little eared, furry foxy budger skunk like type of animal! There weren´t a lot of birds around but those that were were generally colourful and friendly too. There were some huge jungle eagles which circled overhead all the time though. They were very graceful but extremely powerful looking and fascinating to watch for a while. The falls themselves are really a series of almost 300 cascades stretching for about 3km in length and towering anything up to 80metres in height. Walking the "upper circuit" took me along the tops of a few big waterfalls dropping sharply into the river below. It was lovely and the river was so gently flowing before it fell that the contrast between quiet calm and the roaring falling curtain of water was pronounced. That trail also allowed me to look across to even more forceful and majestic looking falls further round the cliffs. The "lower trail" zig-zagged down the cliffs before following the river round and giving spectacular views through the trees to the towering blankets of water falling opposite. With the sun reflecting in all the spray which was thrown up there were little rainbows glinting in the gorges too. Across on Isla San Martin, a little island nestled in the river basin in front of the falls, a steep climb up the high steps allowed yet another viewpoint and let you appreciate how much greenery there was on the cliffs behind some of the cascades. The heat and damp is very obviously a good growing combination! Another trail, "Garganto del Diablo" (the Devil´s Throat) crossed the idyllicly peaceful upper river by means of a stilted walkway. With the flat calm water, the blue skies, little rocks sitting just proud of the water, the tall dense trees and the reeds and grasses visible on the little islands it had a real tropical feel to it. Then I reached the waterfalls and the contrast was unbelievable. The noise, power, force, volume and height of the falls truly became obvious. Absolutely shooting in a great boiling mass of water down the 70+m drop it was a boiling white cauldron. The spray from the crashing water rose back the full height and more in enormous thick misty clouds making it look like you were peering through opaque glass at times. Numerous rainbows punctuated the white wall of water. Even the green tufts of plants on the upper river were dripping with water as if a hose had just been turned on them. It was beautiful breathtaking and wonderful. I remember being amazed at Niagara but here the force and height was even more. By the time I was leaving the sun was beginning to sink and a lovely mellow glow was being shed on the surrounding scenery. Incredible. I had wanted to go on a little boat trip through the upper river islands but it wasn´t running because (as far as my spanish and sign language allowed me to make out) the water level was too low. I can only imagine what Iguazu would be like with a higher water level it was just so spectacular as it was and a fantastic place to spend time.

My visit to Iguazu over, I had gone as far north as I could without changing direction or country. I opted to stay in Argentina for a little longer and turned west(ish) ...

Going to the Ends of the Earth

mogsie08-09 — Mon, 6 Apr 2009 19:00:00 GMT

The scenery on the trip across the border to Argentina was beautiful. In Chile there were many little lakes, grazing cattle, horse riding farmers and a spectacularly colourful clothes market in the otherwise drab and run-down looking Orsorno. Street after street was emblazened with roadside sellers of clothes. With their wares spread out on the ground and throngs of people hunting for bargains it was an incredible spectacle. Climbing up the steep roads into the Andes the mountains became rugged and jagged bedecked on the lower slopes with trees just beginning to turn to autumnal colours so little patches of russet tinged the tips of the trees. Crossing the border and entering Argentina the scenery contined to be wonderful. The mountains seemed to get more and more defined and turning down the aptly named Seven Lakes Road we passed beautiful sparkling blue lakes. A couple with beaches, others not, but all in glorious situations and competing with greens blues and white-greys to find the most vivid colour combinations. With the quiet road cutting through it I just found it so attractive and just as I might have pictured a typical Andean scene. My destination of Bariloche was perched on the banks of one of the lakes, Nahuel Huapi, was bounded by hills and mountains and with many stone and wood built buildings within the town and altogether was very pretty. Of course there was also the typical, I think, South American building site feel to the place too. There is always some constuction or repair works being undertaken which seem to get left mid-work as another job is started and landscaping just doesn´t happen at all. The rough bare ground just gets left for weeds to grow and dogs to make beds in. You just have to realise that priorities are different here and you always get the mix of rough and ready and stunningly picturesque next door to each other. After a spending some time enjoying the town I took a bus out to explore some of the local National Park a bit further. Arriving at the settlement of Villa Los Cohiues, at the head of Lago Gutierrez and with a little pebble beach,sparkling blue water, tree lined edges and high mountains overlooking it, it was a lovely start to the day. I followed the gravel road past holiday homes, new build and numerous dogs. Everywhere you go whether it be city, mountain, countryside or village, dogs abound. Mostly living rough or stray but often just wandering from their homes - they tend to live outside and are never put on a lead. None have ever seemed aggressive though and either just pad about snuffling around or, more commonly, just lie flat out somewhere looking overheated and exhausted. Anyway, I reached the park control gates and took the track through some lovely cool woods and up to a little stram and gentle waterfall - Cascada de Los Duendes. I was joined by a few very inquisitive little birds - bigger than robins and a bluey-black colour but with the orange-red breast they scooted about non-stop and were very entertaining to watch. I continued heading up the steep sandy and tree root laden path until I reached the lookout point. The view to the hills and to the lake was stunning. The hilltop behind was craggy and kind of turreted along its crest - a bit like a row of warriers waiting to attack. The trees were largely green and erect but with some ghostly pale and dead looking. The lake was gleeming bright blue. The reflection of the mountain opposite was beautiful and the hills stretched way off to the distant horizon. Just like some glossy travel mag´s typical Andean scene. I walked down through the trees until they petered out and were replaced by high bushes, grass and gorse with the sandy path becoming increasingly stoney. It was lovely and sheltered from the light breeze and with the heat, the mountains and the yellowy-green colourings I felt like I could have been in some Western film set. I was just thinking to myself that even should Clint Eastwood come riding by in Stetson and poncho it wouldn´t surprise me when I rounded a corner and came face to face with a horse - though no gaucho! It had an old frayed rope halter trailing looses but no sign of a rider and it wandered contentedly so I presume it was half feral now. Not much later, after crossing a couple of vitually dry creeks, I took a path leading down to Playa Muñoz. Reentering the trees I went back down a steep sandy path until I got back to the lake. It was almost flat calm, near perfect reflections, and absolute peace and tranquility with only a little road noise from Ruta 40 on the other side floating across. It was so beautiful with the little shingle beach, old bleached tree trinks, stones and clear water. It was amazing how deep and cold the water got quickly, thereby failing the paddle test let alone swimming! It was an easy place to while away a day until I retraced my steps and caught a bus back to town.

Seeing the horse in the park really put me in the mood for a bit of riding so that was next on my agenda. Collected from the hostel a small group of us were taken to some fields on the edge of town where Sebastien, our guide, had his horses grazing. The saddles were old and not overly comfy but at least they were there and I got onto my horse called Pampa. Once everyone was saddled up we set off. It was a slow plod to begin with, across the fields and round some back roads before crossing the main road and starting to work our way uphill. At first we were just on the dirt roads around verious houses but gradually the paths got narrower and sandier and we filed into a single line as we trekked through the bush forest. Very undulating ground meant I was happy for the hose to be doing the walking and not me - though my bum wished it had a comfier seat! Breaking through the trees the view across and down Lake Nahuel Huapi was stunning. It was again almost flat calm and we could see up and down its length to the hills beyond, over Bariloche way below us and across the forrest through which we´d climbed. (Val, I thought of you on a pony above Drum looking down Loch Ness! Have you been back again yet?) Reaching a clearing at the top we dismounted and had a very welcome stretch of the legs before setting off downhill again. Pampa had led most of the way up and as soon as I got back on she was off again eagerly leading us down, but gingerly finding her feet on some of the steep sandy sections. Once we got back to the wider tracks we were able to break out into a canter, which is much easier than a jolting trot and so much more fun than a slow plod, until we got back to the houses and reverted back to walking. Back where we started I was quite happy to dismount and have a comfier car seat for the trip back to town. I rewarded myself for my efforts with a fantastic ice-cream - once I´d sussed out the complicated queueing system! Paying first at a till you then go and get a ticket, then when your number is called you exchhange it and your receipt for your ice-cream. It was all very complicated but fortunately my stawberry ice was more than worth it - a huge couple of scoops with big chunks of strawberry piled high into the bowl. Yummy!

My final visit from Bariloche was out to Cerro Campanirio, one of the hills not far from town. Reaching the bottom of the hill you can either take a chairlift up or walk through the trees. Knowing how I feel about chair lifts you´ll not be surprised to hear I walked! Almost straight away the path became a steep climb up loose sandy soil. It was tough going and I´d barely gone 10 minutes before I had to stop for a rest! Moving on again I met 3 horse-trekkers on their descent a few minutes later and stepped aside to let them past. Looking up I saw the end of the chairlift not far above me. In my garbled Spanish I thought I´d asked how long the climb took and had been told an hour, but either I misunderstood the answer or was given the time for a round trip, because scrambling up the last rocky section I made it to the top in only 20 minutes or so. Anyway, my exertions were amply rewarded by the views. Looking out over the various lakes all around and the surrounding mountains you could see for miles. On an absolutely clear day I think you can see seven lakes. I don´t know how many I saw as it wasn´t obvious whether one or two were separate or one large mass of water, but regardless it was spectacular. Watching and admiring for a while I then set off back down the hill. It was almost as hard going down as up because the sandy soil was so slippery but I was soon safe at the bottom again and caught my bus back to Bariloche. When it came there were lots of schoolkids on board and more got on and off as we went. It was really quite funny as all the kids seem to wear white lab-coat type jackets for going to school so it just looked like a bunch of little scientists on an outing! Back in town I got the wonderful aroma of grilling steak coming from a street cart with a long queue of Argentinians waiting as he cooked strips of steak, chorizo and hamburgers to order. Always using queuing locals at a food outlet as a good sign I joined the queue and after a long wait I finally got a delicious, and cheap, steak sandwich with salad and a drink. The beef was absolutely delicious and tender and cooked just as I like it. What with good steak, lovely ice-cream, and free breakfasts and dinners at the hostel, Bariloche certainly looked afer me well food wise! It was time to move on though.

Route 40 is legendary in Argentina, being an almost completely gravel road running the full length of the country down the Western side. Me being me, I decided I had to travel at least a substantial section of it too and organised to travel down it to El Calafate in the south of the country. Having heard horror stories from other travellers of tests of endurance over the 30 or 40 hour trip, and being well warned by the woman at the ticket counter that it was just a basic bus, no frills, and with the ticketing company called El Garrobal (pronounced el harrobal) I hoped it wasn´t going to be "El Horriblë". Half expecting a ramshackle town minibus to turn up I was almost slightly disappointed when a perfectly normal intercity bus turned up! Although long and obviously rattley as we bumped along the gravel road it was a perfectly normal journey and standard of service was no different from any other intercity bus service in any other country I´ve been in - just not as all inclusive a SA bus companies usually are. The landscape as we crossed Patagonia was a seemingly endless expanse of barren yellow grass tussocks and some thorny looking little bushes. The sandy soil was stone splattered, partly natural and partly thrown from the road by passing vehicles. There is no keep right requirement ant vehicles travel the path of best fit. There was some but not a lot of traffic so it was a rare occassion when we met another vehicle. Although wide and expansive it was also undulating with at times many turns and occasional steep climbs, descents or hairpin bends. There wer lots of tiny birds flitting around the grasses and an odd one or two larger ones aswell. A couple of llama-like guanacos wandered around and several rheas (flightless mini ostrich/emu cross type birds). Grazing sheep, a herd of wild (perhaps) horses and just a few cows completed the wildlife tally. Stopping at one petrol station acouple of harassed looking older women served teas and coffees with that small town air of surprise that a bus load of people should appear - despite the fact that it happens every second day! I smiled to myself as the "glammier" one of the two wandered about with her painted nails, matching top and trousers and cigarette in holder collecting empty cups! A real latin look. With much upgrading work being done on the road (no doubt it will be sealed in the future) we had several diversions and stops to make. Arriving in the little town of Perito Morena it was announced we´d have a 4.5hr break before continuing. With nothing at the terminal other than a petrol station and nothing but a couple of kids and a few snoozing dogs to be seen in the ghostly quiet little town it was a long wait. Finally continuing the journey the terrain was ostensibly similar to before, but became more and more hilly. Big steep sided drops around possibly wind carved ridges and vertical channels in the ground created corrugated like cliffs. Mostly with flat hill tops there would be some craggy areas and as we twisted up and down it became lunar like. The colours too were amazing - for the most part dusty grey but sometimes yellow and at times red patches to the earth and rocks. I love dit and with the sun starting to set the light was lovely. After a time we crossed a few creeks and marshy areas with geese and ducks taking full advantage. Little pockets of green trees popped up where there was more water and a little farm estancion. As the light disappeared I fell asleep again and woke to early morning rain in El Chalten as we dropped off some passengers. En route from there to Calafate we had a brief stop at a little cafe in the middle of nothing. With a huge fire in the hearth, steaming hot coffee and a nice looking selection of cakes and pastries (though I resisted the temptation it being still too early even for me) it was fine stop. Continuing through the rain on the last part of the journey the rivers got more and more milky pale aquamarine in colour with quite substantial overspill into the surrounding fields, and then we reached our destination. Spread out buildings with a compact centre, it had a welcoming air to the place. After a doze and a lazy day I walked round the almost alpine feeling wooden buildings in town and down to Laguna Nimez. Obviously not short of rain of late the little info hut was completely flooded but I watched a selection of birds on the water: ducks, black headed swans and pink flamingos! It was a super mix and I hadn´t expected to see the flamingos in the south of the country so it was real bonus for me. It was a nice ending to my route 40 trip and fine welcome to Calafate.

I went on a boat trip on Lag Argentina to visit some of the glaciers in the area and although the weather was somewhat dubious - cold and wet - there was still a lot of incredible stuff to see. Even the morning trip to the port was attractive with a watery sun casting a golden glow over the hills and lake and a rainbow perfectly positioned between the two. Lago Argentina is the largest in the country and we travelled up its northern arm in water which is a very milky pale blue colour thanks to the glacial washed minerals. As we cruised up the lake we gradually saw little lumps of ice in the water then big lumps then big ice-bergs. The colour and texture was amazing: pretty smooth sided lumps; ridges of ice; holey (like Swiss cheese); big jagged points; layered slabs and great bars. One big pitted berg was dirty black but others were pearl white and others various shades of blue from pale to dark. Constantly battered by water and wind the bergs, which are broken from the faces of the glaciers turn and roll in the water as the erosion alters their balance. The darkest blue is on the freshest ice out the water gradually fading to white as air and elements take effect then blackening as dust settles or sediment within is exposed. We then reached the Spegzzini Glacier which was incredible. So blue faced and towering 400 feet high, textured and wide. Another catamaran looked dwarfed as it went along dodging in and out of the bergs, as we did too, giving a better sense of scale. After a while there we moved to the Upsula Glacier. Although not the highest or widest in the National Park it is the largest overall and with the front face having collapsed just the week before there were still lots of huge chunks of ice all around in the water. The misty cloud really prevented us seeing back up the mountains from which it stretches though. We headed round then to Onelli Bay where we docked and were able to walk up through the lovely green lichen treed woods to the lake of the same name. There are three further glaciers on it though I was only able to spot Agazzi and Bolado faintly in the distance. Onelli was hiding for the day! Despite the rain it was a pretty spot with high cliffs, little waterfall, green mossy woods and the milky lake. Heading for home we came across a berg which had turned just minutes earlier. It was so deep blue, the water around so flat and ice filled that it was a bit eerie. It was all so quiet and still - at Spegazzi in particular there was constant cracking and growling but here it was silent. Edging round the newly exposed ice it was wonderful viewing but soon we left and made our way back to Puerto Bandera. I´d enjoyed the trip not least because of the glaciers but also observing the people on board. Mostly Argentinian there was a lovely friendly atmosphere with the mix between old and young being very relaxed and natural with lots of easy cross-conversations going on and mate being sipped and drunk throughout the day by the vast majority (that´s the Argentinian favourite of a herby tea which is packed into tumblers, topped up with hot water regularly and sipped through a straw type filter). I like seeing these traditional customs of a country being maintained and not taken over by internationally available brands.

Having done the boat trip I was looking forward to going to internationally famous Glacier Moreno and I wasn´t to be disappointed. Travelling to the park we got glimpses through the clouds but once we arrived at the park and walked down the paths the glacier was awesome even wirh the icy snow particles blowing through. Tall, wide, multitextured like sliced polystyrene, whipped meringue and marble all at once. The milky blue-grey lake was calm with lumps of ice which had fallen from the leading edge floating around its base. It was almost V-shaped at the front matching the turn of the lake which it eats up. The front is about 50m high and about 4kn wide. The noise too is incredible like great gunshots or blasting of dynamite followed by thundering peels meant it was rarely silent as all the ice fractures cracked and creaked. Great chunks would fall off periodically and crash into thr water creating a little tidal wave effect, then little ice booms would form with the icy water contained within being mirror calm while the lake rippled outside the boundary. The sightseeing boats looked tiny in comparison. Glacier Moreno advances an incredible 2metres per day at thr centre, 40cm at the edges and stretches 180m below the water level. Chunks falling got bigger and more frequent - one clearly sending shock waves strong enough to loosen another section and so on. Pieces breaking underwater would result in great bubbling and spray with ice popping up to the surface eventually forming a little dam. Back in 2004 a dam even reached the shore but eventually water pressure forced its way through creating a tunnel then re-clearing the path a few weeks later. Even as I watched it was amazing how much its appearence changed over the course of the day. Another great experience for me.

On leaving Calafate the bus journey took me over more of the flat barren Patagonian landscape with just a few guanacos, grey foxes, rheas and horses scuttling about or hunched up against the wind and snow blowing through. The wildlife may have been slightly different but it reminded me of a bleak wintery Scottish moor. Finally we reached the slightly run down and ramshackle mining town of Rio Turbio which marked the border back into Chile and then it was only a short drive to Puerto Natales which allowed me to spend a day in Torres Del Paine National Park. It was just magnificent with jaw-droppingly stunning scenery. We had a brief stop at Cueva del Miloden where remains of the now extinct giant sloth like Miloden (it walked on all fours or its hind legs using its thick tail as a kind of stabiliser) were found in the late 1800s. Then it was off through wide grassy valleys with cattle and sheep grazing to the Paine mountains. The towering pillars of the Paine massif were craggy and majestic, and on the bright clear day just a thin ribbon of cloud hung round the summits. With the Andes on one side and the Paine range on the other we stopped at a vivid green lake (the only salt one in the area) and got even better and closer view of the enormous sheer walled crags of the Torres Towers: beautiful, imposing and massive! Moving on we stopped to watch the guanacos. One of the four members if the camel family found in Chile, they are generally sociable animals living in large herds with sentinals on guard duty around the hills on the lookout for pumas. Leaving them and another grey fox which had joined us behind(and after changing another flat tyre, my tour buses are definitely jinxed I reckon!) we skirted round Lagos Sarmiento and Nordenskjold to reach the waterfalls of Salto Grande. With a short walk over moorland with stunning hillside views we got to the river and falls which take the water from the lake Nordenskjold to Lago Pehoe 40m below. A real torrent of milky blue water the spray rose in great clouds, the sun picking out rainbows between the granite walls. It was lovely... and probably as much water as I´ve seen in all other waterfalls put together over the last few months! We had our lunchstop at a camping site on the shores of lake Pehoe. It was idyllic with yet more stunning views. (By now you´re probably getting the gist that I enjoyed the day and took numerous photos which will bore you all sometime in the future no doubt!) The campsite was well laid out with individual shelters and BBQs for each pitch - Chris I thought of you and reckon it´d be a good blueprint if you ever get your campsite on the go! Afterwards we drove through the wider flat valley floor across the expanses of grassland to Lago Grey. Walking through the trees from there took us down to a shingle beach and sandbank which we crossed over and went along the opposite stoney cliffside path to get fantastic views of the lake and the icebergs within it and down to the glacier at the far end. With the dramatic angular and jagged mountains, the ice, the twinkling water, the green hillsides and river it was a super spot to round off our visit to the park. Obviously the clear sunny weather on the day was a bonus but it was truly outstanding scenery, and what was brilliant was that our little tour of 8 people always seemed to be just ahead of other busloads of people so we were able to enjoy everywhere in peace and tranquility, and were leaving places just as the bigger busloads of folk started to arrive. An added bonus! I´d been toying whether or not to detour back into chile and this region but am so so glad I did.

Leaving Puerto Natales I started making my way back across to Argentina and down to Tierra del Fuego via an overnight stop in Punta Arenas. It is a strange mix of a city. Raggedy but busy streets lined with well-worn little properties and shops, but also with signs of past wealth. Big mansions surround the main square and numerous banking institutions line the streets around it. It was quite funny that as the last major town in Chile the place really had an end of the line uniqueness to it but at the same time the central square was like just about every other town square throughout the world and was full of older tenagers hanging out using the statue to hone their skateboarding and BMX skills - even in the rain! From Punta Arenas I caught the bus for Ushuaia and racing along in the pouring rain we got to the little ferry which would take us across the Magellan Strait. With the little deserted slipway, pouring rain and little ro-ro ferry it made me think of Calmac, Skipness and Arran! The crossing took just 15 minutes before we disembarked on the other side and I had finally reached Tierra del Fuego and Isla Grande. Another major milestone for me. We drove through the vast wet expanse of space for the next few hours and it reminded me of Northern Shetland: short yellow tuft grass, no treesm wet, featureless and only slightly undulating. It was a gravel road and we shuddered and shook along rhe windows getting progressvely muddier and muddier until they were completely obscured. With the road not wide enough for two vehicles over cae size we had to slow and slide to the sides when meeting oncoming vehicles - a perhaps surprisingly common occurence. At San Sebastian we crossed the border back into Argentina and onto paved road - apart from one section of ralley ride across more wet mud and gravel where we slid and weaved our way along at a real rate of knots. Finally stopping for fuel in Tolhuin, when we went to leave the bus wouldn't start again!! Fortunately after a bit of head scratching and looking in the engine we got a tow and it sprang into life! Eventually we reached Ushuaia and I had a real lump on my throat. After thinking about it for so long it seemed unreal that I'd actually made it there. It was akin to the feelongs I'd had when I got to Australia for the first time.

I had a brilliant time around the place. There was a friendly relaxed ambience at my hostel and the surrisingly sizeable city itself had a similar laid back feel. With the height of the tourist season past it wasn't too busy yet still had plenty of people around and the locals were constantly waving and greeting each other. It reminded me of Campbeltown of old. The city itself is bounded by the Beagle Channel to the front and lovely snow capped mountains behind. With the autumn colours turning on the trees it really appealed to me and I stayed for a good few days enjoying my visit. And, Is, I even managed to learn a new card game for us to try on my return!

Going on a boat trip om the Beagle channel I was in my element. The guide, called Carla, was enthusiastic and interested and quite apart from pointing out lots of interesting flora and fauna she even helped me with my Spanish and wrote a few notes for me to take away at the end if the trip! On the tour itself we went first to Bridges Island. The sun was blinking on the mountains and it was nice getting a view of the town from the sea. With the calm water I thought of Vancouver and West Coast Scotland. Arriving at the little island the colours, rocks, smell, seaweed, shingly shelly beach, tyres tied to the rocks at the jetty and the calm and air of solitude was all very familiar and homely feeling. We had a short walk to see some of the native plants but the bitter cold wind meant we didn´t linger for long, however as we climbed up onto the rise on the little isldand we stood pretty much in the middle of the channel and looked 90km one way towards the Pacific Ocean, 90km the other way to the Atlantic, and if your eyesight permitted 1000km across the last stretch of Chile was Antactica - as close as I was going to get on this journey of mine! Returning to the boat we passed a shell midden, a remnant from the Yaman people native to the area and dating back 6000 years or so. To counter the cold and wet which meant clothing was of little use as the people had no opertunity to dry the constantly wet skins they lived virtually naked, using only seal and whale blubber to grease their skins as a basic insulation against the elements. They must have been a hardy lot because even with my thermals and a welcomong hot chocolate back on the boat I could feel the cold! Chugging further along the channel there were lots of birds of a variety of kinds including the comical looking flightless steamer Ducks. They skim along the top of the water with a curious running motion and an almost rotational flapping of their wings. Very peculiar and funny to watch! We were then joined by lots of South american fur seals. They raced after the boat like a pod of dolphins jumping and surfing along in the bow wave. They´d race along heads popping up now and then to look how far away we were before almost visibly sighing and stopping to watch as we left their playground and chugged into the distance leaving them behind. After circling Faro Les Eclaireurs, the lighthouse popularly but incorrectly referred to as the lighthouse at the end of the world ( there is another at on Staten Island at the entrance to the channel) guards the stretch up to Ushuaia. Returning to port we spotted rock and king cormorants aplenty and also snowy sheathbills, dolphin gulls and many more. I´m telling you my awareness of different birds has markedly increased since I´ve been travelling. The challenge will be seeing if I remember even half of them in the future! We nosed round more rocky outcrops watching the sealions massed together in a big lazy lump then as we headed for home we were warmed with a local chocolate rum liquer which although typically SA sweet was tasty and pleasantly warming going down the throat and a nice end to the enjoyable trip.

Another place I enjoyed was my visit to the maritime museum, although why its called the maritime museum I don´t know because the maritime section was one hall containing half a dozen small models of old ships and that was about all. The rest of the place was dedicated to the old prison in which it is set and was far more interesting. Ushuaia was chosen as a penal colony for Argentina in the early 1900s and a prison was built at the edge of the then small town, constrycted by convicts themselves who would be transferred from the former military prison on Isla de los Estados. Apparently a real mix of extremely harsh treatment of forced hard labour, shackled prisoners, overcrowding and alledged ill-treatment, there were also a number of quite positive aspects: the jail had a bakery, farm area, other work rooms providing services for both the prison and the town at large, and latterly a hospital. Prisoners could be paid a small wage in return for their work in order to buy additional personal effects. the museum offered stories behind a few of the prisoners as well as outlining some of the work, escape attempts, and life and conditions for the warders and guards who also lived in the complex. A final section covered other famous jails around the world and I was delighted to see one section about Inverary Jail. Yet another connection to home. Outside I walked along the shore front where a couple of big cruise ships had arrived. At the entrance to the pier a woman and her extraordinarily powerful sound system was performing for the benefit of the cruise passengers. Unfortunately any talent she might possibly have had seemed to be distorted in the volume from the amps and she just reminded me of Marguarita Pracatan a la Clive James!!

On my last day I went out to the National Park. Its only km from town but it was a nice drive with the orange tinged trees at the foot of the hills a real contrast with the snow capped mountain tops. I got out at Ensenada Bay which was a lovely spot. It was sheltered, the water was calm, there was a small wooden jetty, the shelly beach, short springy grass, the trees were a mix of green and orangey-red, the sea was a clear dark green colour and even the rocks had a pale greeny hue to them. It reminded me of so many places in Scotland and was just beautiful. I went to the tiny shed on the pier that serves as the most southerly public post office then started out on what was a super day´s walking. The Costera Trail followed the shore of the Beagle channel sometimes right down at water´s edge sometimes back within the forrest that edged it. The little bays were wonderfully scenic and tranquil, the beaches deserted and scrunched nicely underfoot, the mountains towered above it all and the woods were fantastic. Although damp and squelchy underfoot in places the muddy track was mostly over the springy seashore grass or through the orange leaf litter within the trees. Aswell as the orange reds and russets there were still plenty of shades of green. Aswell as the leaves there were the mosses and lichen and the "old man´s beard" hung thick on many of the trees and branches and over the rocks. The path was so lovely and with it being so quiet and peaceful and through so many of the landscape features I love - woods, water, autumn colours - it suited me to a tee. A few rabbits bobbed about and although I heard a few birds I didn´t see many other than a few ducks. The exception was three little birds having a bath beside a little wooden fold. They splished and splashed and then perched on the wood to stare at me before finishing their preenings and flying off. They were really entertaining. I carried on too and after the path turned away from the shore it climbed uphill for a bit before continuing through the woods at the side of the ripio road. When the track finished I followed the road towards Lapataia Bay. Although it had started to drizzle I loved ot. The continuous landscape of little rolling hills, mountains, woods, springy grass, peaty ground, fine rain, milky green reflective water and tussocky bushes was incredible. It was akin to being in Glen affric or so many other coastal highland glens. When I reached Lapataia I had reached the end of Ruta 3 - the highway south from Buenos Aires - and the very Southern corner of Argentina. I felt I really had made it to the end of the earth. I strolled round the boardwalks trying to comprehend how far I´ve come as I waited for the bus back to town to arrive. When it did arrive we returned via the chairlift up to the Martial Glacier so I got a further look round parts of Ushuaia I hadn´t made it to yet and also some more fantastic views down over the city and sea and past some of the old traditionally styled wooden houses and modern grander hotels on the way, and as I was the last passenger on board I got dropped off right outside my hostel which was a bonus too.

I loved my time at the "Fin del Mundo" and could easily have stayed longer. Its the kind of place I think which draws you into its grasp and doesn´t let you go. Its not maybe the most aesthetically beautiful town in the world yet it is in a wonderful setting and has a nice vibe to it. However, I know there are many more places I also want to visit before I have to return to Scotland so I finally took the decision to go the only direction open to me at that point, and headed north.

Travelling in Time

mogsie08-09 — Fri, 20 Mar 2009 12:59:00 GMT

My 12th of March was surely as one of the longest days possible - lasting 40 hours in total. After boarding my flight in Auckland (for once in my life without extra security checks, hallelujah!) We flew for about 11.5hrs before landing about 4.5hrs before we took off! I'd watched our flight progress map with interest until we crossed the date line - yet another first for me. Safely landed at Santiago airport I yet again avoided much bureaucracy and was duly officially stamped into Chile. Entering the arrivals hall took me back to my Russia days, with the same melee of taxi drivers desperately trying to tout for business as there used to be outside the railway stations there. Fortunately I had pre-booked a shuttle bus transfer and so was soon speeding into the city through the similar slightly dusty streets and chaotic traffic and associated horn tooting as I'd experienced throughout much of the first quarter of my wanderings.

Santiago as a city has proved not to be one of my favourites, though by the time of leaving I had become more used to it and was beginning to mellow towards it. Its not the prettiest of cities and there are not of attractions sightseeing wise for me here. It does have one very big thing in its favour though: a metro stop called "Cumming"! With a station so named it certainly can't be a bad city! Having not fully come to grips with the city as I wandered around, I ventured up Cerro San Cristobal. Here a funicular railway climbs at an angle of between 45 and 48 degrees for about 500m until it reaches the top of a hill overlooking the city and surrounds. Looming over it stands a huge statue of San Cristobal guarding the city and acting as a religious shrine for numerous Chileans. I always like to look out on a city from some tall viewpoint to fully appreciate its layout and size and I was certainly able to do that here. It lies in a flat bottomed basin surrounded by some of the towering snow-capped mountains of the Andes, and although a seemingly everpresent light smog hugs the city blurring the outlines of the mountains it was nevertheless a wonderful sight, and I stayed for a while enjoying both the vistas and the relative calm and peace and quiet largely absent from the city below.

While in Santiago I also discovered I've returned to the system in public toilets whereby you exchange your money for your allotted ration of paper. I must commend the Chileans though for being far more generous than the Russians were with their 2 or 3 squares of Izal!!

Leaving Santiago (fortunately after I discovered that the local clocks had gone back one hour overnight marking the end of summer daylight saving time) I took the overnight bus to Pucon (pronounced poo-con not puke-on before some of you start!) and found the Chilean buses to be the best I´ve been on: big comfy reclining seats, complimentary snack and drink, steward service, blanket and pillow provided, a quiet smooth drive and an organised luggage for ticket swap. Needless to say I slept well on board and woke refreshed to the pretty town of Pucon. With mountains all around, the twinkling lake, hot sunshine, a welcoming and friendly hostel, and a laid back in its only little world feel to the town I spent a super few days there. The undoubted highlights were a trip to the local national park and a sunrise climb of the local volcano.

Catching a bus with a couple of other girls from the hostel, it took us up the scenic, narrow, twisty and in part steep gravel road to the entrance of Huequehue National Park. We then spent a super day there walking, chatting and enjoying the lakes. We set off walking, more or less following the Los Lagos trail. It was lovely and peaceful with lush green forest and soft ground strewn with fallen foliage underfoot. Leaving the almost flat calm twinkling Lago Tinquillco behind as we passed through sometimes tall trees, sometimes bamboos, sometimes monkey puzzle trees we collected Piñones ( a kind of pine nut) to snack on. After climbing up passed what were alledged to be waterfalls, though at this time of year there was barely a thimbleful trickling over the rocks, we got lovely views out over the lake to Mt Villarrica in the distance. Climbing yet more over tree roots and up steps we finally reached the crest of the hill before descending to Lago Chico. It was little and greenish and surrounded by dense trees and shrubs and looked beautiful. Further on again we came to Lago Verde. It was very green - certainly living up to its name- with reeds in the water and nestled as it was in a bowl of trees it was very pretty. Some of the numerous monkey puzzle trees had long ago fallen into the water and as they lay decaying in the shallows they looked positively skeletal or like some slumbering alligator waiting to attack its prey. We sat a while on one of the beaches before heading over to Lago el Torro. It was bluer with tall cliffs aswell as the tree clad hills and so we found a spot to have our picnic. As soon as we got our food out the bees, wasps and mosquitoes appeared! We were up and off in a shot and back to our little beach at Lago Verde where we happily whiled away much of the afternoon blethering and enjoying the sun until we had to go back for the bus back to Pucon after a super day.

The day of the climb up Volcan Villarrica I had to get up at the ungodly hour of 3:30. To make matters worse it was the second day in a row I´d had to do it as originally I was to make the climb the day before, but by the time we got to the mountain it was too windy and we had to postpone our attempt. I may get up earlier than I used to now, but 3.30 is way way too early to be fun - especially two days in a row! Having said that, what was to follow the rest of the day more than compensated. Transported to the base of the mountain by bus we all got kitted out with ice-axe, waterproofs, gaitors, crampons, helmets, hats, gloves and goretex "nappy" - more of that later! Still very dark we set out in a crocodile line our headtorches just giving enough light to see where to put our feet. It was soft, sandy and difficult walking as your feet sank into the ground. After about half an hour of walking constantly uphill we stopped, just as the first glimpses of sunlight were beginning to peep round the hillsides. We carried on further up and stopped againas the sun really came up casting a lovely glow and allowing super views from our vantage point down to Pucon and the lake below and of all the mountains round about. Zig-zagging on up the steep mountainside the soft soil and loose rocks made it even more difficult, especially when matched with the steep gradient and my thighs were beginning to protest! Up and up we went until we reached the ice-fields where we donned the gaitors, crampons, helmets and gloves before tentatively making our way up the ice and snow. We had again to zig-zag using our ice axes to anchor us. It took probably a good couple of hours to get over the ice and back to the lava rock. As we went up the loose scree and rocks and boulders it was sometimes difficult to find a path and we relied very much on the guides to keep us right. The rock was a distinctive red black colour and in one section we crossed a river of lava rock from the last eruption of the volcano (back in 1974). It looked a bit like petrified wood. Eventually, slowly, we clambered past the last of the rock-holes, cravasses and scree to finally make it to the 2847m summit. It was magnificent. The views across the mountains stunning, the lake and town far below, and the amazing volcano crater. It was so deep. Almost a perfect circle, sheer sides of orange, grey brown red and green stretching far below. The lava within couldn´t be seen but it could most definitely be heard. Gurgling and spitting and boiling away with great surges as it rushed against the crater walls. A steady line of steam billowed up and the stench of sulphur took your breath away if you got too close. Little pieces of muliticoloured mineral rich rocks twinkled around the lunar-like summit. Just fantastic. Preparing for our descent, aswell as donning the overjackets, helmets gloves and so on we´d discarded in the wake of the heat from the sun we also had the "nappies" to put on. Clipping round our waists and legs these became our personal luges as we slid down snow chutes on our bums using our axes as rudder and brake. Initially a bit daunting it was brilliant fun racing down round corners and over little bumps. A total of 4 slides of varying length and steepness, it was a quick, fun and exhilerating slide down. The only less than positive aspects were the John Wayne-esque walks and ´mildly ebarrassed toddler´ expressions as we tried to empty the excess snow from our nappies between slides - a Huggies seal they had not! But as we slid down dozens and dozens of people were struggling uphill further meriting the early start to avoid the crowds and to miss climbing in the heat of the day. Once clear of the ice we sped down through the sandy earth equally quickly. It was much easier going down, digging our heels in to the ashy sand and with the aid of gravity racing down at a rate of knots: it took me 5 1/2 hours going up and only about 2 coming down! A difficult but rewarding trip and a real highlight for me. It was just fantastic.

My final stop in Chile (for the time being anyway) before heading to Argentina was in Valdivia. It was an attractive enough river city just not quite living up to its billing in my guide book. Two rivers - the Calle Calle and Valdivia converge and the riversides were nice to amble along. With the Valdivia running into the ocean not too far away it still had that lovely fresh slightly salty sea smell at times. The real highlight of the city for me however was the wonderful market. A canopied busy stretch of stalls facing onto each other, one side backing onto the river, it was a real riot of colour and activity. All sorts of produce was sold: fruit, veg, bread, herbs and spices, clothes, plants, and fish of all sorts and types -fresh, smoked, sea urchins, mussels, shell fish, eels - you name it it was there. The fish stalls were alomg the riverside of the market and behind them the birds and sealions were desperately waiting and clambouring onto the decks to get left overs and scraps. It was a real smorgasbord for them and amazing to watch them at their fast food convenience store! With some of the fish being cooked on small fires in the vendors booths there were plenty offcuts being thrown back to the greedy marine crowd behind! One guy even had one sealion right up beside him and was essentially hand feding him! With so much going on it was a fantastic mix of colours smells sights and sounds and a great finale to my first spell in Chile.

Closing Encounters of the Kiwi Kind

mogsie08-09 — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 00:30:00 GMT

I had to get up for a rediculously early ferry crossing back to the North Island because with my time quickly running out in New Zealand I knew I'd have a real whistlestop tour if I was to fit in everything I still wanted to see and do there. Needless to say I've not ticked all the boxes, but I had a pretty good attempt at it!

First stopping off point for me was in Taupo. It sits on the banks of the lake of the same name (the largest in New Zealand) and beside the Waikato River (the longest in New Zealand). An attractive place, I walked along the riverside pathway to the Huka Falls passing the Taupo Bungy spot on the way. I watched (well, squinted through half shut eyes) in a mix of trepidation, nervousness and curiosity as someone made the jump. It's undoubtedly a very picturesque spot: steep sandy coloured cliffs, greenery atop and a wide clear green river curving round below glinting invitingly on the sunny day I was enjoying. BUT, watching the girl jump and bobbing about on the end of her tether as she was lowered to the bottom again afterwards only served to reconfirm my thoughts that it can't be at all good for you, and I'd far rather be stationary while admiring the scenery than have it rushing towards me at 60 or 70 kmh! While I was watching a helicopter had been buzzing around filming events and as I carried on my walk I met more people struggling to run up the hill towards the bungy. It transpired they were part of a "reality" TV weightloss competition programme called "The Biggest Loser". They had to run up from the valley floor, bungy off the cliff and Kayak down the river as part of some tortuous race. I can only imagine how desperate they must be to lose weight and/or be on TV because it seemed a horrendous ordeal to me. I happily left them to it and carried on to the falls which were really very spectacular. Not high, but long and a real cauldron of bubbling white rapids. The noise was incredible and the volume and force of water was equally immense. The river, which not far upstream was almost 100m wide and 4m deep was channelled at that point through the little sheer sided gorge which was just about 15m wide and 10m deep! The force of the water as you can imagime was amazing and a little jet boat which came zooming up the river struggled to hold its position and let its occupents get a close look at the torrent.

The undoubted highlight of my stay in Taupo however was going on what is billed as the greatest day walk in New Zealand - the Tongariro Crossing. Yet again I was blessed with fantastic clear weather for the 19km trek across the volcanic pass, which really allowed me to fully appreciate the spectacular scenery on offer. Including stops it took about 7 hours in total but it was very much split into sections with just two serious uphill slogs, but plenty of good excuses to stop regularly, admire the views and get your breath back! Taken there by shuttle bus you get dropped off at the carpark at one end and(sensibley enough!) picked up at the other end in the afternoon. The first hour was easy walking along the tussocked valley either on well marked track or wooden boardwalk. It was busy with dozens and dozens of people setting out so that hour gave time for the crowds to spread and thin out as people found their own pace. After the first hour, at Soda Springs, the lava rock became more noticeable and started changing colour- becoming darker than previous rocks. The path then climbed up a series of twists turns and wooden steps for the next hour as it went up "The Devil's Staircase". A steep climb I had to stop regularly - purely to admire the views you understand, nothing to do with the fact I was jelly legged and completely out of breath! My excuse is that the steps were too tall for my little legs so it was a bit of a clamber rather than a walk. Finally reaching the top of the climb the track passed the foot of the summit track to Mt Ngauruhoe, an active volcano. I took one look at the gradient of the hill and decided to give that path a miss! Instead I carried on across the dead flat South crater. It looked like it had been ironed flat. Wide and circular, enclosed by the hyge mountains around it, with lumps of solid lava rock dotted about and an occasional tussock of grass and a vivid red colour on some of the hillside rock, it had an extraordinary other worldly feel. Everyone was commenting how it felt like being on the moon or even Mars. On the other side of the crater was the start of the Red Crater ridge. The views were awesome: at about 1600m the vistas across the south crater I'd just crossed, over to Mt Ngauruhoe, up to Mt Tongariro or out over the enormous deep Red Crater and across the wispy cotton wool clouds were absolutely breathtaking. The deep crimson volcanic rock, the black lava solids, the sandy basin floor and brownish patches of bare rock was phenomenal. Like nothing I've seen before. The track clibed again, this time up the red Crater ridge with steep drops on either side before getting to the summit. A sulphury smell hung in the air and pockets of steam rose round about. Sitting at the top the ground was warm from the volcanic activity deep beneath. There was a cool breeze however and although my underfloor heating may have worked its way up eventually it was too slow in taking effect so I edged my way down the steep loose ashy scree to the incredible emerald lakes below. Coloured by the high mineral content they really stood out against the mountain terrain - really like twinkling gems. I sat taking in the sights and smells before continuing across yet another volcanic basin, skirting another lake, before rounding the hill and reaching much more vegetated hillsides with little mountain daisies and alpine iris providing splashes of colour. It was amazing how different the landscape looked so quickly. From there the path descended all the way down the hills past hot smelly springs until it reached the bushline again and the last while was through the forest alongside a babbling stream until getting to the finishing point at the little carpark. An amazing walk and incredibly diverse scenery. It certainly lives up to the billing it gets. On the bus back to town we were trundling along fine until going up a long steep hill about 15 minutes from Taupo we ground to a halt. I couldn't believe that for the third time in NZ I'd ended up on a bus which broke down. Fortunately for me the woman I was sat next to had a phone and called her husband back in Taupo who then came and collected her and I and whisked us back to town. I was more than happy not to have to wait in the hot bus with 50 other sweaty walkers and no aircon until the breakdown people arrived!

Leaving Taupo I had a very quick visit to the east so that at least I could have a quick look at the area even if I couldn't linger - I now had the deadline of my flight to Chile looming close on the horizon. The scenery was very much like Scotland with cattle grazing, deep valleys and multicontoured green hillsides. Napier was a lovely city. Perched on the side of Hawke's Bay it is flanked by several wineries on its inland side and has a great long promenade with gardens playparks and open space behind its stoney beach. There are numerous buildings of Art Deco styling throughout the city giving it a real sense of character. The city had been razed by earthquake then fire in the early 1930's so it was rebuilt at the height of the art deco movement and most of the significant buildings reflect that. Gisborne looked quite nice too, but I had even less time to explore it. It is another beachside town - a surfing city- and also sits on the banks of three converging rivers, including New Zealand's shortest at only 1200metres. Leaving there I had just one more stop, in Rototrua, before arriving back in Auckland.

Rotorua offered a range of attractions, some better than others, and a background odour all of its own! Walking round Kuirau Park is in many ways like strolling round any town park, just with the addition of numerous hot springs, steaming ponds and bubbling mud pools. It was quite strange looking across to clumpd of shrubbery and seeing the clouds of steam rising. At first there was just a faint sulphury smell to accompany the gentle bubbling. As I moved from one area to the next the mud got gloopier and plopped away noisily and one area was particularly stinky ... think very ripe cheese, smoky bacon crisps, sweaty socks and rotten veg all mixed together and left in the sun - RANCID! The largest of the hot reserves was a desert-like mass of mud but with the hot pools steaming round about. The plants on the side were mud strewn where previous eruptions from the geysers had splattered everything. Today nothing was a forceful as that fortunately. Leaving the park I meandered down to the lake. At the aptly named Sulphur bay the water is so low in oxygen and high in sulphur that not only is the colour tainted but no fish and plants can survive there - a real contrast with other parts of the lake. Further on again was anothe rancid smelling pond and an area called "Cameron's Laughing Pool" The chemical reactions there were such that when it times gone by people bathed there to reap the benefits of all the mineral salts they were effected by the fumes in the same way as Laughing gas! They must have been a hardy lot though as there is no way I could put up with the smell long enough to bathe - even a quick sniff was way more than enough, no matter how good for my skin it might be!

One evening I went to a show billed as a traditional Maori evening of music, dance and food. Despite some good bits, overall it was a wee bit of a disappointment: being a real parade of the masses it was a bit like being on a conveyor belt of tourists getting rushed through and out as quickly as possible so the next lot could come. On arrival we were lined up along the banks of the stream which flowed though the venue site as a waka (canoe) of warriers paddled up. When they got out we all trouped along behind and to the big theatre area where a performance of dance and music was staged. It was ok but nowhere near as good as what I'd seen in Waitangi when I was there. After a final impressive Haka the "chief" spoke a little about the traditional tatoo patterns, and that was quite interesting. Those on legs and body generally represent the rivers and seas, while those on the face represent the 4 most sacred or precious birds for the polynesians: the owl, parrot, bat and kiwi. The bat, the only native mammal to Aotearoa, being on the forehead and brow, parrot on the nose, kiwi on the cheeks and owl around the mouth and chin. Tatooing was always an honour earned and usually only done on chiefs, elders or as an award of respect. While his talk was quite interesting I would have been happy for it to be a bit longer, but we were moved on to marquees for our Hangi. A hangi is an oven in the ground heated by fire baked stones and traditionally with leaves covering it where food is baked for feasts. Today for good old health and safety reasons a stainless steel lid was used although hot rocks still heated the pit. The food was delicious, the meat so tender and the veg cooked under the meat so that they benefited from the juices dripping into them. We had chicken and lamb, potatoes, Kumura (a NZ sweet potato) scallop potatoes, corn and salad leaves, coleslaw, red cabbage, stuffing, rice salads, gravies and sauces. It was lip-smackingly good. Afterwards there was pudding: chocolate log, trifle and fruit salad and tea or coffee to finish. A great feast I rolled back to the bus when we were ushered out and taken back to our accommodation!

My final encounter in Rotorua was also my favourite: looking round a captive breeding centre for Kiwis, and finally seeing these elusive creatures living and breathing. The centre is one of 5 captive breeding sites across NZ working to release the young kiwis to the wild and so stopping the long term decline in numbers. Started in 1995 the number of chicks released each yer has grown after a slow start to over 100 each year. This year 128 chicks have hatched - a bumoer year. We started our tour in the incubation room where the eggs are first brought. A kiwi egg is about 25% of the size of the adult bird - huge! The generally life pairing birds live separate lives and when she is going to lay her egg the female goes to the male's burrow and leaves him the egg, never visiting it or the chick again. She will return with a second saved egg she develops after the first hatches, but thats it! The male kiwi, or the centre in this case, cares for the egg for about two months until it hatches. All behaviour is inate with no teaching from a parent so the centre can provide chicks with a food mix of offal, cat biscuits, veg and a side order of bugs and wait as they learn to eat and start to grow. We watched a newly hatched chick sleeping, tip of its long beak tucked under what would be its wing if it had one, but didn't see one feeding. After about 3 weeks the chicks are transferred to outdoor enclosures to further grow and develop and once they reach 1kg from an average birthweight of c350g they can be microchipped and released into the wild. We saw three of the long term residents in their inside-outside runs. Foraging around snorting and scratching they were fascinating to watch. Very like wekas in appearance really, they are very confident and self-assured in mannerisms. When we had to leave them to their scuffling we went through to a little information room to learn more facts and figure about these amazing creatures. They are so unbird-like in so many ways its quite bizarre. I really enjoyed my visit and was delighted to finally see these elusive New Zealand icons before heading back to the big city in readiness for the off.

In Auckland I managed to meet up with the Barnes family (Gus's friends from his visit out here) and had a lovely meal,lots of friendly chatter and banter, a nice walk around the beautiful parkland just next door to their home, and was entertained by their two cats Jim and Steve. It was the ideal way to round off what has been a very quick three months or so here in New Zealand. Before I came numerous people had said to spend most time in the South Island and less in the North, but having been here now I wouldn't share that sentiment. Both are super places just in different ways. The scenery and wildlife in the south is fantastic and not to be missed, but, the people and culture of the north is just as fascinating. In some ways its like two countries in one, and if possible both should be given equal weighting on any trip down here. Ah well, here endeth my lesson, next stop Chile!

My Foxtrot to Hogwartz

mogsie08-09 — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 12:59:00 GMT

Waving farewell to Punakaiki I travelled down to Franz Josef, the home town, though town is maybe stretching the point a little, for one of the famous glaciers which come down from the Southern Alps through the temperate rainforest to almost reach the coast. I had been recommended a day walk which offered spectacular views of the glacier from the hills opposite and although the weather was a bit murky with some blue sky visible I reckoned I'd give it a go and caught a shuttle bus to the start of the track. A well constructed gravel path led up the hill though deep forest of Rimu, Rata and Totara trees, then became a rougher track as it started to climb yet further up the hill. It was nice walking through the fresh greenery with vines and branches criss-crossing the way. Before long I got a little glimpse of the glacier through the trees. A big mass of bluey-greyish white it was certainly quite impressive looking and it was just like someone had pressed a pause button to stop the torrent of ice flowing down the hillside. Continuing up the zig-zag path ducking under thorny vines (yes, even I had to duck!) and clambering over fallen trees the rain started to get heavier. Fortunately the strong tree canopy was protecting me from the worst of the rain but I could hear the rapid patter and splatter all around. The power of the 7metres or so of rain this area gets each year was evident as I passed a couple of lanslips which had left scars on the hillside. Eventually I reached the clearing that was Christmas Lookout and I turned to view the glacier in great expectation. Well, I could see why it was called Christmas lookout: it was nothing but a great white expanse in front of me. Unfortunately it was of mist and low cloud, however, and there was no indication of a valley out there, let alone any mountains or, heaven forbid, a glacier! There was absolutely no point going further so I returned to the bottom of the track, noting that even the view from my first lookout had now disappeared aswell, and the rain got heavier and heavier still. I still had loads of time before the next shuttlebus was due so once back at the road I crossed over and went down another path until it reached a bouncing bridge over the river. I had been able to hear the raging torrent through the trees and stood on the bridge watching with awe the powerful force of the river racing by. It was an incedible pale grey, almost milky, colour as it washed its ice and gravel downstream. Biggish chunks of ice were hugging the riverbank like ice-cubes in a drink. The rain by this time was relentless and I squelched back to the road to await the bus. Luckily the driver took pity on me as she was heading up the hill and stopped to let me get on and drip all over her bus rather than make we wait for her downhill return! By the time I got back to the hostel I was never so glad to have a bowl of the watery and peppery, but hot, rice and veg soup they lay on each evening. The weather forecast for the next day was for more of the same so I moved on to try my luck in Fox Glacier about half an hour's drive further south. Still drizzling rain, but a lot better than it had been, and with a higher cloud base I got booked onto a Foxtrot (A guided glacier walk... you didn't really think me with my two left feet had gone dancing did you?!) Getting kitted out with waterproof jackets, trousers boots and crampons we were taken by bus from the settlement to the glacier car park. We trudged along the track then down onto the river bed beside the milky grey creek. Our guide, Matias tried to explain the phenomenon of glaciers (particularly the temperate ones of NZ) to us, and finally I think I'm getting the gist: The huge volume of precipitation coming from the Tasman Sea falls as snow in the high mountains of the Southern Alps (formed by two tectonic plates rubbing together - one sliding under the other pushing up the landmass). Huge bowls in the ranges allow for an enormous build up of snow which is compressed into ice as more and more snow layers fall on top of it. The force from the weight above, and the effects of gravity, means this mass of ice begins to be pushed down the valley helped by the lubrication of the river below it and the other creeks which feed into the valley meaning it moves relatively quickly. The front face of the glacier gradually crumbles and melts as it goes but continued snow deposits and build up from behind ensures the glacier itself remains pretty much a constant size. Dependant on climatic conditions sometimes the glaciers will be advancing and other times they'll be receding. Presently the NZ glaciers are advancing. They are pretty young and fast moving in geographical terms, the central ice being just a few hundred years old. As we neared the terminal face you could see it was full of caverns and caves and the upper surfaces were quite dirty in appearance thanks to the dust, grit and mud washed onto it on a daily basis. We trekked up the riverbed and across the little riverlets before starting on the ascent of the hillside and crossing onto the ice itself. we zig-zagged up a steep staircase of stone and wooden steps climbing about 200m above the valley floor. Once on it you appreciated better the massive size and expanse of ice and with lots of crevices and wind formed peaks it looked just like the icing on a christmas cake! The range of colour was there too. Of course the ice was clear when you looked at a chink in isolation but at times it had that distinctive ice-blue hue and at other times just looked dirty brown. The texture varied a lot too - the fissures were absolutely smooth sided whereas the exposed faces were far more crystalised and in places slushy. We could also see where the heat absorbed by rocks and stones in the ice had cused a melting round about it leaving the stones sitting exposed on a pillar of ice. We wandered around for a while the guides using their axes to cut out little steps for us if it seemed to get too sheer and slidey, but finally we had to retrace our steps and make our way back to the valley floor. At the bottom some people were spotted way over directly under the face of the glacier, well away from the marked path and just where two tourists were killed by falling ice a few weeks previously, so the guides went racing over angrily to "give them a good talking to". We could hear the shouts as we continued walking back to the bus so I reckon they were left in no doubt of the stupidity of their actions. It was a great afternoon and Matias, who hails from Argentina, gave me info about a glacier in Patagonia to visit so hopefully I'll have another chance to do some icewalking in the not too distant future.

Leaving Fox behind as I headed to Wanaka the next day, the clouds finally disappeared allowing a quick glimpse of Mt Cook (New Zealand's tallest) as we travelled south and up and over the Haast Pass and its aquamarine river below before descending to the eastern side of the alps. It was instantly noticeable how much drier the east is compared to the west, sheltered as it is from the rains brought from the Tasman Sea. The hillsides were now bare dry grass rather than the temperate rainforest of before. Before long we reached the town of Wanaka which sits at the foot of the hills at the far end of the lake of the same name. My hostel sat a little bit up the hill and had great big picture windows which faced across the lake providing beautiful views on a sunny day. Most of the time I was there the weather wasn't brilliant but it was fine enough for general wanderings, and when the sun did come out it was a nice place to spend some time. The hills around the town are high and some have lovely corries and ridges on them, but, to me they were a peculiar looking colour. Most of the groundcover is grass based and it's been sun-baked over the summer to a strange washed out looking pale browny-green yellow shade. To my eyes that generally stopped them looking as magnificent as mountains can be. Having said that the morning I left they did look particularly nice: a bright clear day, a ribbon of white cloud hung along some of the hilltops draping down in front of others so that their peaks and crags stuck out above it and with nice reflections cast onto the lake. As I chatted with some people we watched as a paraglider was towed along the length of the lake and back. Dispatching his towrope as he approached the land again he circled a couple of times to lose height but he still soared across the marked landing area and road to land in the little park beyond. When the next one went up and came back dropping his tow-rope he seemed to circle really sharply and lost a lot of height then a second parachute opened but he still dropped quickly into the icy-cold lake. When the wee boat went to fetch him there was a whole lot of laughter coming floating across the lake towards all us spectators, but I don't think either of the flights would have done much to encourage anyone toying with the idea of having a go! I left them to it and went to catch my bus to Queenstown. En route we passed a lot of fruit orchards, several vinyards, old gold mining works, and Kawarau bridge - the original bungy jumping spot - and when we reached Queenstown I found a much prettier place than I imagined. Most people I'd met previously had said to spend only a short time in Queenstown, as it was so commercialised, and more time in Wanaka so thats what I did, however of the two I think I prefer Queenstown. I saw it on marvelously clear sunny days which helps, but the mountains stand out sharply and craggily over the town. The range is called the Remarkables and they live up to their name. Much rockier than the hills above Wanaka they definitely look like proper mountains! Lake Wakatipu is the huge body of water which the town hugs, and although its a busy place there is plenty of nice parkland and stonework around the town to give it a bit of character, and even though its the bungy jumping and thrill ride capital of NZ (if not the world), there is still plenty for non adrennalin junkies like myself to enjoy. Walking through the park later I unwittingly crossed the frisbee-golf course it contains! I might have given it a go but you have to bring your own frisbee and that's one thing I don't have with me. Instead I went to the otherside of the park peninsula and sat for a while admiring the views. The lake was lapping on the shore, and with dry grasses to the front, forest behind, high mountains and little wooded islets on the lake it was really picturesque and also reminded me of west coast Scotland. As the sun set there was a wonderful warm red tinge to all the colours - beautiful.

When the time came for me to leave for my next port of call - Te Anau - I was first to get picked up by the shuttlebus and somehow we got onto the topic of old cars and the driver said he'd just finished restoring three old Morris Minors. When I said I'd always wanted a Morris Traveller he really perked up and told me he had one of them too. By the time everyone was on board the minibus was full and after a lot of juggling of seating arrangements I somehow ended up crammed onto the front seat between the driver and a local guy getting a lift back with his bike to where he'd left his car when setting out on an 80km cycle run earlier in the day. It was really only a 3/4 size seat in the middle with not much legroom, even for me, so it was a bit of a squash all round especially as the cyclist had hurt his knee and was trying to stop it seizing up! He turned out to be really good company though and there was plenty of banter and laughter along the way, and he was certainly more communicative than the driver. He chatted quite a lot about the area we passed through - a twisty lakeside road as we climbed through the mountains and down the valleys and it reminded me a bit of the road back from Skye towards Invermoriston. We passed the most inland spot on the South Island (not that anywhere is far from the sea here), before going through Mossburn near where Kiwi guy farmed (3000 sheep, several hundred deer and a few hundred dairy cattle!) dropping him off soon afterwards. It was then just a short drive to Te Anau where getting off at my hostel the driver asked for my cellphone number. He was the wrong side of 60, no oil painting (Deirdre, think of some of our "polling day specials" and you'll have the gist!), and not even a Morris Traveller made him interesting!! I was more than happy to say I didn't have a phone... now if it had been the hunky cyclist it may have been a different story!

I had two great days out while there: a cruise on Doubtful Sound and Kayaking on Milford Sound. The road to Milford is a scenic one and passing through the Eglinton Valley as the sun rose the mountains looked lovely silhouetted in the distance. There's really three sections to the road: the farmed valley, then forests before crossing The Divide (that's the watersheed point crossing the Southern Alps), and finally the steep rocky and rugged mountains. When we got to Milford we met up with some more kayakers, got kitted out in thermals and waterproofs, allocated a paddle-mate and launched our boats. I was paired up with a Frenchman called Vlad and alonside us were his two mates and another couple who'd come through from Te Anau with our guide, Ollie, and me. Launched onto the virtually flat calm water we paddled out the channel into the fiord itself, round the edges of some of the little bays, across the sound and back along the coastline until coming back across the main boating channel and finishing up in the deep water basin from whence we'd started. The scenery was oustandingly beautiful and just as I've seen in pictures and postcards but didn't dare hope would be possible in reality. With such calm water and barely a cloud in the bright blue sky the mountains rose majestically and almost vertically from the sea. In every direction you looked there were more: tree clad on some faces, rugged grey rock faces and ridges on others, and snow and glaciers capping yet more. The 1692m Mitre Peak was the highest around the fiord, and very distinctively angular, it was impressive and beautiful looking from all directions and is classed as the second highest sea cliff in the world apparently. Around the shoreline of the fiord little creeks emptied into the bays and coves, and seals basked on the rocks or swam apparently also enjoying the fine day. As the tour boats chugged by their wake would gently buffet us, or Vlad would lurch around wildly in the boat trying to take photos seemingly unconcerned that each time he did that I had to lunge in the opposite direction to stop us going for an early bath! I'm sure the passengers on the boats must have been having a good laugh watching our antics. The only irritating aspect of the day were the numerous sightseeing planes buzzing overhead in a seemingly endless parade and breaking the peace and quiet we all enjoyed during the short lulls between flights. Heading back to shore we paused at the 164m high Bowen Falls before fighting the waves and spray racing to get back across the now choppy channel between boats entering or leaving the harbour. Back on dry land we started back to Te Anau stopping for sightseeing at a couple of points along the way including at "The Chasm" where a forest path allowed lovely views of the glacial mountain ranges on its way down to a raging torrent of water which was forced into a narrow gorge and down into a geep gully. The sound of the water was heard far before we saw it. After stopping at another pretty enough but not outstanding lake we made to set off again and the van wouldn't start - the battery was flat. After unhitching the trailer with the kayaks and a failed attempt to bumpstart it by rolling down the hill we set about trying to push it to see if we could have any luck, but no! By this time some other tourists stopped to help (only the 3 of us pushing the van was good exercise so their assistance was much welcomed!) and then Ollie tried to flag down another tourist bus but it barely slowed let alone stopped. With no phone reception one of the tourists gave the three of us a lift back to town and phoned from there for someone to go to help Ollie and the stranded bus. An eventful end to a brilliant day.

The cruise to Doubtful Sound was equally enjoyable but also very different. Transferred by bus to Manapouri it was then onto a little boat to be taken up the lake of the same name to its far end. Getting out it was back onto a bus again and a quick trip down a narrow 2km long twisting tunnel to a Hydroelectric power station before travel up and over Wilmott's Pass to Doubtful Sound. The powerstation detour was a bit strange and slightly out of context with the rest of the trip but I guess it was included as the sound is where the water from the scheme is pumped back into. It was just as we reached the very top of the pass that the cloud lifted, as if by magic, to leave a perfect blue sky and stupendous views down the legth of the sound, though as we were reminded it (like Milford Sound) is not really a sound at all but a Fiord! Whichever it was it looked magnificent. It twists in the middle, is relatively wide and bordered by tall mountains shaded mainly green but with some grey and snow capping to be seen. Reaching the bottom of the pass we transferred to our second boat of the day and spent the next few hours chugging round the Sound. The dark surface water is largely freshwater thanks partly to the outflow from the hydro scheme but also due to the volume of glacial freshwater flowing into it. As it gets deeper the salinity increases. Its a larger wider body of water than Milford and the mountains, though equally stunnungly beautiful, are much more rounded in appearance and don't rise as near vertically. The trees and ferns cling to the granite and hardstone rock hills at incredible angles - seeming to defy gravity! As we sailed we saw one of only three or four permanent waterfalls tumbling into the sea. The others come and go quickly after rainfall sometimes apparently forming spectacular curtains of water as it tumbles over the edges. We aso watched a huge colony of NZ Fur seals basking swimming and playing - seemingly performing for us as they rolled, tumbled and waved from the water. Turning into an arm of the fiord we reached one of the other permanent waterfalls. It cascaded in stages from way above us looking just like a piece of string in the distance before splitting into white torrents and then wide gentle sprays which, by the time we nosed in underneath, not only showered anyone not well undercover but made us appreciate just how tall and high the original fall was. Wonderfully beautiful and impressive. As we headed back at the end of the cruise we were joined by 4 or 5 dolphins which swam and surfed in the waves all around us. It was a super finale to a spectacular day. I certainly struck it very lucky on my visit to fiordland- seeing it in some of the best weather possible.

My luck with the weather ran out as I travelled south and across to Stewart Island. I'm glad I'm a reasonable sailor because the Foveaux Strait was windy as we made our way across on the little ferry and as we lurched about in the rolling waves, spray battering against the windows, it was all to much for many on board! When we did reach the settlement of Oban I was happy to find that the tarpaulins, which cover the crates of luggage carried on the open rear deck, were obviously in good nick and the bags were still dry! I'd had plans of doing lots of walking and kiwi spotting while on the island but the wet, cold and windy weather somewhat curtailed my exploits, limiting me to a few short walks and so not venturing as far from the main settlement as I first intended. What I did see reminded me very much of Scotland: the rugged coast, the little bays and hills, rough grazing along the shore and croft-like smallholdings. I also had a laugh to myself at one point when I rounded a corner to find an old old bakelite type phone nailed to a tree with a phone directory hanging from another nail beside it, a wooden garden bench underneath and a piece of corrugated tin tacked over the whole lot to provide a bit of shelter - modern communication very much Stewart Island style! Deciding not to go on a cold and wet nighttime search for kiwis, I found a trip to the fish and chip cart a far more satisfying option! The blue cod I had was fantastic - really moist, fleshy and tasty. Picking from their menu I'd noticed they even offered oysters but, Jackie, Douglas, somehow I wasn't convinced that battered oysters'n'chips would be as good as those we'd enjoyed(?) in Glasgow so gave them a miss! When it came time to leave the island the weather was even wetter and windier than on the way across. Halfmoon Bay was choppy so I knew the strait would be worse. A little late as the staff battled the elements to load the boad we headed out and hadn't gone far before we really started getting buffeted about and the boat engulfed bu waves and spray. It was a real roller-coaster feeling as we rose and dropped into the troughs. The young skipper was good though and was obviously steering us through the worst of it as best he could - turning us this way and that to minimise the pummelling. Needless to say it was all to much for half the passengers and the usual placitudes of "just look at the horizon" didn't help much when you couldn't find a horizon though the walls of water! There were lots of relieved looking faces when we reached dry land again and caught the transfer bus back to Invercargill.

I had a bus journey to Dunedin booked which went through the Catlins - another scenic area of the south-east, but with the rain and mistiness it was a wee bit of a wash-out! However, we did still manage to spot a lone yellow-eyed penguin, a couple of sealions, lots of seals, some petrified trees and stopped at a fast flowing waterfall so all was not lost. With so much rain the waterfall was more like an overflowing cappuccino it was so muddy brown thanks to all the mud and tannins in the river. By the time I arrived in Dunedin at the hostel - called Howartz - I was cold, tired and still a bit wet. As soon as I got inside and found it warm, comfy and friendly though I knew it was a magical place. No sorting hat was required for the allocation of room in this spacious rambling building, but as my corridor was painted scarlet and gold I reckon I got the right one nonetheless!

Dunedin didn't generally feel as overtly Scottish to me as it's billed. Maybe its different for non-scots but it still felt very much like New Zealand to me, although certainly going just by the streeet names it could have been mistaken for Edinburgh. I visited my now customary haunts when reaching a different city ie a museum and botanic gardens and enjoyed both. Our visits coinciding, I also managed to meet up with Maureen and Helen which was brilliant. Meeting at their hotel we wandered along Princes Street towards the central octogen and found the new intake of Otago University students assembling for the party finale of their orientation week. Not dressed in the obligatory togas of the students we opted for a lovely meal in a nearby bar instead! We certainly made the right choice as apparently the toga party descended into chaos, trouble and controversy. Meanwhile, not only did we have a lovely meal (roast lamb, kumara (a type of NZ sweet potato) and salad for me, and Salmon for M & H with a super Hokey-pokey cheesecake shared between us for pudding (hokey-pokey being a bit on a NZ institution and kind of a cross between toffee-fudge and crunchie)), we also had a great blether, and needless to say a few laughs too. It was lovely to catch up and I really enjoyed the evening. Thank you both, it was great to see you. We managed to reconvene the next morning for part two before the ladies carried on to the next point of call on their tour and I joined what was a fantasic wildlife watching trip. Collected from Hogwartz we made our way out of Dunedin towards the Otago peninsula and stopped at a lookout on the hill above the harbour, getting great views down to Dunedin city, across to Port Chalmers (the deep water port for the city)and out towards the ocean. The rolling green hillsides were ro reminiscent of Scotland it was bizarre. Leaving there we drove across to, and around, Hooters Inlet spotting harriers, pukeko, stilts and very striking yellow faced plovers along the way before coming to Taiaro Head and the only mainland breeding colony of Royal Albatross in the world. Going into the centre we saw a short film and got little talk about the birds. One of the (if not the)largest, but not heaviest, of all flighted birds the albotross can be up to 1.2m in length with a wingspan of well over 3m. The egg weighs about 0.5kg and is abouth the size of a couple of tennis balls. After being incubated for about 11 weeks the chick will take several days to pip out the egg. Once hatched the parents will take it in turn to feed and guard it as it grows: by 2 weeks old it'll weigh about 2kg, 3kg by three weeks, and can grow up to about 9kg before it fledges. The parents would then feed it less and make it walk about more so that it tones up as it loses its down and develops its feathers to fledge at 7 or 8 months. For the next 5 or 6 years it will remain at sea until it returns to land to breed. Albotross are generally life pairers and can live for 50 or 69 years. Currently at Taiaroa there are c160 birds and this year there have been 20 chicks. With all that info imparted we went up to the observation room to watch them. As we went up some came soaring overhead - silent and graceful. They soar, rarely flapping their enormous wings, at usually no more than c30m above water or land. Swooping around the hillside like hanggliders they were mesmerising. By the time we got to the obs room we could see 3 or 4 nest sights with the parents carefully guarding their chicks. Their faces seemed to have smiley expressions and in flight they even look aerodynamic. It was wonderful watching them but after a while we had to move on. Crossing very Scottish looking grassy farmland we got to Papanui beach. I'd thought our driver looked like a slightly younger Gordie and when we reached our private viewing beach and he got out to open the gate I realised even his gait and stature was similar. So Gordie, if ever you discover you've a long lost NZ cousin I can tell you he's living in Dunedin! Anyway, we wandered down to just above the rocky shoreline and saw dozens and dozens of fur seals dozing, feeding their young, frolicking in the pools and swimming and cavorting about. It was lovely to watch them - the young enjoying their playgroup and the mums keeping watch from the sides! We moved round to the sandy bay further round the corner and almost immediately saw some yellow-eyed penguin on the beach. One of the rarest of the 18 breeds of penguin they swim and feed all day then come ashore late afternoon waddling up onto the grassy flaxen banks to nest and rest. W saw at least 20 parading around, preening and resting on the sand before making their way up the hillside. The recent rain had washed out little sand creeks with "cliff" edges and it was funny watching as they tried to jump up the sand banks rather than walk just a little further to the flatter areas: being creatures of habit they like to use the same routes each day rather than adapting to the conditions! Once on the hillside some of the plder chicks were trying to find parents to feed them but not having much success - the parents were adamant they were big enough to fend for themselves now and needed no more from them. it was fun viewing. Also on the beach were about 6 sealions: 1 female (very unusual to see); 1 adult male with a youngster beside him, and 3 other males two of which were much smaller than the huge dominant lion king strutting his stuff after waking from his slumbers. Another super sight we watched as they slept, scratched and stretched and had a little bit of a posturing scrap amongst themselves. A growl from "big=daddy" soon shut the youngsters up though! It was a fantastic few hours of very varied wildlife viewing and a fantastic trip. As darkness fell we returned to the city a happy and contented bunch.

Before leaving the south I just had time to go up Baldwin Street which is apparently the steepest residential street in the world according to the guiness book of records. NZ people and places do like to claim the worlds longest largest smallest, most ... quite a lot however with the same claim then being made somewhere else so who knows. It was very steep though so its certainly possible. I was extremely grateful of the seat and drinking fountain at the top - definitely the best placed in NZ! The walk down was definitely less exhausting than the climb up but not much easier overall as I struggled to keep my balance on the steep decline. I definitely wouldn't want to drive up or down it on an icy day.

And with that my trip round the South Island was just about complete. I left the next day and headed straight back to Picton, with an overnight stop in Christchurch along the way, to await my ferry back to the North Island. It was a quick two months in the South Island, and yet again really enjoyable. I really can't believe the good fortune I've been having on this journey - a number of folk have asked if I've had any problems, disappointments or horrible places and I really can't think of any. I just keep my fingers crossed, flip Andy and Isobel's lucky penny, and hope that that happy state can continue as long as I can!