Death Valley

We’re in the heart of Death Valley at a place called Furnace Creek. Yes, you get the picture, it’s hot and it’s only springtime. We arrived via a stopover to break the journey in Ridgecrest, a moderately sized town about 50 miles from the national park, whose principal purpose seems to be mining and to support the nearby naval base. Why the Navy needs a base in the desert, we didn’t ask.

I was hoping for some Wild West action; saloons with swing doors, card games, dodgy looking characters, and long tales. Well OK, we know its 2011 but we were expecting to find a bar of some sorts and failed miserably. There is the usual assortment of drive through take away places and not much else. We settled for a Chinese which was drive through but also had a few tables, and of course a couple of fish tanks. The food was actually OK, but I wouldn’t put Ridgecrest on your must do list just yet.

Back to DV where the landscape really looks like another world. George Lucas shot some scenes for the first star wars films here and you can see why. The barren land is twisted into some incredible shapes through millennia of seismic activity fused with a Van Gogh like array of colours from the mineral rich rocks. There are some sand dunes, although not many, and ranges of rocks that look like frozen sand dunes. At Dante’s view, about an hour from our base, there’s an everlasting view of the valley below including the lowest point at Badwater , 282 feet below sea level with the salt pan a dazzling white streak along its length. On the valley floor you can walk out onto the salt where the crystals form hexagonal plates. At Panamint Springs in the West of the park, we walked up to the spring where a small waterfall emerges from the arid rock to provide an oasis of flora and the water for the nearby camp. There’s a scenic road along “Artists‘ Drive” where we took a short walk into a kaleidoscope of colour from an assortment of rocks laden with minerals from Borax to Iron ore.

We stayed in the very comfortable Furnace Creek Inn, which has a rich history being the first tourist hotel built in Death Valley. At one point it was an exclusive retreat for the rich and famous. Clark Gable got married here and Marlon Brando used to stay in our room (so we were told anyway. I’m a bit doubtful as the bed was no way big enough – OK, going native there, it wasn’t large enough)

Palm Springs

We finally escaped the clutches of LA and motored out to the beautiful Palm Springs, wedged between two mountain ranges. We arrived about lunchtime and thought we’d pop into downtown which is about a mile south from our motel. After 5 minutes, a bus pulled up which we though was handy, so we hopped on. We were starting to regret climbing aboard as the driver appeared to be disinterested in continuing the journey. The prospect of progress looked bleak when he pulled out a novel and settled back in his chair. Eventually we did move on. A huge lady asked us where we were from. “Aw England. That’s where the food is expensive and the portions are small”. That’s us in a nutshell really.

It’s hot, hot, hot here with the mercury approaching 90F. Naturally, this requires frequent refreshment. We found a very cooling Mexican place serving wonderful Margueritas so we settled in there for a few hours. The restaurants here have water pipes spraying a fine mist onto the diners outside to keep everyone cool, very impressive considering we’re in the desert.

Next day we met up with Chris and Joan who took us to a very good restaurant overlooking a recently built golf course near where they live in Cathedral City. There really are a lot of golf courses here. Despite the desert climate there apparently is an abundance of water from underground aquifers that are constantly being replenished from run off from the mountains. I managed a few holes with some clubs borrowed from Chris which was a bit of a challenge in the heat (99 degrees) and the clubs hadn’t seen the light of day for 30 years so were not quite state of the art. I hooked up with a few local gents, one of whom popped into his house next to the eighth green and reappeared with a few refreshments – fabulous.

On our final day we took the sky tram (cable car to you and me) up to the top of the Chino Canyon and found ourselves in another world. The lift ascends 800 feet and we were suddenly in a forest of pine trees with snow on the ground. The temperature here is typically 30 to 40 degrees cooler than the desert floor, but on our visit we were still able to walk around comfortably in T shirts. There are several well marked walking trails. We followed one called desert view which gave up some tremendous views of the desert valley below.

All in all we were very impressed with Palm Springs and wished we had a few more days but we were booked into Death Valley so it was adios amigos and slap on that sun cream.

Dana Point, Orange County

Southern California, Pacific coast – its so laid back here even the seagulls can’t be bothered stealing your lunch. We’re in a very modern condo about 300 meters from the beach. Early morning exercise on the beach is the done thing either surfing, power walking, jogging, or there’s a new sport which involved standing on a surf board with one paddle. What’s wrong with good old fashioned sit down rowing? Walking along the beach on Monday, we were so inspired by the locals we both spontaneously broke into a jog, causing a few local earth tremors, and the odd sideways look. We decided to spend the day hanging out the beach so had our shorts, packed lunch, and novels to hand. We found a quiet spot near the marina to read for a few hours. Unfortunately we both now have lobster legs and have to cover up for a few days.

Spent yesterday morning whale watching, or more accurately described as ‘searching for whales to no avail’; but we did spend a very pleasant few hours on the water and saw plenty of common dolphins surfing the bow wave in front of the boat.

Los Angeles

LA, the definite French article, or alternatively, Los Angles - a small coastal town north of San Diego. We spent an eventful first day on an urban treck from Hollywood to Beverley Hills. Although it looks like the two districts are next to each other on the map, this was actually a 5 mile hike. This came as a small surprise to me as I thought we were popping out for breakfast.

We’re staying in a small bunglalow just off Sunset Boulevard not far from Sunset and Vine for those who know the area.

Our walk didn’t last long initially as Mags had set off in her thongs (aka sandals, not underwear) and was bleeding into the concrete before long. A quick diversion to a shoe shop and a pharmacy and we were back on our way. It was fun to wander along some of the famous roads such as Santa Monica Boulevard (“This ain’t no disco……All I wanna do” and all that), but these avenues are extremely long and I think its fair to say that we weren’t seeing the best parts which I expect are closer to the coast. There was a fairly generic strip of concrete dotted with fast food outlets, cafes, shops, and gas stations. At the edge of West Hollywood and Beverly Hills we entered an upmarket area with ultra expensive couture shops. Suddenly, there were lots of Mercs, and coiffured women carrying small dogs.

We trudged on into Beverley Hills, wandering the immaculate streets and impressive dwellings looking unsuccessfully for the home of the Beverley Hillbillies. We did find a very fine Italian restaurant near Rodeo drive and Wiltshire where we saw the second half of the champions league game between Chelsea and Man U. Unfortunately we lost 1 nil but the lunch was superb.

Thursday we spent a very enjoyable day at the Getty centre which has a fine, but modest collection of impressionist paintings including Degas, Monet, Turner, Cezanne and Van Gogh. The building itself is very impressive, dazzling white columns and stone perched high in the Santa Monica hills with the rest of LA laid out below with views all the way along the pacific coast.

We’re now in Dana Point, Orange County chilling out on the beach. We’re theoretically south of LA but its really another suburb. We drove out south along the pacific highway and LA just goes on and on and on ……… and on. There’s no break in the concrete jungle yet, and we still haven’t seen a cow or a sheep – not still alive anyway.

Palm springs next, so I’m off to purchase the Zimmer frame.

Le Marche

The weather’s really picked up over the last few days from the start of April and the mercury is regularly hitting 20 plus. We’re in the impossibly scenic Le Marche in the Appenine mountain range, surrounded by mountain top medieval towns and snow capped peaks. We’re staying in an apartment in a restored villa about 2 kms from Sarnano, just such a medieval town famed for its thermal baths which attract hordes of visitors year round.

The villa has been restored by an English couple, Damien and Sharon, from south London who upped sticks a couple of years ago and moved here with their two children. They’ve done a fantastic job of renovating the property and live here in one of the apartments and let out the other three. Needless to say, we are the only guests at the moment. Is there a recession going on? The sitting is idyllic with jaw dropping views towards Sarnano framed by the mountains behind.

We’ve mostly been walking through the hills following a few trails that Damien has ripped off from other guide books and has left with loads of other useful information in the apartment. The scenery is just beautiful with a mixture of woodland, small farms, ancient villages with terracotta roofs and the mountain range dominating the skyline. This does mean that we are getting a little more exercise than usual but we are trying to balance this out with the fantastic food and wine, just to ensure we keep our perfectly honed figures.

One of our walks ended up being a little moiré challenging than usual as we headed off upwards in the car just past the skiing resort of Salletto nearby. Our walk started following a stream up river at the bottom of a ravine, which was OK although we had to cross the stream a number of times which included getting a bit wet. The problems started when we got a little higher where the ravine opened out. Here, we were supposed to follow a track left an upwards, the only problem being that the track was completely covered in snow and ice. There was a small copse to our left, and I had the brilliant idea that if we scrambled through that then we should be able to pick up the track further on. This, unbelievably, actually worked and we were soon back on course. Trouble was, things got distinctly tougher from here and the path was regularly covered in snow often mixed in with earth and rubble from winter avalanches. After and a few kilometers the path disappeared completely and it was snow and ice all the way and we had to guess which way to go. Mags was having a sense of humor failure by then and I may have lost a few points. Still, we made it in the end without too many alarms.

During our stay here the earth moved, literally. We were about 30 kilometers away from the earthquake in L’Aquilla and were woken on the night with the house shaking. We wee of course unaware how bad it was and only found out the next morning. The after shocks continued for the rest of our stay with at least one a day but none as severe as the first.

We had a day out truffle hunting which Damien organized. A local chap and his dog roamed through a small copse for around half an hour looking for the little white orbs, finding one or two, so not particularly exiting but then we were cooked a spectacular meal including spaghetti with said truffles back at a nearby villa overlooking the valley, basking in the sunshine – pure bliss.

Trani & Surrounds, Puglia

We moved south to the fishing town of Trani, full of Italian cross dressers, on the south east coast. Another pretty town with a beautiful Marina full of smart leisure cruisers (going nowhere) and working fishing boats, and an impressive cathedral. Fish was definitely the theme here with fish mongers on every street corner and a central fish market every day. Amongst the memorable meals we had there included a sea food platter by the Marina. There was no menu in this restaurant so we ordered by pointing at what other people had. Mags took a fancy to a mountain of shell fish she saw at a nearby table, Unfortunately, when it arrived we realized that all the sea food was raw. Raw langoustines, prawns, sea urchins, mussels, clams and oysters. The langoustines had the consistency of jelly but tasted OK with a little lemon juice. Still, we couldn’t help feeling that they’d be improved no end with a few minutes under the grill.

Another night out saw us venture into the Irish pub. Yes, they really are everywhere. We wanted to see the Irish v the Welsh in the 6 nations decider and reckoned that it would be a dead cert that the game would be shown there. We arrived just before kick off only to find that the place was closed. There were a few people milling about though and the owner popped his head out to see who could possibly want to come in so early on. They had no idea that the game was going on; the place was about as Irish as Vladimir Putin. Still, the owner was really friendly and, when he realized what we wanted, let us in and put the game on.

We used Trani as our base for exploring Puglia and managed a few trips down the coast to:

· Castle del Monte, a hugely impressive Octagonal castle built by Frederick II, and a UNESCO world heritage site.

· Alberobello, another UNESCO site, a town of small conical shaped dwellings made of whitewashed stone with no mortar called Trulli. Legend has it that the residents dismantled their homes when the tax inspector came to avoid paying. It’s a bit full on touristy now with most of these querky buildings converted into shops selling tat, but a very interesting place.

· Lecce, a university city further down south with a beautiful medieval centre.

Gargano, Puglia

We started our travels in Puglia in the Gargano which is the spur on the heel of Italy’s boot. These days, the majority of the land is given over to the Gargano national park. We stayed in an old villa that had been converted into apartments. As usual, we were the only guests. The property sat in the middle of endless acres of olive trees running down to the Adriatic coast. Inside was a fantastic large country kitchen complete with a walk in fireplace, Yes, walk in – with cooking utensils for cooking over the fire – so, an indoor barbeque. Outstanding. The gardens included Lemon trees that were laden with fruit.

We wanted to do a few walks in the park and headed into Monte Saint Angelo, a pretty village at the top of the mountain that we were nestling under, and a focal point for Christian pilgrims who come to pay homage to the miracle of St Michael the archangel who is said to have appeared in a grotto here before the Bishop of Siponto in AD 490. The village is also host to the Gargano national park information office which took a fair bit of finding, tucked away at the bottom of a residential street. We were given a marvelous reception there (perhaps they don’t get many visitors), and came away with maps and books all free of charge.

Next day we drove to forest Umbria for a walk we found in one of the books. Unfortunately, there’s not a great deal of sign posts pointing out where trails start so we tried in vain to locate the beginning of the walk. We did have a very nice drive through the countryside, though. Undeterred, we blundered around until we came to what looked like it might be a sign post for a walk, parked up, and set off. Fortunately, this was a very pleasant walk up through forest and to a hill top with views over the coast. It appeared to be a section of a long track that runs between the town of Vieste on the coast and Monte Saint Angello.

Our second walk in the national park was at lake Lesina which lies to the north of the park where a narrow isthmus separates the lake from the Adriatic sea. We arrived at the promised car park and information centre only to find it closed. Did we arrive too early I hear you ask. But no, the place wasn’t just closed but abandoned. Permanently shut with weeds growing over the car park. Not one of Italy’s more popular tourist sites then. Nevertheless, we set off anyway along a track that took us out along the isthmus. We were promised flamingoes on the lake but they were sadly shy or absent. The strip of land immediately bordering the lake was occupied by a series of small holdings so we actually only managed to catch occasional glimpses of the lake. After a few kilometers we came unexpectedly across a newish looking wooden path, proudly paid for by the EU. The decking was built to protect the flora underneath. Naturally, we had to walk along this to find out what was at the end (and to get our moneys worth having contributed to funding it). The path brought us to some sand dunes which quickly gave way to a spectacular sandy beach alongside the Adriatic. The beach must have been at least 5 kms long and totally deserted. Unfortunately it was strewn with all sorts of rubbish, plastic and glass bottles everywhere, polystyrene boxes, oil drums mixed in with driftwood. In fairness to the locals it looked like flotsam and jetsam washed up rather than deliberate littering and dumping. After all, the place looked like it doesn’t get many visitors. Its just that no one bothers to clean up the mess. About a kilometer to our right was a large shipwreck, with a container ship jammed into the beach with its aft still in the sea, slowing rusting into the Adriatic. Quite a surreal sight all in all. On the way back to the car we came across an old park complete with overgrown paths, collapsed park benches and crumbling communal barbeques. Like all the people had mysteriously vanished a few years ago. We had a beautiful drive back home along the nearby lake Varano and then through the Umbria forest. I managed to take a wrong turn through one town and ended up going the wrong way down a one way street but, this being Italy, no-one seemed to mind.

Napoli

We arrived safely in Napoli after our overnight crossing, albeit a bit knackered as the ship tossed about a bit and neither of us got much sleep. Our arrival was a little late and we found ourselves in the middle of the morning rush hour. Driving through that was definitely extreme sport. There doesn’t appear to be any rules to driving in Napoli and anything goes; lights are routinely ignored, motorbikes frequently use the pavements and suddenly appear going the wrong way up one way streets, and the method used for entering traffic is to move first and look afterwards trusting that other traffic will miss you or stop, which by the look of most vehicles, doesn’t always work. And of course this is all happening at great speed. It really did feel like being in a computer game. With Mags screaming every 5 seconds next to me my nerves were shredded by the time we got to the hotel.

I’d developed a tooth ache on our last few days in Sicily so our first job was to seek out a dentist. Our friendly concierge recommended someone locally and I set off in a taxi. The practice was located in an unpromising residential neighborhood utilizing a converted flat in a tower block. I almost turned around when I got there but ploughed on and, once inside, the place looked well equipped, modern with professional looking staff. Anyway, lets just say the rest was an interesting experience – root canal work with no anesthetic. No-one spoke English and after half an hour, neither did I. The dentist opted for phone a friend and I communicated with him by speaking to a chap at the end of the phone with the phone passing between me and the dentist. You’d laugh it didn’t hurt so much.

Yesterday we visited Vesuvius and Pompei. We had clear, blue skies and the views from the volcano were amazing. We decided not to climb to the very top as it was very windy and cold up at the top.

We both enjoyed Pompei and even managed to avoid being hussled into an unnecessary car park for 10 euros. The site was much larger than I expected with really a fair amount of the city excavated and still standing. Walking along the cobbled streets was quite an experience and really gave us a feel for city life in Roman times. The baths were spectacular with plenty of marble and some of the art work still visible. We picked a great day to visit with blue skies and sunny weather and, being off season, not too many tourists – although I expect there’s always at least a fair smattering. Apparently, this is Italy’s most visited tourist site.

Some observations on Italian life so far, the first one from Mags.

There’s no such thing as a thin middle aged woman.
Lunch runs from 1 to 4:30
Wine with lunch is compulsory
Traffic lights are advisory only.
Only tourists say “perfavore”

More Sicily

More Cefalu

Cefalu is dominated by a huge rocky hill known simply as La Rocca, capped by an old castle initially built by the Arabs but later conquered by the Normans in the 11th century. Obviously, this has to be climbed and we duly set off from the centre of town starting with a paved straircase. Round about twenty minutes later we entered through the first fortifications and were logged in by a crusty old chap who’s sole purpose appears to be to count the tourists in and out. The path climbs steadily past old buildings towards the ‘castello’ at the top. There’s a surprisingly large proportion of well maintained ruins and original walls still standing, but the highlight really is the view, with the town and disproportionately large cathedral below and magnificent views along the east and west coasts.

Palermo

Our guide book describes Palermo, Sicily’s capital, as decrepit and dignified. Well, we didn’t see the dignified part. But decrepit, dirty, crumbling and litter strewn it is. We liked it immediately. What it does have is endless Piazzas adorned with once great buildings simply rotting into the earth and statues and monuments in abundance. With a little imagination its easy to see that Palermo must have been a very great and wealthy city indeed. These days it looks as if the rich people just left one day and then the current residents moved in without the money or inclination to keep it maintained, Presumably, one day it will collapse completely and everyone will move on.

We did manage a very strange meal in Palermo as we found a Chinese restaurant and, after 3 weeks of Italian food, we fancied a change. The meal was mostly memorable for the surreal experience of ordering Chinese food in Italian.

Scopello

Further along the North coast, a little west of Palermo is Scopello, a tiny village situated at one end of the Zingaro national park, Sicily’s first. We rented a small bungalow in a complex of 8 just by a pretty little pebble beach. We were the only residents. Did we arrive too early?

The park itself runs along the coast and we set off one day to hike across it and back – 14kms in total, but the path was well maintained and we had a great day strolling around on our own. The weather had turned a bit windy, but it was a warm wind and the temperature was 22 degrees so pretty good walking conditions. Not long after we arrived back the weather turned and a fair old storm blew in and has rained us in for 2 days. We’ve turned into southern Mediterranean softies and only go out when the sun shines.

We booked the ferry to Napoli today and head there with the car overnight on Monday 9th March. Hopefully we’ll find a bit more internet access on the mainland and will be on-line a little more frequently.

With only Italian TV and no internet we’ve had to find ways to pass the time. Last night we were reading the label on the back of a pesto bottle during dinner. (This being another method we’ve started to learn Italian) And it lead to a philosophical debate about what makes a nut a nut as compared to a seed. Does anyone know? We really must get a pack of cards.

Sicily

Catania

We arrived into sunny Sicily on the 9th February, keen to embark on our well thought out and precision planned trip. Well, we had at least organized our hotel for the first 2 nights in Catania. The airport is only 7 kms from the city centre which was just as well as the fare rate is astonishing and makes London cabs look like cheap public transport. We arrived safely enough, 40 Euros lighter and moved into out small, quiet and beautiful hotel just a few blocks from the main city square, Piazza Duomo.

Cantania is on the east coast of Sicily facing the Ionian sea and nestled in the shadow of Mount Etna, Europe’s most active volcano. We found Catania a slightly run down but interesting city with plenty of ornate terraces, squares and of course churches. It felt very safe which was a relief after Mags read a review of the hotel we were staying at by a customer as who car jacked as they arrived.

The highlight was our trip to the fish market which takes place every day just behind the main square, and is apparently the busiest in Sicily. There’s dozens of stall holders all shouting out their prices to a throng of people vying for the best spot and determined to get he best price for the seafood. It’s a riot of colour and noise, quite a performance on its own. Intermingled with the fish stalls are grocers, butchers, fromageries, dellies and so on. We stopped for lunch in one of the many seafood restaurants that circle the area. (Mags picked the expensive looking one) – Had a marvelous lunch of mixed seafood pasta and grilled bream, washed down with a very drinkable Sicilian white. Of course, all in the name of foodie research.

Catania’s streets are paved with tiles made from Volcanic rock, which only seems sensible and fair enough as its in plentiful supply, but it does have this quality of squealing when it comes into contact with rubber. There’s a constant screech in the air as cars run around the city sounding like a go cart race track.

It is a fairly quiet town despite the large student population and we de did find it quite hard to find anywhere for a drink in the evening that had any life in it. Perhaps we old fogies were just going out too early. On our second and final night we exhausted the town centre, traipsing around unsuccessfully looking for a lively bar. We headed back to the hotel and decided just to walk around the block to see if they were any local establishments. We found a small street with a clutch of Trattorias all grilling meat in the street, and a fair crowd of locals. We selected one and sat outside at a plastic table. It looked like a family run affair with Dad cooking the meat and his school age daughters serving. We somehow managed to order quail (for me) and something wrapped in aubergine that Mags had. (We don’t know what it was and frankly don’t want to know), with a tomato salad, beers and a carafe of surprisingly drinkable red from a barrel next to the barbeque – all for 11 Euros.

Taormina

Toarmina is a tourist destination a little way North up from Catania. We picked up our hire car in downtown Catania and zipped up the Motorway to our destination. Getting there was the easy bit, but finding the car park proved to be a little more challenging. The Sat Nav got a little confused in the tiny streets and we ended up driving round and round the town several times. We eventually called the travel agent we booked the place through and were directed to a huge car park at the foot of the town.

At this time of year Toarmina is very quiet – well shut actually. Not a lot to do is putting it mildly so booking a week here was in hindsight probably stretching it a little. But it is certainly a good place to wind down, and we both read several novels during our stay. Out little apartment was on the top floor of four flats with a large terrace with magnificent views of the town below, the Ionian sea and the Italian mainline in the distance.

We managed a short walk up a series of steps close to our apartment to a castle (castello) at the top of the cliff behind us. Here you get great views of Mount Etna when its not shrouded in cloud which it was in the day we were there. But the views were down the coast were stunning anyway.

Another must see is the well preserved Greek theatre which dominates the town. The Greeks founded it but the remaining ruins are mostly Roman. Again, great views from here over the town and along the coast.

Siracusa

We left bustling Taormina behind and headed south to Siracusa for a short stay, This is a larger town with a small medival quarter on an island called Ortigia, which is where we stayed. We arrived at our hotel after again lapping the town a few times, not helped by putting in the wrong destination into the Sat Nav.

The major adventure here was a trip to the Neopolis hosting a clutch of historic sites including a Greek theatre (yes, another one), a Roman ampitheatre, and a cave all located on a old quarry. We decided to walk there as it was only a few kilometers away. The old town quickly gives way a more commercial and industrial area and we soon felt like American tourists who have somehow got lost ion London and ended up in Hackney. Everything was suddenly a lot more ‘real’.

Despite being a large town, the old, touristy part was, like Taormina, was mostly shut. Did we arrive in Italy too early? We did locate a fantastic restaurant on the waterfront though and managed our first seafood platter of the trip overlooking the sea. (Just trying to keep the economy going).

Cefalu

A long drive north west across the island took us to Cefalu, a popular tourist destination near to Palermo. We’re here as I write this in our perfectly located apartment overlooking the beach below us 20 metres away. This is a very pretty town sheltered under a huge rock and featuring a very impressive cathedral (Duomo).

We’re just winding down here, enjoying the sun and strolling along the beautiful and largely deserted beach.

We’ve found a great way to learn Italian by watching their version of Millionaire on the TV, We sit with a dictionary and a glass of wine, trying to work out the question and the answer before the contestant does which we even managed to do a few times. Out Italian is coming along slowly and not surprisingly consists mostly of food items when we’re at the market or a restaurant. Pointing is still pretty useful but there’s not a huge amount of English spoken here. I ended up speaking French in one shop as that was our common least worst language.

Our current plan is to stay in Sicily for an extra week before heading off to Puglia. We have to travel through Calabia to reach Puglia and there looks like there’s been loads of snow there.

Queensland

Queensland, as hot as chip fat.

Brisbane
We flew north to visit Glenys and her boys Zak and Adam. We generally hung out for a week basking in the sunshine and relaxing. We helped Glenys celebrate her ?? birthday on the 6th March and received some wonderful news from home where our niece Leah had given birth to Sarah Louise in the same day, making Mags a Great Auntie – but don’t tell anyone.

Fliss travelled up from Sydney by train and the two of us visited the all new Queensland museum of modern art, housing all the works post 1970 that had previously been housed in the nearby state art gallery. We travelled there along the river using the wonderfully convenient citycat service. There was a very interesting exhibition of Asia Pacific art that we both enjoyed before meeting up with Mags for a spot of lunch – it’s a hard life.

We spend an afternoon having a barbeque by the pool shared by the residents of Glenys’ apartments. Alcohol was “not allowed” so we were drinking plenty of “apple juice”.

Cairns
We continued north to Caaaaairns, near Cairns to catch up with our friends Lynette and Rudy who have spent the last year living on a Catamaran cruising the Queeensland coast. They’re holed up in the Cairns marina for the duration of the cyclone season. You can learn all about their unbelievably idyllic life by visiting Lynette’s wonderful blog - click on the link to the right of this page.

We spent a memorable day with them on their boat where we cruised to Fitzroy Island, approximately 2 hours away. We anchored about 100 metres from the shore with half a dozen other boats to idle away the afternoon. We jumped into the 28 degree C sea with flippers and goggles for a gentle swim over the nearby reef, and met up with a friendly turtle amongst the rainbow coloured reef fish and coral.

Back on board, I asked Rudy how far further north we would need to travel before we encountered any of the scary, man eating salt water Crocodiles. “Oh, we have them here”, he casually replied as the colour drained from my cheeks. Actually, they like to hang out in the rivers and creeks and, although they do venture out to sea, they generally stick to the outlets of the rivers on the mainland. On the islands, where there are no rivers, it would be very rare to see one. Well, that’s what he told me anyway.

Rudy cooked up a rack of lamb on the barbeque for lunch accompanied by his legendary potato salad, and the afternoon slipped quietly away under the southern sun. Quite a day, and they do this all the time – we’re not jealous at all.

We also had a trip out with them to Mossman in the Daintree Rainforest where we walked round a short 2km circular track. Typically, we find this irresistible. A path that leads nowhere, we couldn’t help ourselves. I went off ahead, as I wanted to get some exercise as Mags was moving like a united nations resolution. I left her limping behind chatting away to Lynette where they managed somehow to get lost before eventually regaining the car park two hours later.

Tasmanian Road Tour

Karen and Malcolm kindly lent us their four wheel drive and we blasted off into the Tasmanian wilderness. We headed north to a small village called Westbury via the scenic route alongside the great lake. We stopped briefly for a couple of short walks; one amongst some rare pencil pines, slow growing trees some of which were hundreds of years old; and another to a small waterfall through some impressive giant ferns, the tops of which were illuminated by bright sunshine that pebbledashed the forest floor.

Mags couldn’t do too much with her heel so I spent a day walking to Meander falls which was a fairly oppressive uphill climb through forest finally ending at the falls that, true to their name, were a mere trickle of water running into a rock pool below, but was a beautiful and peaceful spot for my packed lunch. This certainly was getting away from it all, as I only saw one other couple all day, and a solitary tiger snake which fled in one direction nearly as fast as I did in the other.

Strahan

Gradually we made our way West to Strahan, a small village that appears to be owned by one company; the accommodation, the cruise, and all three restaurants. Unfortunately for us, this monopoly has led to standards slipping as they clearly don’t have to try too hard to keep their customers. The food in the restaurants was truly terrible which is quite an achievement considering that the raw produce is superb. The main reason for visiting Strahan is to take the cruise along Gordon river into the rain forest covered with antique pines. The half day trip is fantastic with the still, wood stained river reflecting the forest all the way along its banks. There’s a brief stop for a walk in the forest with information boards dotted strategically around providing details of the unique flora. We also stopped at yet another old convict settlement at Sarah Island, where there is the option of a guided walk along the ruins. We detached ourselves from the group and generally wandered around for an hour.

We stopped at Queenstown on the way back to Hobart, a mining town stuck strangely in the past; the kind of place that Captain Kirk and Spock used to beam down to. The buildings had the wild west feel as seen by a 60s TV director, and looked as if they might be made of polystyrene. The locals also seemed strangely odd, as if they could be aliens masquerading as country folk.

Back in Hobart Karen and Malcolm completely spoiled us with day trips all over the place and Karen’s fantastic vegetarian cooking. We spent many idle hours on their terrace overlooking the river watching the ships sail by including the QE2 that was in the harbour for a couple of days.

Maria Island Walk

We arrived in Tasmania ready for a fortnight of hiking and, with military planning, had no idea what we were going to do. We were staying with our friends Karen and Malcolm who moved here a year ago from Brisbane. Karen brought out loads of tourist brochures on the first night and suggested the Maria Island walk that she’d read a favourable article about. We called up with the expectation that it would be fully booked, but were pleasantly surprised that there was one place left, leaving the next day. Ian, the owner of the firm, happened to live in the same district of Hobart, Taroona and came over 20 minutes later to show us what the walk involved. It looked fairly easy going and our heels had apparently healed, so we felt fairly confident

We set off the next day and met our fellow hikers and guides in the centre of Hobart, Pam, Jenny, Geoff, Anne, Lawrie, Naomi with our guides Stephan and Rosie. All Aussies and from Sydney except for Noami who lives in Melbourne. Typically, most tourists here are Australian as foreign tourists tend to do Sydney, the reef, and Uluru, and then run out of time.

We piled into our minibus and embarked on a gentle hours drive to the north where we boarded our private boat for the transfer to Maria Island. We were taken to a beautiful deserted beach to start our walk, where we jumped down into the shallows for our first taste of the cool crystal clear Tasmanian waters. Maria island is split into two distinct halves separated by an isthmus, a narrow sand bank that links the north and south parts of the island. We walked the short distance across the isthmus from one beach to the other where we were greeted by the rotting corpse of a seal. At least it kept the flies away from us. After a quick sandwich lunch we hauled our packs a short distance to our camp for the night. Yes, Mags and Gary camping – keep watching for those flying pigs. Each couple had a small, semi-permanent canvas cabin equipped with twin beds with foam mattresses. We slept in sleeping bags with the flap down and zipped to keep the bugs out so it was fairly comfortable. We can’t really claim to have been roughing it too much.

After settling in we trudged off on a hike across the southern part of the island to haunted bay. There’s a well worn path through the bush that takes about an hour at a brisk pace. Naomi charged off in front and we practically had to jog to keep up with her.

The end of the bush walk drops down steeply and clears to a large shelf of orange and green rock overlooking the bay. Stephan produced a few snacks from his backpack and we munched while watching dolphins and seals playing in the bay. Scrambling down the last few hundred metres, we encountered numerous fairly penguin fledglings, peering inquisitively at us from crevasses in the rock, where their parents make their nests. Some are surprisingly high up the cliff and it must be very hard work for the adult penguins to carry the catch up to feed the chicks.

On the way back Mags’ heel started to flare up again which wasn’t great as we had another 3 days of walking ahead of us. Back at base camp, we all made the short walk to the beach for a quick swim before dinner. This was also the only way really to wash as there are no showers at camp, just a composting toilet and some tank water from a small tap. The water was cool, but not cold, very invigorating. We all stuck closely to Jenny who is a life saver at Manley.

Later at camp we sat down to our first gourmet dinner cooked by Stephan, ably supported by the diminutive Rosie. The menu for the walk has been designed by top chefs, with complementary wines specially chosen. Our first meal consisted of scallops with black rice together with superb local Pinot Noir, really wonderful.

Next day we set off for a walk predominately along the coast northwards taking in five different beaches. This was easy walking which was just as well as Mags foot was deteriorating, but she limped along slowly at the back like a trouper. We paused at an old farm house. The island has a rich history, including its most recent use for agriculture. Now the whole island is a nature reserve with only one permanent resident, the park ranger. There are no cars, just a few cycle tracks and plenty of walking trails making hiking a very pleasant and peaceful experience.

We lunched under a tree near an old prison, its remains perched on top of a grassy hill overlooking the sapphire sea. These convicts must have been particularly unlucky to end up here; mainland Australia must have been a remote outpost back then (Well OK, it still is). But not content with that, these poor devils were expelled to the Island to the south, and then to an island off Tasmania. They might as well have been on the moon.

Our second camp was also conveniently located close to a beach where we again washed away the day’s exertions in the ocean. We became very excited at sighting two Cape Barren Geese that were wandering lazily along the beach. These protected animals are quite striking with their large blue, grey bodies and yellow beaks. They are very docile and let all of us get to within 5 metres or so to take pictures. It’s a good job for them that they are protected as they look like they would make a wonderful roast. They are probably roughly the same size as turkeys, but can fly really well. We needn’t have got so excited as we discovered dozens of them later in Darlington.

We had a relatively short walk to Darlington on our third day, although not without some excitement as Pam nearly trod on tiger snake that was sunning itself on the path. She noticed it just in time and it slithered quickly away into the bush. The tiger is one of 3 types of snakes found on Maria, all extremely poisonous. We had time on the way to spend a short time at the ‘painted’ caves. These are rock formations next to the beach with startling shapes and colourful stripes weathered by the sea.

Our base for our last night was an old colonial house beautifully restored to its former glory by Maria Island Walks, complete with a piano in the drawing room. We had a large room with a comfortable double bed and hot showers, sure bliss after our two nights in sleeping bags. Mags headed straight for the bath tub as she was all aches and pains by now and had limped in with gritted teeth. A few of us hardier souls decided to hike up Bishop and Clark, one of two hill walks available from Darlington. Naomi set off at breakneck speed as usual and, before long, the two of us were out of sight as we climbed steadily towards the peak. The more sensible walkers kept up a steady pace further back. The peak is 600 metres high and we inevitably slowed down as we trudged on. There’s a fair bit of clambering over rocks near the top, but we managed it without too much trouble and were joined at the top by Jenny and Rosie, the others having sensibly turned back to base. The views from the top are impressive, perched on the peak over a sheer drop of 600 metres to the sea below. We were feeling fairly pleased with ourselves when we were joined by a small group who were cycling around Tasmania. They had already cycled 70 kms that day and had hiked up here as an ‘extra’.

Darlington was initially established as a penal colony and later in the 19th century by the entrepreneurial Italian immigrant Diego Bernacchi as the centre of the island, and has been carefully preserved with interesting exhibitions in some of the many buildings left over from the previous settlements. One describes the story of William Smith O’Brian, a prominent Irish dissident who was exiled hereby the British for seeking Irish independence. Bernacchi seems to have been a man way ahead of his time. He tried wine making, tourism, and cement making on the island in a vain attempt to establish a prosperous settlement, but was doomed to failure.

On our last day we had the morning at leisure to explore Darlington before catching the ferry back around lunchtime. I spent a few hours strolling around town and decided to visit the nearby fossil cliff that, no surprise, is a cliff face of sedimentary rock containing countless tiny fossils from millions of years ago. It was these rocks that Bernacchi was turning into cement, but thankfully he left enough behind for scientists and tourists to examine.

The walk was a wonderful experience and we were lucky in having terrific guides and a convivial group comprising mostly of slightly more senior, ‘grey’ tourists. We were again the youngest, together with Naomi who is a nurse from Melbourne. She was great fun and a bit of a worry to all of us. At a rock pool near the painted caves she pointed to a Warratah Anemone and said to me, “Touch that Gary, it feels just like a pregnant cervix.” Given that I’m not likely to experience the real thing, or want to for that matter, I delved straight in.

Australia

Sydney
How yer goin’. We’re back in Straaylia.

We’ve been winding down seeing friends and family, and just trying to stay put for a while. We arrived in Sydney and were met at the airport by Mags’ sister Karen. We went straight to Ken’s place (Mags’ brother) and celebrated our arrival with a few bottles of crown lager. It was only 8 a.m but our body clocks were all over the place.

We spent a leisurely week at Kev and Jane’s place on the Port Hacking river doing not much at all; a quick swim in the morning was about all we managed. Their home is just like an, all in, holiday resort. You even get an early morning wake up call as Kev sets out for the bakery in the middle of the night. The new craze in chez Johnson is home brewing. Kev and his mate Gav brew up in Gav’s shed across the river. The brewing process naturally requires a few schooners to move things along, which seems to empty the keg alarmingly quickly. While we were there Kev was preparing for his 120th birthday party and decided to install a beer tap in the spare fridge. A fantastic labour saving device so he can now pour a beer without opening the fridge door – brilliant. We also moved the fridge to be conveniently located near to the deck for easy access. We did this while Jane was at work, and concocted a few “reasons” why it was a good idea to convince her. “No, it really does look good” was just about the best we could come up with. Not very persuasive, I admit. Anyway, Jane took one look at it on her return and we could just tell somehow that we weren’t going to win the argument.

Melbourne
After a restorative week of catching up and several long lunches we headed off for Melbourne to see our friends Helen and Barn, who are now living in Port Melbourne near where the ferry leaves for Tasmania every day. Melbourne is conveniently located close to two wine regions, Mornington Peninsula and the Yarra Valley. We thought it would be rude not to check them out so we all traipsed off for a quick tour and a crafty tasting or two. I think we all preferred the Yarra Valley of the two as we seemed to have better wine there, but that could just have been the particular wineries that we visited. Both regions specialise in Pinot Noir which is suited to the relatively cooler climate there. We had a very pleasant overnight stay in the Healsville hotel which has a superb restaurant attached, serving up the local produce with accompanying wine of course.

There seems to be massive 80’s revival here. Perhaps it’s the same at home. Disastrously, this even extends to Billy Joel whose songs seem to be played continuously on the radio. There was no escape. We popped into a bar at lunchtime to check on the Superbowl as, for once, the time difference was in our favour. (It’s on in the middle of the night at home). It was half time and, yes, Billy had that gig as well. At least this means that there’s less air time for Jimmy Barnes. I’ve only heard Khe Sanh once.

It’s amazing but nobody has mentioned the cricket to me (as if). Every time I open my mouth someone will have a few comments and some polite constructive criticism of the England team. I’m pretending to be Swiss with varying success. As it happened England were playing Australia in the first of the one day finals at the Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG), or the “G” as it is now known locally. The ground has been completely rebuilt since we were last here and it really is a magnificent stadium. So it appears that Australians can build Stadiums after all. Perhaps we should hold the FA cup final there.

Well, we thought we’d go as the England team have obviously been missing my helpful suggestions from the boundary rope. Prior to the match, commentators thought it was more likely that George Bush would apologise for invading Iraq than England beat Australia but, low and behold, cobber, England did win. C’mon W, what about that apology?

We also discovered another activity that has been banned in the land of the “Not allowed” – the Mexican wave. The cricket authorities in their unparalleled wisdom had decided to forbid the pastime of all bored cricket fans around the world for safety reasons. In fairness to the ACB, some idiots had been apparently throwing heavy objects into the air as they threw their arms up and a few people have been injured. But anyway, as anybody could have predicted, banning the wave has only made it more popular. Also “not allowed” at the ground is proper alcohol, just mid strength beer, and some sickly alcopops (also mid strength). I scoured the bars in a vain attempt to purchase a glass of wine for Mags. At one I was advised that if I wanted a “drink for a lady”, that I should try one of the alcopops. Good to know that not all Australian stereotypes are dead yet.

Also new since we last visited and popular here is Wagyu beef, which is reared in the same way as Kobe beef, principally for export to Japan. We had a fantastic rib of Wagyu beef at Vue de Monde, one of Melbourne’s premier restaurants. It was served without a steak knife, which I initially though was odd, but there’s no need as the meat just melts in your mouth. Just superb, I just hope we start farming it back in the U.K.

As usual, the food is just fantastic in Oz. Melbourne is particularly blessed being so close to some of the best faming land in the country. There are two marvellous markets, Victoria and South Melbourne where small stall holders sell all the wonderful local produce, and to us, at incredibly low prices. People here just east like kings the whole time.

After all this food, we thought we’d better do some exercise as our next stop was Tasmania, and we were planning on doing a lot of hiking there. We set off for a seaside jaunt along the coastal path from Port Melbourne to Brighton, passing through St. Kilda. Somehow, we both managed to damage our Achilles tendons which was strange as neither of us had any problems before. The only reason we can think of is that we were wearing our hiking boots on a concrete path. So, next day, we could hardly walk which wasn’t the greatest preparation in the world.

Argentina (& Brazil)

We ended our cruise in Ushuia, which claims to be the most southerly city in the world. Although ‘city’ is a bit if a stretch as it is more like a small town. Our adventures seemed to have caught up with us here and all we could so was spend our day here exhausted, sleeping.

Next day, we flew to Buenos Aires and soon found ourselves dashing around the city centre on yet one more city tour. We had a quick look at the Cathedral at the main square which was memorable mainly because we knew it would be our last church on this trip. Hallelujah! Its most striking feature was the multi coloured mosaic floor and the tomb of General José de San Martín, liberator of Argentina. Also in the square is the presidential palace, or pink house, seen from a distance as there is a huge fence protecting it from the attentions of the numerous protests that take place here. We had a quick stop in the district of Boca where the famous Boca Juniors football club is located, and where that handy player Maradona started his career. It’s a poor district close to where the docks used to be, and was a natural magnet for the immigrants arriving from Europe in the early 20th century. There’s been some work recently to improve the area, especially close to the water with a pedestrian street arts and crafts market but the water is still polluted and there’s an acrid smell close to the former docks. We went back to the centre and had a short walk in a very pretty park full of joggers trotting around in the midday heat – they must have been English.

We left the city for a day out at an Estancia, or farm, about a 3 hour drive away. A number of Estancias are open to the public and provide accommodation for tourists, usually offering horse riding, cycling or just a peaceful retreat in the country. We were in the vast Pampas where the famous beef cattle are reared, and the landscape was quite a contrast from the rest of our trip being totally flat and featureless. We only had a few hours but managed a very enjoyable lunch with the four other guests hosted by the owner and his wife. The meal was a barbeque - asado as it is known here. The meat is slowly cooked over an open wood fire. There was a choice of beef, beef and even beef, and also a strange black sausage - all extremely tasty, washed down with salads, bread and a quaffable red wine. It was a long way to travel for lunch and I think that in hindsight we should have stayed the night

We spent much of the rest of our time in Buenos Aires chilling out in the numerous cafes, thankful to be able to get a decent coffee at last, or walking around the centre. The city is nicknamed the Paris of South America, and it is extraordinary how the majority of the buildings ape French architecture. We did manage a night out at one of the many venues offering dinner and an exhibition of tango dancing which was somehow booked by our travel agent. Surprisingly, we had a really fun evening possibly because our expectations were close to zero. The live band was excellent mainly due to an exceptional violinist.

Iguazu falls

Our final destination in Argentina was Iguazu falls in the north of the country bordering Brazil. This is the widest falls in the world spanning 3 kilometres, and comprising of over 250 separate falls. The falls are shared between Argentina and Brazil with the border separating the river Iguazu below.

We had two days to explore this natural wonder and decided to spend day 1 on the Brazilian side of the falls. The journey takes about an hour by car even though we were only traveling to the other side of the river about 200 metres away. There’s the usual formalities to be performed crossing the border but our Brazilian guide seemed to know all the officials and we whizzed passed the queued traffic and were through in no time. Once in the national park we decided to take a boat ride into the falls. It was raining heavily and we thought that we might as well get completely soaked. We weren’t disappointed as the driver powered up close to the falls, with the spray crashing around us.

Pretty much all the activities in the national park here centre in the falls. There’s numerous walking trails giving different vantage points on the Brazilian and Argentina side. We were staying in the Sheraton hotel which is the only one located in the national park, so we were able to stroll from the hotel onto the excellent walks around the falls.
The largest fall with the most volume of water is called Devil’s Gorge and is reached via a short 15 minute train ride followed by a twenty minute walk.

Our Brazilian guide Chris took great care of us. His younger brother has a trial for Man Utd, so we may hear from him in the future.


Argentina Ratings
Food 8
Coffee 7
Tango 8
Maradona Worship 10

Chile - Patagonia

Patagonia in the far south of Chile, wild, remote and bloody difficult to get to. Our airline had revised all their schedules over new year, and decided to cancel our intended flight from Temuco near Villarica to Punto Arenas. We therefore started our journey with a flight back to Santiago for a connecting flight in the middle of the night to Punto Arenas. This meant travelling 700 kms north when we actually wanted to head south. Our flight arrived at 3:30 a.m. and we made it to our hotel at 5:00 a.m. only to be told that we couldn’t stay there as they’d had some plumbing problem and didn’t have any suitable rooms. They transferred us to a nearby hotel. We weren’t too amused as we were totally exhausted and due to leave at 11 a.m. for a 3 hour drive to Puerto Natalas which was our final destination in Patagonia. We were losing our sense of humour by the time we checked into the alternate hotel when the receptionist, in all seriousness, gave us our voucher for a free welcome drink – priceless.

A bit later that same day we set off to Porta Natales across a flat plain strewn with the ash white corpses of blown over trees intermingled with a few living trees stooped over like withered old men. During the summer Patagonia endures constant strong winds that always blow from the west due apparently to the difference in land temperature between the icy Antarctic and the relatively warm South American continent, causing all the vegetation is bent to the east.

We finally arrived at Puerto Natales, a small fishing town on the shore of one of the countless fjords peppering Patagonia. The south of Chile looks as if God dropped it from a great height and it shattered on impact with the Earth.

We were staying in another, all inclusive ‘adventure resort’ – boot camp number two.

We decided that we needed a quiet day after our journey, so we booked a sedentary cruise to the nearby Serrano glacier. Before long we had disembarked from our hydrofoil and were walking towards a blue white river of ice that terminated at a small lake of glacial water liberally sprinkled with chunks of ice slowly melting in the summer sun. Quite a sight! We’d seen a glacier before but not one that pushed right down into the ocean.

We set off in the afternoon for a 3 hour trek nearby. We’d asked for a gentle walk to ease ourselves into things but found ourselves huffing and puffing up a near vertical slope for the first 40 minutes or so. The trail did level out after a while and we had a very enjoyable and peaceful walk with some fantastic views. At this time of year every plant, bush and tree seemed to be flowering or bearing fruit, and there was incredible variety. We ended our hike at the famous Milodon cave, where in 1895 the remains of a giant sloth were found by a German settler. Many expeditions followed to try and find and capture one of these animals alive but, alas, they were already extinct. The cave where the remains were found is huge, 30m high, 90m wide and over 200m deep. A life size model of a Milodon adorned the entrance to the cave towering over visitors at 4 metres high.

In the bar that night we ran into 2 Americans from Chicago. We got chatting and were soon swapping stories like old friends. We sat down to dinner together, the wine flowed, and before we knew it was extremely late. No problem, we’re on holiday, but unfortunately we’d booked in for a major trek the next day with an early start. We finally trudged off to bed and what seemed like moments later, the alarm went. Mags’ resolve was weakening a bit. I could tell because she was saying things like “Let’s not bother going”. Somehow, we hauled ourselves out of bed and assembled in reception. Our fellow hikers looked to be in their early twenties. This is going to hurt, we both thought.

The drive to Torres del Paine national park takes about 2 hours which mercifully gave us some time to catch up on our sleep. A large part of the way is by dirt road but they are currently building a metal road which should be open for the next season and will cut the travel time in half. The park itself is a range of twisted mountain peaks of granite and sedimentary rock called the Paine Massif.

The walk starts with some serious uphill walking for about an hour. We were soon sweating pure cabernet sauvignon. The group bounded ahead while we ‘experienced’ walkers protected the rear. We ended up hiking with a young Chilean girl who happened to be the guide’s girlfriend who he’d brought along. It was her first trek and she was struggling a bit. I don’t think she had any idea what she’d let herself in for. The next 2 hours were a lot easier walking up or down gentler slopes but with more up than down, following the river below upstream. Eventually we came to a resting place where the guide passed around a few energy snacks in preparation for the final climb. Soon he shouted enthusiastically, “Ready to attack the Massif?” A Massif attack, in fact. The last hour is a one in three, brutal slog up and over a field of boulders left behind by the retreating glacier 15 thousand years ago. But the reward at the top is worth every step; opposite our vantage point, three granite towers rose vertically out of a huge black shelf of rock, piercing the cold blue sky. Small streams were coming from a glacier at the foot of the towers, flowing over the rock shelf before cascading down to a blue green lake below in a series of small waterfalls. It is an amazing, jaw dropping sight. We stretched out to enjoy the view and had an unforgettable picnic. We were extremely lucky with the weather as it is usually very windy here, but we were blessed with a calm, sunny day.

Day 3. We needed some recovery time so we booked a morning tour of the town. The schedule included a visit to an old meat packing factory which is an apparent highlight of Puerto Natales, which gives you some idea of how much there is to do in the town. Actually, the factory was very interesting. No, really. Built in 1913 by the British to process and export the bountiful cattle. Everything for the factory had to be imported from Blighty, even the bricks that were from Glasgow. Much of the old, imperial engines are still in situ, and make an impressive sight even in 2007, huge iron and steel machines from London, Sheffield, and Coventry. The kind that we’d only ever seen in the Science museum before.

We finished with another ‘gentle’ walk which, as usual, turned out to be a bit more strenuous than billed. But, away from the Torres del Paine national park, there is no-one around, and we had the place to ourselves. We had another enjoyable picnic at the top of hill with yet more stunning views of lakes and mountains sipping Mate tea which is popular brew taken by the Gauchos. It tastes like Islay whiskey, but without the alcohol.

We said goodbye to Stalag number 2 and embarked on the cruise ship Via Australis, for a 3 day tour around the southern fjords.

We sat down to dinner on the first day and met the three mad Finish dentists, Magnus, Ari, and Varni. They’d escaped the Northern winter to come to a place that’s like – well – Finland. Except that the booze is cheaper. Free, actually, on this ship as it is another all inclusive package. They kept us all entertained at the bar each evening singing at the top of their voices.

Our first shore excursion was to visit a colony of elephant seals. The seals were a bit shy but we got a good glimpse on landing; just like large seals unsurprisingly but a magnificent sight nevertheless.

Our guide led us inland for an easy forest walk. The light was extraordinary, seeming to make the foliage glitter, and the green colours dazzlingly vivid and intense. At the end of the walk the crew had whiskey waiting for us on the rocks with glacial ice. It was only 10:00 a.m. – it was that kind of cruise. I think the crew kept plying us with alcohol in the hope that we wouldn’t notice how bad the food was, which was so terrible that it was bordering on genius. We had great fun during meals playing guess the soup. The highlight of our first excursion was courtesy of mad Magnus who decided to strip off for a quick swim. There were large chunks of ice floating in the sea around him so the water was literally freezing, but he just jumped in and starting singing - bonkers.

We unfortunately had to miss one of the highlights of the cruise, a visit to a penguin colony, due to the weather as the sea was too rough to launch the Zodiacs. We managed one more excursion to the Pia glacier where we saw chunks of ice crashing into the sea while sipping the always available whiskey - medicinal, of course. We sailed through the Beagle channel on our last afternoon, through the ‘valley of the glaciers’ passing the Spanish, French, Italian, German, and Holland glaciers. I felt slightly miffed that there was no English glacier, but it was glacier heaven all the same.

The cruise was the end of our Patagonian adventure. We didn’t run into any of the natives that speak Welsh, which is just as well as the only Welsh I know is “I like ice cream”, and it was a bit cold for that.

Argentina next. Don’t mention the war!

Chile Ratings

Food 7 (Excluding the cruise)
Scenery 10
Length 10

Chile - Lakes

I think I’ve developed a Bolivian accent. Whenever I use my recently acquired Spanish, the Chileans look at me incredulously.

We’ve moved south in search of some peace and tranquillity after our desert boot camp. We’re in the Chilean lake district, although the weather is more Mediterranean than Cumbrian. We’re situated on the shore of lake Villarica, which is just about equidistant between the towns of Pucon and Villarica. The skyline is dominated by a snow capped volcano also called, confusingly, Villarica. This volcano is also active, continually blowing a steady stream of smoke into the air.

The area is a holiday spot for Chileans, with relatively few foreign tourists. There are lots of palatial holiday homes owned by wealthy families from Santiago adorning the shores of the lake. The town of Pucon is completely focused on tourism with the streets lined with travel agents, restaurants, bars and hotels. It reminded me a bit of Queenstown in New Zealand.

Still hungry for adventure, we signed up for some white water rafting the next day. In the morning, we found ourselves carrying a dinghy into the river with 6 other equally deranged tourists clad in wet suit, helmet and life jacket. Before long we were careering through our first rapid, panic stricken. Our guide and boat leader at the back had us paddling furiously and completely ineffectually through each rapid with cries of “Adelante!” I think this was a ploy to take our minds away from the fact that we were completely out of control. At the end of each rapid, we would touch oars together in the middle of the boat to celebrate our improbable survival. At one of the rapids our guide convinced a few of us to jump overboard to do it ‘solo’. We jumped into the icy water and were fished out looking like drowned cats a few minutes later. The whole thing was great fun. Our guide was a bit of a joker. At the end he had us jump out near the shore to guide the boat in. The water was ankle deep, but after about 15 metres, it was suddenly up to our chins. Our guide was still in the boat roaring with laughter.

Next day, we decided to slow down a little and head off in search of a gentle lake walk. This shouldn’t have been too hard you would think – in the lake district. The best way to get around is to rent a vehicle. I was looking forward to hiring one of those four wheel drive, eat up the road, planet consuming tanks that are prevalent here. A car that screams “Get out of my way!” As it turned out, rental cars were a bit thin on the ground and the only car I could find at the third company we tried was a Fiat Uno. A car that says “Run me over. You won’t even notice.”

Undeterred, we set off for Conguillo national park to the north east, where the guide book claimed there is a pleasant walk around a small lake. Unfortunately, a large part of the road to the park is gravel and dirt, about 65 kms of it. This meant that we had to proceed at about 30 kph at best as the road also had more potholes than Blackburn, Lancashire. Large sections of the road had strategically placed ridges resembling corrugated iron that made our little car shake like a rock star in rehab. We proceeded in perpetual fear that the Fiat would fall apart around us. Occasionally a Chelsea tractor would roar past us, or over us, in a cloud of dust and stones, leaving us choking and blind for a few minutes. We eventually made it to our destination at about 5:30 p.m. minus a few nuts and bolts from the car that we hoped weren’t vital.

We saw from the information centre that the walk was 8 kms. This gave is just enough time to finish it and get back before dark. We set off through a forest of bamboo and monkey puzzle trees, full of chimps doing sudoku. After about an hour we hadn’t made it to the lake and realised that the walk must be 8 km each way. We had no choice but to abandon the walk to avoid negotiating the road back in the dark.

Next day, we chose a walk and lake considerably nearer to our hotel in the Huerquehue national park to the east. There were a few dirt roads along the way but we made our destination in good time with most of the car. We changed into our walking clobber and headed off uphill towards the lake. We had about 40 minutes of hard uphill slog before the trail flattened out, and the path split into three. There were no signposts so we had to guess the way. Our chosen path then split again, and again. We wandered like this for the next hour or so completely lost searching for the illusive lake. Eventually we flopped down to eat our packed lunch only to realise that we were back near to our starting point. We took this a sign that lake walks were not to be, and headed off back the hotel which, after all, had wonderful views of lake Villarica.. Still, we’d had two very pleasant forest walks instead.

On our way back we stopped by at a resort built around one of the many natural hot springs in the area, and spent a pleasant couple of hours soaking in the pool or reading in the shade.

We spent new year here, booking into an Italian restaurant in Pucon. We had a quiet civilised evening until midnight when, as is customary the world over, complete strangers starting greeting us like long lost friends covering us with kissed and shouting “Happy new year” in Spanish “Feliz ano nuevo”. At 12:30 we were treated to a fireworks display over the lake. The local custom is to hit the beach and watch the display form there, but the heavens had opened and we decided to watch in the dry under the roof of the restaurant terrace. We then spent the next 3 hours dancing wildly to Salsa with the locals.

Chile - Desert

This really is a magical mystery tour. We’ve no idea what were up to next. We’re in the middle of the driest desert on Earth. You’re probably expecting me to say that it was raining when we arrived. No chance. We haven’t even seen a cloud yet. It last rained in 2001. We’re in a small town, San Pedro de Atacama, which is a little oasis of green thanks to the two rivers that flow into it. We’re surrounded by mountains and volcanoes of course. One is picture perfect, an exact cone. It doesn’t look real, like a comic book volcano. There’s also an active volcano called Laska, which continually smokes like a brooding teenager. Luckily the prevailing wind always takes its ashes into Argentina and away from us.

We’re booked into this luxury, all inclusive adventure holiday camp. Even the drinks are included so I don’t know how they let us in. It’s a kind of Chilean Centre Parks for the Rich. Indeed, all the guests appear to be mega rich, except us of course.

The way it works here is that everyone meets up in the bar before dinner with the guides to decide what excursions to do tomorrow. There’s hiking, horse riding and mountain bike riding, but we just stuck with the walking. You go out in air conditioned mini vans in small groups, usually between 6 and 8 with a guide and then start the walk. At the end of the excursion, the same vehicle is waiting with icy cold beers – brilliant.

Our first trek was in moon valley. It turns out that the moon is in northern Chile, and not in outer space as previously thought. Barren rocks, craters, and dust. You get the picture. If the lunar landings were faked, this is where they did it.

On Christmas day we opted for a gentle stroll up river for a couple of hours to a hot spring. We jumped in and relaxed in the water that was like a warm bath, while the chefs prepared a wonderful lunch with prawns, smoked salmon, salads, cheese with wine and beer. This is the life.

The most memorable hike was up a volcano. Yes, that’s not a typo – a volcano. We were running out of options for excursions the previously night and were somehow talked into this crazy escapade. Next morning, Mags wimped out with some excuse about having a cold, so it was just me and 4 other hardy souls heading out into the hills. The minibus took us most of the way so it wasn’t such a massive challenge. We had to ascend about 500 metres, but this was at altitude so it was a bit trickier – really hard to catch your breath. For some reason, I wasn’t affected as much as other people and found it quite easy to get to the top. We were at 5650 metres, and had amazing views into Bolivia and Argentina, and with the clear day could see for hundreds of kilometres – really exhilarating.

Off to the lakes next where we’re hoping to see a bit of green.

Bolivia

To La Paz

We cruised over to Bolivia on Hydrofoil and stopped off at Sun Island, spiritual home of the Incas. All potential Inca kings had to spend 3 weeks here being prepared for leadership and examined by the high priests that used to live on the island. If the priests thought the future king unfit, then he would be killed and sacrificed. If passed OK, the king would be crowned and would return to Cusco to rule.

Our guide told us that immigration into Bolivia used to be a real hassle as the officials always wanted money. Eventually, the travel agency gave in and agreed to pay them. So now we get 5 star service. 2 officials came up to us during lunch and politely asked for our passports and then retuned them 10 minutes later duly stamped. Now that’s service. I think we’d all pay a little extra for that.

We cruised over to the mainland for a 90 minute drive to La Paz over similar terrain to the high plateau that we crossed on our train journey to Cusco. Our guide, Raul, had great fun terrorising us with tales of revolution. The locals don’t really recognise the government. Every time they find something not to their liking they take the law into their own hands and start to blockade the roads. On one occasion, his driver was whipped for trying to break a blockage to get a guest to the airport in time for his plane.

We approached La Paz from high on the plateau, and the first view of the city as it nestles in a canyon below is very impressive. It has an amazing location, with the ever present Illampu Mountain standing proudly over the city guarding its people. There’s 9 million people in Bolivia and most of them live in La Paz or its neighbouring overspill city El Alta, where most of the workers live. Countless minibuses deliver the people into La Paz each morning.

Next day, we embarked on the obligatory city tour. There’s not much to see in the way of architecture. The Spanish seem to have been particularly uninspired here. Still, there’s a really nice atmosphere, the residents managing to be frantic and laid back at the same time.

La Paz is consumed by a gigantic market that takes over half the city. You can buy anything here as long as it’s counterfeit. From CDs, designer wear and watches to Inca relics. All ridiculously cheap. I bought a copy of windows XP for less than 1$, hoping to use it to revive my ailing laptop. With all Nike, Reebok, Adidas and co gear now being made in China, I don’t think there’s any difference in quality between the copies and the real thing.

Something went badly wrong with our agency booking as, having just spent a day cruising lake Titicaca on our private hydrofoil, we found ourselves travelling from La Paz to Uyini by public bus and train. PUBLIC TRANSPORT. IN BOLIVIA. ARE YOU SERIOUS? Actually, it wasn’t too bad. The 3 and a half hour bus journey took us to Oruro without breaking down, where we boarded a super slow train for 7 hours and finally arrived in Uyini at 2:20 a.m. On the train I had what must be the worst meal of the trip (please), Spaghetti Bolognese. Imagine a tin of Heinz Spaghetti heated up with diced beef checked in, served with a side dish of soap shavings pretending to be Parmesan.

Uyini is home to the largest salt lake in the world. One of two facts that Bolivia is famous for; that and for having more presidents than anyone else in the last hundred years. How did all this salt get here, I hear you ask. Well, it wasn’t an EU salt mountain that was dumped in South America to placate Saxa. No, it was formed by minerals washed there from the surrounding mountains. The rain water has nowhere to go and is evaporated by the strong sun leaving a massive plateau of almost pure salt.

We paid a short visit to a salt factory. These are all small family run businesses. The salt is cut from the lake in blocks, smashed up, and then ‘cooked’ over an open fire to remove the impurities. The salt crackles as it cooks sounding like popcorn. It’s then ground and bagged by children – 2000 bags a day. All of Bolivia’s table salt is produced like this, costing 1 Boliviano a bag – about 6p

The lake really is large, like a skating ring for giants, an enormous latte (Imagine a size up from Venti), Pete Docherty’s cocaine stash, Mama Cass’ bed sheets. OK, it’s big and white. It’s fringed by mountains and volcanoes on all sides giving an otherworldly feel. Those mountains again – we must be in the Andes. The reflected glare from the sun is extremely powerful and ‘snow’ blindness is a real possibility here. Sun glasses are an absolute must, preferably two pairs together. I had to adjust the camera to reduce the exposure as otherwise all the photographs came out as white. The salt dries in hexagonal plates; something to do with the molecular shape of sodium chloride, so the guide told us, but that could have been made up on the spot.

Nothing can live in this environment. No vegetation, no animals, birds or insects – nothing, nada - absolute desert. It’s not a great environment for vehicles either as the salt rots them petty rapidly. I imagined our land cruiser dissolving in front of our eyes leaving us sitting in the middle of the lake with nothing left but the rubber wheels. 4 wheel drive is mandatory here as Bolivia only has 6 roads and they’re all in or into La Paz.

In the middle of the lake is a rocky atoll called Fish Island, named due to its appearance from a distance. Unbelievably, this is covered by giant cactus, up to 10 metres tall, with rabbits , mice and birds all somehow scraping by.

We stayed near the lake in a salt hotel built of, yes you guessed it, salt. This is obviously a bit of a tourist gimmick, but the salt blocks used are surprisingly durable, having similar characteristics to concrete blocks, and a similar appearance too, except white of course.

As usual we were the only guests. This was typical of our stay in the Bolivian desert. We felt more like travel ambassadors than tourists. Hotel managers were weeping when we left, not knowing when their next guests might arrive.

This part of Bolivia is a truly wild, desolate, remote and staggeringly beautiful place. We left the salt lake in our 4 wheel drive which finally gave way to scrub, a barren, rocky landscape punctuated by a few grassy stubs and yellow, green short bushes supporting the occasional Vicuña that peered at us inquisitively as we drove past in a cloud of dust. We were heading to a series of about a dozen mineral lakes clustered together, each with different colours caused by the predominant mineral deposited in the water. There’s red lakes, green, blue, pink – most are populated by thousands of pink Flamingos that somehow find something to eat in the heavy, acrid waters.

The most astonishing lagoon is Lake Colorado which manages to be blue, green, red and white all at once; a photographers’ wet dream. This really does look like another planet, with no sign of vegetation here, just dazzling colours reflecting the stark, lifeless mountains. And of course, just us. I’ll put some pictures on the blog and I promise that I haven’t doctored them. It really does look like this.

We finally took leave of this awesome landscape and swapped transport and took the road to Chile. We were soon back in the first world, and we both cheered as we came to a real, metal road after about 5 kilometres. This is the main haulage route in the north between Chile and Argentina, where the three countries meet. There’s a forlorn looking signpost for Bolivia pointing to the dirt track that we had just traveled, like an after thought as if the Chileans can’t understand why anyone would want to go there. After all, they couldn’t be bothered to invade past this point.

The road plummets alarmingly downwards from over 4000 metres to our destination 45 minutes away at Atacama at 2400 metres. The road is littered with car and lorry wreckage accompanied by roadsides shrines to lost loved ones, but we managed to navigate it safely enough.

Overall Boliva Ratings

People 8
Landscape 10
Food 5
Coffee 0
Roads Not Applicable