On this page we'll update you with our progress, hopefully on a regular basis. Keep checking for our latest news and comments to find out what we're up to, what we've seen and what blisters and cramps we're currently suffering from.

8 October
The Peru / Bolivia border to Cusco, Peru

Ten kilometres down the road we crossed into our fourth country, Peru.

We hugged the lake along a nice stretch of flat road. It seemed we had entered cyclist territory, meeting an American teacher on two wheels at lunch and three guys from Belgium and Holland in the town of Juli with whom we swapped stories over a trout dinner and our first taste of Inca Cola. The next day we set off on a bumpy road to Puno enjoying the beautiful lakeside scenery all the way. Unimpressed by the gringo town of Puno we stored the bikes and took a side trip to the beautiful city of Arequipa. We had our first close encounter with the condors at the world´s second deepest canyon. These magnificent birds swooped and circled above our heads showing off their impressive three to four metre wingspans.

Back in Arequipa we sqeezed in climbing El Misti, the 5800m volcano that looms over the city. We spent the first night at the 4300m base camp and rose at 2am the next morning to huff and puff our way to the top, battling with the effects of altitude as we went.

After returning to Puno we started the final 400km push to Cusco. The first day we encountered a relentless headwind, covering 110km to the town of Pucara -- famous for its bulls which sit on Peruvian rooves for good luck. Here we met two more cyclists, this time on a tandem. The next day the wind died down and we had a fun 75km cycle to the pretty village of Santa Rosa. We arrived just in time to miss the rain and found a bed and dinner for the bargain price of two pounds each.

We awoke to see all the hills around had been covered in snow and grey clouds looming overhead. That day we climbed to a pass at 4350m where we were met by an unwelcome downpour of hail which whipped painfully at our cheeks and bare legs, prompting us to swiftly don our waterproofs. We freewheeled downhill to the bustling town of Sciuani. After lunch, just as we were leaving, the clouds opened and torrential rain drove us back to shelter in town. A pizzeria had caught our eye and we couldn´t resist staying the night to try it out. Our early stop meant we had nearly 150km to cover to reach Cusco - - our longest day of the trip. We rose at half past five and were out of town by half past six. Before long it really felt as though we were entering the Sacred Valley as we passed unspoilt villages surrounded by lush green fields, pristine forests and the fast-flowing river Urubamba. By lunch, at the town of Urcos, we had cycled 90km and the finish line was within reach. In our final 60km we saw our first set of precolonial ruins in Peru. Although the traffic had started to build, the surroundings didn´t become any less interesting as we passed the Peruvian capital of bread quickly followed by the guinea pig capital. The road was lined with restaurants offering every imaginable cut of this Peruvian delicacy.

Finally we entered the outskirts of Cusco, battling with rush hour traffic as we fought our way to the historic centre. At nightfall we reached our goal -- Cusco´s Plaza de Armas. We were exhausted but delighted to have finally achieved what we had set out to do all those months ago at the bottom of Chile.

To celebrate the 4750 miles we had cycled we had booked a smart hotel room. To our dismay they lost our reservation. To make matters worse the heavens opened as we trawled through Cusco´s hilly streets to find another place to stay. There was only one thing left to do. We dumped our bikes and headed to the most expensive hotel in town for a bottle of champagne!

20 September
Cochabamba to Copacabana via La Paz, Bolivia

We had the mother of all hills to climb to reach La Paz which would take us to the highest point of our trip so far at 4500m. We cycled to a town at the foot of the hill where we found our first and last campsite in Bolivia. Naturally it was shut but we managed to persuade the owners to let us pitch our tent.

We rose early the next day knowing we had 1500m to climb ahead of us. It was sweltering as we snaked our way up. Bolivia´s endless hills had trained us well but it was still a hard slog, particularly as we reached the literally breathtaking heights of 4000m.

On the final stretch of the day´s climb we encountered the first sign of hostility from Bolivians. Some idots were sitting up on a cliff throwing rocks at us. Reasoning with them achieved nothing. A carpet of rocks in the road showed they had been at it all day. Absolutely terrified we pedalled as fast as we could past them to safety and thankfully escaped unscathed.

Although the sun was setting we decided to put as much distance between us and them before pitching our tent in a dry river bed.

We decided it was time to treat ourselves to the vacuum packed chicken dopiaza we had been carrying since the start of our adventure. After such an exhausting day the hot meal tasted incredible.

As we hauled ourselves onto our bikes the next day it felt like we had never been off them, and we still had another 1000m climb to endure. We had a somewhat surreal lunch stop where an entire village decided to make us feel like we were animals in a zoo. Clearly not too many gringos stop in these parts. We finally reached our 4496m peak by which point the altitude had turned our legs to lead and the lack of oxygen made the normally unconcious act of breathing a challenge.

Fortunately for us the rest of the day was a gentle downhill onto the mind-numbing Bolivian altiplano. We found a bed for the night in a junction town although there was no running water. Seeing our desperation after three days without a shower, the owner gave us a bucket of hot water which went part way to making us feel human again.

The next two days were long but fortunately the real hills were behind us. As we neared La Paz, the Andes once again loomed larger than ever forming a 250km row of snowy peaks before us with four over 6000m.

We dropped off the Altiplano into the bowl of La Paz and the vast city spread out below us filling the valley floor and creeping up its sides.

We had a great week in the crazy city of La Paz, lapping up gringo food and all the bustling street markets. We even found time to cycle the world´s most dangerous road and had a fascinating day exploring the archaeological site of the Tiwanaku empire which ruled for 1500 year and at one point encompassed large chunks of Peru, Bolivia, Argentina and Chile.

Fifty kilometres out of La Paz we reached the world´s highest navigable lake, Lago Titicaca -- where the first Incas are thought to have come from.

Its shores are surrounded by homes and fields as people make use of the plentiful water and trout it provides.

We reached a small village and found a perfect guesthouse for the night on the lake´s edge. Our room had amazing views of the lake and the owners cooked us a delicious trout dinner. The next day we hugged the lake before crosing the straits to the southern shores on a crazy barge that actually rippled with the water. Safely across, we bumped into two Swiss cyclists who had started in Alaska 15 months ago and were on recumbent bikes -- we were humbled.

It was another 40km to the lakeside town of Copacabana and after we climbed for the next two hours we came over the pass to see its stunning cathedral and narrow streets.

We spent a great few nights in this fun little town overlooking Titcaca and visted the birth place of the sun and the Inka civilisation, Isla del Sol, out in the middle of the lake.

5 September
Potosi to Cochabamba via Sucre

After a final dinner with the children at the SOS Village we bade farewell to Potosi. Sucre was our next destination two days away with a descent of 1200m. We shot out of town once we had found the right road and made light work of the first 60km. After some unexpected hills and the usual wind we found a camping spot in a dry river bed which we thought was nicely tucked away. We were woken at six in the morning by an old local couple walking past our tent bent over by the towering mound of sticks on their back. They seemed fairly unpeturbed by us. They simply waved and went merrily on their way as we tucked into our porridge. Progress that day was hampered somewhat by a road block. Just 6km from our camping site farmers had set up the first of countless road blocks, in their battle (we think) for a greater part in how the region is governed.

The blocks spanned 30km and ranged from stacks of cacti to boulders, nails and glass. For once we were the envy of bus travellers who were forced to walk the 30km. But we did still have to lug the bikes across the blocks terrified of yet more punctures. We later learn the farmers had blocked every single road into Sucre.

It was back to school in Sucre -- we signed up for a week long Spanish course. We were more than happy to do so because it is a beautiful white-washed colonial city with amazing churches on every corner and we loved spending a week there. Believed by locals to be the true capital of Bolivia, Sucre was once Spain´s key city in South America and one of the richest in the heyday of the Potosi mines. It is also home to the largest single site of dinosaur tracks and we made sure to take a trip on the aptly named dino truck to to see them at the cement factory where they were discovered by workers just 15 years ago.

On our final day in Sucre a local musician who wanted to practise his English on us gave us a lesson in Quechua the original language of the region which is still spoken by many at home.

Well-equipped with our new language skills we headed back into the hills of Bolivia and the unpaved roads. The first day we dropped 1300m and it suddenly felt like we had entered the tropics. We randomly took up an offer from a waitress in a tiny village to sleep in her porch in the open air. Luckily we had a crate across the doorway to keep out the wandering pigs and cockerels although we did still wake up to a hen at the end of our sleeping bags!

We had a miserable hot climb the next day, working our way back up 1000m in the blistering heat to the town of Aiquile and a much needed shower.

On entering town we discovered some bright spark had decided to cobble the high street -- just about the worst surface for a cyclist without suspension and with a heavy load. Little did we know they had cobbled the road for the next 100km, sending us into black moods the next morning.

We were soon cheered up as we passed a school in the middle of nowhere and the entire building emptied as children ran along cheering behind us.

Our legs were exhausted from the previous day and we stopped at the first Coke sign after an unimpressive 31km. A wall of mountain loomed before us that we needed to scale and we just could not face the climb that afternoon. The owner of the Coke sign ran the only shop for miles around and with an endless supply it seemed a good spot to rest. The kind lady agreed to let us set up tent in her garden. She cryptically warned us not to pitch it under the tree because that was somebody else´s bed. It was only when a dozen chickens trooped up the ladder into the tree that we realised whose bed it really was. The first cock crowed at 2.26am! So by six we were more than ready to rise and tackle the hill.

Our early start meant we had done most our climbing by lunch and we bumped our way across the cobbles into the historic village of Totora early afternoon.

Totora has seen better days and was badly damaged by an earthquake in the nineties. The beauty is still there but you have to look hard. The next town we stopped in was Epizana, hailed by our guidebook as having the worst accomodation in Bolivia. We simply didn´t feel we could miss it, particularly as we were hit by our first downpour of rain in three months. So to avoid a wet and windy night in the tent we checked into the "Hilton" -- with squat toilets, dirty sheets and no showers, it did not live up its name.

Another early rise, another day of climbing and 130km to cover. After 11 hours of cycling we finally reached the city of Cochabamba, arriving in the mayhem of Friday night rush hour just as the sun was going down.

Cochambama is a big, manic city with enormous markets. It feels truly Bolivian with none of the gringo frills of Sucre and Potosi. We timed our visit with a day when the city was closed to traffic and over run by cyclists and pedestrians. By the afternoon it felt like one massive street party with stalls lining the roads, music blaring and everyone letting the hair down. A perfect way to get to know Cochabamba.

20 August
SOS Childrens Village - Potosi, Bolivia

Potosi is the most important point of our trip because it is home to the SOS Children's Village that half the money we have raised is helping. We were very excited about visiting the village and meeting some of the children. On arrival we could immediately see the fruits of the money we had raised. The principal of the village was excited to show us the hole in the ground where the gas pipes will be installed by the end of September. Over two days we met some of the SOS mothers and many of the lovely children. We were overwhelmed by the uninhibited and affectionate reaction to the two strange gringos in their homes. We had several lively meals with families which were great fun. The visit is a highlight of our adventures and has left us with memories we will always treasure.

17 August
Potosi, Bolivia

You can not come to Bolivia and not go to the Salar de Uyuni -- the largest salt flat in the world. So we signed up to a four day jeep adventure covering the majority of south west Bolivia and taking in the famous salt falts. The journey took us through some of the strangest landscapes we have seen. We travelled up to 5000m, saw green and red lakes, flamingos galore, strange rabbit like mammals called vizcachas and even soaked our weary bones in a high altitude thermal bath. The grand finale was the salt flats covering as many as 12,000 square kilometres. It felt like standing on a giant ice rink and we took advantage of its crazy perspective by taking some fun photos.

Our journey back to Tupiza was hampered by referendum day -- Bolivia´s chance to decide whether its leader Evo Morales should stay. Traffic was banned on the roads so our driver had to sweet talk and dodge the military to let us sneak out of Uyuni and back to Tupiza. We arrived to see a street party celebrating the overwhelming backing of the incumbent president.

The luxury of the jeep could not last so the next day we returned to the saddle and the road north to Potosi. Our second wedding anniversary started with cyling uphill on a dirt road and ended with camping at minus 15 degrees celsius by the side of the said dirt road. Perhaps one to forget! Having survived the infamous freezing temperatures we ploughed on. We passed through some very poor villages that day seeing people washing plates and clothes in filthy gutter water and many only spoke the original language of the region, Quechua. We reached the town of Cotogaita midafternoon delayed by yet another puncture.

Our fears about living off Bolivian soups have proved unfounded. This is a country that lives on chicken and chips, a cyclists dream.

The next day proved one of the most gruelling of the whole tour with over 1300m of climbing including a 700m uphill that took us two and a quarter hours in the blistering sunshine. Towards the end of our climbing, thinking we only had 30 minutes of cyling left, we hit gravel track again adding another hour to the journey in the fading sunlight. Thankfully chicken and chips and a bed were on offer in the small village of Vitichi.

On our fourth day out of Tupiza we came within shooting distance of Potosi. But being the highest city in the world we still had another 700m to climb so we opted to take a 70p bed in a service station at the foot of our finall hill. We didn´t realise the room charge included an early morning call. We woke with a start to see the garage owner hammering on our curtainless window eager for his money.

We huffed and puffed our way to the top of Cerro Rico -- the famous mountain on which Potosi was built. The altitude left us panting and with leaden legs. Finally we reached the crest of the mountain at a heady 4350m. We turned the corner to see Cerro Rico´s north face decimated by centuries of intensive mining. Not only is Potosi the highest city in the world it used to be one of the richest because of the silver stashed in the mountain. But under Spanish rule most of its treasures were shipped back to Europe while thousands of locals lost their lives down the mines. As we descended into the city we realised the architectureal riches still abounded. Potosi is without a doubt a stunning city.

A visit to Potosi is not complete without a tour of one of its mines and a trip to the miners market to buy dynamite, ammonium nitrate and cocoa leaves as gifts for the workers.

There are 15,000 men and children still down the mines, working 10 hour shifts and surviving on a diet of cocoa leaves. They work six levels down. Tamsin only made it a couple of hundred yards into the tunnel before running out in horror. Jim did rather better sinking three levels, crawling on his belly at times and even trying his hand at some digging. The working conditions of these men are horrific. The miners choose not to wear breathing appartus despite the choking dust and the vast majority die in their mid-forties as a result.

 

6 August
Tupiza, Bolivia

After a great few days in Salta it was time to start the long climb up towards Bolivia. Our first stop was the city of Jujuy 90 km north. We were bowled over by the cycle there. After a few hours of climbing the landscape became thick with vegetation, there were pink blossom trees, birds were singing everywhere and the forested mountains gave the feeling of being in a rainforest. We enjoyed a long and winding downhill. It was one of the best cycles of the trips so far.

On reaching Jujuy we hit the lively market to buy ingredients for a tuna nicoise salad and spaghetti bolognaise -- fearful the food would take a turn for the worse in Bolivia. We swapped stories with our room mate, the unique biker Wayne. One of the many strings to his bows is helping educate deprived areas around the world on water purification. He was about to head up to northeastern Argentina to some former Jesuit villages to work his magic there.

The climbing began in earnest after Jujuy. We rose 900m in the first 45km. On reaching the peak of one particularly steep climb we were greeted by an enthusiastic Argentinian family who videoed us and dumped mounds of sweets in to our hands to help us on our way. We will miss the friendly Argentinians.

We stopped that night in a stunning village called Purmamarca which is backed by a mountain striped with seven colours. It was breathtaking in the morning sunlight. We had entered the Quebrada de Humahuaca, the stunning mountain valley we would follow uphill for the next few days.

The next couple of nights were spent in the beautiful villages of the quebrada, resting our legs after climbing each day while enjoying the Andean music and the Pachamama festivities. The rising altitude slowed us down an extra day as the lack of oxygen took its toll and we spent a day in bed fending off the unpredictable symptoms.

We had saved the biggest climb until last and it was one of the hardest days yet thanks to the steep incline, a poisonous headwind and the altitude.

Having been told it was a 35km climb but we were still on the uphill at 60kms and wondering if it would ever end. Finally after reaching 3780m above sea level we peaked and were on the bleak and deserted altiplano. The wind changed direction and we swiftly made it to our destination for that night - Abra Pampa, formerly known as Siberian Argentina. The people were rapidly changing in appearance and we could sense Bolivia getting closer by the day.

Our final day in Argentina was spent cycling across the Puna as this area is known and wathcing the funny llamas.

After spending the night in the border town of La Quiaca we bade farewell to Argentina and stepped into the more chaotic world of Bolivia. Fearing some freezing nights ahead in the tent, following stories of -20 degrees, we bought some extra layers and then headed on to the open road. It quickly became a dirt track 2kms from the border.

Every car that passed us left us in a dense fog of choking dust. After just two hours and with 20kms under our belts we stopped for lunch. Whilst wheeling our bikes off the road we learnt a harsh lesson about Bolivian vegetation. The tree we were sheltering under was covered in inch long thorns which left us with 3 punctures. After much cursing and a sweltering hour of bike repairs in the mdday sun we were back on the road.

We intended to camp but the desert and our new found thorny friends meant there were few opportunities. As the sun was getting low on the horizon we stopped in a village to ask permission to camp there. A man leaning on his mud fence sent us to the village "authority". We knocked on his corrugated iron door and after much deliberation he showed us to the village hall. It was the smartest building in the village -- the only one not made of mud -- and it was decorated for a party with streamers and banners hanging from the ceiling. A good if surreal welcome to Bolivia.

We made ourselves at home laying out our mats and cooking up some pasta for dinner. The next morning we hit the road early with the promise of a 600m downhill to the town of Tupiza. This was to be our second lesson in Bolivia, the downhill was over in a brake clenching 12 km and the rest of the day was spent scrabbling up steep inclines quickly followed by more brake clenching downhills. They don't do flat in Bolivia. Jim also picked up another puncture to add to his growing collections.

We eventually arrived in the town of Tupiza, coverd head to toe in thick dust from two days of cycling on Bolivian roads and dived into possibly the best shower of the tour to date.

22 July
Salta, Northern Argentina

We left Belen in good spirits but an unforeseen factor soon cruelly crushed them. Ten kilometres out of town we cycled headlong into the infamous Zonda wind -- a superheated sandstorm created by wind coming over the Andes. The temperature shot up 10 degrees, we started to eat sand and realised the clouds blocking out the sunlight were in fact just dust. We fought it for an hour but with the sand and wind whipping straight into our faces it became unbearable and we were forced to retrace our steps for another night in Belen.

The next day we made better progress reaching the tiny village of Hualfin. En route, a local cyclist slammed on his brakes when he saw us and threw his bike to the ground. His intentions turned out to be friendly -- he hurried across the road to give us some bread he had just picked up from a nearby village. A further example of Argentinians´ astonishing kindness.

The next day it took us four hours to cover the first 30kms as we bumped and skidded on a sand track with the wind in our faces, climbing 500m as we reached an altitude of 2300m. Each in our own private hell, we swore and shouted at the road and weather. Fortunately for our sanity, the afternoon session was a different story, covering 85kms on paved road to the pretty little town of Santa Maria.

Our next big destination was the popular tourist town of Cafayate but we had two important stops to make on the way. The first was the Pachamama museum at Amaicha del Valle. Designed by the sculptor Hector Cruz its floors and walls are colourful mosaics of pagan gods such as the Pachamama. Then we took a five kilometre detour up a dusty track to visit the the pre-Inca ruins at Quilmes. Their amazing network of walls on a hillside surrounded by a forest of cacti resembled a mini Macchu Pichu in a different climate.

On our way into Cafayate, on a boiling hot day with 70kms under our belts, we passed the Etchart bodega and Tamsin thought it was a good time to stop in for some tastings to try the famous Torrontes grape that grows so well at high altitudes. Jim was in pieces from the heat but emptying a water bottle over his head, put on a brave face and knocked back some wine.

Cafayate and the hundreds of tourists thronging its streets came as quite a shock after weeks of hardly seeing another traveller. But its wealth of bars and restaurants and pretty streets more than kept us happy. The road out of Cafayate and down to Salta was jaw-dropping. The red stone flanking the valley had been whittled into weird and amazing shapes by millions of years of wind and rare rain.

The journey got even better when, as a belated birthday present Tamsin treated Jim and herself (!) to a couple of nights at a finca (farm). The stunning colonial farmhouse of Santa Anita which used to be a tobacco plantation was the perfect spot to relax. With geese, turkeys, goats, horses, dogs and a big family there was plenty to look at. We even took some resident horses for a spin. Thankfully they gave us two extremely dozy animals and a very patient guide called Carlos. The drop in altitude from Cafayate meant the scenery had gone from being a sandy desert to lush green fields, at times reminiscent of England. As much as we liked hanging out with the goats of Santa Anita the beautiful colonial city of Salta beckoned, just a day´s cycle away.

We liked Salta the moment we arrived. It was full of life and breath-taking architecture. With its claim as the home of empanadas it was a hungry cyclist´s heaven and we quickly refuelled in the bustling market.

11 July
Belen, Argentina

Having seen shrines of water bottles on the side of the road throughout Argentina we felt it was time to learn their true meaning by visiting the site where it all began. The legend goes that a lady named Diffunta Correa looking to recover her husband´s body during the civil war collapsed at a spot in the desert 60km to the east of San Juan and died of thirst. But miraculously her baby was found still alive, breast-feeding.

Diffunta Correa has effectively become a patron saint for travellers and the water bottles are offered as thanks for her protection. The shrine that has grown up around the site where she fell has to be seen to be believed. There are chapels dedicated to different groups from footballers to brides to truckers. And die-hard followers make the final pilgrimage to her shrine either on their knees or bare backs. The hill to the shrines is covered in model replica houses, car and truck number plates, tryes and even plaster casts by way of thanks for people´s survival. Thousands flock here every weekend to visit her and then tuck into one of the many barbeques lining the streets cooking hundreds of goats and chickens. After several hours gaping at the intense passion with which the Argentinians rever Difunta Correa we headed back to San Juan and then onto the road north.

We are now in the land of cacti, orange, lemon, olive and walnut tress but mainly vast open expanses of desert. The 150km road to the town of Jachal was barren bar a couple of ghost towns. Thankfully there were enough roadside bushes to hide our tent and fortunately we had stocked up on sun cream as the temperature marched higher.

Through Jachal we headed east past a resevoir, through a brief canyon and stone tunnel and into a cacti filled valley. After a climb on rocky roads we were rewarded with an astoundingly clear view for hundreds of kilometres of the multicolour rocks and lunar landscape this region is famous for. It was one of our best lunch spots yet.

After reaching the town of Villa Union 120km further north east we paid a visit to the parks Talampaya and Valle de la Luna. Talampaya is well-photographed for its 100m sheer red rock cliff faces that dwarfed us at their feet. The soft sandstone of the park has been sculpted by the wind and rain over millions of years into shapes resembling a saxophonist, a gothic cathedral and even a grandmother. We felt like we were starring in an Indiana Jones movie as we wandered through narrow canyons. Valle de la Luna as its names implies is like nothing you would expect to see on this planet. The two parks have rocks that tell the complete story of the seven chapters of the triassic period. When the Andes were formed the rock strata spread out acros the landscape, creating a rich hunting ground for palentologists.

With our minds completely boggled by the sheer age of the earth, we found we could delay no longer our 1000m climb to la Cuesta de Miranda which took us to the other side of a 6250m mountain called Famatina.

The sun was ferocious and baked us against the deep red sandstone that formed our "road". Tamsin´s face matched its colour as she overheated and we dived into a cool bar in a tiny village half way up the hill for some ice cold water and coke. The road deteriorated but after bumping and skidding our way to the top we were greeted by a spectacular view down the valley to the town of Chilecito and the even better 30km downhill sprint.

Chilecito is a former mining town with the second longest cable car in the world that would ferry its poor workers on a three hour commute to over 4000m to dig out the gold and silver riches of Famatina. We took a day off to explore and visited the eerily silent second station of the cable car 400m up the valley. Then Tamsin dragged poor Jim round the cable car museum where we learnt for an hour (in Spanish) the intricate details of the German-built feat of engineering. The local kids preferred to use it as a climbing frame.

We were blown away by the friendliness of the Chilecito people and were quizzed frequently by shopkeepers and passers by about our travels. In one shop, the owner took it a whole step further. After the usual questions about where we were from he whipped out a tape recorder and announced he was going interview us for his radio programme in the morning. With the recorder thrust in our faces, we stammered out brief answers to his various questions in our appalling Spanish. After a few painful minutes he finally turned the machine off and let us escape but only after we´d sampled some of his home made wines. Our lack of access to a radio at 7am in the morning - the hour of the programme -- meant we were able to avoid listening to our humiliation. Our next destination was Belen but with 220km of long straight roads ahead we decided to cover it as quickly as possible. Breaking another tour record we reached Belen with two days of hard cycling, including a mind-numbingly dull 50km stretch that was dead straight except for a single bend.

We couldn´t resist stopping en route at Londres, the second oldest town in Argentina, where we raised a toast to home over a coke. Arriving in Belen we reached our 3000 mile mark and celebrated in style with enough steak for a small army.

6 June
Malargue, Argentina

We have covered over 500km in eight days, climbing some high peaks and passing by rather large amounts of snow. The area we have cycled through has a very evident volcanic past, including a gorge made from cooled shiny black lava, the smell of sulphur wafting through the air and several large snowy volcanoes rising to over 4000m high.

We turned north last week out of Las Lajas back onto the infamously wild ruta 40 and immediately hit the vast open space of the Argentinian pampa. We were in the grip of a cold spell and the first night as we climbed to over 1400m we started to dread our night in the tent. After 90km we were getting tired and the temperature had plummeted to below zero. Thankfully a couple of guys in a passing truck came to our rescue and after taking some photos of us on their mobile phones asked around the tiny village we had reached to see where we could pitch a tent. We were sent behind a municipal building and the foreman indicated that if we wanted we could stay in the concrete block below the water tower. With an inch of dust and signs of mice we would normally have fled from the prospect but in the baltic temperature we snapped up the offer and got to work sweeping. It was a sound decision as the lowest it reached in the block was 1 degree celsius where as when the sun rose the next morning Jim's bike had frozen solid, along with all our water bottles.

We whizzed downhill towards a town called Chos Malal before another steep ascent and a final fling down to the bottom of the river valley and a hot shower.

The next day, after getting past a gang of rowdy dogs and then a road block of protesters we climbed all morning back up onto the top of the world before sweeping down past strange volcanic formations reminiscent of a lunar landscape.

After a good sleep at Buta Ranquil, a town nestled in the shadow of Volcano Tromen at over 4000m, we took an easy day and had scrambled eggs in the middle of the desert under Tromen's watchful eye.

From the tiny town of Barrancas we forged north into a headwind and waved goodbye to Patagonia having cycled through it for over 2000 miles, since the beginning of our adventure. Yet more climbing, made harder by the ferocious headwind. As we reached the hill top just past Ranquil Norte the road turned to ripio (gravel) and removed any chance of a potential downhill sprint.

We were planning to camp at the bottom of the valley but as we reached it the soil turned to sand and parts of the road had been washed away in the recent heavy rain. Thankfully a few kilometres further we found a pebbly patch and some big thorny bushes to hide the tent from the road. Amazingly it was lovely and warm and the wind kindly dropped allowing us a sound night's sleep.

Argentinians have an incredibly sweet tooth which suits us both perfectly particularly after a long day cycling. Jim had managed to pick up a bag of a dozen facturas (small sweet pastries) which we'd restrained ourselves from scoffing and was perfect for breakfast.

Much to our dismay, the sky turned black and it started to rain. We had a long day ahead and a large stretch of it on gravel. Then out of nowhere our guardian angel appeared. A man in a 4WD truck pulled up ahead of us and waited for us to pant up the hill before offering us the traditional Argentinian hot drink, mate, a kind of grassy tea, along with some torta fritas (fried bread). He was such a kind man he even tried to give us a bottle of fanta for the day ahead. This lovely gesture of friendliness really lifted our spirits and helped us cover the 86km in the driving rain.

When we reached Bardas Blancas, our destination for the evening, we were absolutely soaking and getting progressively colder as the temperature was dropping. We cycled up to the only hosteria in the tiny town dreaming of hot showers and a good feed. To our horror it was shut, the owner was ill. After searching frantically in town for somewhere to stay we were directed towards the only shop in town. The BFG owner responded to our pleas for help by saying he had a casita (a little house).

After leading across some torrential streams and past a building site we came to a small mud brick shed. To our amazement there was a double mattress on a single bed frame propped up with crates. We think it doubled up as a meat store with big meat hooks hanging from the ceiling and a rather unique odour. But later that evening when the rain turned to heavy snow we were extremely grateful for the roof over our heads. The snow put our final leg to Malargue in jeopardy but we settled for a bottle of wine and tried to ignore locals´predictions of snow drifts by the morning.

After a slightly disturbed night's sleep due to several wild horses cavorting just outside our shack, we woke to beautiful blue sky and the sound of snow ploughs clearing the road ahead.

The ice and snow soon started to melt and we decided to give the 2000m pass a go. It started well although the heat of the sun soon turned the roads to a muddy torrent. After much cursing and with bikes and shoes caked in mud we finally reached the peak at about lunchtime. The view was incredible with the road effectively dropping off a cliff edge to a flat valley floor with more snowy peaks looming in the distance. It felt like we could see mountains and plains hundreds of kilometres away. We wrapped up for the descent and shot down 600m to the gridded rural sprawl of Malargue. Some time off the bikes beckoned after a hard week cycling and we set to work restocking the calories we had burnt off with a parilla (a meat feast including the local speciality of goat).

 

30 May
The Crossing

As D-Day began, early clouds soon cleared and we had our first glimpse of the sun in 10 days. The clear skies also allowed us to see Volcano Villarica at long last.

Over the next two days we made our way towards the border and the Andes with the aim of getting as close as possible so that we could clear the pass to Argentina in one day. The sun shone all the way and we spent one morning cycling past Volcano Llaima - one of the most active volcanoes on the continent which last erupted as recenty as January. The scenery was stunning. We cycled over lava flows and were even stoped in our tracks by a wild boar wandering across our path.

We ended the day within 35 kilometres of the pass to Argentina and spent the night in an idyllic cabana surounded by roaming horses, turkeys and dogs, as we prepared ourseves for the big climb. We rose early and much to our dismay the rain had returned. We pressed on and climbed non-stop for five hours through a forest of monkey puzzle trees on a wet gravel road. We finally reached Icalma and the Chilean border control. A cheerful international policeman told us the rain would turn to snow within hours.

Our 1700m climb ended an hour later at the pass to Argentina. Our jubilation as we reached the top was ony marred by a carload of Argentinian tourists who, just as Tamsin was panting 200m from the summit, started videoing her and asking questions in Spanish.

Thankfully as the rain grew heavier we sought refuge in a smal village just a few kilomteres beyond the Argentinian border control and booked ourseves into a cosy little cabana with beautiful lake views for a well-deserved rest day. The weather cleared and we optimistically thought a 100 kilometre day was feasible to get us to Ruta 40, the main highway north to Mendoza. It started well and even the unmade road, being in fairly good condition, seemed to be on our side. The sun won an early morning battle with some snow flurries. Having started the day at 1100m we began to climb again. The views were spectacular with snowy peaks and monkey puzzle trees painting a stark contrast against the deep blue skies. But after a time the snowy peaks became worryingy close. Then snow started appearing on the road and as we climbed further it became 6 inches deep. We were forced to start pushing and soon found ourselves in a winter wonderland. An hour later we were still pushing and suddeny reality dawned on us and the fear of a night in the snow start to creep up on us. Just one car had passed us all day.

After what seemed an age the road peaked at 1800m and we started a very gradual descent to the main, paved international road and the lifeline to civilisation. Someone seemed to be looking after us -- when we finally reached the road, far later in the day than expected and with 50km still to go, we spied a sign for accomodation. It turned out to be one of the most beautifu locations we have stayed in. It was owned by a man and his family from Buenos Aires who had spent the last five or six years building the wooden cabins with their bare hands and raising huskies at the same time for professional sledding.

It was a cold cold night and in the morning the condensation from our breathing was frozen solid on the inside of our window, making us extremely grateful for not being forced into a night´s camping. The 50km downhill the next day was well deserved and freezing despite the layers we had piled on but the jaw-dropping views more than made up for any discomformt. We arrived in Las Lajas soon after lunch and will start our journey on the Ruta 40 tomorrow, marking the real beginning of our Argentinian leg of our trip.

The Lake Districts

After an amazing week with Jim´s parents we hauled ourselves back on to our bikes. They groaned it seemed from the extra weight we were carrying after seven days of indulgence in the Chilean and Argentinian lake districts. We were spoilt rotten with some beautiful hotels in spectacular surroundings. There was a private boat cruise on one of the most famous lakes in Argentina and a day soaking ourselves in a thermal spa just by the Chilean-Argentinian border. Not to mention cards, cakes, presents and candles to celebrate Jim´s birthday. We left Jim´s parents at Puerto Varas where we had met them a week previously and cycled off into the distance filmed all the way by Jim´s dad.

We headed north and quickly got back to a less luxurious lifestyle. After a night in Osorno we headed to Valdivia for some sea air. After glorious sunshine for the week with Jim´s parents the rain arrived in the Lake District but it didn´t deter Valdivia´s greatest sights -- giant sea lions wandering freely at the town´s fish market. We watched in awe as the fishmongers tossed large scraps of fish to these enormous monsters which would have done nicely for our dinner. With salmon sellling for about one pound eighty pence a kilo fish was not an expensive commodity. If the beasts got too close to the shoppers the stall holders would let them know who ruled the market threatening them with a club round the ears with huge planks of wood.

A nine day deluge followed during which time we spent a relaxing five days in the town of Villarica. The grim weather meant we missed out on climbing the eponymously named volcano but we made good use of the time with a few Spanish essons. As the rain continued our carefully laid plans for crossing into Argentina suddeny looked in jeopardy. The front-page of the local newspaper told us the road we needed to follow had been washed away, our Spanish teacher informed us the pass was shut, while our hostel owners warned us of more rain and 100km-hr winds. We sought advice from the local police and they called ahead to check the pass was still open. The weather forecast predicted a lull in the rain on Friday so we decided to maked a break for it and head for the hopefully drier but also colder climes of Argentina.

 


3 May:
Chiloe / Puerto Varas

The last couple of weeks have felt like a magical holiday, particularly after the deluge that we suffered in the previous days. Sadly it must feel very different for the people of Chaiten, the town we were leaving when we last wrote. A volcano that takes the same name as the town has recently erupted spewing ash all over Chaiten and forcing most its residents to evacuate. It makes us realise as we stare in awe at Volcano Osorno where we are now quite how powerful and menacing these volcanoes can be.

We took the boat from Chaiten two weeks ago to the island of Chiloe and had 10 fantastic days exploring it. After the wilderness of the Carretera Austral it was a very vibrant place with life just about everywhere. The island is famous for its myths and legends and the locals are said to believe in all sorts of mythical creatures such as the Trauco, a troll blamed for unwanted pregnancies. In many ways it looks like rural England with rolling hills and cows and sheep dotting the countryside but the distinctive wooden architecture quickly makes you realise you are not at home and the many beautiful whilst simple churches in most villages are quite unique. At 200km long it was perfect for nice little jaunts on our bikes, with frequent ferries to nearby isles allowing us to explore a few of them as well. We stayed on one for a couple of nights and were lucky enough to watch a bay full of dolphins over breakfast. The main town on the island Castro was great fun and it was there we tried the local dish curanto. Essentially it is a stew with just about everything in it. Ours had enormous mussels, clams, chicken, sausage, beef and potato cakes. It is absolutely delicious but probably has to be tried to be believed. Traditionally it is cooked in the ground but ours came straight from the restaurant's kitchen. We had a bit of a wildlife bonanza whilst on the island. I spotted a wildcat, (confirmed on the internet as a Kodkod) we saw a rare deer then on a day trip to a village famous for oysters we suddenly realised that the sea of pink in front of us was in fact hundreds upon hundreds of flamingos. Finally on our ferry trip back to the mainland we saw flocks of pelicans fly over the boat and dozens of seals bobbing in the channel. Our last stop on Chiloe was Ancud, a fun town filled with fantastic markets, forts and seafood empanadas (pasties, Again you probably need to try them to believe they are good!).

After a 107km day of cycling (our longest yet) on the pan american which reaches right up to Alaska, we made it to Puerto Varas. As we "glided" into town and reached the waterfront of Lago Llainquihue we were blessed with a stunning view of Volcano Osorno as the clouds lifted off its snowy, perfectly coned peak. We have been very lucky in the past few days with clear blue skies granting us amazing views of all the surrounding volcanoes. We were five days ahead of schedule, in terms of meeting Jim's parents, so took ourselves and the bikes for a three day jaunt around the lake. At the other end we found the perfect cabana to stay in, with direct access to the lake and nestled at the foot of the volcano. We saw possibly the best sunset we have ever seen on our first night and then had a superb day cycling up the road to another lake, taking in some bubbling rapids en route. We are now back in Puerto Varas and really looking forward to seeing Jim's parents tomorrow and the back of the bikes for a week.
22 April:
Chaiten

The road out of Coyhaique snaked higher and higher giving us some superb views of the town and surrounding mountains. At last we had some beautiful sunshine to cycle in. As we careered down to track Rio Simpson, it really felt good to be cycling again. We hit our 1000 mile mark during the day as we notched up 90km to reach a town called Villa Manihuales that evening. The rain returned and was hammering the next morning when we woke. With heavy hearts we got on our bikes but by 11am the clouds had disappeared and we were blessed with another great day. We moved back onto gravel roads but the scenery more than made up for it. We cycled through enormous mountains with snow down to the forests on their lower levels and then past a beautiful lake. We reached a sweet village called Villa Amengual that evening and stayed in a great hospedaje where the owner´s objective seemed to be to make sure we ate so much that we couldn´t move.

Jack Frost didn´t just visit that night, he came with all his friends and had a massive party. There was ice on every tree and plant and a friend of the hostel owner found us such strange creatures to be cycling in the freezing weather he took pictures of us before we left. It was just the loveliest morning to cycle as the sun warmed up the ground, we followed yet another magnificent river, followed by a new friend. There are more dogs in Chile than humans and many or even most are strays and they love to have a good bark at us but generally they stop at that. Shortly after leaving that morning we realised we had one following us. No amount of shouting at it could persuade it to go back home. After 30km as we prepared to climb the mother of all hills, it was still with us and as we sweated our way up the steep incline it (or rather she, as she had clearly had several litters) irritated us by dancing alongside us, trotting up the steep incline with no effort. Our efforts on the hill were rewarded by some whopping waterfalls, one dropping 40m and another 30m. The downhill was decidedly unrewarding as the road was just a pile of rocks that required hanging tightly to the brakes for the 8km duration. We had planned to camp that night and after the deep frost the night before both of us were rather dreading the chilly night ahead, despite having bought some lovely new thermals in Coyhaique. Then after nearly 70km we spotted a sign for a lodge. We couldn´t resist it and within an hour found ourselves in a little lodge with a roaring fire and we were able to cook our dinner in the owner´s kitchen. We were so pleased to have escaped camping in the cold.

Manuela, as we named our dog, had stubbornly stuck with us for the full 70km and when I woke up in the morning and peered outside, she was curled up in a ball outside our window. Her loyalty was incredible when neither of us had said one nice word to her or fed her a morsel as we didn´t feel it fair on her as clearly we weren´t in a position to look after her.

She hauled herself up and trotted alongside our bikes once again. After about 20km on a road that was being churned up we looked up to see the most incredible sight. Ahead lay an enormous hanging glacier backed by mountains heavy with snow, against the deep blue sky it was just stunning. We took the 2km detour to take a better look and enjoyed a couple of hours taking in the superb view. Jim´s back wheel had stopped turning in a perfect circle because several spokes were coming loose and the warm sunshine was the perfect spot for a bit of bike repair. We managed to lose Manuela sometime after lunch when she spotted a settlement with better prospects for some food. That afternoon we cycled to a village called Puyuhuapi which has a very Teutonic feel to its architecture after being founded by four Germans in the 1930s. We met a really nice English couple in our hostel. They were the first English accents we´d heard in over a month and it was great to chat and share stories with them.

The following day we treated ourselves to a day at the thermal spas nearby. We spent hours wallowing in the boiling hot waters, with a delicious three course lunch thrown in as well. The resort was in a stunning location and we had to get a motor boat across a fjord to reach it. We even spotted some dolphins while swimming in one of the pools.

The final leg of the Carretera Austral beckoned. Sadly so did the rain and we had some wet days to say the least. On one very soggy day we picked up two dogs who foolishly followed us 70km through the pouring rain. We had intended to just do 40km but the place we had intended to stop at turned out to be a ghost town. So at 4pm in torrential rain we had to make the decision whether to push on for another 30km. We knew it would be dark when we got there but we also knew our cooker was out of order once again and the prospect of a cold, wet night in a tent with no food did not appeal. We reached Villa Santa Lucia in the pitch black and hunted around for somewhere to sleep. Jim spotted a lady in her doorway and she said we could stay with her. It was probably the grottiest bed we have had but it was a roof over our heads. The mutts that had trailed us for the day kicked out the live-in dog and took up residence on the porch, leaving the owner´s poor pooch to howl nearby. And the rain continued. It lashed it down on our tin roof all night long and was still going when we pulled on our still soaking wet clothes in the morning. We decided in this weather to try and reach our next major destination (Chaiten) that day. We were planning to get a ferry from there to the island of Chiloe and if we reached it quickly we could get an earlier boat. But it all proved academic when Jim went outside and found his back rack had snapped. This was the metal contraption that carried the bulk of our gear, including the tent. There was no way we could get out of town let alone to Chaiten without this. Our extremely unhelpful hostel owner informed us not only was there no mechanic in town or for the next 80km, we´d also missed the daily bus by half an hour and there wasn´t another one until Monday (it was Friday). The prospect of spending a weekend in this dreary tiny village in the pouring rain sent shivers down our spine.

There was nothing for it but to lose our hitch hiking virginities. We had agreed before that we would only take a lift when we were out of options and this was such a time. Thankfully we found a small shelter to hide from the dire weather and we also had our two canine friends to keep us company. It didn´t seem too bad at first but after 3 hours we were beginning to lose the will to live, having only seen about eight cars. The Carretera Austral is not a busy road and with two bikes and a lot of luggage we had to be quite specific with our needs.

After six hours we realised we would have been able to have reached Chaiten in the time we had been waiting. We were getting very cold and despite the shelter quite wet. Then out of nowhere, this lovely little family in a pick up truck pulled up and told us to jump in. As we were throwing our beloved bikes onto the back of the truck Jim admitted he didn´t know where they were going. I said, who cares, let´s get out of here! Still we were pretty relieved when they confirmed they were off to Chaiten. The road was so flooded along the way that it felt like the truck was floating, goodness knows how we and our bikes could have got through had we been able to cycle. Finally we made it to Chaiten and Jim was able to find a car mechanic which handily was able to fix his bike. Pretty impressive given that it was 7pm on a Friday night and he only charged two pounds! We'd arrived early and with a fully functioning bike could now catch the ferry to Chiloe, Chile´s mystical isle, the following day.

9 April:
Coyhaique

The last leg has been quite adventurous with very varied weather. The first day out of Cochrane was a warm sunny day but there were lots of hills to climb. One cyclist we bumped into at about 1pm heading in the other direction seemed worried whether we´d make it to our destination, Puerto Bertand, that evening. But fortunately our legs pulled through, helped by views of roaring cobalt blue rapids to our side, otherwise known as Rio Baker -- apparently the most voluminous river in Chile. Plans for white water rafting had to be canned due to a lack of other tourists wanting to go so we pushed onto the next village on this crazy road. We passed the enormous lake, Lago General Carrera en route, and even snatched views of the northern ice field from time to time. We cunningly found an hospedaje (family-run hostel) which doubled up as a bakery so that Jim was kept in good supply of empanadas (pasties) for what turned out to be a three night stop.

We met a couple of other tourists who had booked a minibus to see the glacier San Rafael. It was a little disappointing compared to the ones we had seen so far, particularly as we were viewing it from a platform rather than the lagoon, and the dense fog made it look more like a building site! But the road there was incredible and made the few hour trip more than worth it, taking us through a fantastic rainforest with waterfalls pouring down off glaciers in all directions.

We took an extra day of rest as I (Tamsin) wasn´t feeling too well. Much to Jim´s alarm, he found his back pannier rack had snapped but the local car mechanic, who it seemed was just as adept at mending chainsaws and any other machinery, had it fixed within half an hour.

We stopped at a tiny village called Bahia Murta the next day after just 25km of pedalling. A hostel with flower-filled garden was just too pretty to pass by and I still wasn´t feeling 100 per cent.

We pitched the tent the next night on what we think was 50 year old volcano ash. It had a slightly eery feel as it faced a field of dead trees that had clearly also fallen victim to the volcano. The wind picked up and we were buffeted around all night by ferocious gales. Thank goodness for our super tent. When the sky cleared temporarily we caught sight of this incredible craggy peak looming over us called Cerro Castillo. Their jagged needlepoint spikes with the clouds racing around them made the view look like a scene straight from Dracula´s home. The wet weather continued as we pulled into Villa de Cerro Castillo the next day. Jim kindly offered to see if a bakery sold the can of coke I was craving. It didn´t but he managed to secure accomodation at another place with empanadas on tap.

The locals up and down this 1000km road are up in arms about plans a foot to build hydroelectric plants in the area. Not only will they flood several thousand hectares in the process but it will mean mile upon mile of pylons in this pristine wilderness. There is quite a campaign against it but whether it will put a spanner in the Spanish energy firm´s plans remains to be seen.

We had braced ourselves for the climb to a 1100m pass the following day. After several hundred kilometres of gravel and rocky road we moved onto paved just in the nick of time and the steep ascent was not as bad as we feared. But the freezing rain that kicked in just at the top was. We donned our waterproofs and sped down hill breaking a new record of 58 km an hour. The wind and rain meant there was no way we could make Coyhaique that evening, putting pay to hopes of a beer and hot meal. A tiny village became our target for the day. But on arriving we learnt there was nowhere to stay. We were desperate. Jim cleverly managed to accost a local and tell him of our plight. He disappeared and five minutes later had returned having scored us a night in what was effectively the local town hall! There were leaks everywhere and it was not exactly clean but we got the wood stove burning so kept warm and it did the job, protecting us from the evil weather.

The rain was still lashing down the next morning but thankfully the wind had dropped and we made it into Coyhaique in time for lunch. We´re taking a couple of days rest here and have treated ourselves to a lovely little flat. We awoke at last to the sun this morning. Winter is coming fast and when we looked out our window this morning we realised we are surrounded by beautiful snowy hills. It´s a fun little town and with 45,000 people it is the biggest we have seen since our starting point -- Punta Arenas. We´re enjoying visiting restaurants where you don´t have to bang on the door to persuade them to open up and supermarkets that stock more than tuna and pasta! We´ll be back on the road on Friday. Hope you like the new photos we have uploaded.

 


30 March:
Cochrane

We have had some very good days recently and some tougher ones. We left Villa O´Higgins last Monday to start our journey on the Carretera Austral -- a 1000 km mainly unpaved road that was only finished a few years ago. We had some stunning scenery to start with but then the weather turned and the clouds came in. It was a bit of a shame as that stretch is meant to have some of the most spectular scenery. Our journey was delayed by groups of bulls and cows on the road that wouldn´t budge. The bulls just kept swinging at us threateningly. We think it might have had something to do with Jim´s red jacket! After some hefty hills we decided it was time to find a camping spot. After coming down one particularly steep hill and spying a mountain we needed to climb on the other side we decided to definitely call it a day. Amazingly as we got to the bottom of the valley there was a little hut and a bearded old man rose to greet us. He gave me a kiss on both cheeks and said we could camp on his land for a charge of one pound. We were so grateful as we had seen very few decent camping spots for quite a few kilometres. He let us use his smart latrine and there was a big river so we could get plenty of water. It was perfect except for the rain which hammered down all night and for most the next day.

We knew that about 40km ahead the road ended and you had to get a ferry across a fjord to get to the next bit of road. The ferry left at 1pm. We thought we had left plenty of time to catch it but hadn´t bargained on how much the unpaved road and hills would slow us down. We missed it by 10 minutes, could even see it pulling away. Pretty disappointing as the next ferry wasn´t till 7pm, we were soaking after all the rain and there was just an empty small wooden hut to shelter in with the windows broken! But we made the best of it. Cranked up the stove for lots of coffee and eventually the sun came out. We caught the 7pm and pitched our tent on the beach on the other side. It was actually a beautiful camping spot.

The next day was quite traumatic. We always knew that there would be hills to climb given our proximity to the Andes but these were so steep and the road so gravelly that you couldn´t get any traction so we spent much of the morning pushing out bikes up them! Thank goodness for downhills. We were able to freewheel for the next hour or so and then we had a nice flat 20km detour in the afternoon to Caleta Tortel -- a little town where Prince William spent part of his gap year. It used to only be reachable by boat and was founded over 100 years ago because of the Cypress trees in the area. The people that worked for the timber company built their homes on the edge of the water and these amazing wooden walkways linking the village together. It´s a really beautiful place, coming after a stunning river that reminded us of Borneo because it is backed by an amazing rainforest. We spent a day there just soaking it all up then set off for Cochrane where we are now. We had a fantastic day cycling on Friday, it was really warm and sunny and the road was nice and flat through woods and along rivers. We camped with a huge snowtopped mountain in front of us. It was just perfect and we had a lovely evening eating our dinner enjoying the stunning view. The next day (yesterday) was harder work, more hills and the state of the road was terrible. But the sun still shone and the scenery was breathtaking. All this cycling is making us starving and so when we arrived last night we quickly headed out for a big dinner. I managed to eat a steak and the most enormous pile of chips while Jim has found this dish he has grown rather found of. I call it a heart attack on a plate -- a steak with onions chips and a few fried eggs on top!

We´re having a day off today before heading towards Coyhaique. There are a couple of nice places to stop on the way where we hope to do some whitewater rafting and maybe go ice trekking again, this time on glacier San Rafael.

23 March:
El Chalten / Villa O´Higgins

We made the cycle from El Calafate to El Chalten in good time, only 3 days, thanks to a total lack of wind along the way. Even managed to find a campsite to stay at and a restaurant on route – what a treat! Spent a night with some gauchos as well, camping in their garden. All a bit strange as their garden seemed more like an animal cemetery with bones lying all over the place and even a sheep´s head. Needless to say we didn´t hang around for breakfast!

El Chalten was brilliant, a little town created to protect Argentina´s right to part of the southern ice field from Chile. We did a great trek up to Mount Fitzroy and spent the night camping at its base and got to walk on Glacier Viedma with crampons.

We´ve had an adventurous few days since El Chalten but all has been good. We set off on Thursday, cycling about 40km down a gravel track to Lago del Desierto from El Chalten from where a boat took us to the other side and the Argentinian border control. It was fantastic scenery, with glaciers and snowy mountains everywhere. We camped on the other side of the lake and were rewarded the next morning with an amazing clear view of the mountain that we´d climbed up to see last week -- Fitz Roy. One downer was our cooker broke half way through dinner that night. Such bad timing as the next town with more than 2000 people in it is some 500 km away! Fortunately a Belgian cyclist who we met on the boat over let us finish our dinner on his stove and we have fixed ours today. Phew!

We then had a nightmare 8km climb with our bikes up a trekking path. We’d been dreading this for ages as there are lots of stories on the internet about how impossible it is with bikes. But trekking across the border is the only way to do it unless we fancied going back onto the Argentinian road where the wind and scenery is fairly brutal. It was a tough day. We had to push and carry the bikes and all the luggage. The path was very narrow as it is mainly used by horses so there were bits where we had to take all our bags off and do a relay, and then there were all the streams and rivers with bogs to cross. Finally after 5 hours we came to the top of the hill and the geographic Chile-Argentina border. (We had passed through Argentinian customs that morning). Here the path became a track and the final 14km for the day was far easier. The Chilean side was stunning with the massive Lago O´Higgins to greet us. It, like most the lakes round here, is bright blue. We checked through Chilean customs. This border is only open until April when the weather turns too cold.

There was this fantastic little wooden house on the edge of the lake which offered camping and also let you sleep in their spare rooms for about four pounds a night. We could also use their stove which was pretty useful given that our cooker was broken and all we had eaten all day was biscuits and sweets! The next day we took the ferry to Villa O’higgins where we are now. But first the boat went to see Glacier O´Higgins, we couldn´t pass up on the opportunity to see another glacier so paid the extra 13 pounds each for the trips. It was awesome.´Will put up some photos just as soon as we find a decent internet connections. We arrived at Villa O´Higgins after dark last night and had 7km to cycle to the town, fortunately the moon was really bright and lit our path all the way. It is a tiny little town and apart from the library computer which is obviously closed because of Easter I think we have found the only Internet connection! We decided to take today off as it is Easter Sunday and have had a good day fixing the cooker and a few other things that didn´t enjoy the trek on friday and had a little cycle round the area which is once again surrounded by glaciers and snowy peaks.

The scenery has been amazing the whole time and we´re feeling very spolit by it all – we´re about to embark on the infamous Carretera Austral (a 1000km gravel road up through Chile) so are promised even more great sights along the way.

13 March:
El Calafate

We arrived here late on Monday (March 10) after a cycling marathon (350km in six days). We opted to pedal fast because there was basically nothing to stop for between Puerto Natales and here. We had one night on the border and crossed into Argentina the next morning with no problem. We discovered our bikes sparked quite a lot of curiosity among other tourists. One car load videoed us and at the border people were taking photos!

The first night in Argentina we stayed behind what we think was a policeman´s house at Tapi Aike. He had a ready made shelter perfect for our tent and cooking. The rain lashed it down that night and didn´t let up in the morning but with little option we put all our wet weather gear on and headed off. For once we had the wind behind us and we cruised 80km in three and a half hours. We arrived at a "town" called La Esperanza. It was the most ridiculous name for a town with no hope -- just a cluster of buildings in the middle of the Patagonian countryside, oh and a 24 hour brothel! We found a "hotel" which was a essentially a sleeping house for workers in the area. It was the second night in three with Jim and I in bunk beds! Fortunately on both occasions we had the room to ourselves and were able to bring the bikes in with us. Feeling chuffed with our 80km ride, we set ourselves a target of reaching El Calafate in two days. At 165km it seemed achievable. But we came up way short of our 90km aim for the first day after the wind, this time not going in our direction, picked up and by half four when each km was taking about 20 minutes we decided to stop. It´s like having a giant hairdryer blowing directly at you and means that on steep downhills you still have to pedal.

The guidebook says you can camp on the side of any major Argentinian highway but you should make sure your tent can´t be seen. Seems logical but in Patagonia you can see for mile upon mile upon mile. With some luck Jim spotted a ridge at the side of the road that we could hide behind. Our first night of proper wild camping. The wind made putting the tent up pretty interesting. It died down a bit then at midnight we woke up to the tent being rocked by ferocious gales. Amazingly, the tent held up.

We now had a good 90km to do the next day to reach El Calafate. We woke before light and replaced porridge with biscuits so that we could make a quick start. But the damn wind, which every other day didn´t really pick up till after lunch, was already blowing hard. What a morning we had. Every km was a battle and it was constant uphill. It was a very grey start and the landscape was soooooo desolate. After more than three hours we had only done 30km and the prospect of reaching El Calafate by sunset seemed increasingly remote. Then, thank goodness, after one particularly nasty hill, we saw signs about a 15km descent and as we came over what turned out to be a peak there was the most stunning view of the Andes and an enormous bright blue lake, besides which sits El Calafate. We still had nearly 60km to go but that freewheel down that hill gave us the lift we needed. It was still quite a battle and while the sun came out the wind picked up even more and so it was 8pm when we finally dragged our exhausted bodies and bikes into El Calafate. Sorry for the long winded (no pun intended!) description but it really was quite a couple of days we had. For that whole 165km between and here La Esperanza we didn´t pass one shop, petrol station, nothing apart from signs to estancias (farmhouses) that were some 15km to 20km off the road!

We were so relieved to have made it. Couldn´t face another night at the side of the road and we´d run out of biscuits! We checked into a nice youth hostel and went out for dinner and a bottle of Argentinian Malbec!

As we rested our legs the following day we booked up for a trip to see the Perito Moreno glacier which is about 70km from El Calafate.

It was just incredible and vast -- at more than 4km across, 60m high and over 30km long. We spent a couple of hours just watching it from these viewing platforms they have set up opposite it. It was mesmorising, the colours, its size and the noise it makes as chunks fall off it as it advances.

We then took a boat out to get a closer look and were lucky enough to see a huge slab come off the glacier and icebergs bob up into the turquoise lake. We both agreed it was one of the most amazing sights we'd seen. Sorry for the lack of photos but South America, or at least the part we're in, seems to be stuck in the last century on dial-up internet connection.

We're setting off for El Chalten tomorrow.

3 March:
Torres del Paine

We´re now back in Puerto Natales having spent 5 exhausting but amazing days dragging ourselves and 2 very large rucksacks around a national park about 2 hours up the road.

The scenery was stunning with glaciers everywhere, waterfalls coming off the top of snow-capped mountains and lakes with icebergs floating by. Every day was spent treking around the park, hard work but the scenery took your mind off the weight on your back, and camping in random little spots by glacial rivers to ensure you always had a water source.

It´s quite a popular place to trek so we were not alone by any means but it still felt quite remote at times with some quite challenging parts to the trail when considering all that weight on our backs.

We are now trying to get our legs to recover before the next cycling stint to El Calafate in Argentina, about 270 kms away. The border crossing should be interesting as they´re pretty keen to search everything you have. We´re spending a couple of days relaxing and gathering supplies as there´s not very much between here and the next town so we´ll be dependent on taking everything we need with us.

26 February:
Puerto Natales

We have reached our first destination after six pretty eventful days. It didn´t exactly start off well. Within an hour on our first day out of Punta Arenas, I had been been knocked off my bike by the ferocious Patagonian wind several times and even Jim had been pushed off the road. We had heard and read about the wind but it has to be felt to be believed. To add to our woes, the rain started coming down and by midafternoon our confidence had been badly knocked. We kept battling on. Some taxi driver had told us that there was a campsite up ahead but that never materialised. Then we spied some buildings in the middle of the Patagonian pampas. It was a police check point. They were so kind, gave us coffee and then showed us our camping spot for the first night - a disused cow pen. Surprisingly after wrestling with the wind and rain, it was perfect -- nice and sheltered, if a little smelly.

Fortunately things improved enormously thereafter and the sun shone for the next few days (we never expected to get burnt in Patagonia). The scenery has been just incredible and we have spotted countless nandues (patagonian ostriches), massive hares and amazing birds.

The Chilean hospitality has been amazing. The second day, we took on quite a big stretch - just at the point our legs and bodies were crying out from exhaustion a car pulled up and asked us where we were from. It turned out he spoke English (which is lucky as our Spanish is diabloical at the moment), he had an estancia (somewhere between a ranch and a farm) that included a hotel. He said we could pitch our tent in the grounds that evening and there was a big Chilean chicken stew being prepared that we could tuck into. It was just what we needed to spur us on for the final 25km that day. The following night we camped behind a bullring and then a nice family-run cafe let us pitch our tent in the garden. So we´ve had lots of fun, taking in all the beautfiul scenery.

We also had a great day before we set off visting islands packed with 150,000 penguins and enormous sea lions.

Our legs have been shattered every night and yes we have been soooooo saddle sore! We´re now in Puerto Natales which is a small town filled with tourists preparing or recovering from a trek round the national park nearby Torres Del Paine. It´s sounds stunning and we´re off to do a five or six day trek tomorrow. Can´t wait to get back in that tent, hmmmm!

20 February:
We haven´t got off to the best start! After rerouting to Birmingham (in the US!) because of a tornado at Atlanta and mechanical faults with our plane we finally arrived at Santiago on Monday to find NOT ONE of our bags had made it with us, and that goes for the bikes too. Our bikes turned up in Punta Arenas yesterday looking like a pack of wolves had been let loose on them. It might have been due to their extended trip via New York and Miami! Thankfully they went back together without too many problems and our other bags should be arriving later today -- fingers crossed, as we coud really do with some clean pants. (The Chilean´s XL underwear is not designed for Londoners and is too small for both of us!).

We´re off to see 150,000 penguins this morning, so it´s not all bad news! Will update again soon.

16 February:
We fly tomorrow morning and are about to settle down for the ‘last supper’ – everything is packed and we’re so excited to get started.

Thanks so much for all your good luck messages and of course all the sponsorship – we’ve raised £8,000 now and hopefully still more to come in.

Keep in touch. Gulp!

February 2008:
Flat let, bikes serviced, one more week of work to go now and getting very exciting about starting the trip.

Finally managed to get our cooker working yesterday so at least we shouldn’t starve in Patagonia – Tamsin will make sure that doesn’t happen anyway, there’ll be lots of biscuits in reserve!

A few conundrums still to resolve such as how to get the bikes to the airport. The obvious solution would be to cycle them there, but unfortunately they need to be boxed up - doing our best to make sure they arrive at the other end in one piece!

January 2008:
Not long before we head off now (5 weeks and counting). Think we’ve thought of just about everything but we'll probably find some piece of vital equipment is missing once we hit the road.

We’re leaving on 17th February, with no fixed return date, and now we just can’t wait to get started. Would like to say that the training is going really well but instead we’re living by the mantra that ‘the tour trains you’.

By the way if you know anyone that’s looking for a 3 bedroom flat in Wandsworth to rent please give us a shout!

 

 

 
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