Navimag Ferry

Finally after a days delay from bad weather we we board the navimag in the afternoon. It’s a big ugly boat, no massive cargo crates like we expected but some cows somewhere we hear.


The sleeping arrangement looks good, several rooms containing a labyrinth of corridors with 50 odd bunks in each. All are in blocks of 4, 2 bunks facing each other, it feels very private when your little curtain is drawn & reading lamp on, comfy beds and huge lockers to hurl all your stuff in.

Glad we didn’t go for the cabins as they are just the same with a door to the block of 4 but really expensive. Surprising how many passengers are on board but then when you look at the map the roads are none existent due to the terrain being mountainous and fjordy, so it’s the only way to travel to central Chile really.

Ohhhh it’s a little chilly and we aint at sea proper yet!

We set sail and watch the flat Puerto Natales fade into the distance and then run round exploring all the decks. It’s not long before we are gliding through the many fjords & by tree lined islands.

The bar is the obvious place to hang out when the weather gets too much on deck and most of the passengers lounge around reading & writing diaries, and here we were thinking we were doing something different!

Bad time to misplace the hairbush!

We soon settle in to a life that revolves around meal times (reminiscent of a school canteen), briefings, movies, walks on deck & lounging about in the bar. It’s actually quite nice to not be able to do anything else. We have been reading Roald Dahl ghost stories and one summed up the feeling quite well:

“To the majority of us the most delightful moment of the day on board is when we have taken our last turn on deck and having succeeded in tiring ourselves; feel at liberty to turn in with a clear conscience.”

Our first night on board we settle down in our cosy bunks & sleep like babies on calm seas.

We are woken at 8 by a pleasant voice over announcing breakfast and the day’s schedule, first in Spanish which allows one to slowly come round.

After breakfast I go to a talk about the Kewesqar people of whom the remainder lives in the tiny isolated hamlet of Puerto Eden nestled below the Andes. 180 people carve a very hard living in this place. Navimag by law has to stop there every trip to take supplies & ferry people back & forth. We take them vegetables that they can’t grow in this climate.

Puerto Eden

The Kewesqur were a small race possibly originally from Polynesia. These people were really tough, used to walk 50k a day and cross the Andes for hunting. Lived in groups of 6 or 7 and spent much of their time in dug out canoes in the strong currents of the fjords. In these boats the children would be responsible for keeping a fire going. The women had thick broad shoulders from dragging sea lions into the boat. No doubt the men did the harder work of peeling the imaginary vegetables.

Here’s half the settlement of Puerto Eden.

In the end sadly we don’t have time to go ashore as the Navimag was delayed we need to make up time. 3 primary coloured boats meet us and we swap some fisherman (who were drunk and rowdy through last nights film so no great loss) and the improbable boy (an odd child that liked to slip between me and the wall when I was trying to look at the map, he had it in for me I tell you, I’m glad he left too). Anyway we gained a Japanese family and 2 blond salty sea dogs who looked like they’d been lost in the wilds for months.

Later we pass the English narrows, the currents are really strong and only one boat at a time can go though. There’s a statue of Santa Maria patron saint of sailors we tip our hats as we pass then we head for a glacier confusingly called iceberg.

The weather worsens…..

On the way we see majestic albatrosses gliding in the strong winds in front of the boat wondering when we will haul in our catch. Over and over they swoop down to the sea and pivot so that one long thin wing tip almost touches the water, fab birds.

The glacier is almost hidden by the weather and quite frankly we have seen 5 spectaculars previously so are a tad glacier blasé, and don’t spend much time out there peering into the murk. Though it was interesting to see the definite line in the water where it turns from normal sea colour to glacier strangeness.

The weather gets so bad we are asked to stay inside so play cards with our new friends Geronia and Rory, here they are, this trip is there honeymoon.

Spontaneously they both assumed these poker faces.

There are 30 foot waves out at sea so we are staying in the channel till the weather improves. I see a sea lion pop up twice through the window & everyone leaps up but he’s gone. The music on board today is really bad, shopping centre type covers of Christmas hits looped and the obligatory sail away by Enya, are they trying to instigate a mutiny?

In the evening we watch a really good Chilean indepenant film about some shellfishermen & prostitutes living in Puerto Eden.

Here’s another quote from that ghost story, fitted well with how we felt about the French couple bunking opposite us:

“We made up our minds we didnt care to make their acquaintance & that we would study their habits in order to avoid them.”

It’s not totally correct as I saw them so little I only recognized them by their shoes.

The next morning I can hear the cows mooing, poor things. We breakfast with Ken, his brother & wife, (good guys, met in the torrrs) Ken (among other interesting things) was a master canner of food and for a while bought some peacocks for his garden but had to send them back because they hung out & pooed on his patio.

Here he is…

We were anchored in a peachy bay and it’s sunny and calm, why are we here then you may ask?

After breakfast we find out our captain had a heart attack in the night and had been taken to hospital to recover, he was 75, quite old for skippering. Thankfully bad weather stopped us being out at sea when it happened.
We await a replacement captain and watch Night at the Museum (pretty funny).

We kill time reading and writing as we drift around on anchor. It’s strange that we are doing the same things but because the boat isn’t moving it’s really tedious.

exercising on deck the sun arrives at last

After lunch in a briefing the new captain makes soo much of a show of his credentials it has the opposite effect of pacifying and instead we feel slightly nervous, plus he looks like a fisherman.

2008 ship odyssey

We all feel a bit better when pisco sours are served on his behalf
& soon we are again underway. The weather is good and we plop around on deck and watch the petras diving behind the ship and swooping up alongside as the sun dramatically sets.

Later in the bar there are a group of travellers playing very physical drinking games next to a bunch of locals betting on cards in a raucous animated stylie. The sickness pills have been handed out for the shandy drinkers and an announcement comes over the tannoy: take your pills now! All a bit 1984.

Is the boat listing though?

Just so no one gets confused in an emergency: Run to the blue family of aliens or have a game of ludo.

It’s not meant to be a rough crossing but I heed the advice of not drinking. At 10.30 we feel a tad ropy and go out on deck. As the boat pitches we go from feeling ultra heavy to light as a feather and have some fun jumping around before hitting the sack and being rocked gently to sleep. Dave slightly regretted drinking as the motion sloshed the contents of his stomach, port to starboard, port to starboard….

The noise of doors banging we adjusted to, but the sound of a tennis ball bouncing inside a locker was infuriating, we just couldn’t locate which bloody locker.


We’ve been reading an apt book about cartography called The Island of lost Maps. The story as a whole didn’t really hold together but it had some fascinating history about maps and map makers.

The reason sea monsters appear on old maps is because the explorers used to embellish their tales of far away lands with monsters to gain the publics interest. Some examples:

Christopher Columbus reported that the new world contained men with snouts of dogs.

Sir Walter Raleigh returned from South America in 1596 reporting the jungles were inhabited by a tribe of headless men whose facial features were in their chests.

There were men with just one massive foot that could run as fast as animals.

And the piece de resistance from Mandeville (who incidentally fabricated whole journeys that globes of the world were based on). Along with imaging 2 headed geese to 30foot giants was “a people who live just on the smell of a kind of apple. If they loose that smell they would die” priceless!

Dave composing love sonnets for Jackie

The next morning with the crossing behind us we were back in channels and the sun is shining. This had an extreme effect on our guide who turned into a yellow coat for the briefing “ MUY BUENAS DAIAS!!!!”
She shouts Ola and endeavors to get the bemused passengers to shout it back enthusiastically. Also we were congratulated on surviving the crossing, was this hyperness relief because she really was nervous about the new captain?
All a tad embasing & inappropriate at 8.30 in the morning.
Then we hear there will be a tips envelope on our lunch tray and expect that has turned her into this loopy Mavis. Her hysteria climaxed as she told us about the live music & bingo planned for the evening, just how we’ll contain ourselves till then its difficult to say campers.

Dave had to prompt her to tell us the most important news of the day, when we would be crossing the blue whale sanctuary. There wasn’t a massive chance of seeing one but we wanted to be on deck scanning the horizon just in case.

Spent the day pottering around and sitting in the sun. Saw a couple of large schools of dolphins and a big fat grey seal near the boat, and some penguins in the distance.

That evening Dave, Ken and I braced the wind and cold on the front of the boat looking for signs of one of the 200 blue whales apparently out there. Not only are blue whales the largest animal on earth (up to 30 meters) they are apparently the loudest, the second loudest are Howler monkeys. Blue whales make low frequency pulses when communicating that have been measured up to 188 decibels; they have been detected 850km away. It would by far be the best animal to ever set eyes on.

Ken & Jackie in serious whale watching stance.

We stay out for several hours but alas no sightings, nice to pass through their water space none the less.


There were 2 fairly silly looking guys with these great mammoth coats.

Dave and I visited the captain on the bridge. It was funny seeing his kit & chart table, everything the same as on a small yacht bar the sonar, no whale shaped flashing lights there though and we call it a day.

Meanwhile the passengers have caught some Butlins fever and were treating Chris the cheesy Casio keyboard singer to a standing ovation. While uberhoast was making the contestants do a silly dance if they mistakenly called bingo. We backed away from this Phoenix Night’s madness and go for a nice sleepy.

The next morning we awake and arrive at port our first salty trip draws to an end.

Chilly in Puerto Natales and Torres del Paine

Watercolour challenge... Marjorie, the Black!

After joking about covering ourselves in the food we have left over from camping in Argentina.. peanut butter and crackers and dangly apple earrings, we ditch it all and cross the border into Chile.

It’s a bleak and windswept journey down to Pto Natales, gateway to the torres del Paine (potential world of pain for us) national park. We end up at ‘Casa Chila’, a ramshackle place fashioned from chipboard and tin.

Here it is……


The rooms are cold and a bit disheveled but its cheap, and the friendly landlady bakes her own bread daily.


We appear to be the only guests and after settling in and checking out the artwork we have a coffee in the toasty kitchen, heart of the house ,heated by Arga.

The town itself is very windswept and bleak apart from the main sq which is brilliant.. full of these cartoon trees with odd bumps.


Great bit of topiary.

The Church bells are electronic and play an eerily off key tune which can be heard across the town adding to the strange and dislocated feeling. The paths have familiar looking grassy curbs full of dandelions. We are almost at the end of the world, but it looks like a grey day in the north of England…. How queer!

We have burger with avocado which is delicious ,washed down with the undelicious cup of instant Nescafe.. the only coffee you can get in Chile, a jar of which forms the centre piece on every table.

Then wander around town wrapped in all our woolens checking out the local shops..


That evening we drink Green tea and Calafate berry Pisco sours in a fancy beechwood bar with panoramic views across the Sound, reminiscent of a Scottish lock. The surrounding mountains are stunning.

For dinner we eat in a restaurant adorned with fishinhg trophies and rosettes.. and we are amused to see the Chilean owner laughing at “Kinky Boots”, a film set in Lancashire.

That night we get tucked up in bed and listen to the wind howling against the thin walls of the house. Its spooky in here.. lots of odd creaks and groans. The stairs are dangerously slippy and at the bottom is the ghost like figure of Chilas husband wrapped in blankets staring vacantly into the corridor… is he awake? is he asleep? is he alive? ? ?

The next morning we are treated to enormous helpings of fresh bread toasted on the Arga which we eagerly spread with butter and homemade Rhubarb Jam.. delicious!
And we find out Chilas husband is alive and quite a nice chap!

Here’s our lovely landlady. dissapointed we couldn’t eat forever!

Go out shopping to get supplies for our week long trek. Damn its cold, apparently the weather here can turn in 15 mins..Chila always seems to know when it will rain (every quater of an hour)

We find out food in the park is expensive so we try and buy as much as possible without risking spinal injury.

Jackie buys some brightly coloured tights, she’s already put on everything she owns and is still feeling chilly. In the shop a couple of fat middle aged men are also buying tights.. are these for their wives or did they watch Kinky Boots perhaps?

Just a few more bars of Chocolate, Golden Nuss!! Amazing stuff (1000 Chileanos a bar.. or one English pound), several kilos of trail mix some cartons of wine and we are all set.


We struggle onto the bus and pick up other trekkers around town.
What an orderly bunch they are. Every one without fail takes the first available seat forming neat rows of energy efficient hikers.

A couple of hours later we arrive at Hosteria las Torres and pitch our tent in the driving wind and rain at the beginning of the classic W shape route. We had considered the full circuit but luckily its closed due to some avalanches… phew! 43 miles should be enough to be getting on with.

Head over to the refugio where you can stay for 45 dollars a night!!!, and have a beer.
Speak to a guide who tells us its possible to walk up to the towers and then get transport back, which would make it a 4 hr hike...excellent. We get tucked up and sleep well knowing tomorrow might not be all that difficult.


Map of the park


Torres del Paine

DAY 1



We eat a hearty breakfast of porridge and fruits.. the dried pineapple is particularly delicious. As the hike is only 4 hours we have a lazy morning.

The sun is up and we have a great view of the mountains. Pack our rucksacks.. they cleverly go down from 70 litres to about 20 litres (GoLite Pinnacle…gear fans) and set off on our first hike. Being cyclists we don’t do walking very often so are glad the first day will be a short one.

The Towers are the most popular part of the park,you can come for the day to hike them, consequently its pretty busy out here.
Bump into the guide we met who is showing a Japanese girl which way to go.. that would be up, get in line please. Apparently she’s been showing people around for 8 years and the towers are her diplomatically favourite part of the park.


Meet some hearty Americans and pass a large group of German sport hikers, who quickly pass us, we overtake them and so on,,,,,There are lots of people using ski pole style walking sticks..they look like cross country skiers who have misplaced their skis and the snow. Jollying round the countryside is now a sport.. Nike walking cane anyone? What?

Its a breathtaking place, spectacular views everywhere you look , we stop often to take photographs and attempt to take it all in.


As the path winds upwards the wind starts whipping into us and we have to scramble on hands and knees.. using the hearty Americans as human shields we make it to level ground.

There are several sections where the path has disappeared in a landslide and we battle more wind while traversing the dodgy gravelly scree.

When we reach Los Chileanos Mirador we wisely choose to sit and eat our raisins and nuts by the river whilst the other hikers get buffeted on the exposed terrace opposite.. such professionals we are!


We sneak past the Germans while they take pictures of a mossy trickle and push on.

The climb increases in steepness exponentially and every hundred meters we belive must be the start of the final 45min knee popping scramble.

Ouch.. its hard work.. I occasionally break into Gazelle mode and spring up the boulders… but they just keep coming and I’m quickly put back in my place.


The new whitestripes video

At the top of the climb we have a great view of the granite towers.

We hang out in a rocky shelter eating our energizing peanut butter crackers…

Looks deceivingly tranquil but no its bedlem...

People bellowing.. Helloo can you take my picture with this behind me.. then I’ll take your picture and if you swap places we can all shuffle this way.. ooo look can you take our picture for our christmas card (they told us later this was a lie, naughty Americans)..

In the midst of this digital meltdown someone shouts “eERMMM!” which has us in fits of giggles and we mercilessly copy it before heading back down the knee popping scramble…. This is much worse going down, really hard on our novice hiker legs.




Get to Campemento Torres and after a little rest inquire about transport back to Hosteria Torres. Turns out there isn’t any and when we look at the map which so far had been unnecessary its quite obvious there couldn’t be any transport/road.... bollox!!! Stupid guide, oh dear.... we are knackered and still have another 4 hours walking.


Find distraction in these ducks, but scarper when the hilltop paparazzi arrives.

Lie down near this tartan gulley,

A geologists wet dream.


and stare up at the big cloudy hand.

We’ve been hiking for about 10 hours and on the last stretch decide that we could quite easily join the SAS now.. no need to go through the training program, just mention what we did today and they’d offer us a place.

Collapse to the sound of mini avalanches rumbling from the mountains behind.

DAY 2

It’s a day of rest for us. Far too tired to go anywhere, we have breakfast, do some reading, watch the horses that wander round our campsite and stroll up the hill behind our tent.

The hills are alive with the sound of David

It’s a cracking view from up here.. lots of the other campers have moved on or left the park having only seen the towers which is their loss. What a gorgeous day.

There are fat orange bumblebees that look like flying velvet cushions drifting about.
A very chilled afternoon…. Just as we are thinking we might be invisible and won’t need to pay for the second nights rent we hear the crackle and squelch of the park rangers radio eeecccccssqssj ccsccssqle!!!!!!

We make a dash for it up the side of our hill and I bust out a few ninja rolls before we flatten ourselves to the ground and creep off out of sight.

We’ve got a fine view of the campsite and surrounding countryside and are treated to a rather special sunset,, which defys logic when rays of light appear from the opposite horizon. Sorry no pictures, we really did scarper, heres a cheaky sparrow instead.


We watch camp and stay low. Surely this can only benefit our potential employment as crack SAS commandos. Before we came away we had seen the episode of Spaced where Mike is dancing on stage to the music of the A Team and that is our theme tune now as we become Mike, skillfully roll back down the hill and squat in a ditch at the back of our camp….As dusk descends we catch our breath and Jackie stealthily enters the tent as I lay down covering fire.

We endevour to silently slip into our sleeping bags.

It looks like we’ve made it (Dern De Deeeeh de dehh dernnn).

DAY 3



Wake up early(6am) to the sound of grass munching horses.. consider packing up and getting on the road, but fall asleep allowing the rangers to catch up with us over porridge later on, darn it!

Pack our things and head off on the next stage, this time fully laden with all our gear, ouch!


Much nicer, lusher & easier than the first walk with great views of the lakes.




Even though the trail is much flatter than the first hike we are knackered.. the extra weight is really trying and it takes a few hours more than expected. The wind (which you can hear coming 5 mins before it reaches you) picks up a load of rain and dumps it on us. Only when the birds start twittering again do we deem it safe to stop nibbling nuts and berries and come out of our bushy shelter.


towel holders


Deep thought


First view of the horns


Jackie striding out…

We consider camping wild as we have everything we need and glacial drinking water is easy to come by. Decide to carry on after spotting what we think is Puma poo and our brains have quickly run through the gruesome possible scenarios. Jackie picks up pace as dusk is iminet, and tries to stop limping like an injured gazzel as she serspects a pair of catty eyes are following us from the rocks above.

After lots of uppy downiness the trail opens up and we finally glimpse the campsite on the other side of a magnificent roaring river thundering out of the mountains.

The campsite itself is a disgrace, all the pitches are uneven and full of rocks. After a spot of landscape gardening (armed with only a tent peg) we were pleased with our proximity to the cheap red wine in the cabin bar.



In the cosy wooden lodge we pad around amongst steaming socks and rosey hikers.
We overhear one enthusiast say “Im a walker I am, I love to walk” with such profound
utterings going on the sack indeed needed hitting, we crash out absolutely exhausted to
the sounds of meltwater rushing by.

DAY 4

No one collects the rent.. They should have paid us for improving their site. I expect they'll raise the rent on our executive pitch.



Leaving behind a huge mountain of snow I quickly find a suitable walking aid.

Gandave


We have a rest while skimming stones on this handy lake.


By the time we reach the free Campamento Italiano (3.5 hours later) the weather takes a nose dive and an icy wind whips down the valley driving freezing rain into our faces. We quickly set camp up and I cook noodles in the rain. And soon drop off to sleep amongst the rustling trees.

DAY 5

After our obligatory breakfast of dried fruits porridge and tea.. we fill our waterbotlles from the icy river and go about our merry way.


We are heading up Valley Frances (7 hour round trip), one of the most spectacular parts of the park, especially when the sun is shining. Its easy to see why as we cross the bridge and head up the valley past this glacier, and the los cuernos horns on our right. Almost constantly you can see and hear mini avalanches as we pass.

Look behind you

We walk along a narrow forested ridge with fine views and see some condors circling on the thermals.


Eat lots of trail nuts and chocolate on this walk


Which puts a spring in our step.

We cut some walking sticks from fallen trees.


And make good time in the wrong drirection…


An Italian guy follows us way off course and we head further in the wrong direction to try and get a better view of the land.

The maps which we bought in town are no help, the best you can get are 1.50,000 scale and so its impossible to attempt any orienteering as the entire walk takes up about an inch. Why haven’t the ordance survey been up here?

The Italian guy wanders off on his own, hmmmm! We get out the bins and see the trail way down below with hikers walking along it , excellent.


I head off to see if I can find the Italian guy.. he’s nowhere to be seen. I fruitlessly shout after the him. Eventually we decide he must have found the trail and we head down. It’s a litlle treacherous and a weird feeling passes over us as we look back at the devillish horns and wonder about the Italian.


Spooooooky.

Fortunately about half way down we spot him, he’s back on track, so pleased to see him. It would have been horrible if we never knew if he was ok or not, like something from tales of the unexpected.


Onwards we trek through a surreal patch of grey forest, all vegetation appears to be dead. A lot of the trees in the park have a strange yellowy green clumpy parasite plant attached to them and we have been trying to find out from officals if this is killing the trees. All they keep telling us is the story of the hiker who accidentally burnt down 10% of the park a few years ago whilst cooking beans, how awful he must feel.

We reach the mirador after cutting through a deserted campsite and the weather is so rubbish there is no view, so we don't hang about before starting the journey back.


We pass a glacier with a big perfect hole in it and Jackie hallucinates the campground an hour early..oooo that hurts, so does her knee.



DAY 6

Wake up fairly early, tired and Jackies knee still hurts… she’s leaning on her stick for support.

Unfortunately we need to carry all our gear for this section..but it’s a very pulchritudinous walk with resplendent views of the mountains ;)



There are thousands of ski pole holes , we come to the conclusion that ironically the serious walkers are contributing massively to the erosion of the park and there should be a pole amnesty.

Barmy coloured glacier lakes appear.




Final campsite in the distance

I think this was the easiest and gentlest section of the W, even so Jackie face is abit blue(like the lakes) and it takes a lot beer and chocolate before she stops shivering(big wuss).

We while away the hours sitting on our arses (mmmmmm sitting down!!), watching bedraggled hikers limping home.

Gold in them there lakes

DAY 7

We figure out we can make toast in our mess tins, its a revelation.. Whooppeeeee


Jackie is assimilated

The hills are shapely and stunning, the weather somber and sulky but the sun keeps peaking through.

It’s a much tougher walk than we expected, luckily we bought plenty of nutty chocolate and constantly munch on it to get us round.

The trail eventually starts to descend towards the lake and as it switches back on itself and zigzags around we get some amazing views of the Glacier in the distance..


It looks so unreal and ethereal, lost in the grey mist backlit with a strange whitish glow that bounces off its surface into the cloud.

We finally make it to a good viewing point and the bay to our right is full of these wonderful icebergs.


They look like blocks of blue polystyrene the wind and rain has carved into shape.

We scramble across slippery wet rocks to try and get a look at the whole of Glacier Grey. It’s a tricky last section as its made of many layers that have twisted 45 degrees .


rock on which the amblers scrambled


We head for the Refugio for a coffee and meet an American guy called Ken and an irish lad who have both been hiking the back circuit(which is open after all), and are now on their way to do the W in the opposite direction to us.. They are really pushing it, have very little stuff and are walking a long way each day, probably twice as far as we are. We share snacks and hiking tales and find out the round orange parasite is actually an edible fruit. Ken has a jar of them and we tuck in.. totally tastless. We also discover the red berries are edible, although they are not the delicious Calafate berry, the taste is not unpleasant, like underripe cranberries.

We start the journey back.

Most of hike Jackies thoughts have been elsewhere......

We have been looking for a site to build a cairn. It’s a very sad day today as its the funeral of my dear friend Guy Dunsterville, I need to make a tribute in his honour. We find a perfect place with a view of the glacier and the lake & Dave kindly does the hard work of collecting likely looking slate while I build. Its very rainy & windy so the cairn has already been put through its paces by the time its built and we hope it will withstand a lot more.

As soon as we finish, right on cue the sun comes streaming through the clouds.
Guy I will sorely miss. My thoughts are with friends and family at the service.

Later we find out his grandmother was from Chilie, its consoling to know theres a conection to this land.

We took a GPS reading just in case anyone else that knew him passed this way:

51 degrees, 02 mins, 25 seconds South. 73 degrees, 08 mins, 84 seconds West.




That evening we cook in the roundhouse, a great little hut specifically for those camping, with the added bonus of free gas you can use. Its all steamed up with lots of wet and woolly hikers.

We raise a glass in the memory of Guy.

DAY 8


We set off, bags much lighter, happy that this is the final days slog.Walk up a very steep slippery slatey hill and take many photos of the milky blue waters next to hosteria grey.

It’s a pleasant walk for the next few hours and the clouds lift so we can look back at the mountains.


The trail opens out into a wide grassy plain and we link arms and point ourselves into the gale at a 45degree angle. We jump about and get blown back by the force…\\
We come across the occasional fully laden hikers heading for Lago grey hosteria and the start of their walking holiday, Ha!.

At one point Jackie goes for a wee and comes face to face with a hare trying to get inside its burrow, "opps! sorry, didnt realise it was your home I was squatting by."


Final dreamlike views of the mountains as they recede into the clouds.


Jackie sleeps on a stick

Get on the bus and gulp down the remaining wine as all the other hikers neatly file on. Get some picture postcard views of the park as we are driven round a couple of pick up points…Its great to be sat down, not using our legs… finish off the tinto and with rosey cheeks do some guanaco spotting.

Back in town we fall into an African restaurant with half the park still in our hair… after cheeky tika and Steak we return to the welcoming arms of casa chila. Its warmer than we remember and we melt into bed.

Rhubarb Jam and lots and lots of toast for breakfast.. we play with the kittens in the back yard and Jackie rescues the littlest from Chila who is trying to unglue its eyes with cold tea. We acually bought the cat food for the mother who is really skinny but Chila insisted the kittens had it. The runt of the litter keeps headbutting, chewing and rolling into the food bowl, poor thing, funny though.


this is not the runt

We are getting the ferry to the middle of chilie in a couple of days and spend our time dreaming of lounging on deck and never walking 43 miles in a week again! (did enjoy it though).