jnewington

Armed with eight litres of rum, two litres of whiskey (Pete would later acquire a third through a victorious game of Bingo; as you do), and two litres of Pisco, a distilled alcohol widely drank in Chile and Peru, we embarked on our four-day cruise due north through the Fjords that lie scattered along the south-western coast of the continent. Boarding the ferry, it became apparent that we had been upgraded to a private cabin. This was entirely thanks to Oscar, the tour operator with whom we had booked our tickets. The previous night, in celebration of our victory of Torres del Paine national park, we took to the streets of Puerto Natales. Before too long we had found ourselves entering the first bar we encountered in the main square (there weren´t many to choose from). ... read more

Reaching Patagonia has been paramount on our list of things to do thus far on our travels. After almost two months in the tropical heat of Brazil, Paraguay and northern Argentina, the cool, subpolar winds that hit us as we stepped out of the airport at Ushuaia, along with the icy sharp, pyramidal mountains rising ahead of us, presented a shock to the system. After a four hour flight from Buenos Aires, we had finally arrived in the southern most city in the world with nothing left ahead of us but antarctic sea; a stark contrast of everything that had come before. Ushuaia lies on the south island of Tierra del Fuego in a wide bay with forest, glaciers and mountains rising up behind the settlement which would become our home for the next week. After ... read more

We arrived in Asuncion, Paraguay in good spirits. The streets were awash with red, white and blue in celebration of the country's bicentenary. Despite being the capital city, Asuncion feels strangely intimate, yet it's American style blocked streets run for miles. Our arrival marked Australia day and, uncannily, we met two Australians who, in the name of patriotism, had already been indulging in the festivities for a good twelve hours on account of the time difference. With their encouragement, we adopted their heritage (and unnecessary use of profanity) for the day and began drinking early. As the day progressed, we drank more and more until, following a barbecue, we wound up in an English bar where any similarities to an actual English bar were few and far between. It was here that Pete was presented with ... read more

The last week has been our most hectic by far and it seems futile to try and remember every detail after the copious amount of rum consumed. So the following passage may not be entirely accurate or informative; merely what we can remember. Following two days of travel, staggered by nine hours in Sao Paulo bus station, we arrived at Foz with the intention of viewing the waterfalls that, seemingly, everyone that we met thus far had waxed lyrical about. Dumping our bags at the hostel, we ventured off under the morning sun in search of provisions. After an executive decision in the local supermarket (strongly influenced by two days of sleep deprivation), we returned with two litres of rum and a bag of ice. The morning flew by and, feeling invigorated from the premature drinking ... read more

The decision to come to Trindade occurred by chance. We did not actively choose the location and arrived after a comedy of errors, as we believed we were staying in the town of Paraty, situated just under an hour to our East. During a pitstop at Paraty bus station, Mike began to feel unwell. Whilst propped up at a urinal, we heard Mike enter through the door behind us. His shout of ¨Sorry boys!¨was interrupted by bouts of uncontollable, explosive and orange vomit which he skilfully directed into a small, nearby wastebin. As we left the toilet, his sporadic retching could still be heard from the street. Having emptied his stomach and refuelled with two litres of water, we proceeded to Trindade, where he would spend the rest of the night in a state of hibernation. ... read more

After eighteen hours, two flights and numerous card games, we arrived in Rio de Janeiro. Driving through the city, directly to our left, cranes towered for miles, whilst to our right, favellas sprawled into the horizon eating up the hillside. The motorway became a clear indicator of the extreme wealth divide of a city in transition. Our first two nights were spent in the inner city area of Catate within walking distance of the Flamengo beach which became our first port of call. The beach, though not the biggest in Rio, lies in the shadow of Christ the Redeemer and overlooks Sugarloaf Mountain (affectionately re-christened "Sugar Hill Gang Mountain" by Pete). The views were truly spectacular despite the heaped cloads which hung heavy in the sky over the sea. As the weather improved on our second ... read more

In roughly forty-eight hours time, myself, Ben Dawson, Mike Rhodes and Pete Linstead shall be boarding our plane destined for Rio de Janeiro. Having spent a few days in the Lake District planning our itinerary, we have (quite literally) soaked up our last experience of English winter weather for at least five months. Watch this space for updates from Rio through to Bogata and everything in between.... read more