No entiendo, Doctor

My time in hospital wasn't all that great, but I guess it was better than what a lot of alternatives could've been. My first night there I developed an unbearable pain in my good arm from the drip, and for a day afterwards couldn't use the arm at all. Will then came by with some dirty chicken and rice, and everything seemed pretty ok again.

Night two I went down to the operating theatre. It was just like the shows - looking at the ceiling with peoples heads passing you by to the side. The team down there couldn't speak English, but they had a good sense of humour. I understood to a certain point, but then had to trust to hope. They look like they know what they're doing, right? If not, the Jesus-man on the wall should help. They administered a local anaesthetic, but as I drifted off I tried to tell them that I was going to sleep, and vaguely recall asking them for photos of the operation. Back up in my ward afterwards, Will greeted me again. I ate a saltena he'd brought in - probably THE most awesome thing about all of Bolivia - then had the sleep of a lifetime.

The following day I was visited by Emma, Alice and Gaby - also from the car crash. It was good to see them. The next few days were interspersed with lots of visits by Will as well as the girls. Conversations with other ward members were short but fun. Getting my ipod back was a saving grace, the beautiful sounds of Beach House taking me away to a beautiful place, other than my bed.

A visit by the Australian consulate representative resulted in an upgrade to a private room - things only happen there if you know people. It was a pleasure to have a TV and better food. Although I was sick of the news after one session of it. First of all, it was all exactly the same as it had been 2 months ago before I'd left Australia, and secondly, CNN is repetitive crap. Having my own room also meant I could finally speak to my family over the phone, the first time since the accident, but it was still a dodgy business using the wards portable.

I was taken down for a final operation to close my hand back up (I believe the first operation was just cleaning it out) a few days in. When asked whether I wanted local or general anaesthetic, I recalled the bizarre sensations I'd had when I went under local the last time. I could still sense my left arm as it went numb, and could feel myself making movements with it (or at least telling my brain to) - I had the idea that I might stop being able to make those movements and then feel at a terrible loss, like having an unscratchable itch. I chose to go under general. Coming to was as awful as the time before - quite a lot of pain, and an uncomfortable, frustrating feeling at not being allowed to move out of an observation room.

The rest of my time in the hospital got to be pretty boring. Visits, phone calls and saltenas highlighted my days. Searing pain from antibiotics entering my drip highlighted much of the nights - I still have thrombosed veins (whatever they are....) 6 weeks on. I got released after 5 nights there in total. I had to pay the substantial bill with my credit card, then have my receipt checked by a police officer before being allowed to leave the building!

My first night out 4 of us went to one of the priciest restaurants in town, a French-Canadian place in "gringo-ville". Still, mains were only AU$10. I had to get a taxi everywhere in La Paz, but then so did the others anyway - Will would complain of not being able to walk up hills thanks to the altitude. It was nice to be 'free', out of hospital and eating and doing what I chose, but it was also nice to get on a flight after 2 nights in La Paz and head home. How glad was I to have travel insurance - they organised a business class ticket home for me. If I wasn't on antibiotics I would've drank SO much of that excellent wine...

A Tale of Six Vehicles

1. Beer, Snickers and a friendly Dane

About half an hour after the crash, dust on the horizon heralded the approach of help. Several vehicles pulled up, and Alice, Gaby and I were put into one to be taken onwards, after another half hour of frustrated waiting. Getting to the next refugio, I was sat in a room and left to stew on what they were possibly doing to get us to hospital. Will arrived, after their vehicle turned around upon news of us crashing, and helped gets things rolling.

It was a frustrating situation. The care and compassion shown by some of our fellow travellers was at times overwhelming in my teetering emotional state. In contrast, all the Bolivians seemed to do was give a shit about which tour company would lose the most money by going out of their way to help us. Perhaps my opinion of their willingness to help is jaded by my focus at the time, but it didn't seem too difficult a task to me, to get three injured people in one of dozens of 4WDs and get them to some medical attention. In hindsight, it was probably less an unwillingness to assist, and more their ineptitude at doing anything quickly and efficiently. Think, opposite to your stereotypical Swiss precision.

2. No quick way to labour

Will had come into his element though, and with the assistance of some of the afore-mentioned travellers, whipped the show into action. All six passengers involved in the crash, plus Will, were soon travelling towards help. The track was probably worse than anything we'd been on yet, and despite taking all care, our driver was constantly reminded to be careful. The first town we reached, Alota, didn't have any facilities other than a phone, and we were soon driving again.

By now we were on a dirt road, albeit not a very good one. Apart from the fear of crashing on the wet, slippery surface, the corrugations made it very uncomfortable for Gaby and her broken wrist. We fed her more painkillers, but they did didley squat, and the pain increased as we went. I've never seen someone in so much pain before, but she fought it all the way - I'm sure most people would've passed out. About all we could do was keep on telling her it was "just another ten minutes". Several ten minutes' later, we got to the hospital in San Cristobal, but it was a little-staffed skeleton facility. We were sat down, Gaby given oxygen, until the doctor arrived.

3. Reeaaw reeaaw

The sound of the siren as we were whisked away in the ambulance was like music to our ears. By a stroke of luck, there was a Canadian-owned mine nearby with decent medical facilities and staff, which we were promptly administered to. As they tended to my hand, I would look at the wound occasionally, but it wasn't a pretty sight and I familiarised myself with the ceiling instead. Gaby was relaying translations from her bed behind the screen - I was quickly versed in the Spanish word for 'pain'.

Once was all stitched and plastered up, I relaxed with a bottle of water and an excellent selection of biscuits. It was about 8pm. An hour later we were bundled back into the ambulance, and driven to Uyuni - about two uncomfortable hours away. We were met there by the uninjureds, who informed us that all the doctors in town were still drunk from Carnavale - which had happened a week prior. At the third hospital we stop at, we're accepted, and after a top up of painkillers and saline, I fall asleep for a few hours.

4. Cars don't swim

The little old lady in my room turned out to be the Pamela of Pamela Tours - they would help us get to the medical help we needed. I wanted to fly, but we couldn't. Maybe it was the altitude. Maybe it was the rain and snow they'd been having. Maybe it was just because it's Bolivia. So 9am sees Will and I getting into yet another 4WD and hitting the road.

We made it through about three or four creek crossings, but then took a nosedive into the next one. The front wheels were more or less submerged in the water. With my leg in plaster up to my knee, and an IV drip hanging off the handle into my hand, there was not much I could do other than watch the spectacle. Initial attempts to reverse the vehicle failed. In short order, three passenger buses turned up on the other bank. The women and children quickly found a place by the bank to dip their feet in - they looked accustomed to these situations. Even with all the hands lifting and pushing the vehicle though, it took diverting the stream by mud and shrub before it finally came free, pulled also by two vehicles behind us.

Any jubilation wasn't long lived - our vehicle's engine now refused to start. Will quickly recruited the help of one of the few English speakers there that happened to be going in our direction.

5. Growin' grain, chewin' leaves

It felt pretty good to be in, as Will put it, "the only vehicle in Bolivia to have ever seen an oil change". Swiss expat Pierre and his partner in coca-chewing were headed to the next biggest town, Oruru, and agreed to take us there. The roads were still terrible, but Pierre was the best driver we'd had yet. At a brief stop in the afternoon, we took the opportunity to administer some antibiotics and painkillers through my drip. Once we figured out how to get the stuff from the vessel into the needle, it went seamlessly...

We got to Oruru around 7pm, and though it was the biggest town yet, the medical facility we were taken to was the worst yet. I stayed just long enough to have my drip removed, then walked out. The bandage the 'nurse' put over my vein was of such high calibre that I was soon bleeding quite a lot, but Pierre helped me patch it up better before I got it all over his car. Will then came back from making a call and we headed to the bus terminal to find a way to La Paz.

6. Be thankful for the fader (a.k.a Bolivian pop music is an awful combination of Bollywood and bad)

I'd eaten nothing but dry biscuits for the previous 24 hours, so Will ran off to grab a bite to eat while Pierre helped us sort out a private taxi to La Paz. I assured our new driver that I wouldn't get any blood inside his vehicle, then took some pleasure in discreetly tearing his oh so clean friggin seat cover so that I could actually get to the seat belt. Yes! They do exist in some cars in Bolivia! Will came back with some cheese empanadas, which turned out to be solid bits of white bread, nigh on impossible to eat. Funnily enough, amongst all the shit that was going on, I remember this as one of my most distraught moments. It looked like there were hot, dirty meat stalls everywhere! I could've directed a lot of frustration towards Will right then, but it would have been completely ungranted - he was doing such a superhuman job of taking care of us, and was having just as hard a time as me, if not harder.

We left soon after for La Paz, and being finally on a sealed road, managed to get some sleep. It was a two hour journey, and we got there around 11pm. We descended into the valley that is La Paz, and found the hospital Arco Iris with only a few direction queries. The hospital had been recommended by my insurance company, and they were expecting me. It felt incredibly good to be put in a wheelchair and wheeled into the emergency department. It was about 36 hours since we'd crashed, and I finally felt that I could feel a little less responsible for my well being, and hand it over to the pro's.

The Crash

The journey from El Arbor de Piedra to the next refugio was a reasonably long one, and most of us are taking the opportunity to get some shut eye. I'm in the front passenger seat, relaxed; I never fall asleep as easily as some.

And so its with open eyes that I watch our path veer to the right, out of the wheel tracks, a lapse in concentration by our driver. Travelling at what I'd guess to be around 60km/hr, our wheels immediately dig into the much softer, desert sand, and the vehicle is pulled further off route. It's not long before the diverting paths of our momentum and our wheels reach an unsatisfactory separation, and the vehicle commences to roll to its left.

It's this first stage of the crash - the point at which its certainty is realised - that produces the strongest feeling in me. It's beyond my control, beyond anybodies control, now. It's like being on a roller coaster, about to loop the loop, then all of a sudden you know its going to go horribly wrong. It's awful. Not so much a feeling of fear, though. Fear-invoking activities can produce a certain thrill - when you're in control. This complete lack of control, stirs a type of sadness in me, knowing whats about to happen. I feel empty.

Initially I grab something and brace. We start rolling. The noise is loud, and unnatural. Somewhere in these early stages I realise my best bet is to completely relax. It's Bolivia - they don't know what seat belts are. It's going to be a rough ride. Relax. And, I'm surprised, it really works. Maybe the altitude and lack of sleep help - I don't know. My body goes limp.

A couple of rolls and we come to a rest on our roof. I'm the first one out, via my smashed window. There's blood on my left hand, and I grab a conveniently expelled beanie to put on it. I'm thinking worst-case-scenario and wondering how absolutely fucked some of the others could be. I try and help the others out, but its more of a token effort - Rafael & Gonzalo help the rest out. My leg hurts as well, I'm limping.

Everyone is conscious, out of the vehicle, and seemingly without critical injuries - it's amazing. Neither Rafael nor Gonzalo have major injuries, and they're doing a stellar effort assisting everyone. Gonzalo brings me a bottle of water and a clean white t-shirt. I dump the beanie and pour water over the back of my hand. I can see 3 white things running up to my fingers, in amongst all the red. I quickly wrap the t-shirt around it all as best I can, and try not to think about it.

Instead I think about what to do next. I give myself a secondary check for further injuries. I try and find out what injuries the others have, what we're dealing with. I ask Francisco if he's got a radio. Of course not. We were behind most of the other 4WDs, including those of our compatriots. And so from doing what I can, I go to realising there's nothing we can do. I make myself comfortable against my pack, and sling my passport around my shoulder so that whatever happens - I have my essentials. And I set to waiting, in the desert, for the next 4WD that happens to come our way...

Eduardo Avaroa Tyre Track Reserve

Will and I departed San Pedro with bated breath and a less than ordinary stomach condition. We didn't make it far - our first (incredibly long, as usual) stop being the border post on the outskirts of town to sign out of the country. At least its at a sensible altitude, though. A minibus ride brought us to the Bolivian border post, which somewhere above 4000m was cold, uncomfortable, and sans toilet facilities. I eventually paid an indeterminate amount of several currencies to the authorities - more I think a token gesture than an exact science. The Americans have to make the largest gesture (around US$150), probably thanks to a bunch of foreign policies that have nothing to do with the discerning traveller.

We were doing our Salar tour with Pamela Agency, who had three 4WDs of clients (18 all up) setting out this day, destined to travel the following 3 together. Team Red was promptly formed, consisting of Emma & Alice (UK), Gaby (Mexico), Rafael & Gonzalo (Chile) and myself - driven by the wise old Francisco Goldmouth. Morning stops included the park office (another overblown fee that reflects the number of tourist thoroughfare), Lago Blanco & Verde (flamingos - beautiful birds with dull personalities) & the 'Rocks of Dali' (who ever would have thought that nature could mimic an artist?)

After a good lunch of hot spring swim & sangers, we went to see some geysers (much better than the Tatio ones, apparently). On route Francisco doled out some coca leaves, which quite frankly taste like crap and didn't produce any noticeable effect on me even after persisting for an hour. Even if they are capable of producing the mild effects that they're claimed to, the disgusting lips, gums and teeth they're responsible for aren't worth it in my opinion.

Later in the afternoon we stopped at Laguna Colorada, an expansive lake that was an amazing mix of reds and whites. A bunch of llamas were milling around - intriguing that they can survive in such a barren landscape. It was a short drive to the collection of buildings that was to be our nights accommodation, where a bunch of the others went out for a stroll. Thanks to the altitude, all I could manage was to lay down and rest. I managed to get some soup and pasta down for dinner, but then had a horrible night ejecting every thing I could, every way I could, but it was the pounding headache that kept me awake for most of it.

The next morning we started behind most other cars (multiple agencies, multiple vehicles). First stop was the Arbol de Piedra, a funky piece of rock that has been sculptured over the ages by wind, sand and Dali. There were plenty of rock formations nearby, which we had a bit of fun scrambling around, before setting off again. Our trip took a wrong turn after this stop. What I'd seen thus far though were such incredible landscapes. The expanses of raw, earthy colours in such a dry environment, rising up in the distance to the odd snow-capped volcano, I found a very powerful place to be in.

Oasis amblings

As we walked to our 7am bus in the dawn of morning, a lot of people were still out and about. It has to be Latin America where people around at this time are probably finishing their night off, rather than starting their morning. The prostitute certainly was. The different times I just can't get used to in the limited time I have travelling - but will seeing a family with young kids out and about at 2am ever seem normal to me?

Despite wanting an overnight bus to save on accommodation prices and time, it was a good thing that we got a day time bus. The landscape became more stunning by the mile. Arid plains rose up to ridges and mountains featuring sheer walls of what appeared to be compacted mud with rocks scattered through them. A common feature in this soft ground were gunbarrel-like chutes carved into the exterior.

As we went over a pass at 4170m, the unthought of effects of altitude took their toll on Will, forcing him into the bus' toilet. It's where he stayed for much of the journey. We got some fresh air at the Argentinian border post, where (typically) we waited around for a bloody long time (in the sun, mind) to get processed. Will got a couple of minutes on the oxygen bottle, which at least came free, unlike some bar in La Paz (3660m) where you can pay to breathe pure oxygen for 10 minutes. Give me a drink any day.

In San Pedro de Atacama, Will was placed under the shade of a coolabah tree as I went and found some accommodation. The following afternoon, I set out on a tour to the Valle de la Luna. I'd never been in arid, desert environments like this before and the landscape continued to blow me away. At one of our stops in the valley, the ground was an intriguingly hard, bubbly surface, with traces of what appeared to be crystallised salt through it. It truly did remind me of being on the moon.

Rather than starting a tour to Bolivia via the Salar de Uyuni the following day, and going straight up to sleep above 4000m, Will set out to Geysers del Tatio for some acclimatisation. Meanwhile, I had an interesting morning in town, thanks to the ATM's (and my pocket) being devoid of money. A part of me enjoyed the logistics of currency conversions, wheelings and dealings I had to employ to pay for everything we needed to before skipping the country, but it was pretty frustrating at the same time. An oasis in one of the World's driest deserts, San Pedro thrives on tourism (though it certainly still has a local population). Prices are blown out of the sand, there is money everywhere - just not available for withdrawal!

Thanks to the goodwill and more complete pocket of Carmen though, I still managed to head out climbing that afternoon with her and our guide Pablo. We got a local bus to the little oasis town of Toconao, where a little gorge and stream ran through. The climbing was harder than what my unfamiliar body was ready for, but it was still great fun being back on the rock. The rock (Tova in Spanish) I'd not encountered before, it was like a heavily compacted mudstone - good friction and cool little pockets.

I was greeted back in town by Will, with the good news he'd come out one up against altitude, but the bad news our tour to Bolivia had been delayed a day. Later on though I jumped for joy when the ATM fulfilled my needs. And thus we spent another day and night in San Pedro. More time eating no meat - partly a meat hangover from the last steak, more so a precaution against a dodgy tummy at altitude. The hostel was nice - we had a great room on our last night that was accessed either through a pharmacy around the corner, or the girls toilets. San Pedro in general was a kind of cool, laid back place, but it's always hard to decipher between that and whether its touristy. It's touristy - but if you switch off your sensors, cook your own food and meet some good people it's pretty easy not to be disheartened.

[present] future flash

Well, I'm "en camino"; on my way home to Sydney. To explain why in under 10 words: 4WD crash Bolivian desert hospital operation business class home.

Until I post my monologue full of self-pity, I'll stick to chronological order, and attempt to catch up to the present.

Salta, not bad, pretty good

Getting off the bus, I though Salta immediately had a good feel to it. Not touristly like Puerto Iguazo, but a lot nicer than Resistencia. And that kind of sums it up, really. I found a nice hostal, which had only been operating for a month, and very comfortable for the price. Salta is really pushing tourism, and it shows.

I met Will the next morning, and after dumping his stuff we went for a stroll up Cerro Saint Bernard, overlooking Salta. The city was bigger than we´d though, and is nicely located amongst a cirque of higher mountains and hills. We descended and got some Salteñas (Salta style empanadas, not overly interesting) and tamales (corn and meat mixture steamed in corn leaves - pretty nice) for lunch with a veggie salad. Argentina was really starting to make its meat prominence felt.

There are some really nice little markets in Salta, which we checked out in the afternoon, but after the routine siesta, far more interesting was a fiesta we headed out to that evening. In an outer district of town, we paid an entry fee to access a cordoned off street, where we spent the evening watching float after float heading down the street. It really was a family event, lots of kids around and no alcohol permitted, but it's funny seeing families with young kids out at 1am. All the dancing was great, the kids must practice a lot for an event like this one, but it really seems like it's in their blood.

Day two we headed out to San Lorenzo, which was a dull area with lots of money. After a coffee to sit out a spell of pouring rain, we walked up through the town and up the nearby hill to get a view of the clouds. However - we turned around as soon as we reached the ranger station and were asked to pay a few $ to get in. Absolutely ridiculous. Park entry fees over here are so exorbitant - you can understand the need to restrict numbers somewhere like the Torres del Paine - but this place just drummed in that tourist pay for everything. Anywhere in the Bluies would outshine this dull little hill, and you don't pay a penny for that.

That night, we had, would you believe it, our first steak in Argentina. None of us really felt like it, but we had to get one before leaving the country the next day, or we'd never live it down. I have to say it took me by surprise - not the size, it was absolutely huge as expected - but it was actually really good. While I have had better steaks in Australia, I get the feeling Argentinian parillia's give a more consistently properly cooked steak. That's based on my strong statistical formula of one steak...

Sleeping in Smelly Clothes

There´s not much to see in Puerto Iguazu other than the falls out of town, and even spending only one night there I felt bored of the place. After seeing the falls, I got an overnight bus to Resistencia. Alighting at the terminal, I instantly regretted my decision to spend a whole day in the place before continuing on another bus. It didn´t look like much fun.

Once in town, I found a net cafe and set to trawling blogs on what people do here. There´s a bunch of sculptures around, that's about it - everyone seems to stop there because they´re passing through. It wasn´t the best news, but at least meant I could do whatever I wanted without feeling I was missing anything.

I had a good coffee on the street, and got to see a protest (about something I´m yet to decipher) arrive at the building next door and beat their drums. Buying some lighter, cooler shoes (I lost my sandals somewhere. Sandal, actually. It may be in Switzerland...) turned into a more enjoyable experience than I would´ve hoped. The shoes are crap, but only around AU$15, and buying them was well worth the half hour ´conversation´ I had with the store owners and the glass of water they gave me.

At my request, they pointed me in the direction of a cultural centre, who informed me that the soonest tango lessons started in March. Actually, I´m only in this place for a day, nothing going this afternoon? A few phone calls later, and a 4pm lesson was lined up. Very helpful people indeed.

After a bit of lunch, more wandering, and some blogging, I walked out to the given address and met Walter and Paula. I then got a 1.5hr hour lesson for AU$15! It was good fun, but very bloody warm, I was dripping sweat the whole time. I just can´t cope this heat, it was great to get into it after Patagonia (and, uh, Antarctica) but I really am a cold weather person. Any who, the lesson went well, despite it being completely in Spanish, but dances moves are not best conveyed by words. They were a really nice couple, and even drove me back to the centre afterwards.

And not long later I was on my next bus, another overnighter to Salta, where I was looking forwards to having a shower. It wasn´t a packed out day, and Resistencia itself is pretty dull and ugly. It was still pleasing though, as I made my own fun, interacting with a few locals. I didn´t see another gringo all day, somewhat pleasing. It was fun just to see a different side of things.

Iguazu Falls

After the weekend in BA, I split ways with Will (on a tighter budget than me) and flew up to Puerto Iguazu. I thought BA had been hot enough for my liking (very nice after Patagonia) but up north the heat was more oppressing. I got up early the next morning to get a bus out to Iguazu Falls as early as possible. It was well worth it - for the cooler air and less tourists. Either way, there´s still no way to avoid seeing people everywhere.

There´s not much I can say about the falls really. They´re awesome. They´re awesome to look at though, not talk about (have a look at the photos, instead). Things I liked about the falls were: the trickles running off the hanging bits of greenery, all the rainbows created in the mist off the falls, and watching the sheer amount of water running through the ´Devel´s throat`. It was really cool to pick a bit of water, then follow it down with your eyes.

It wasn´t easy though to feel anything really special about the falls, I guess thanks to the amount of people around - you turn into another person running around snapping photos. One nice time was laying down for lunch under some trees, and this cool little bird kept on hopping closer and closer on a nearby branch, chirping as if prompting a response from me. Nice until some French tourists came so close to grab a photo and scared it off. Then these butterflies came and landed all around me, I even got one on the end of my finger, it was great to have such a close look at it.

Good air; bad water; no coin

After Torres del Paine both Will and I were all sceneried out, so we decided to get out of the Patagonian wind and skip all the way north to Buenos Aires, for something different. We bussed it to El Calafate, from which we got on a flight a few hours later to Buenos Aires. I was surprised to see that El Calafate was the opposite of Puerto Natales - the main street lined with dressed up wine bars, shops selling Lacoste, and even a casino. It was satisfying in more ways than one to cook up some packet pasta in the nearest park.

My life this year had been pretty simple really - especially the month on Australis. Coming from that into a big city brought on a barrage of ups and downs, which I´m becoming familiar with upon entering any new, big city. Everything seems so difficult at first, there were so many things going through my mind (on the boat it was more like: ¨shall I have dulche de leche or porridge for breakfast?¨), but soon enough I relaxed and quickly began to enjoy myself.

It started with a bus ride to San Telmo from the airport. The bus driver couldn´t change a 5 peso note (worth about AU$2.50, the fair was 1.25 pesos) but luckily some local chicas assisted our despondent selves and changed what we had. This was the first insight to how ridiculously difficult it is to get change for the bus in BA. You´re kidding if you think you can buy an empanada with a 50 - they just don´t give out that kind of change. Here´s a fun little article on the situation: http://www.slate.com/id/2205635/

San Telmo was a nice little district with a bizarre infatuation for antiquities. Our second hostel (after night one at drunk-backpacker-hostel-with-a-bar-downstairs-so-who-ever-needs-to-leave-anyway) was great - it was like living in someones house - thank God it´s not in the Lonely Planet.

A fair amount of time was spent just wandering aimlessly. One day we headed out to a brilliant bookshop in a converted theatre - El Ateneo - whereupon I strengthened my resolve to read more Cortazar. Afterwards we aimed for a gigantic metal flower, then got ourselves a superpancho (hot-dog) as late lunch, before heading back to the hostel for a siesta.

The next day Will and I wandered over to La Boca, which was a little further than expected. La Boca is a poorer, working type neighbourhood in BA, and the trip was well worth it just to see the contrasts. Whereas a lot of inner BA is very European, La Boca definitely had a more South American feel to it. We could smell the ´river´ well before we saw it, but oh what a sight. It stank of seweradge, and looks so thick you could lay on it. There was this very obvious line running parallel to the shore, where 2 different density substances were just not going to mix. No matter how it sounds - it really was amazing to see!

We didn´t eat nearly as much as expected - just a small bite of typical Argentinian food makes you like you´ve eaten a lead weight. The odd empanada always went down well, a shared choripan (chorizo and bread = sausage sandwich) was great but oh so filling. On my last night there we went to a Peruvian restaurant with Liv & Chris (met on Australis) where the highlight was the Ceviche, lime cured fish.

BA for me though was all about the nights, and the people we met. Night 2 saw us finishing up in the main square in San Telmo dancing away to some drums with a small bunch of mostly locals. It was about 6am when I went to bed. The next night I met up with Liv & Chris to see some tango, then met back up with some Chilenas we´d been hanging out with and got back at 11:30 the next morning.

I only took about 3 photographs in BA. Will and I both wanted to feel the city in a way that had nothing to do with sightseeing, and it was great. It´s hard for me to put in words what BA made me feel. So much. I love the simplicity that climbing and in general ´outdoor´ pursuits boils life down to, but you miss out on the incredibly good feelings you get from interacting with people somewhat. And Oh the dancing - I´d only told Will in the week previous that I don´t like to dance, but scrap that now I do. The city left a great impression on me, and I can´t wait until I´m back again on my way home (maybe I´ll go and take a photo of the obelisk then...)

Patagonia a la pobre

After hanging around in Ushaia until the next available bus, I was soon in Puerto Natales where I met up with Will. He´d arrived via a 4 day cruise through the Chilean channels. The next day we got a bus out to Torres del Paine, where we were stung by all the incredible prices (such as around AU$40 just for park entry - it´s a fraction of that if you´re Chilean).

We walked the popular W track, from west to east, and spent 3 nights in total camping out. Most days we were walking for longer and harder than I´d anticipated, but after 3 days on the Drake then some lazy days afterwards it felt good.

Glacier Grey at the start of our walk was beautiful, very wide, and interesting how it was split into two at its terminal face by a wee knoll. The golden granite mountains seen for most of the walk were always beautiful, depite being capped by darker, loose looking rock (thus Will and I dubbed them the choc tops). On day 3 we left Camp Britanico to get our first glimpse of the actual towers, but after persisting with a snow storm we decided to descend. The walk wouldn´t have been complete without a snowstorm though, so it was well worth it. It also coated the choc tops in a beautiful white powder, which looked great when the clouds parted on our way down.

We finally did see the towers on our last day, from the ´main` lookout point, at a small glacial lake. Definately worth the walk all the way up the valley. I was surprised that we saw almost no wildlife on the whole trip. One thing that amazed me was the geology of the place. I´ve never seen such ´exposed` structures before, expecially in the rolling hills off in the distance.

Of Fluffy Coffee and Soft Eggs

A month in solitary confinement wouldn´t produce many tales, but by jesus does a month in Antarctica ever. Where do I possibly start the story? The story that, as so many are, will never cover anything close to the full one of being there.

THE DRAKE

The Dreaded Drake was more like Drake Lake on our way south, but even though we had a more ´normal´ drake on our return, it wasn´t even close to the rough seas it is renowned for. None the less, the boat still rolled around a fair bit, enough that some people spent 3 days in bed without rising other than to use the loo. Not I, fortunately - although the inability to do anything much at all on the crossing starts to gnaw away at your sanity after awhile - perhaps being able to stay in bed is a good thing. The surging sea is quite remarkable, gigatonnes of water being forced east through the relatively narrow passage - you can really feel the enormous power in the swell. There´s not much scenery along the way, but the albatrosses are a beautiful sight. Enormous, beautiful birds that glide so elegantly, so close to the surface. I´m sure I´d keep running into those bloodywavesoutofnowhere if I tried it. Also a treat was our dolphin entourage on our way out and back into the Beagle Channel. They dart along in the water, ducking and weaving under the bow and jumping out of the water - these guys didn´t need to show their teeth to convince us they were having a ball.

THE CLIMBING

Despite a few thoughts of climbing all these fantastic new peaks, maybe 7 a day, the climbing side of things was predominately on climbed peaks. That´s not to put a negative spin on it - we had so many days of absolutely fantastic weather, and we had some great days out on (or in?) the snow. One highlight was a ridge ascent/traverse on Mt Demaria, which packed a little bit of everything - as ridges are wont to do. Good old ridges - I love ´em. We tried to find a way up the Northern side of the Scott massif, but were turned around by discreetly menacing crevasses, and some more obviously menacing seracs. The snow down there was amazingly soft, and it stayed soft quite a way down. Lucky we had snowshoes with us... I guess thanks to so many hours of daylight, and quite warm weather. There just doesn´t seem to be the melt/freeze routine that makes climbing so much more pleasurable - at least not while we were there. We also climbed a little ice berg - in a life jacket in case it rolled while we were on it!

THE ICE

We had two free-divers on board, who were in the water quite a lot, which soon prompted myself and others to give it a go. I went swimming (in a suit) several times - and it was magical. Despite a numbed face and cold hands. Swimming amongst ice bergs was a real highlight of the trip for me. I would take a breath, plunge, turn upside down and track the iceberg underwater, feeling with my hands all the amazing pockets and features. The ice is amazing. Something so natural, shaped solely by natures forces, they are the most incredibly beautiful objects I have seen. I also went for a quick swim in my togs at the end of the trip - I swam all of 10m before levitating out of the water to the hot shower on deck.

THE RELATIONSHIP TESTER

The double kayak was a great source of entertainment! It´s inability to be paddled in a straight direction amusing every time. We also had two singles though, and most of us went out quite often in them. It was a beautiful way to experience everything around us. Such a pristine place makes one feel a lot better feeling it in a pristine way - no motor. The kayaks put us on a level with Antarctica - inquisitive penguins, seals, and even whales would come and check us out, and you could paddle amongst all the amazing floating ice masterpieces.

THE VISITORS

We visited an old British base at Port Lockroy - I got a tacky passport stamp and a tea towel! I would never have thought of bringing US dollars to Antarctica! Far more entertaining though was our later visit to Vernadsky, a Ukranian base staffed by 12, in one year periods. A quick tour showed us their ozone-hole-readermatron, but the fun started afterwards. We just happened to arrive on their ´Old New Year´, so had a great night in their bar with people from 3 other yachts, and the staff. The base-made vodka (well, alcohol, anyway) flowed freely, as did the Ukranians on the dance floor with any visiting woman they could convince to join them. All the time with Antarctica out the window, constantly bathed in light through the night. It was a surreal experience indeed.

THE LOCALS

Ah, the locals are great! Yes, penguins are the cutest little things, funny little buggers. They waddle and slide along the snow. They jump off and onto icebergs. What I really loved though, was when a school would be swimming along near the boat, and they would all pop their head up very inquisitively, and paddle about. One of my favourite things about seeing seals, was spotting them sleeping on a little berg in the channel. Imagine waking up miles away from where you went to sleep! We were blessed by the presence of so many humpback whales, we saw an above average number of them. They are such majestic, fun creatures - so inquisitive. They would come right up to the boat and swim all around, even underneath. Before we left, I climbed to the top of the mast, conveniently when a whale was around - it was incredible to make out it´s full form swimming next to the boat from such a height. I have trouble doing justice to the creatures down there in words. What was so beautiful about them as a collective, was just being amongst them, and taking the time to do so. Rather than seeing one, snapping a photo, and ducking off, we spent a whole month entangled (at a minimum distance...) in their habitat.

THE CREW

All the great things we did in our month, all the things we saw, could not have happened without Australis and her excellent crew: Skipper Ben, Skye and Amanda. Not only did they take us there and back, they showed us all the best places they could, they told us what bird was what, and best of all they served up awesome meals, time after time (though the brownies that England made were I think the number one dessert). They weren´t our crew, they were our friends, drinking partners, chefs - an integral part of the whole trip.

THE CONCLUSION

Our last night together as a group was spent at Puerto Williams, a Chilean settlement on the Beagle Channel. We had a blinder of a night at the local pub, on board a permanently moored ship. Many pisco sours were consumed, many games of fives were played, and many laughs were had. We were all starting to go our separate ways after this - but it wasn´t a sad end to a trip, I think thanks to us all going onto something else, and also thanks to spending an adequate amount of time down there. Despite there being 12 of us living in close quarters for a month, there were no quarrels whatsoever (other thank Nic & Dick, and they´re married so its ok, and they were entertaining, and they only ever really happened after they´d been kayaking!). It was such a good, varied bunch of people, and its thanks to everyone that the trip wasn´t just beautiful, it was an experience. On the last day, coming down the calm Beagle Channel, out in the sun, I sat atop the mast and simply felt happy. I felt so alive, never before have I felt so strongly that I am doing exactly what I want, that there is nothing I would change. It felt good (even with a slight case of the dt´s...)

The End of the Year at The End of the World

There´d been talk of delayed connections and generally bad experiences flying with Aerolineas Argentinas, but it still didn´t prepare me for the eventual outcome. After arriving at the airport at 1000 for a 1220 flight, I was informed it was delayed to 1500. At 1730 we found ourselves taxiing out - we made it 50m before stopping and returning to the gate. Back inside the terminal, most of us spent our free vouchers on beer, before being informed that a part had to be replaced before we could leave - and we were shuttled off to a Sydney airport hotel for the night.

Long story short, I ended up getting to Ushuaia 67 hours after getting to Sydney airport. It must be noted though that that includes a night in a Sydney and Buenos Aires hotel respectively, at the cost of the airline. As opposed to some customers with critical connections to make, I had plenty of time up my sleeve and thus enjoyed the whole experience, amongst company who were all in the same situation.

Coming into Ushuaia my first thought was that is seemed like Alaska - a strange one given that I´ve never been there. But the overcast skies, colourful buildings, and slightly desolate feel contributed. After a bit of time getting over jet lag and acquainting myself with the place, all of us staying at the Antarctica Hostel sat down for ´empanadas y ensalatas` on New Years Eve. I wouldn´t have wanted to be anywhere else - it was such a great night, with great food, lots of beer, and a brilliant crowd of people - one of the best nights I have had in a long time. It wasn´t just the new years spirit either - the staff and guests both were great to spend time with, and I will always have very fond memories of the hostel.

The first day of 2009 I headed out to Tierra del Fuego NP with Branka, a Slovenian woman staying at the same hostel. We paid through our teeth for the bus and park entry, but it was a beautiful walk, and a perfect way to ease the hangover. There were some amazing vistas, and amazingly bright green foliage, but probably the most amazing things to see were the windswept trees, which even on a still day portrayed well the fierce winds that Patagonia is so famous for, and some woodpeckers. I´d only ever seen them in cartoons before! The following day I walked up to the Glaciar Martial, which is hardly a glacier, but a good walk nonetheless affording good views over Ushuaia.

Since then all the team have now arrived in Ushuaia, and we´ve all finally met each other. My companions for the next month will be Nicola, Tremaine, Rhys, Nina, all Australian, Tevya (USA), Liv and Chris (UK), and Roland (Swiss). Also, Ben, Skye and Amanda will be running the boat. We´ve all been doing a fair bit of running around these last two days trying to get everything finalised, worrying mainly about being sick, what wine to bring, and of course all things equipment. All is now set to go though, and it looks like we´ll even be gone within 24 hours, a little earlier than planned thanks to current good weather.

So, Happy New Year! And to those Aussies reading this, Happy Australia day - we should be spending it drinking tinnies and cooking a bbq on deck in Antarctica!