Chile: The love-in continues

Sorry for the long gap since my last update - I've been busy doing not very much at all!

The deep, deep south

After four days of hiking in Patagonia, what I needed more than anything was a three-hour bus trip south to Punta Arenas, so we hopped on board a coach to head to the Magellan Strait. Actually, I was quite surprised that my legs were not aching as much as I expected. I think if I had done the hiking at the start of my travels, it may well have killed me, but I must have recovered some fitness somewhere along the line!

The main attraction in Punta Arenas is the penguin colony on Magdalena Island, in the heart of the Magellan Strait. (It's only fair to warn you that I'm going to keep saying Magellan Strait, no matter how repetitive it gets!) I still can't quite believe I have been to the Magellan Strait, one of the most famous stretches of water in the world - famous for being both remote and treacherous! At 53° south, the Magellan Strait, which separates the mainland of South America and Tierra del Fuego, is the most southerly place I've ever been and the farthest south that I will be going on this adventure.

As you approach Magdalena Island, you begin to see the white dots of the penguins along the shore and, as you get closer, you realise just how many there are - there are literally thousands of them. The ferry pulled into the harbour with the penguins bow-riding, jumping out of the water alongside the boat and, as we disembarked, they were belly-flopping onto the shore before waddling around the jetty. All very penguin-like: cute and funny at the same time and in equal measures.

Time for a cuddle?

We got to spend about one hour on the island; enough time for hundreds of photos, I can assure you. It is also enough time to learn that if a penguin leans forward, you should head in the other direction quickly, as they can project their shit quite a distance! The other thing you learn is that, no matter how cute they look, and how comical it seems as they waddle across the path, you don't want to get too close to them as their bite hurts! Being bitten on the calf by a penguin who decided to cross the walkway, as I was looking in the other direction, was something of a painful surprise. 

On the island, there is a marked path which take you to a lighthouse at the highest point and from where you can see the size of the colony with penguins as far as the eye can see. The island is a conservation centre too - trips like the one we were with are nowadays limited to certain times of the day so that the penguins are left to their private penguin lives for most of the time and the marked path only allows you to visit a small part of the colony.

On the return trip back to the mainland, we were treated to sightings of three humpback whales breaching the water, firing blasts of water in the air from their blowholes. All in all, an excellent day! By the way, did I mention that the island was in the middle of the Magellan Strait?!

The day after, we were due to fly back to Santiago but there was still time to (a) watch United knock city out of the cup and (b) pay a quick visit to the Punta Arenas cemetery. It sounds rather morose, but the cemetery is very beautiful. Rather than bury the dead underground, they are encased in family tombs, so there are rows and rows of grand family monuments, like a vast city of the dead, and the majority of the tombs are very well maintained and there are flowers everywhere.

Santiago

Back in the capital, it was time to say goodbye to the first group (with dinner in the Bellavista part of town, eating, what else, but sushi!) and hello to the next tour group who I would be traveling with. Well, I wasn't technically joining the next tour group - the lack of urgency with which everything is done in South America extends to the GAP office, so although I had tried to join the tour to Buenos Aires in plenty of time, they hadn't managed to confirm anything and I was simply following the route of the next tour but arranging all the travel and accommodation independently. (Which sounds easy enough, but I almost screwed up at the first stage, by sleeping through the airport pick up. I had hardly slept for a week because my roommate Jose had a bad cold and snored like a train ("Revenge!" I hear you cry!), so it was the first proper night's sleep I'd had for a while, and my body took full advantage.)

Having said that I was not technically joining the new tour, I was joining the group in all other senses, for the day trips and the nights out, so I went along to the welcome briefing to meet everybody. The group was a bit different to the last one (the tour was a "comfort" trip (read: better hotels) rather than the standard tour through Patagonia, so the target audience is a bit different) and it was interesting to see how Courtney adapted her approach to the different groups.

The first of the day trips took us to the home of the original Concha y Toro vineyard and the origin of many of my hangovers in the UK. The tour around the vineyard and cellars (including the famous Casillero del Diablo cellar) was very slick and professional, but the jokes were just too well-oiled and you know the guide must have told them a hundred times before. There were also so many cars and tour groups here - much, much more than on my visits to vineyards in Hunter Valley - so while it was good to see, it did feel a little like you were on a conveyer belt.

We did, though, go to a second winery in the area, which was excellent. Concentrating only on Cabernet Sauvignon and Chardonnay, the operation (Cavas del Raco) was tiny in comparison to Concha y Toro, but everything was done using traditional methods. The guy who showed us around was part of the family that had run the place for three generations, so he had devoted his life to wine and his undimmed enthusiasm shone through.

Puerto Varas - again

The route to Buenos Aires took me back to one of my favourite places in Chile, Puerto Varas, and gave me the chance to take a couple of the excursions that I didn't have time for last time. Even in the rain, the German looking town is very pretty, and this time I had a view of the volcanos across Lake Llanquihue from my room.

From Puerto Varas, it is a fairly short drive to Chiloe island, which is the second biggest island in Chile (at around 200km long), but generally untouched by tourism. I had spent so much time on boats in the previous few months, the thirty minute crossing across the Chacao Strait had a rather mundane feel to it when boarding, but the sight of pelicans, penguins, sea lions and cormorants on the crossing soon lifted that feeling. Once on Chiloe, we passed through Ancud (a quaint looking town built on seaweed and clam farming) before going for a traditional lunch at a local farm (cooked on hot stones, buried underneath sods of earth). The surrounding countryside was full of birds (ibis, southern lapwing, parakeet, caracara, hummingbirds etc.) and at the farmhouse, we were paid a visit by a trio of Darwin's foxes (locally known as Zorro Chilote). Much like when we saw the dolphins on the Navimag, seeing these foxes was made more special because the owners and locals were excited by seeing them: it was rare for them to be seen at all - let alone to have them wander nonchalantly through the farmhouse gardens (I've since discovered that they are critically endangered, with only around 300 left in the world - very special indeed). 

Later in the afternoon, we headed out to some smaller islands where more penguins live. The colony here is much smaller than Magdalena Island, but there are (uniquely) two species of penguin living here: the Humbolt and the Magellan. As well as the penguins, there were sea-lions basking in the sun and a sea otter swimming on its back in the rough ocean waters, devouring a crab lunch. The sea otter was definitely the highlight for me, more so than all the penguins and whales, as I have always been fascinated by them since reading Tarka the Otter as a kid. I mentioned the rough water - the waves here were some of the biggest I'd seen and our small boat was being tossed about as we circled the islands. All part of the adventure!

Back in Puerto Varas, I got to show the new group some of the places from my first trip to the town, but we also went to a couple of new bars and I ended the night clubbing with Christian and Carolina (the bars only start to fill up about 1.00 in the morning). Just because we had a six hour drive across the border into Argentina in the morning, was no reason to cut short the night, so we stayed out until the wee small hours, dancing, playing pool (the Chilean way) and, of course, drinking pisco sours. I also met a guy I had first met in the bars of Zanzibar. Small world indeed!

Chile: Patagonian pleasures

The Journey


The flight from New Zealand to Chile meant that I crossed the international date line for the first time in my life and so had my first experience of time travel: taking off at 4.00 in the afternoon on the 27th, travelling for 11 hours and then arriving late morning on the 27th. My South American adventure therefore started with a bonus day!


I also think I am developing a reasonably ingrained tan after five months on the road and, for some reason, I enjoyed being mistaken for a South American on the flight. Mistaken, that is, until I open my mouth: Spanish may be the loving tongue, but delivered with a Wigan accent, and full of grammatical mistakes, it loses a bit of its romance!


Landing in Chile meant that I was visiting a new continent (just Antartica left, but I think I'll leave that for another trip!) and it was exciting for me. I think the moving maps that they show on planes nowadays are a fascinating addition and I usually prefer to watch the map than any of the latest movies that are on offer. However, even for a self-confessed map geek like me, a map showing ten hours of nothing but the Pacific beneath us left me unable to muster any enthusiasm! When we did reach a land mass, the yellow grasses and scorched earth were a far cry from the lush greens of New Zealand. Still, at least the combination of a creaking, rickety plane and the girl beside me who was petrified of flying provided some sadistic entertainment!


Although Brazil and Argentina are usually regarded as the more sought after destinations, I had a long held ambition to visit Chile, so I hardly felt any jet lag at all as I made my way to the centre of Santiago to join up with the group that I'd be travelling with for the next couple of weeks.


Santiago


The centre of the city is small for a capital of a country the size of Chile. It has an unmistakably European feel to it, reflecting its history, with wide boulevards linking the open spaces where the main places of interest are situated. There are, though, only a few churches, monuments and plazas to see in the centre, and nothing too spectacular, so I don't have many photos. It's not really a tourist destination, but I like the feel of the place - especially the tables around the city where old women give tarot readings and the bandstand in Plaza de Armas (the main square), where men of all ages play chess under the appreciative eyes of the gathered crowds. An unexpected feature are the numbers of kids (and young adults) that kiss on street corners, at bus stops, park benches, and just about anywhere else: as a religious country, where I'm told people live with their parents until quite late, and where kissing at home is not generally allowed, they take whatever chance they can to be together.


The tour group I joined was very different to the one that I travelled around Asia with. Apart from three other Brits, Jose from Brazil and Maruschka from South Africa, they were all from the US or Canada, and generally older than on the Indochina tour, but I think that reflected the different nature of the two trips.


Region of the Lakes


After an introductory meal in Santiago (and the first of many bottles of Chilean wine) the first stop on the trip was Puerto Varas, which meant a morning flight to Puerto Montt. 


There is not much to see in Puerto Montt; it is a working town on the coast built on the salmon farming industry, and we were just passing through. But Puerto Varas, just thirty minutes away, is beautiful; slap bang in the middle of the lake district, fairly close to the Argentina border, on the shores of Lake Llanquihue (the second largest in Chile) with volcanos dotted around the surrounding countryside. The town itself has a heavy German influence and the buildings are reminiscent of Bavaria - there is even a church which is a replica of the Marienkirche in the Black Forest. The volcanos which are scattered throughout the region as part of the Andes are still active, with a number of eruptions in the last century. 


During the first afternoon in Puerto Varas, a group of us headed out to get up close and personal with the surrounding countryside, by white water rafting down the Petrohué river. The rapids were grade 3 (for those who know their rapids, fun but not too dangerous for those who don't) and it was a good laugh - especially riding one of the rapids outside the raft, just floating in the water. After a couple of hours cruising past snow-capped volcanos or crashing through the rapids, the trip came to an end and we celebrated with a pisco sour - the national drink, and one that you can easily get a taste for!


The day after, the whole group warmed up for the hiking in the south with a trek around the Osorno volcano, giving great views of another four or five volcanos and mountains, as well as Lago Todos Los Santos, across which I had my first sight of Argentina. The hike followed the paths of centuries old lava flows, but after a fairly steep incline in the first hour, the rest of the walk was pretty flat and the only difficulty was the horseflies. I had my first taste of them at the rafting (or, rather, they had their first taste of me), but on this walk they were unbearable. Millions - which is only a slight exaggeration - of inch-long, flying barrels of irritation that can bite you through your clothes so, despite the heat, I had a top on over my t-shirt. Apparently, they are only out one month of the year, but it coincided with our trip and, in the space of one day, horseflies easily took over from mosquitos and sandflies as my most hated insect. They were incessant and while having one or two buzzing around you would be irritating, having 10, 20 or more at one time, constantly, is enough to drive you mad. At least we saw a few chimango caracaras on the trip - a native bird of prey. If only they ate horseflies!


On the way back from the volcano, we stopped at a waterfall on the Petrohué river, upstream from the place we did the rafting, which was pretty (especially with the volcanos as a backdrop) but not spectacular.


There are three or four really nice restaurants in the town too. The food everywhere in Chile has been good, but it is the size of the portions that staggers. I've not seen many overweight locals, so I can only assume nobody eats out, because the servings are enormous!


Navimag cruise


After leaving Puerto Varas, the next stop was Puerto Natales in the heart of Chilean Patagonia. Puerto Natales cannot be reached by road within Chile (without going through Argentina), so we boarded a ferry for a three day cruise through the fjords and past the ice fields and mountain ranges that cover a large part of southern Chile.

The boat was fairly basic, with one bar, a canteen and several viewing decks. So, apart from admiring the scenery (which was, to be fair, very admirable), and watching some of the presentations they gave on the flora and fauna of the region, there was little to do but relax, drink and chat with the rest of the group. It was a great way of getting to know a new group, either talking one to one, in small groups or en masse, especially with Jose cracking open a bottle of wine at every opportunity. The group had a wide range of personalities (in the case of Tom and Tim, there were two in one body), but individually and as a mix, the entire group was really good and the cruise was great fun.


At night, on the outdoor decks with a clear sky, you can see all the heavens, with stars visible that you can't even see in the remote parts of NZ. During the days, we passed by some glorious landscapes, with mountains rising up from the fjords and occasional glimpses of native wildlife, like condors flying high above or humpback whales navigating the channel, breaching the surface and shooting blasts of water into the air, but the highlight was seeing a pod of the rare southern right-sided dolphin. Courtney, our tour guide, managed to get some good photos of these beautiful animals, whereas a biologist who had been studying them for 10 years has never managed to get one. It is always a good sign when you see the experts get excited about something on trips that they have done countless times; it tells you that you are seeing something unusual or rare.

Away from the wildlife, the highlight was seeing the Pio XI glacier (the largest in South America) and watching the ice falls crash into the water. We also called in at Puerto Eden - a town which is little more than a circular boardwalk, linking the homes of the local fishermen and the church.


The second day of the cruise was new year's eve. Much wine was consumed, party hats were provided (very cheesy!) and, as we were in the open water of the Pacific with 7, 8, 9 meter high waves, the boat was rolling from side to side, so nobody could tell whether my bad dancing was due to an English lack of rhythm or because of the movement of the boat. (I knew, but I wasn't letting on!). It was a really good night - so different to a usual new year's eve. We even met a couple of girls from Wigan and Leamington Spa - it's a small world, as they say.


I think, though, the best day was new years day. With everybody nursing slightly rough heads and quietly recovering, Jose found himself a place on a bench and opened a bottle of red and started on an enormous block of cheese. Slowly, as the group wandered past in ones and twos and were invited to join him, the numbers swelled and before long the whole group was gathered, each person bringing their own stash of wine and food and the party that had started the previous evening continued long into the night. These impromptu drinking sessions are always the best kind, and this was no exception - 2012 could not have started in a better fashion.


(Aside: the dead time on the flights, coaches and boats has also given me a chance to catch up on some books I've been meaning to read, and I've just finished Love in the Time of Cholera, which is a fantastic book that I can heartily recommend to anyone.)


Puerto Natales and Torres Del Paine


Just as we boarded the ferry in Puerto Montt, we heard news of forest fires in Torres del Paine. The last time that happened, the park was closed for months, but for the duration of the ferry journey we were cut off from mobile or internet contact, so the first thing we did on arrival at Puerto Natales was try to find out if the hiking in the national park could go ahead. We were met with positive news, but it turned out to be a bit of a red herring and only part of the park was to open and only in a few days time.


With the original plans scuppered, we had to make alternative arrangements, so most of the group decided to go on other hikes in the region - with just one day in the Torres del Paine national park itself. Incidentally, "Paine" means "blue" in the Araucanian language, so it is likely that the towers are named after the blue lakes that surround the area.


Puerto Natales is a pretty town geared up to be the launch site for hikers heading to the hills. Although there was disappointment that we would not be able to go on the famous "W" trek in the park, especially for Peter who was making his second attempt to go on the hike and whose boundless energy had been building up during the cruise, we at least did get to hike for four days and those hikes were off the beaten track, meaning we were seeing places that not many people had seen before. Staying in the town for a couple of extra nights also allowed us to get familiar with the place, and we quickly made the cervezeria which had a microbrewery on site our local.

The region has about 140,000 people (and about 2,000,000 sheep), so most of the area feels remote and isolated. Our first day of hiking was around Lago Sofia, where there were plenty of hares, condors, vultures and caracaras bounding over the scrub or flying high above. The area is also famous for the miladon - a prehistoric creature the size of a bear but looking more like a beaver - and we visited the cave where remains of this animal were discovers along with the earliest signs of human life in the area. The second day, we hiked up a large hill near to the city which gave great views of the Chilean pampas. At the top, the winds reached 150kmph and as we closed in on the summit, you could hear the wind whistling above. The winds were so strong that we could not complete the planned trip - they literally knocked you off you feet as you tried to cross the ridge at the summit- so later in the day, we explored the town.

 

The third day, was the day we finally made it to Torres del Paine. It was worth the wait. Although we couldn't do the full W-trek, we could do one leg of it (more of a J-trek) and fortunately it was the leg which went to the base of the three towers. It was a bit of a roller-coaster of a hike, with long ascents followed by welcome descents. According to our guide, this leg is the most difficult of the W, but as we were only doing one day in the park, it was not too bad. All the time, condors were circling above waiting fit the unfit hiker to fall by the wayside! I'm aware that I have described so many things as spectacular on my travels, but when you cross over the final ridge at the end of the final steep ascent, and see the three towers close-up, they really are stunning and well worth the effort to climb to see them. On the return, a few of us decided that a bit of fell running would be appropriate (god knows why!) and it was only partly hindered by a couple of beers at the refuge half way down!

That night, we camped just outside the national park and gathered in a large tent (with, of course, more wine and, less obviously, slices of chorizo or melted marshmallow served in cookies), where we spent the evening listening to music and relaxing after the day's exertions.

The final day of hiking took us by the largest waterfall in Chile and over the hills near Lago Azul, passing by wild guanaco and rhea, through the area which had been destroyed by fire six or seven years ago. The dead trees were eerie looking and their bare branches reminded me of the white temple in Chang Rai.


I haven't really waxed lyrical about the scenery in Chile, but Patagonia is every bit as beautiful as New Zealand's South Island. You can get a bit blasé about some of the sights that you see in these places. I remember Rita saying that while she appreciated the beauty of New Zealand, she was not standing in awe like me because she had seen it before in Patagonia. I have done the trip in the opposite direction, and I think there is some truth in familiarity dulling the senses a touch. Patagonia and the South Island are not on massively dissimilar latitudes and there are many similarities. In both cases, the sheer scale of the wilderness is breathtaking, but I will say that the one view that left the biggest impression from the entire trip so far was the one of the three towers in Torres del Paine.


Throughout this tour, especially with the disappointment of not being able to do the whole W-trek, Courtney had been pulling everything together and, wherever there were problems (it is South America, after all!), doing whatever could be done to make sure everybody got the most out of their trip. I know it is a cliche that Americans don't travel outside the US, and the ones I've met on the road are obviously exceptions to that rule, but Courtney has probably spent as much time out of the States as in it. Her love of the job was clear and, even though she had been working non-stop for months on end, her enthusiasm was infectious, so despite the vino, there was hardly a trace of a hangover on any of the days. Tour guides can just be the person who arranges the logistics and excursions, dealing with shit when it happens, but in this case, the tour was really enhanced because of Courtney's passion to get involved with all the group activities and nights out. (So, if you are reading this, thanks Ohio!)


In the next instalment, I continue my journey south to Puenta Arenas before starting to return north to Santiago and, eventually, back to Europe.

New Zealand: Sweet as ...

When I was originally planning where to go on these travels, New Zealand was a bit of an afterthought. I knew I wanted to go to South East Asia and South America, and New Zealand was kind of on the route between the two (before I decided to pop back to Africa!) so it seemed like a good opportunity to visit the country, as I'm not sure I would have made the effort to travel all the way to the other side of the world just to see it on a standalone trip. I had always imagined the much vaunted landscapes would be similar to Wales, but bigger - Wales on steroids - and that in itself wasn't enough to inspire me to visit. I was also a bit limited on time, so when planning to stay for about ten days, I knew I would not get to see everything and the visit was to be more of a taster than anything else.

Christchurch had been pretty, despite the damage; the transalpine journey had been impressive, without quite overwhelming the senses; and the glaciers were interesting, beautiful and fun, and something I had not seen before, but they were not necessarily something I would return to to see again. So, as far as a taster went, the start of my visit to New Zealand had only really reaffirmed my initial views. The south of the south island, on the other hand, was spectacular; with views that were near perfection - fully justifying their reputation - and, as far as a taster goes, were more than ample to whet the appetite for more.

Franz Josef to Queenstown

What a journey. I can't remember the exact cost of the ticket, something like $50NZD, but it was just a scheduled public bus ride for a trip I needed to make. As a scenic drive though, they could have charged double and it would still have been a bargain. I know this is a bit effusive, but it really is difficult to describe just how beautiful this part of the country is (I'll have a go though!).

There are perhaps three distinct sections to the trip, each of them with glorious views. They start with undulating foothills covered with thick, dense forests, their trees displaying a canopy that includes every imaginable shade of green. The forests look like what I imagine England must have looked like in the middle ages before industrialisation and population growth meant that the forests were all cleared. Through the gaps in the hills, there are occasional glimpses of the ocean lapping against the pristine white sands as the journey continued down the strip of land between the sea and the mountains.

Eventually, we moved away from hills along the coast and headed east into the mountain range. From horizon to horizon, north south east and west, snow capped peaks of the highest mountains pierce the skyline. Meanwhile, smaller mountains tower high above the meandering roads, forests covering the lower slopes and, every now and then, you would see a waterfall crashing through the rainforest as we wind through the valleys. Even the clouds that provide the backdrop were of the pretty cotton wool variety.

The impossibly beautiful landscapes continue as the valleys start to widen out and the mountains slide into the background, the foreground being replaced with clear blue lakes at the foot of these soaring hills (in particular, the twin lakes of Wanaka and Hawea are stunning). Before the final stretch over the mountains into Queenstown, we stopped briefly at Wanaka (Queenstown's smaller, and calmer, brother) and I would love to have had longer there, as the beach bathed in glorious sunshine looked wonderful and I imagine every room comes with a stunning view.

In an earlier post, I described the drive through northern Lao as the most beautiful I had seen. This drive was different: we were mainly on the valley floors looking up at the mountains rather than driving over the mountains looking down, but I think the NZ drive edges it for spectacular views. It was like watching a tennis match as you turn your head from side to side, trying to take it all in.

It all sounds so idyllic, but there is something missing, and it took me quite a while to put my finger on it: there are no people! As an example of dramatic, unspoilt wilderness, I think the landscapes we passed through will be hard to beat wherever my journey takes me, but seeing the way other people live, their different cultures and customs, the different looks and styles are all as interesting to me as the geography of the places I've seen. The south island is roughly the same area as England, but has a population that is just 2% as large. Take the travellers away and this place would be practically deserted. On the public bus I took for this ride, there were about 14 people on the bus and 12 of them were travellers like me. The locals that I did meet were all very friendly, but there are just so few of them.

Stewart Island

Queenstown itself has its own beautiful scenery, located on the shores of Lake Wakatipu in the shadow of the Remarkables (so named because they are one of only two ranges in the world which lie on an exact north to south bearing) and other mountains. But that is not the main reason people come; it is usually for the adrenaline rush and partying that the adventure groups and multitude of bars provide. However, the day after I arrived, I joined a brief three-day tour for the very southernmost parts of the south island (and beyond), so my first stop in Queenstown just had the one night out (and quite a quiet one at that).

Shortly after setting off from Queenstown, we left the southern alps behind and crossed into farm country; which meant sheep. Lots of sheep. No, more than that. There were deer and cattle too, but mainly there were sheep, and a flat patchwork of fields that stretched as far as the eye could see. After a few hours driving through this region, we reached Invercargill and then Bluff, both of which are rather functional looking towns, before boarding the ferry to Stewart Island.

The notorious ferry crossing across the Foveaux Strait turned out to be nothing of the sort, as the sea was like a mill pond on both journeys, even if a bit foggy on the return leg. When we arrived at Oban, the main "town" on the island, Lisa, Rita and I hired a car for the afternoon and we had soon covered pretty much every inch of the island's 20km of roads. It was Rita's first time driving a right-hand-drive car, and she usually tried to open the window whenever she wanted to change gear, but her latin nature didn't let that stop her as we hurtled around the winding roads! Even with just an afternoon to explore, we had plenty of time and we stopped at several places to hike through the national park or walk along the beaches that fringe the island.

With a population of just 400 on the entire island, it feels like the whole place is a nature reserve. There is a definite sense that you are in a place which has been left untouched by mankind. Unfortunately, we didn't get to see any of the yellow-eyed penguins (or kiwis) but there were lots of other birds around providing a soundtrack to our walks.

As far as we could tell, there was just one pub in town, which was not the most exciting of places, so after a fish and chips supper (at 47 degrees south of the equator), I spent the evening chilling over wine and cards with the other people from the tour at the hostel.

Milford Sound

The following day, back on the south island, we headed across to Milford Sound - the famous fjord that cuts into the south west coast of the island. I don't think I have ever been anywhere as remote as this: the road from Te Anau is a 120km cul-de-sac, carving a way through Fiordland and finishing at the shores of Milford Sound. From there, we boarded the boat to sail out to the mouth of the fjord, with sheer cliffs steepling high above - some over a mile high and pretty much vertical. I'm running out of words to describe the wonderful scenery in this region, but again the views leave you staring around just trying to capture the feeling of awe at the beauty, and power, of nature. The narrow channels make an ideal wind tunnel in the afternoons, after the summer sun has heated the water and created a convection cycle, so we sailed out to the Tasman Sea into strong winds past the towering cliff faces and waterfalls tumbling from the tops into the fjord below, before retracing our route with the wind at our back past a colony of seals.

We spent the night at Gunn's camp; a collection of wooden sheds in the middle of nowhere, which were the base camp for those building the road from Te Anau to Milford Sound. We were really lucky with the weather; for a place which gets rain 300 days of the year to have two consecutive days of glorious sunshine was a rare treat. The high pressure also meant that the sky was clear and, as there was no electricity at night, and no city lights for miles and miles, the heavens were full of stars. We passed the evening drinking beer that had been chilled in the stream that runs alongside the camp, singing (when we could remember the lyrics) and eating marshmallows or crumpets around the campfire until the early hours. The only drawback to being in the wild open country was the sandflies - they were countless and relentless, and had seemingly developed a taste for insect repellent (although thankfully they went away after dark).

Queenstown

The final day of this mini tour, which happened to be Christmas Eve, took us back to Queenstown, stopping off at various lookout points for photos (I think you are probably getting the idea that the views around here are worth a snap or two!) and a couple of hours to wander around Te Anau.

In Queenstown, we went for one of the legendary Fergburgers (which, incidentally, fully deserve their reputation), before heading out to celebrate Christmas Eve. Queenstown has got to be one of the best places in the world for a night out, so clubbing with the friends made on the trip around the south provided a fantastic way to welcome in Christmas. Back at the hostel, as Germans give gifts on Christmas Eve rather than Christmas Day, Rita arranged a treasure hunt for Lisa, setting clues which led her to find the elusive kiwi (her Christmas present). All very sweet!

My plan for an adrenaline fuelled Christmas Day was scuppered by the fact that Queenstown basically shuts down for the day. Instead, with a few cold beers and some music, we spent the day relaxing on the beach - not a bad substitute! Spending Christmas in a strange land with a bunch of strangers was, erm, strange, but it was a good day and it was nice to talk to my family when Christmas eventually arrived in Europe.

Everything opened again on Boxing Day, so it was time for the adrenaline rush and to take the plunge, literally. After taking the cable car to the top of the rise over the city, bungy-jumping was first on my list - my two preferred choices (the original Kawarau bridge bungy over the river and the 150m Nevis bungy) were too far away for me to get to and get back to the airport for my flight, but there is a 47m bungy high above the city. There were a few nerves as I stood at the top before jumping off the ledge, but once you start your run up they disappear - and the feeling as you start to fall is nothing like the flash of terror you get skydiving. The initial plummet is over so quickly that you don't really have time to register that you are hurtling toward the ground! After the bungy, it was time to return to the city and I decided the best way would be to jump off the mountain again, this time paragliding. The conditions were absolutely perfect and we met thermals as soon as we took off, rising to 4,500 feet above Queenstown with some stunning views before making the decent, with a few aerobatic tricks thrown in for good measure (there were a couple of heart stopping moments when you realise that the chute is below you during some of the turns, but it was great fun). It was supposed to be a 10 minute flight down, but the conditions were so good we managed to reach the highest allowed elevation and it was about 30 minutes before we touched down - which would have been fantastic, but for the last few minutes I did start to think I was going to miss my flight! A quick dash to the airport courtesy of Rita's friend meant that I made check-in exactly two minutes before it closed. Phew!

Leaving New Zealand

My trip to South America started with a brief return to Christchurch. While we were in the south, we had heard news that it had been hit by more earthquakes (the airport had been shut for a couple of days) and you could see the new damage from the latest quakes as we drove into the city from the airport, but thankfully there were no casualties this time. An early flight to Auckland waited for me the following day, before flying across the Pacific and my first ever visit to South America.

So, is New Zealand just like "Wales on steroids"? Well, it is kind of like that, but it is so much more and the description really does not do justice to probably the most spectacular scenery I have ever seen. Is it worth a trip to the other side of the world? Absolutely: it's sweet as...

New Zealand: North of the south bit

For 99% of the time, this travelling lark has been wonderful, but there have been some lows too. Several of the bus journeys in Vietnam and Lao were very long and, at times, it started to get boring just looking at the beautiful scenery through the window of the coach; your mind begins to drift and you start to miss family and friends, as well as some home comforts. Those bus journeys were a breeze compared to the flights from Zanzibar to New Zealand. Five separate flights, covering about 12,000 miles, over three continents, 10 time zones and 40 hours actual travelling time is draining in the extreme. All the air-conditioned air makes you feel grotty, you get very little proper sleep because of the cramped planes and changing time zones, sitting down all the time leaves you longing for some physical exercise and there is nobody to talk to. On top of this was that the last fresh air I encountered was twenty degrees warmer, so my trip to New Zealand was not the most pleasant experience. At least I managed a bit of retail therapy at Singapore airport to get a new pocket camera to replace the one broken in Zanzibar!

Another of the low points is that, with meeting so many people, you have to say a lot of goodbyes, and I have never been particularly good at goodbyes. Some of them, in the case of Zanzibar, have had to be said twice! Despite having the best intentions, I am sure that some of the future rendezvous that have been arranged will never take place and, a few years down the line, I will start to forget the names of some of the faces in my photos. Thank god for Facebook!

Travelling alone is ideal in many ways, as it forces you to meet new people and, overall, I am glad to have undertaken this trip alone. Most of the people I have met have been great and I'm not sure I would have met them all, or at least spent as much time with them, if I was travelling with a companion. However, sometimes you want to share your experiences with somebody as it would provide somebody you can talk to on the long journeys, moan to when things or other people get on your nerves, give you the excitement of planning together, and you get to share the special moments with somebody.

But, as I said, for the vast majority of the time the travelling has been great and these low moments are few and far between, so back to the travelling and let's see what New Zealand has to offer...

Arrival and Christchurch

The final flight of my monster journey was from Sydney to Christchurch and we were lucky to have clear skies throughout, which gave me my first sight of Mt Cook. It is easy to see why the mountain range is called the Southern Alps, as there is a clear resemblance to their European counterparts. The mountains then gave way to the vast Canterbury plains which, with their patchwork of fields, could easily be mistaken for England.

On arriving at the airport, I didn't have any hostel booked so a quick visit to the tourist information beckoned and 60 minutes later I was in jail! Staying in a recently converted prison was a bit of a novel experience; it was all very clean and modern, but the rooms (well, cells) were a bit cramped! Think of the rooms at the Euston Travelodge, but a bit nicer!

Christchurch itself is a beautiful garden city that had been decimated by the earthquake last February. The river that runs through the city, and the large trees that line its banks, seems to have been unaffected, but in the centre, which is still closed, the place is a building site and you can see all the cracks in the paving and buildings where they were damaged. I never thought I would think of a McDonald's as being poignant, but there are still meals discarded in the ruined outlet, left where they fell ten months ago, and it brings home just how sudden the earthquake strike must have been.

My body clock seems to have been a bit messed up by the long journey, so for the first few days I hardly slept, which at least gave me a chance to wander the streets of the city in the early morning when they were practically deserted. The Occupy Christchurch camp must have one of the most pleasant settings for a protest, and I had a bit of a chat with some of the occupiers, but I bet it gets a bit cold at night. In fact, coming from the tropical climes of Zanzibar, I know it does! Seeing as I am heading to the glaciers next, I think buying some warmer clothes may well prove one of the best ideas I have had on the trip. As well as the river, the parks also seem to be relatively unscathed and you can easily see how beautiful the city must have been before the earthquake. As it is, having walked through the town in the morning, there was very little else to do (I had had enough of markets after Asia!), so I spent the day planning the rest of my trip around the island - quite an expensive way to pass the time!

I've been near the equator for the past four months or so, and it was strange when it passed 6.30 and there was still daylight. As pretty as the city is, there is an element of Jekyll and Hyde about its character. The prison/hostel was in the suburb of Addington and the bars surrounding my hostel were rough; so rough, I struggled to resist the temptation to count the fingers on the locals! Having said that, they were very friendly and I whiled away a few hours chatting with some strangers - so maybe it is just me: I do have a habit of picking out the biggest dives in any place I go to!

Franz Josef and Fox Glaciers

The following day, I took the transalpine train to Greymouth, through the Southern Alps, passing first through Canterbury plains (and, it has to be said, thousands of sheep!) and then through various tunnels and over several viaducts. At the start of the ride, the scenery is pretty (with the broken river gorge especially nice), but not massively different to the Lake District, Wales or Scotland. Trying to take a photo that does justice to the views was tricky, as it is the scale which is most impressive, so I put the camera away and soaked up the views (which also gave me the chance to leave the outdoor viewing platform and return to the warmth of the carriage!). However, as we headed further west, passing by Waimakariri river (more of a stream in these summer months), the peaks started to get higher and more impressive and you start to realise why the journey is described as one of the most picturesque train rides in the world. After passing Arthur's Pass (which probably has one of the nicest views from a railway station in the world) and Otira tunnel (10 minutes and a 1,000 feet descent) the peaks start to get more angular and rugged, as erosion hasn't had as long to smooth all the edges (the range was still under a glacier 20,000 years ago), and the rest of the four hour journey provided gorgeous view after gorgeous view.

I didn't stay long in Greymouth before boarding a bus down to the glaciers, with the journey south snaking along the narrow strip of coast between the mountains and the sea. We had a quick pit stop at Hokitaki, where the black sand on the beach provides a reminder of the power of the glaciers we are travelling to, but other than in that small town there was hardly any other traffic.

Franz Josef is a tiny place. It basically has two streets, one shop, a handful of bars/cafes, and lots of tour companies organising trips to the glacier. I arrived late afternoon and having checked into my hostel, by late afternoon plus 15 minutes, I'd finished exploring the town so went for a few drinks with a couple of guys from the hostel.

The next morning, I jumped aboard a helicopter which flew up and over the face of the glacier, with some great views of all the crevasses and weird ice formations along the top. We landed on the ice, put on our crampons, and spent the morning hiking around the ice flow. It was very impressive and good fun, climbing along the narrow gaps in the ice, sliding through tunnels and walking under the caves. I had always thought that blue ice was more of an optical illusion than anything else, but in fact it really is blue and some of the colours on the glacier were amazing. Although we were walking on a river of ice, it was hot: the hiking took place only about 800m above sea level where the glacier carves its way through the rainforest that lines the slopes of the valley, and the sun was beating down on us, which in a place where they get up to seven meters of rain a year was a bit of a blessing.

In the afternoon, I managed to cadge a lift off Sarah to visit Fox Glacier: a very picturesque town, nestled on the slopes of the mountains 30 minutes south of Franz Josef. However, rather than go to the glacier, we went for a walk around Lake Matheson. On a good day, the lake is mirror-like and the reflection of Mt Cook and Mt Tasman in the lake us one of the iconic images of NZ. The day we went, there was a slight breeze, which was enough to make small ripples on the surface and, together with the clouds in front of the two main mountains, it was sufficient to prevent the picture perfect image. It was, nonetheless, stunning, as you would expect from a lake recently voted in the top 12 most beautiful in the world (although I'm never sure who votes in these things; I've never been asked and I doubt that all the judges have seen Pennington Flash, so perhaps we should have a re-count...!) Sarah did try to make a few more ripples by dangling her feet in the water, but soon took them out when a massive eel came to investigate! The drive back to Franz Josef followed the same winding road which made getting out of third gear difficult, which was fortunate, because third was the only gear that Sarah's car had!

Later in the evening, we went to the hot pools to soak away the aches from the day's hikes and then hit the bars. You know it is a small place if a pub crawl can take you to every bar in town and still leave you sober.

After the glaciers, it was time to board another bus to head further south. Next stop (and next blog): Queenstown, adrenaline capital of the world.