New Zealand, the North Island, Part Uno.

Stepping foot on to the North Island of NZ is like arriving in an entirely different country. The people more diverse, the climate hotter and the swell noticeably bigger. We hadn't had much luck on the paddle front down South so we were hungry to feast on the October swell that was dominating the West coast. After a couple of uneventful days awaiting our medicals in Wellington, we speeded up North a-sap towards Raglan with our arms still feeling like pin cushions. Raglan for those of you who haven't heard is the NZ Mecca of surfing. Pretty much every town on the North Island's coast claims this title but only Raglan actually deserves it. A sleepy little coastal town with a handful of surf spots nearby, all brimming with beautiful leftys. We lucked out time wise and had arrived just in time to catch the end of the bigger winter swells. The next few days were spent in the water feeding off the sets of almost perfect waves which tumbled in one after another for what seemed like hours and hours. We knew this dream couldn't last forever and right enough after a few awesome days the sea turned eerily flat which was enough to motivate our lazy arses to shift in to gear and seek out new spots to revel in.

My new boss had tipped us off about a sweet surf spot right up North called Shipwrecks Bay which is apparently home to the longest lefty in NZ. He also told us the swell was looking good for the next few days which was enough to convince us to hop in to Plop and cruise up the winding mountainous roads of the North which feel more than a challenge without power steering. Five hours after leaving Takapuna we arrived at Shipwreck bay just in time for waves to be picking up. Full of anticipation we jumped in our wetties and paddled out in to the amazingly warm and clear aqua water. We soon found out the rumour of Shippers epic leftys was no lie. In almost perfect symmetry wave after wave broke, peeling along in perfection for as far as the eye could see. Even the smaller breaks that would usually be mush on a regular beach were perfect little waves peeling away happily in to the shore. And crowds, they don't exist here. We're talking about 3 or 4 locals who spread out along the reef and beach break too busy having a good time to spoil anybody else's fun. Yup Shippers was peachy and we even scored an awesome camping spot right on the bay which was owned by local Maori Willy; “complete with flushing toilet and warm shower”. Well you can't ask for much more than that can you?

Shippers was sweet but it only works every so often when the swell checks in to town, which at this time of year wasn't as much as we'd like! So off we headed again back down South towards Raglan where we spent a few more days before we caught wind of giant swell hitting the Coromandel and Mount area which was on the East coast about two hours away from us. After yet another mellow drive we arrived in Whangamata and pulled up to the bay to see around twenty keen surfers in what can only be described as utterly massive waves. The currents were wreaking havoc though and not knowing the spot too well we decided to play it safe and head for Mount Maunganui which was just down the road and catching equally good swell but with a bigger beach to play on. Again we pulled up to a sea full of little black spots of people so decided to catch some zeds and head out for an early surf instead. The next morning was just as busy so we drove along the beach until we found a slightly less crowded spot. The waves were huge but the currents were there in force to make sure you didn't have too much fun. Paddling out was a bitch but our perseverance was rewarded with monster waves, a few of which were our biggest yet standing tall at around six foot. After a couple of good days of getting two sessions a day in the sea yet again turned flat. Which was probably for the best as we found out just before we left that a couple of three to four metre great whites had been spotted lurking in the water. That explained the helicopters then.

With a lack of enthusiasm to head anywhere too off to radar we decided to head back to Raglan again where we had established a nice little group of friends and so it was starting to feel a bit like a second home. Alas by now the Summer had rolled in to town and so along with the sun came the drop in swell. Yes there was always waves but the winds always in the wrong direction or the swell never really big enough to salvage much. But beggars can not be choosers and as long as the surf wasn't complete and utter mush we'd be out there trying to make the most of it. And so this brings us to present day. I (Katie) start work in a few days so gone are the days of complete freedom to chase the swell and live the search. It's only three days a week though so we're hoping we can cram in a lot of adventures in between office hours. And plus summer is here now so if all else fails there's always a sunny beer garden just waiting to be exploited by a couple of rowdy Scots.

New Zealand, the South Island.

After a long over night flight from Santiago we finally arrived in Auckland bleary eyed and kind of bushy tailed. I was perhaps more bleary eyed than usual after not getting a wink of sleep for fear of missing out on the free drinks and food. The thought of bed couldn't have excited me more when the plane touched down so you can just imagine our delight when the pilot announced our arrival time as 4AM, not 4pm like we had expected. And guess what? Our hostel didn't open until 10am. So we had five lovely hours in Auckland airport to enjoy before catching a bus in to town.

Our journey in to Auckland city was the start of our major culture shock. Gone were the rickety old cars, tiny happy people and laid back attitude of South America. Everything was big, clean and brash with not a touch of orange dust or brown smog in sight. We quickly came to miss the happy, chilled out people of SA when the first kiwis we had the pleasure of meeting turned out to be pretty rude, arrogant and bizarrely bitter about the fact we were Scottish. It also probably didn't help that we were still replying to any question in Spanish as a reflex.

We'd met a couple of awesome kiwis in SA though so we decided that they couldn't all be that bad and chose to persevere rather than do an about turn and hop on to the quickest flight back to Chile.

The plan for NZ was to travel by van so we utilised our unexpected twelve hours to find our home for the next four months. I'm not sure whether it was love at first sight our a hasty decision brought on by jet-lag but by 3pm we had Plop, our very own racing red 1991 Toyota Hiace. Complete with double bed, gas stove and burnt cooking pot. As you can imagine we hadn't expected to pick up such a beaut so quickly so there was only one way to celebrate, with a pint.

Off we plopped the next day making a speedy descent towards Wellington where we were to catch the ferry to the South Island. Due to our ignorance, lack of knowledge (and to be honest lack of actually giving a toss) we had no idea that Wellington was the capital of NZ. We later greatly offended a native kiwi by stating that we thought it was quite small. Well I stand by that statement, as far as cities go it's nae big but it's nice enough.

The ferry ride to the South Island was a strange one. Any ferry crossings that last more than four hours should, in my opinion, be spent in the bar. For a start the bar was shut. So that was the end of that idea. I looked around the ferry lounge for some sort of inspiration but was instead met by a wall of silence reinforced by what I can only describe as a group of lethargic zombies. Nobody was uttering a single word and it was beginning to freak me out. What was wrong with these people? Had we some how coincided our crossing with the entire population of deaf and dumb kiwis? Perhaps it was me that had turned deaf? No I could still hear Ryan snoring......so why the hell was nobody talking to each other? I never did find out the answer to that one suffice to say I was overjoyed to get off that boat pronto when it docked in Picton.

After our first proper sleep in Plop we headed towards Wanaka to meet an old friend of mine that I hadn't seen for years. It was coming to the end of the winter season but the mountains still had a respectable dusting of snow and looked stunning in contrast with the vivid aqua blue lakes which lay below them. Wanaka, like every where else it would seem, was much smaller than we expected. On first appearances it reminded me a bit of Quebec with it's wooden Canadianesque houses. This is where the similarities ended. Wanaka is where we also discovered that the kiwis think they invented the pie and that Scottish people are apparently tight bastards. Enough said on that one we think.

Next on our trip was Queenstown where Euan and Ailsa now lived so off we plopped through the winding mountain roads accompanied by my good friend Lisa. No journey to Queenstown was of course complete without a visit to Arrowtown's “FAMOUS PIE SHOP”. Granted the pies were good but we were all pretty shocked by the rude woman who served us, she put any grumpy weegie to shame. Later on we found out this shop was just as famous for it's service without a smile as it's gourmet pies (I.e bolognese).

It was pissing with rain when we arrived in Q-T and we felt like we had warped back to Scotland during the journey. The next few hours were spent drinking copious amounts of beers with Euan and grabbing a famous (yup everything here is famous) Ferg Burger once Ailsa had finished work. Fergs is basically THE fast food joint to be SEEN in in Queenstown and it sells abnormally large burgers. We felt so ill after so much meat and beer that we had to have an early night which almost resulted in me having to go to the toilet in the cooking pot.

After being the star contributor of a word puzzle, drinking large quantities of alcohol and eating way over our RDI of meat it was time for us to head to Dunedin where Lisa now studied and lived. We had heard the surf was epic at Dunedin so we were pretty amped to get back on the coast. The swell however had different plans. The first few days were spent checking out the flat sea hour after hour until we struck it lucky and got a good couple of days of waves. We also met up with some old family friends who went to uni with my mum and dad and it was rad to see them all again along with Martin's wee boy Ethan who's dead cute and Martin's girlfriend Vicki who will be a good friend from now on. D-town also had an amazing selection of sushi restaurants which we indulged ourselves in daily.

After spending a good few weeks there and fitting in a quick trip down South to the Catlins we decided it was time to check out some other spots on the South Island. It was sad saying goodbye to all our new and old friends but we hope to see them again in the future. Off we plopped again and headed back towards Queenstown where we spent another couple of boozey days with Ailsa and Euan and also got to bungee jump which was an epic experience (Many thanks to Euan for hooking us up with that).

Next on the cards was Fox Glacier. There was a rad wee camp spot here where we spent a couple of rainy days before heading to Rangitata River where we did our first ever white water rafting experience which was so much fun. Neither of us got flipped out of the raft so we considered that a pretty good effort.

It was at this point that funds started to become low so we decided to start seeking for some part time work. I emailed pretty much every surf/skate/snow store in the country and was stoked to get a bunch of interviews so we headed North sooner than planned after dropping off for a quick overnight visit at our friend Erin's in C-church where we enjoyed beers in the sun and some awesome homemade burgers.

The South Island had been an experience in a half shell. Although a hard adjustment from SA living we met some amazing new (and old) friends, saw some utterly breathtaking scenery and gave a good effort in seeing as much as we could in Plop. The North Island was calling us though and we were excited about seeking out it's infamous surf spots and basking in it's warmer climate. So off we plopped back on to the ferry, which was slightly more lively this time, and began our journey back upwards.

Machu Picchu, Peru.

Like all good travel adventures, things rarely go to plan and Machu Picchu was no exception. After spending a week or so in Peru everybody we had met had been telling us that we simply HAD to climb Huayna Picchu as it was the highlight of the Machu Picchu experience. We had never heard about HP before arriving in Peru but soon learned it was the larger of two mountains that overlook MP in all the photos you will see of the site. Great we thought, sounds amazing. The only snag was that only 400 people a day are allowed to enter the HP site which means you have to get to the entry gates of MP super early in order to be one of the lucky few to get the access stamp on your ticket.

Always up for a challenge we decided to chance our luck and headed towards the Ollantaytambo train station in an attempt to change our train tickets to enable us to arrive in Aguas Calientes earlier than planned. We were lucky and managed to get the 11pm train out of Ollan that night which arrived in AC at 1am. The only flaw in this plan was that we had not arranged a hostel so we decided that we would either find one when we arrived or sleep rough at the MP gates. We had to get up at 4am to trek to the gates anyway so we figured this was no biggie.

Our train rolled in to AC bang on time and when exiting the carriage we were harassed by a few locals touting their hostels. We decided to chance it and agreed to a room for 20 soles that some guy that looked like a wrestler was selling. We quickly began to regret this decision as the huge man and his skinny sidekick started to lead us down some dark streets. We finally arrived at a door which led us in to a basement with what looked like a common room and one bedroom. The room was basic to say the least and I didn't get a wink of sleep expecting the wrestler to come in at any moment armed with rope and some chloroform. I was so happy when the time came to leave the hostel, relieved we hadn't been turned in to human traffic.

The next twenty five minutes were spent walking towards the first set of gates of Machu Picchu. We were quite pleased to arrive in good time but our happiness was to be short lived. It turned out that we couldn't buy our MP entrance tickets at the gates, we had to go back to AC to get them. Annoyed and gutted at the misinformation we had been told by other travellers we headed back up the hill towards AC. The worst part was that the ticket office didn't open until 5am and we knew we had to be at the top entrance gates of MP by 6am at the latest to get the HP access stamp. There wasn't much we could do except wait so while Ryan stood outside the ticket office I joined a line for bus tickets up to MP. We decided this would be our best chance of getting up the hill quickly and a nice Canadian bunch of ladies who had been before helped us out which was awesome.

We finally had our tickets and boarded the bus up to MP at 5:30. The long winding road seemed to last forever but in fact took around forty minutes so we were standing in line at the entrance gates by 6:10. We were however to be in luck and managed to attain 10am access stamps to HP. Relieved that our ill planned strategy had worked out we entered the gated of Machu Picchu just as the morning sun was bursting through the clouds.

The Inca ruins on Machu Picchu really are a sight to behold. As we sat on the top of the ruins it felt surreal to be looking down on the image that we knew so well from books and internet sites. It almost felt like our eyes were playing tricks on us and we were actually just looking at a photograph . We spent the next few hours running around and exploring as much of the site as we could. It's a bit of a labyrinth and new things can be found around every corner. Llamas, lizards and wee rabbits with curly long tails could be seen everywhere, as if we had stepped in to some bizarre friendly Jurassic park.

There were many other creatures though that weren't so friendly. One of these being the sand fly. If you're not familiar with the sand fly it's basically a 1-3mm little black fly which lives in dry, mountainous areas of South America. The female of the species has a keen taste blood which was something my legs were to find out. There I was just standing there waiting for Ryan to take a photo when for some reason I decided to look down. This turned out to be a very good idea as I discovered my legs were covered in hundreds of these little black buggers. Within seconds my legs had been eaten to shreds with twenty nice red bites swelling up quickly. This was enough for me to put my trousers back on but sadly the damage had already been done and I was to spend the next few days with sore, swollen, oozing and itchy red lumps on my legs.

Traumatised after the attack of flies we found a quiet and fly free area in the ruins and settled down for an hours snooze before heading to the gates of HP to begin the climb. We woke refreshed and excited about the challenge ahead. Many people had warned us of the treacherous and difficult path up HP and that it should be avoided unless extremely fit or an experienced trekker. Those of you who know us well will know that we are neither of these but we like a challenge and guessed it couldn't be any worse than Colca Canyon. Turns out we were right and we whizzed up the steep and uneven staircases in a record time of fifty minutes. We were told the trek would take at least an hour to an hour and a half so we were chuffed with our time. The views from the top lived up to their reputation and we tucked in to lunch feeling special to be amongst some of the lucky few to conquer HP.

After slithering back down HP we headed up towards the Inca Bridge. We actually meant to head towards the sun gates but took a wrong turn so the bridge it was. The route was a fairly pleasant stroll which led us around the mountain side with amazing cliff drops surrounding us the whole way. We finally reached the bridge which I found slightly anticlimactic, a three meter gap in the track with four planks of wood leading across it. Oh well at least we saw it. Feeling dehydrated and tired we decided to call it a day and headed back to base camp to grab some disgusting over priced food and a nice cool water.

It had been an amazing, once in a lifetime day and the Machu Picchu stamp in our passports just topped it all off. It was hard to believe we had just walked in one of the seven wonders of the world. We left fulfilled and happy but it was almost hard to leave knowing we may never see the site again. To witness with your own eyes what the Incas created is a very special experience and leaves you in awe of their capabilities. It's something that I think will always stay with you and it has definitely left an impression on us during our travels.

Our time in South America had come to an end and we had only three more days before leaving for New Zealand. I don't know what we expected SA to be like but it definitely exceeded all expectations. Here you will find some of the most amazing places to explore and the friendliest people you could meet. Not to mention super cheap accommodation and food. It had always been a dream to visit and now that we'd actually done it we were stoked if not a little sad to say goodbye. We'll be back though that's for sure. Hasta Luega South America it's been a blast! See you on the flipside.

Ollantaytambo, Peru.

Ollantaytambo is a wee village that sits an hour and a half from Cusco and is one of the main connecting villages to Aguas Calientes where you access Machu Picchu from. We had heard that Aguas Calientes although closer to MP wasn't as nice so we opted to sleep in the less touristy town of Ollantaytambo. After grabbing a connectivo (shared taxi) from Cusco we were soon in the mountains and in the sleepy village for a bargain price of around 10 soles.

Ollantaytambo is one of those hidden gems that people ignore in their rush to get out of their taxi and on to the train up to Aguas Calientes. It sits surrounded by some of the first Inca settlements in Peru, meaning you can easily trek some amazing Inca and pre-Inca ruins for free. If that isn't enough for you, the surrounding mountain landscape also offers a long list of outdoor activities such as downhill biking and white water rafting (we heard the water was full of jobbies now though).

We stayed here for 2 nights and managed to squeeze in two free treks, one to some ruins an hour or so uphill behind our hostel and another around some amazing ruins at the end of the village. The latter shouldn't have actually been free but we snuck in the backdoor and did the trek in reverse. Confused a lot of people but we enjoyed it.

Our hostel was more like a hotel so we couldn't cook our own meals which was a bit of a stinger on the old wallet but we found this amazing little cafe called HEARTS in the village square. This cafe was started by a british woman who came across a few years ago to establish aid for abused woman and children in the village. The cafe does amazing food at reasonable prices and all profits go towards supplies for the woman and children of Ollantaytambo. This made eating out feel a little bit better.

Ollantaytambo is a rad wee village. If you ever get the chance to visit Peru this has to be on your lists of places to see. We could have spent weeks there but we had to get our butts in gear for Machu Picchu which was next on our list of Peru To Do's.

Cusco, Peru.

When arriving in Cusco we didn't exactly come the pretty scenic route. I'm quite a fan of the grimy underworld but Ryan wasn't too impressed as we rolled through crumbling areas full of litter and suspicious looking characters. Keen to make a shuffle on to our hostel we got a taxi which took us through some amazing parts of town. My favourite was what I can only describe as the meat street. A long street lined entirely with butchers which had slabs of beef just lying on tables in the middle of the pavement and plucked chickens nailed to their doorways. The lack of refrigeration, amount of people and dust from the streets flying around these stalls was enough to convince me that any sample of this produce by an unhardened Scottish stomach would result in a swift case of food poisoning. None the less it was an amazing street to behold and the vibe in the area was buzzing.

After checking in to our over priced (by Peruvian standards) hostel we went off to explore the city. The centre of Cusco is much nicer, depending on your definition of nice, and the Spanish influence on construction is very apparent. Like any other city in Peru you'll find the Catholic churches created by the Spanish when they invaded. What we didn't know before arriving is that that most of these churches were created on top of Inca Ruins which the Spanish destroyed in order to build their houses of worship. What they didn't destroy to build on top of they destroyed in order to use the stones to build with. But it's not all bad, some Inca stone walls remain intact and can be spotted around the city if you have a sharp eye. It is however apparent that the Spanish did take one huge, steaming dump on Peru's history during their oppression.

Cusco was nice but we couldn't understand how people could spend weeks there. A usual amount of touristy things to see and do but we found a couple of days was enough and that we were ready to head up to the more rural area of Ollantaytambo where we were to chill before hitting Machu Picchu a few days later. Our time in Peru was flying by and we couldn't believe it was almost already time for us to do what we were expecting to be the highlight of our time in South America. So after meeting the most obnoxious Scot we had ever met (Oxford student, says it all) it was time for yet another early night in preparation for the winding road up the hill the next day.

Puno, Peru.

We arrived in Puno at around 7pm and the city was in full swing with street vendors lining the narrow roads and people bustling about everywhere. A taxi was cheap and easy to acquire so we were soon standing in the reception of a local hostel asking for a bed for the night. I am going to say right now NEVER stay at a “Point” hostel. Although nice enough we were later astounded to discover that they charged for the use of the kitchen. They tried to assure us this was common but after three months of dossing in hostels we knew that this was utter pomp. So the first night we had the luxury of paying five soles (which isn't actually that much but hey it's the principle!) to cook our super noodles or pay their supposed five star chef for a pizza. Ok rant over.

For those of you who don't know Puno is a city that surrounds part of Lake Titicaca which is the highest lake in the world and also home to the famous Uros (floating) Islands as well as other islands which are the home to different colonies on the Peruvian and Bolivian side of the lake.

We booked ourselves on to a one day tour of the lake which included a visit to the Uros islands and Taquile island which was 2hrs away from the Uros. It was another early start of 5:30am where we were picked up and dropped off at our boat to begin our journey to Uros. The boat journey was one of the slowest ever with a guide giving us random facts about the lake. We listened for a while before popping on our ipods and catching a snooze. We awoke just before arriving at the Uros and were rewarded with an amazing first glimpse of the floating islands appearing beside our boat. These islands we learned are made from one meter of dead roots which cause the islands to float and are then topped with another meter of reeds which grow in the lake. When you first step on to these islands it's a strange experience. The ground is spongy but the islands feel stable as they are anchored to the bottom of the lake bed with sticks. Everything on this island is made from reeds, the islanders even eat the root of the reed which provides them with a great source of calcium. What they need but cannot get from the lake they trade for at Puno with reeds. This is the islanders only real way of attaining what they need as they have no money other than the little they make selling hand made goods to tourists who visit the islands.

After Uros it was back on the boat and another two hours or so before hitting the island of Taquile. This wasn't a floating island and pretty average in standards as far as island aesthetics go. The beautiful aqua blue water surrounding the island definitely added to it's advantage though and once on the island the sight of eucalyptus trees was quite interesting. Once on Taquile we trekked to one of the local towns and were treated to the sight of the locals performing a traditional dance for us. We then got invited to dance with them which of course we both grasped unlike many others who rudely declined. After shaking our asses about with the locals in what was a very similar dance to Strip the Willow we wandered around to look at what they were selling. The job of the men on Taquile is to knit and the women to weave. Once a Taquile boy turns seven he works in the afternoon after school and learns how to make a traditional hat that all men on the island wear for their entire life. Before marriage they wear a half white half red hat and after marriage they wear a completely red hat. The standard of a hat represents the standard of the family, so a well made and decorated hate will demand much more respect. The men also wear white shirts which represent the moon, Black waistcoats and trousers which represent the sun and rainbow tastles on their hats which represent the indian flag of which they worship. The women in comparison wear the usual Peruvian clothing but with a black shoal with rainbow pom poms. Smaller pom poms mean you're married and bigger ones mean you're single, as the bigger ones suggest flirting.

After browsing through the usual collections of hats, blankets and bracelets we settled down for lunch in a local restaurant. Trout from the lake is one of the islands main food sources so we tucked in to some after polishing off some tasty veg soup which was made from island produce. Coca tea is a firm fixture in Peru so we supped on the leafy concuction before heading off back up and over the island towards our boat. It was a pleasant enough experience but didn't wow us as much as the Uros islands but all in all an interesting day out.

Back to the hostel we trotted to relax before, through spite, we decided to eat out at one of the local restaurants. We had heard good things about one in particular called Mojsa so headed directly there and weren't disappointed. An awesome two course meal by any standard plus two large beers came to the grand total of £20 so we rolled back to the hostel happy and full that night. The next day it was another early start to catch the bus to Cusco which we were pretty excited about. So it was another early but sleepless night thanks to excitement.

Arequipa, Peru.

When you arrive in Peru you realise this is the South America that you have dreamed of. It fits all the clichés of what you would expect a South American country to be like. Local women carrying heavy loads on their backs with multicolour blankets, men sleeping on benches with massive hats on, street sellers hassling you on every street corner to buy their products. This is the experience we had been looking for and it was a refreshing change from westernised Santiago.

Our first stop in Peru was Arequipa, we missed out Lima as we were tight on time and had heard from almost everybody that it was a hell hole. Arequipa however was amazing. We arrived in Peru in the run up to an election so our journey from the airport in to the centre of Arequipa was full of walls adorned with different paintings of party symbols (hats, spades, three leaf clovers!) and different candidate names. It might sound a bit boring but I loved to see all these wall murals which somebody had spent so much time and effort creating. It didn't stop at party pushing either; shop fronts, cars and restaurants could all be seen with hand painted advertisements across them. It was a welcomed change from mass produced, picture perfect posters and billboards.

There was however a reason we had come to Arequipa and that was to do the Colca Canyon trek. For those of you who don't know Colca Canyon it is the deepest canyon in the world, yup that's right it's NOT the Grand Canyon which was of course named by Americans so we can't take it's title too seriously. We decided to do the three day/two night trek which gave us the opportunity to stay with a local family who lived in one of the traditional towns at the bottom of Colca Canyon. We picked Land Adventures to do our trek with as we had heard so many good reviews and we were not let down. They were utterly amazing at looking after us and offering the best experience possible we could have had during our time in Colca Canyon. We highly recommend you check them out if you are contemplating any tours in Peru.

Our trek began at 3am in Arequipa where we were picked up bleary eyed to start out 6 hour journey to Chivay where we stopped for a quick lunch which included some disgusting, non de-script juice that nobody at our table seemed to be able to identify. It was back on the bus for another hour or so where we then stopped at Cruz del Condor where we were lucky enough to see around ten massive condors circling above us. Peru have protected this species which was almost extinct a few years ago but now thanks to Peru there are around fifty living in Colca Canyon alone. They are an impressive and beautiful sight and one we will never forget. Next it was back on the bus and another hour or so til Cabanaconde (3287m) which is a small village that sits above the part of Colca Canyon we were to trek. A tasty lunch was grabbed here before we began the descent in to the canyon. We were lucky enough to end up with a great group of trekkers which included one English couple and one German couple.

The descent from the top of the canyon was narrow, steep and in places really rocky so you had to be careful with your footing or you'd end up falling over the edge to become a condors dinner. It took our group around three hours to trek to the bottom of the canyon and in the blazing hot sun. We didn't think that was too bad and it was an awesome journey down. After a quick catch of breath at the bottom it was back on our feet and our first taste of an ascent in the canyon. The thin, dry air and altitude quickly became apparent and what would usually seem like a moderate climb up hill turned most of us in to wheezing cripples. We managed though and were pleased to see the little village of San Juan de Chucco (2200m). From here it was only another thirty mins or so until our final destination for the day and the newly green scenery full of avocados and cactus fruit was an easy distraction along the way.

We arrived at Cosnirhua (2450m) just before sunset and met our hosts for the night. I didn't catch any of their names but it was a middle aged couple and their teenage son who lived off farming the land surrounding their home. They work hard and long days of manual labour in the canyon, starting around 4am and finishing around 8pm and that's 6 days a week. The locals speak the pre-Inca language of Ketchua which is a dying tradition in the area as almost all of the young have left the canyon to live in the cities and speak the official national language of Spanish. It was a shame to hear how the culture of the villages in the canyon may become extinct once the current inhabitants die. This made us feel extremely fortunate to be able to experience life while it still existed in these villages.

Dinner was prepared for us on a traditional stove before we headed to bed and rested our tired bodies in our basic but comfortable rooms. We all knew the next day was going to be a tough one so we were all eager for an early night and as much shut eye as possible.

After a tasty breakfastof pancackes we hit the path again and headed for the neighbouring village of Malata (2450m) which was a pleasant and donkey filled warm up to the day. In Malata we went to a wee local ran museum where we saw the canyon way of life and got to try Chicha, the local alcohol made out of fomented corn. Happy with our daily booze fix we continued down hill towards Oasis Sangalle (2160m), which although pleasant sounds much more exotic than it actually was. We spent a good few hours here basking in the man made swimming pools which were filled with water off the mountains and soaking in the hot sun.

After lunch enough was enough and we had to strap on our climbing legs and lungs for the ascent we had all been dreading. We started around 3pm and although later in the afternoon the sun was still burning hot, making our first few steps much harder than they had to be. We were told the first part was the hardest, which was a lie, the whole thing was bloody hard. But we all trekked on all keeping the end target in sight, well apart from me who thought this random flag about three quarters the way up was the end, quite a disappointment I must say. The German couple were the dominators of the group absolutely storming up the steep, rocky and slippery ascent. I was starting to wonder if they were actually bionic as the hot, thin air and high altitude seemed to have little effect on their bodies. The rest of us Brits kept true to form and took our own sweet time climbing up the narrow paths whilst taking regular stops for blethers, drinks of water and contrived photo breaks. After three and half gruelling hours we made it to the top elated, over emotional and bloody knackered.

Little did we know we still had another thirty minute walk in the pitch dark before being rewarded with a three course meal and a comfy bed. I would add sleep but we had the fortune of experiencing a political party demonstration Peru style which basically involved a bunch of pissed men playing trumpets and drums all night long until they passed out, with their trumpets presumably still attached to their lips as the occasionally hoot could be heard during the early hours.

We woke up sorer than we have ever felt in life but utterly stoked we had conquered the deepest canyon in the world, well part of it anyway. We hopped back on our uncomfortable little bus and headed to Chivay where we were to catch another uncomfortable little bus to Puno. It was quite sad saying goodbye to our companions we had just spent three hard days with and also experienced so much with; laughter, swearing and at one point even vomiting. They were a great bunch and we were pleased it was them we trekked and struggled up hill with. Muchos Gracias amigos y Colca Canyon.

Santiago, Chile.

This was to be our second visit to Santiago as we had stayed her a couple of nights before heading to Ritoque. The first time we stayed in the Bellavista quarter which is famous for its art and music hang outs. We were told Bellavista was dangerous but we had no problem there and found it a pretty amazing part of the city. The second time we arrived in Santiago we had a cheap but awesome apartment sorted in the Providencia quarter which is mostly residential so pretty quiet in comparison to Bellavista.

Santiago is home to 50% of Chile's population and is accountable for around 70% of the countries economy. This is easy to tell when walking through the crowded and loud streets of the city which lie below the thick, grey smog that lives permanently above Santiago's inhabitants with only the tops of the buildings seeming to break free. The city is also divided in to four quarters (funnily enough); Bellavista, Providencia, Las Condes and Downtown. The Metro is awesome in Santiago and can transport you to all of these areas quickly, safely and more importantly cheaply.

It's easy to forget you're in Chile when you're in Santiago. If you spent the day without talking to anybody and had an ipod plugged in to your ears you would be forgiven for thinking you were in London, Barcelona or any other big city in the world. Westernisation has hit this city hard with bastardised American culture oozing out of every shop front and magazine advertisement. This then leads me on to the food. If you come to Santiago don't expect your taste buds to be tantalised. The mass majority of food is either fast food (american style) or badly done Italian. Bland is the only word to sum these options up. It's not all bad though, if you're up for a bit of exploring and eating off the beaten path you will be rewarded with some typical Chilean dishes which although not extremely exciting are a tasty and welcomed change from the typical lomitos (hots dogs with everything on them, and I mean EVERYTHING).

I might be making it sound like we hated Santiago, which we really didn't. This city may be less exciting than more rural areas of the county but it did have it's bonuses. We spent a few awesome days riding El Colorado and Valle Nevado where we lucked out with fairly good winter conditions. Valle Nevado is definitely the resort of choice with it's weekly lift pass discounts and more expansive area. Another area we highly enjoyed was the Santa Lucia hill, which sat in Downtown Santiago and offered the most amazing views of the city. Santiago is also full of Artisan markets which are fascinating to explore and a great place to pick up a cheap and reasonably unique item. A high light for me during our stay was our visit to bar La Piojera which was infamous in Santiago for its 'terremoto' (earthquake) drink; a pint of cheap white wine topped with pineapple ice-cream and fernet. Although utterly disgusting this bar was full of boozey locals, all consuming terremotos and singing and dancing to a drunken folk band playing in the corner. We had finally found an authentic glimpse in to local Santiago culture and it was all thanks to a disgusting drink that you stirred with a straw.

One whole month passed and it was time for us to leave Santiago and move out of Chile. We had a blast there, spent time with friends and created some awesome memories, most of which were fuelled by pisco. But it was time to move on and to be honest we couldn't bloody wait. Peru was calling and our feet were itching so it was time to hoist on those backpacks and hit the road again only partially lost and a little bit broke.

Mendoza, Argentina.

I'll be honest, we didn't do much in Mendoza apart from drink. But hey this is Mendoza we're talking about, land of good wine and good steaks so of course we had to indulge ourselves. We arrived in Mendoza after a long journey across what could be easily mistaken for Soviet landscape. I couldn't help but expect 007 to appear at any moment in the bleak, snow filled scenery. Not all was bad though and during our journey we met an Australian who we were to spend the next two nights having a lot of fun with.



The three of us decided to seek out the legendary Mr.Hugo bike wine tours so the next day (after spending about an hour trying to find where to get the bus from) we were on our way and excited about the prospect of drinking wine on bikes. Mr.Hugo and what I can only presume to be his wife met us with a warm reception of smiles and our first glass of locally made wine. We were given a map of six local wineries and a chocolate factory, easy we though, should only take a couple of hours max. So off we hopped on our bikes cocky and confident. Ten minutes later we concluded that we perhaps weren't as fit as we thought and were pleased when a police man pointed us in the direction of the closest winery.

Turns out this was not only going to the start of our wine tour but also the end. We never made it any further. This wasn't a bad thing though. The staff were so friendly, the outdoor scenery so enjoyable, the weather good and the wine tasty so we just kind of got stuck there getting slowly drunker. It soon became time to head off back to Mr.Hugo's to return our bikes and after a few glasses of wine it's amazing how much easier riding a bike seems!



Mr.Hugo greeted us back with a big smile and more free wine and there we stayed supping in to the late hours of the evening. I won't go in to too many details about what we all did after Mr.Hugo's, suffice to say we don't remember what time we went to bed and Ryan blocked the hostel sink.



MR.HUGO ROCKS!

Valparaíso, Chile.

Valparaíso is a coastal city of Chile, a mere forty five minute bus journey away from Ritoque or two hour bus journey from Santiago. Over the past few years the Valparaíso tourism has boomed with people flocking from all over the world to see this unqiue city which was recently declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2003. Many people however turn there nose up at Valparaíso, calling it a dirty, ugly and a poor city. I guess that just depends on what your definition of ugly is.



There is no denying that Valparaíso isn't going to win any awards for cleanliness. The stench of urine is never far away and a lot the city centre buildings are crumbling and in due of a lick of paint. This is not due to laziness and probably has more to do with the fact that Valparaíso is one of Chile's poorest cities. The hundreds of colourful shanty town houses that fill the hills of this city and overlook the centre create a mixed bag of feelings. These very houses are the reason tourists come to Valparaíso and rightly so, they are utterly breathtaking. But as I wandered up the steep hills and through the zig zags of streets that lead us up to these houses it I couldn't help but feel sadness, inspiration and guilt. These houses are literally falling to pieces and yet the owners insure to keep on painting each and every one which entirely changes the aesthetic of this area. Whether this is for our benefit or their own I am not sure. I can only hope it is for their own pride and satisfaction as I am entirely convinced that no trickle down from tourism occurs up here in these hills. Which is a great shame.



We didn't spend long in this city, but long enough to wander around and see all the different areas and architecture. Valparaíso may not be conventionally pretty but if you're willing to open up your mind, look beyond the grime and recognise a different understanding of beauty then I truely believe it is impossible for anybody to label this wonderful city ugly.

Ritoque, Chile.

Ritoque stole our hearts. This small community of houses clings on to the Playa Ritoque bay which contains a beautiful secret beach which many locals from the nearby town ignore due to it's out of reach destination. Out of reach is perhaps an exaggeration considering this amazing little world lies only a ten/fifteen minute car ride out of Quintero, the nearest town to Ritoque. But to Quintero locals this is too far, which is just fine by me!

Ritoque couldn't be described as a village as there are not many people who live here. A lot of the houses are beach houses of the rich from Santiagio who only come during the summer. You feel immediately welcomed by those locals who do stay the year here though and who are more than willing to have a chat and tell you all about their hometown. Although there are no shops in this little community there are two restaurants, one is oversized and ugly and ran by an outsider who only cares about making money and is generally avoided at all costs. The other is an awesome little seafood bar that sits right on the beach selling the freshest food and offering the best views of the beach. When you look around and see how close all the houses and bars are to the beach (all within around 15 meters max) it is amazing to think that none were destroyed during the tsunami which hit earlier this year. Angie our hostel owner told us it is because the sea took it's natural path which was luckily down the road and towards Quintero, leaving all of the other houses, even those right on the beach, untouched.



The hostel we stayed at is probably one of the nicest places we will ever stay. Ran by German born Angie and her Chilean pro surf boyfriend Morris, Ritoque Raices is an off the beaten track hostel but a haven. Built a mere 10 meters from the beach we awoke every morning to see and hear the sea crashing on the shore, a pretty nice way to wake up. We spent our days chilling in the sun at the bar, playing on the beach with Angie's adopted street pup Took Took or taking surf lessons with Morris. At night we would all huddle around the Bosca for heat and exchange stories in english, spanish and german once Nicky from Germany arrived the day after us.



A highlight of our stay was the asada chileno Angie and Morris put on for us. This is the Chilean way to BBQ and man is it cool! We all hopped in to Angies sweet VW van and headed to the butchers where Morris bought over 2kg of the biggest slabs of steak we have ever seen! Once back at the hostel Morris built a coal fire and cut the slabs of meat in to smaller parts that got thrown on the BBQ. Once ready he would cut in to slices and pass around the group until everybody had a slice, chuck another slab of meat on the BBQ and repeat the process. We were all stuffed after this and Angies amazing avocado dip and retreated in to the living room to drink Piscola and Cervezas. It was probably one of the best BBQ's we have ever been to and definitely a style we shall be adopting in the future.



When it came to leaving Ritoque we both felt sad. It was easy to see how Angie had come to travel South America and ended up never getting further than Ritoque two years later. We have vowed that we will return as to never see this place again would be a great shame. A true hidden gem of Chile, and for me a defining moment of falling in love with this country.

Pucón, Chile.

Pucon is the definition of sleepy. This little town (they call it a city, but it's the smallest city I've ever seen) chills at the bottom of Villarrica volcano which is not only one of the ten most active volcanoes in the world but also currently the most active in Chile. You can see the snowy triangle puffing happily away from almost everywhere in the town and its presence seems more a thing of beauty than a threat. Bright white against the stark blue sky during the day and glowing pink during sunset, it's hard to imagine this towering town icon hurting a fly. The daily volcano warning sirens that get tested every morning at 11:30am are , however, a sharp reminder that this smoking triangle is to be taken seriously.

This very same volcano, that claimed scores of lives in it's eruption of 71 was in fact the only reason we had decided to venture to Pucon. It had been our dream for months now to hike up, peer in and ride down this living legend. Our dreams however were not to be fulfilled, well not this time anyway.

It would seem that our bad luck was to continue in the form of bad weather conditions. The night we arrived in Pucon was one of the windiest nights I have ever witnessed, and we're from Scotland so that's saying something. As we lay tucked up in our bed I was sure that the brittle tin roof of our hostel was going to be ripped off, thankfully it stay put. The high winds sadly continued for 2 whole days, and as we peered up at Villarrica each morning it broke our heart to see all the good snow (polvo) getting blown right off.



In an attempt to distract ourselves we decided to spend some time exploring what else Pucon had to offer us. Turns out that wasn't much. Because we were there during 'off season' anything slightly exciting wasn't an option so we decided to visit the Termas Los Pozones which are natural hot springs. That kept us amused for one day and I even saw a young man with two bellybuttons, probably the highlight of my trip to Pucon. Once you've done the hot springs there's not much else to do apart from walk around the lake or go hillwalking, you already know our thoughts on that one. Now I know what some of you are thinking; “well why didn't you just go to the pub and drink your time away?”. After much hunting we discovered that pubs either don't exist or are very well hidden in Pucon. Restaurants? Check. Street vendors? Check. Dodgy local eateries with painted food (usually a hot dog or burger) on the front? Check. Pubs? Not a sausage. Although quite upsetting at the time we have come to the decision that this unusual lack of pubs was probably a good thing (?) and no doubt saved us A LOT of cash.



On our third day of doing not much our hostel tour guide who, for some reason thought I was fluent in Spanish, caught me off guard and tried to convince me to join his group to hike the volcano the next day. Thankfully unlike him it would seem, we had checked the weather forecast and had seen that high winds were to continue, so politely declined his kind offer to take our money. Nice try though mate.

Four whole, windy, days went past and despair started to kick in. On the fifth day the winds finally stopped but left nothing behind on Villarrica but sheet ice, which we didn't really fancy conquering. We accepted defeat, mainly due to the fact that we were extremely bored and didn't want to even contemplate spending another three days in this town twiddling our thumbs, waiting for fresh snow and walking around that bloody lake. A hasty decision was made to escape to Santiago where the thought of civilisation and, more importantly, pubs excited us greatly.

You win this time Pucon but don't you worry, we'll be back in a few weeks. You shall be slayed.
Hasta mananas, keep on puffin!

Bariloche, Argentina.

Bariloche is a town which lives at the foot of the the Andes and is surrounded by these beautiful mountains for as far as the eye can see. It doesn't matter what direction you look in, if you look up even for just a moment you will get sucked in to staring at the jagged white peaks that stare down at you. The town is also surrounded by lakes (Nahuel Huapi, Gutiérrez Lake, Moreno Lake and Mascardi Lake) which create an awesome contrast, reflecting the towering mountains which surround them.



People come from all over the world to exploit Bariloches beautiful landscape which will not fail to please if you enjoy hiking and snowboarding. As you know we're not much into hiking and the extent of this for us was hiking our way to and from the local pub. We had planned on making the most of the local resort Cerro Catedral which lay a mere 20 minutes from our hostel but bad luck struck us down in the form of our board bag not arriving. We did get a couple days up the hill though thanks to the local hire gear (1990s eat your heart out) and had some of the sweetest lines we have ever experienced. The Andes are awesome and if you ever get the chance to shred these mountains then grab it hard with both hands. You will however need a swollen wallet as the prices here are not for the poor. We again had the bad luck of arriving just in time for peak season where the lift pass jumped up to a impressive £38. This isn't actually that much in comparison to France etc. and the mountain is just as worthy but when you put in context of Argentina it is A LOT.



Speaking of bad luck I forgot to mention how we started our time in Bariloche. We arrived in the late afternoon in the pouring rain to try and find our studio apartment, our only instruction of where it might be being to get off the bus at kilometer 23.4. This might sound odd but the whole of Bariloche outside the main town is basically determined by one main road which runs through it. For example a local would tell you where they live by saying km 6 rather than an area or street name. So we hopped off the bus at km 23.4 tired and weighed down with our bags and couldn't find our studio for a good 30 mins during which time we almost got mauled by one of the many local dogs which roamed around like herds of angry sheep. This was our first experience of the local dogs, which were EVERYWHERE but at km 23.4 they were in packs. Territorial, angry packs which scared the living crap out of us. We decided after a couple sleepless nights of being too scared to leave the door in fear of catching rabies that enough was enough and so we moved in to town, where there are still dogs but they were pussycats in comparison.



Although we had some bad luck in Bariloche we also had some good luck. One example being Hostel Pudu. This irish owned hostel is just awesome and we couldn't have asked for a better place to live during our stay. We met a whole crew of really nice people from all over the world and we couldn't recommend it any more if we tried, if you go to Bariloche, you have to stay here.
We also had the great luck of meeting Maria our spanish teacher who couldn't have made us feel more welcomed to Bariloche, helping us experience the local way through sight, taste and stories. Maria is a legend and we are stoked to have met her.

The bus out of Bariloche towards Chile offered yet more immense scenery and as we rolled out through customs and in to Chile we were met with deep, fresh snow that transformed in to green mountainscapes and flowing rivers. We were on our way to Pucon, the sleepy town in the south of Chile that sits at the foot of Villarrica, Chile's most active volcano.

Iguazu Falls, Argentina.

We arrived in Puerto Iguazu after a 16hr bus journey from Buenos Aires. This may sound like a long time to spend on a bus but man do the Argentinians have bus travel nailed!! The seats are super comfy, like loungers that recline right back and you get a fleece blanket and pillow to keep you toasty. During the journey you also get a snack and a warm meal with drinks, if only the megabus was this good!! Our bus got in to Puerto Iguazu at 6:30am which meant we could check out the Iguazu Falls on the day of our arrival which gave us an extra day to play with, our in our case lounge in the sun drinking beer.

Before I go on about the falls there are a couple of things I would like to point out about Argentina. First of all when converting some money at the airport we realised that Scottish tender is worth around 7% less than English tender, enough said on that one. Secondly we have discovered that Argentinians LOVE bread, ham and cheese. This is pretty much 90% of what is available to eat here on our budget and it gets dull fast. We are pleased to have discovered empanadas which are basically wee cornish pasties filled with usually either chicken, beef or, you guessed it, ham and cheese. Not exactly a healthy diet but it tastes good. Lastly Argentina is CHEAP and when I say CHEAP I mean CHEAP! Beer is around 60p for 350ml, a quid for a liter and a lunch of 6 empanadas is 15 pesos which works out at around £2/£3. This is a welcome change from Rio which was much more expensive!

Ok enough about empanadas and back to the falls.The Iguazu Falls are waterfalls of the Iguazu River located on the border of the Brazilian state of Paraná and the Argentine province of Misiones. Legend has it that a god planned to marry a beautiful aborigine named Naipí, who fled with her mortal lover Tarobá in a canoe. In rage, the god sliced the river creating the waterfalls, condemning the lovers to an eternal fall. Anger issues there god.




We only saw the falls from the Argentinian side (two thirds of the falls are within Argentine territory) as we heard they were much more impressive and man were they impressive!!!! After arriving at the entrance of the park you get a wee open train that takes you to a central station where you can follow different routes to view the falls. We headed for the upper view of the falls first which entailed a trek through the rainforest where the route opens up to reveal an abundance of powerful and breathtaking waterfalls that fills your line of vision for as far as you can see. You can hear the falls before you see them, a loud rumbling that gets louder and louder until you feel the spray of the mist and finally see the beasts themselves ripping through the mountain scenery. Words can't describe how powerful these falls are and as we stood there we wondered how many unlucky souls had the misfortune of falling in to the river which gets sucked over the cliffs and luscious green vegitation before tumbling down in to the white, rainbow filled cloud below.

The Devils Throat, Iguazu Falls from Katie Guthrie on Vimeo.

The strongest of the falls was 'The Devils Throat' or Garganta del Diablo which is a U-shaped, 82-meter-high, 150-meter-wide and 700-meter-long cataract which marks the border between Argentina and Brazil. You could hear this bad boy from around 5 minutes away and when we finally reached it we were just utterly gobsmacked at the strength of it. If the legend of how Iguazu Falls was created is correct, the Devils Throat is an accurate example of just how pissed off god was.



After seeing the falls we decided to spend a day doing the Macuco Trail which is a short trek through the rainforest which leads you to a waterfall that has a pool below that you can swim in. It's a really nice walk and the entire time you are being bombarded by hundreds of different, brightly marked butterflies. Iguazu is like the west coast of Scotland in summer time but instead of swarms of midgies it has swarms of butterflies, I have never seen anything like it! The pool and waterfall were a refreshing treat after the hot trek and we spent an hour or so basking in the sun and water which was deceptively cold despite the 26 degrees air temperature. We luckily got changed to leave at the right time as we spotted a sneaky possum waiting to steal what he could.

Having come to the end of our stay in Puerto Iguazu we feel refreshed and relaxed. The town seems to depend heavily on the falls with not much else to do or see. But we've enjoyed our stay here and lucked out with a really nice hostel (despite the rude english and american people staying here at the same time) and even met an Aberdonian sitting outside our room one night. The falls were breathtaking and we're definitely stoked to have seen them and even swam under one.

Back off to Buenos Aires before we fly to Bariloche to start our winter season, we can't bloody wait!

Rio de Janeiro.

As we came in to land my first impression of Rio was a black blanket of mountains defined only by a dusting of millions of tiny, sparking lights. This is when it dawned on me just how many buildings are crammed in to this legendary city.
Rio De Janeiro is 1182.3 square kilometres (over 11% is green space) and has a population of roughly 10 million people which is pretty crazy! But this is perhaps what Rio has become recognised for, its crammed in shanty towns making it famous through films like City of God.



The next day we wandered down to Copocabana Beach, where we watched the Brazil vs. Portugal game and chilled with 200,000 other Brazilians. This is when I learned that Brazilians love dancing, love yellow and love noise. It didn't matter that the game was pretty crap, everybody had a day off work, it was 27 degrees and it was time to party. Their energy was infectious and soon had us grinning ear to ear as we wandered back down the beach taking in everything happening around us.





Over the next couple days we swallowed up all the great sights of Rio including Sugar Loaf Mountain and Christ, which had the most breathtaking views of this awesome city. One of my favourite sights however had to be the tiled stairs of Lapa which is a normal staircase that a local artist took upon himself to spend 20 years covering in colourful tiles from all over the world.



Before arriving in Rio we heard many scare stories about how violent and dangerous a city it was, and ok yeah it does have a higher crime rate than Aberdeen. But apart from the occasional gunshots and the polite offer of some weed or coke from some grinning dude on the beach, Rio is just like any other city in the world. If you keep your wits and don't go looking for trouble you probably won't find it. The people here were friendlier than any other country I've ever been too and greeted our awful Portuguese with nothing but smiles.

I felt sad when it came to leaving Rio and felt like we had only just scratched the surface of what this amazing city had to offer us. When I look back on it now the only word I can think that would describe it is Juxtaposition. It is sweet and sour, green and grey, rich and poor, pristine and shabby, but unlike any other city in the world there is no attempt to hide it's less desirable features. I haven't figured out if this is a good thing or not yet but what I do know is that anybody who comes here will fall in love with it's luscious green mountains, vibrant streets and of course the people.

Obrigado Rio, it's been a blast!

Our Itinerary.

Many months and sleepless nights were spent creating an accurate route that we would be able to follow with ease.