Onboard the Navimag, Chilean Fiords.

The thin end of the American continent is something of a lost world. A glance at the map and we decided to follow in Darwin's wake and explore the waterways of the Chilean Fjords. Our ship for the four day sail: the MV Navimag.

At the bow of the cargo vessel us backpackers soaked up the views before retreating into the warmth of the mess to play cards with our friendly cabin-mates.

Our cruise may not have been luxurious but it was subsidised by more valuable freight. On the back deck, in even more cramped accommodation, three hundred or so cows were on a one-way voyage. 

The sea air was bracing but not quite so fresh.

The W Trek, Patagonia, Chile

Arriving at the very end of the season in torrential rain, our planned walk into the wilds did not look promising. The first day saw us walking into driving sleet toward our campsite, in the gloom by Glacier Grey.

We were committed. The forecast looked dubious but we were assured that in Patagonia we had what passes for a weather window.

Plummeting air pressure gave us thumping headaches but on we slogged. Somewhat miraculously, on the third day, the howling stopped. Our heads cleared and the views of the French Valley emerged.

The nights under canvas may still have been cold but the day temperatures rose to make heaving our packs feel like a walk in the park.

A park we had almost to ourselves, as we watched the sun rise on the Torres del Paine.

Montevideo, Uruguay

Montevideo is one laid back capital city. The most energetic activity for Uruguayans seems to be carrying their thermos flasks for mate. More than a herbal tea, a national obsession.


Historically a refuge for dissidents and bohemians, we loved its proudly arty atmosphere.

Colonia de Sacremento, Uruguay

To escape the city we took a catamaran across the muddy waters of the Rio Plata. Pleasantly gentrified, the tranquility of this old world town reminded us of how much we like silence. Even nature too. When it's not biting us.

Las Malvinas son Argentinas!

It's interesting to be a Brit in Buenos Aires at the moment. Thirty years on from the war and the rhetoric has been heating up. We may struggle to follow local broadsheet editorials but we do get the gist of the abundant graffiti.


Nationalism is easy politics. Our more sophisticated porteno friends may curse the name 'Cristina', but la presidenta knows that proud Argentinians have fierce feelings toward 'The Malvinas'. Meanwhile, we keep our heads down and notice inflation go up week by week.


Besides, if only for us, those windswept islands will always be about love...