hospitality. Absorbing the tastes, smells and rhythms of our New World we are slowly being seduced. Santiago has loosened our clothing, teased our tongues, and wet our lips.

South to Los Angeles. The train rumbles on in romanticism long since lost in England. With our fellow travellers we talk of our lives, share photographs of family, and laugh at the worries of Western life. 

Wave after wave crash over the side of the dinghy. The oars seem powerless against the overwhelming forces. Rocks the size of bungalows and gaps that barely merit the title need to be negotiated. Rafting the Biblio has been heightened by an effect called Nino. This warm offshore current has brought with it increased precipitation, now translated into white water. Somehow we survive, entering an afterlife of bumped and bloodied elbows, wobbly knees, and wet torsos. Post adrenalin rush I'm glowing. For the first few minutes most of us are silent, absorbing the moment.

Next it's Parque Nacional Laguna Del Laja. The centre piece lake was formed when Volcano Antico erupted and Lava blocked the Rio Laja. We head south to the Sierra Vellada and encounter impressive hanging glaciers and volcanic forms.  Many birds are seen, most of which, to our shame, we are unable to identify. The condor we can. It's sheer grace, size,

31st Jan - 1st March '98

Travelling West. The Sun lingers for one last moment. My eyes scan the clouds below, the shadows, and the forms, graduations of colour. As the light fades the world is once more reduced to the confines of the plane. A familiar environment, after 8 months of weekly commuting to Ireland. Work has ground me down, subdued, and enslaved me. This time the flight is the beginning of my therapy. The destination is Chile.

Santiago, the capital, has over 4 million inhabitants. Each one, its seems, wishes to invite us to stay with them. We are flight weary, disorientated, and hoping our baggage will make an appearance. Eventually they turn up, and after fighting off 3ft dwarf porters, we carry them through customs, acquiring our travel documents (permits) at the same time; a process far easier than doom merchants back home had led us to believe. Having caught a bus into the city, and found accommodation, nothing more happens for 3 hours. We sleep!

Having rested a while we begin our tour. With only half a day available we devote a few hours to just getting orientated and chilling out. A visit to the Museo de Santiago in Casa Colorado forms part of this tour. Here spread before us is the capitals history; documented in maps, dioramas, paintings and mock-ups of the colonial dress. History, never a favourite at school, now fascinates me. Travel does this. By 2am we find ourselves in a "lively" nightclub where everything that is sinful is freely and frequently offered to us. Some propositions are more direct than others are.

Early the next day we take the Funicular and then the 2000m Telefirico up to Pedro Da Valdivia, overlooking the sprawling city. From here we plan our time, before starting our adventures for real. It is also a time of realisation, as until these early moments, the trip can but remain a dream. The next two days are spent in a hedonistic haze of

and movement as it soars the thermals, stopping us dead in our tracks. 

After 4 days or so it's time to head on to Temuco and thence onto Parque Nacional Villarrica.  The centre piece Volcano at  9400ft is our target.  Still active (although it hasn't erupted since 1971)  and smouldering, there is potential for some exciting times.  Together with 4 others we hire a guide and equipment in Pucon. Floundering through unconsolidated snow, we make the smouldering summit and

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