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(FILE 30 is new from Chile, then it’s W34, W35, W36, and W37)..bit of a back log due to camera issues.

Okay so firstly all is good and no more break ins so far. Right, which movie is this from? ‘BAAAA BAAAA Suuussshhhhhhh!’? It’s The Silence Of The Lambs ha ha ha, and that leads me neatly onto the fact that sheep in this country out number humans just shy of 8-1. Now that really becomes obvious as you travel around, I mean there are sheep just about everywhere. You know that scene in Wallace & Grommit, where there are sheep in the sofa, the TV, the fridge well it’s just like that, even serving in chops, sorry, shops. So far in just under 3 weeks we have covered a staggering 3100kms and as you will see from the photos the scenery is really quite stunning. To be quite honest, it’s like pulling into a BP service station and buying 12 of those tress air fresheners and then jamming them up each nostril. The smells are; Apple blossom, Peach, Pine, Sea Fresh, Sheep, Fresh Cut Grass, Water, Fresh Mountain stream - You get the picture. The thing that gets me is that around every corner there holds a new surprise or view. Try that in the UK and you are lucky to find a Chav spray painting a stolen Ford Cortina or a 12 year old holding up a Granny with a flick knife whilst his 8 year old Muslim mate videos it to put on youtube.com. I guess what I am trying to say is that it’s stunning here, completely stunning.

‘Jesus Christ did someone just stand on a Duck?’ said the Police Officer from the Sniffer Dog Section inside a Rhododendron bush at 4.25am. ‘Err, sorry, that was me’ I said. ‘Bloody Heck Mate, think of the dog will you?’ Okay so to end the quite sickening events that effected us last week, we’ve moved on and would you believe this, the very next campsite we went to, some 140kms away got hit the night before we arrived. So at night our truck now resembles Fort Knox and has signs in the windows saying ‘NO MONEY LEFT IN THIS TRUCK’. Trust me when I say that a Balaclava wearing thief inside your tent at 4am is enough to test even the strongest and thickest pair of underpants.

So, as I said, we are okay and have moved on. We had to be finger printed at the local Cop shop which as you can image caused a few fun and games, and what I believe was actually quite a genuine threat from a Sergeant  of, ‘If you don’t stop f*****g around I’ll nick you myself now put your fingers on the paper and not on my new book’. But thanks to all the people that mailed asking us if we were okay.

I must show you these as this was so funny. We were on top of the mountain range where they filmed part of Lord of The Rings, as I said in the last story. Well there was this sort of ice bear hole in the snow, so of course guess who climbs up into it as Blondie takes a photo. ‘Pose for me babe’ she yells, and as I did, this happened.

And yes, for the eagle eyed amongst you, that is a solid 3 million year old lump of solid rock that I ever so gently slivered into face first using only a £350 pair of Oakleys for protection. As for Blondie, well it took almost an hour for her to stop wetting her pants at me! Nice.

Good news on the camera front. I have been experiencing massive problems with all my Canon kit but I am glad to report it all seems to have been fixed by the wonderful people at Canon NZ. (thanks Gary & Jessica). So there are quite a few images in the latest batch of photos. I’m also happy to report that the shoot for the Wave Contest has made a small but nonetheless wonderful donation to The Children’s Cancer Charity here in NZ so I feel a bit chuffed about that. If anyone has £10 or even £1 spare email me and I’ll give you the details on how to make a donation on-line.

Now here’s a funny one. New Zealand News. Now this is quite something to behold. Now it’s time for a bit of ‘audience participation’ here, so all join in. Now, in your best Kiwi accent I want you to say the word, ‘BRUCE’……..good attempt but that was Aussie, now go a bit deeper, and try not to sound like it’s a question, but a hard guttural statement,……… ‘BRUCE’. That’s better. Now say it in as deep ,growly and gravelly voice as you can, and image you have a sheep under one arm that you are shearing and a bucket of Tui beer in the other……okay, so now that’s just how the women talk. Seriously though, this brings me onto the News. Okay so this is real, this actually happened. This came out of the radio the day of the Indian Bombings. (Remember deep voices and sheeps okay) ‘We now go over to our reporter live in India who was there when all this happened, Kevin are you there?

‘BRUCE??? BRUCE??’ came the booming reply over the air. ‘Yeah mate I’m here mate’ ‘I can tell you that bang was loud and they are shooting people, but not as loud as when New Zealand won the Rugby, yeah that was a game alright, did you see the game Bruce? What a game eh?’………and then they just start chatting about the Rugby in the middle of the news. Funny as.

Oh another funny here is that unlike the chavy UK population who start every sentence with, ‘No but, Yeah but, No but’ or finish every other sentence with ‘Like’, well in NZ it’s so funny because most people pause at the end of a sentence and almost like a new Policeman on his first day in the job forgetting to say ‘OVER’, they seem to then add ‘Ayyyye’ as an after thought, but it is almost impolite to speak until they have said this. It’s almost like they say it when it’s your time to speak again. It’s like a drawn out ‘Hay’ but without the H. Even the Politicians do it and add to that the fact that November in NZ is Cancer Charity month and everyone grows Hombres moustaches it looks like a huge YMCA convention everywhere. Seriously, everyone looks like they have a dead ferret stuck under their nose.

One thing about this country that we have been very much awoke by is the fact that when you live in the UK you know that you live on a planet and that in the middle it’s a bit hot and every now and then they make a film about going there in a big drilly space ship thing with Dennis Quaid or Tom Cruise saving the day. Well, when you come here it wakes you up. What I mean by that is the fact that, it makes you realise that you live on an actual living and breathing thing. It pulses, it cries, it bleeds, it gets angry, it can be fun, but through it all as Mr Williams once said, it really wakes you up to the fact that this planet is very much alive. We went to a place called THE CRATERS OF THE MOON (said in a loud booming voice). See the photos in file W36

Well it was incredible. Mud pools bubble as steam and smoke rise from the ground that has travelled thousand and thousands of metres from the earths core to ‘plop’ loudly next to you in the mud pool. Part of where we went to was where they filmed Walking With Dinosaurs and I fully understand why. You can truly see what it must have been like in the time of Pterodactyls and Diplodocus, not to mention good old Mr Triceratopses. Or my person favourite of the Dinosaurs, the Dinosaurs dog with no eyes, ‘Doyouthinkhesawusrex’, now that is funny. Anyhoo, look at the images as one or two of them have made it into my all time favourite photo collection.

A funny thing happened here the other night. We went to a Chinese restaurant and I said to the man on the door, ‘Do you serve Chicken?’ He said, ‘We serve anyone mate now come inside’. So I said, ‘Do you deliver?’ He said, ‘No sorry mate, only Chicken or Beef?’ But when we got inside they served us Chicken, I said to the waiter, ‘Excuse me mate but this chicken tastes rubbery’, he said, ‘Ahhhh fank you velly much’……..what can I say???!!!???

Oh yes and get this…..Jack Daniels and Coke in a can the size of a Stella can!!! 8.5% wahoooo for less than 80p a pop, there is a God after all. Two of those in the afternoon sun and you are rocking in your chair like an old granny hillbilly going down a bumpy road on a pogostick. One thing here as well that is quite funny, is that we get the p*** taken out of us. I mean properly. Kiwi’s do it for fun but they really mean it. I’ve been called Pommy before but never by someone who meant it. Well here they really rip into you and its hysterical because they have it down to a tea. ‘Bloody Pommy B*astards’ they like to yell, but I respond with, ‘I think I know you don’t I, aren’t you related to an old criminal grandfather of mine’, that normally shuts them up ha ha ha. 

The Maori culture is something that is very much here and there are lots of them, but it sort of makes you a bit, well, scared to talk to them. Firstly, they are huge, I mean massive, MA-HOO-SIVE and the women are bigger than the men, by quite a long way. It seems to the untrained eye, that as we, as normal people look at Mr Pitt, Mr Clooney or Miss Cole, or Miss Longoria we see something different. The Maori ’sassy gene’ seems to have suffered some bizarre Rick Moranes incident whereby the title would be ‘Honey I Inflated The Doris’. Seriously though and I mean no disrespect by this, they are massive, huge, even dare I say, Gargantuan. It’s like the bigger the better. Seriously, my 9 meter wave kite is smaller than some of the pairs of knickers I’ve seen on washing lines. Sweet Jemus and when they fart in a shop……ARMAGHEDDON.

As for the men, well most have a sort of dreadlock hair affair going on and my god are they hard. I saw a man slap a kid in the mall the other day that would have felled my without doubt and this 5 year old kid just stood there and looked back at him in defiance. They truly make even the hardest UK gypsy look like Andy Pandy wearing lipstick. Add to this the fact that their faces are covered in tattoos. Now for me, as a photographer the chance to get close and shoot an angry Maori face is something that I really want to do……so more on that front next time. It’s a photo that I have always wanted to capture and seeing as though I am not allowed to chase my dream job, a front line War Zone Photographer or of course any job working in a Bra fitting shop in Marks and Spencer, well I’m just going to have to get these images. But my problem is they must be real and not from some daft tourists show in a theme park, I want real, I want edge, I want to capture in an image the word ‘MAORI’, hopefully without getting the crap kicked out of me. Interestingly it isn’t pronounced Mou-er-ie, it is actually Mah-riie

I know that there are a lot of waterfalls in these photographs but it just seems that, when you are in South America it’s all about the ruins, well here, it’s all about the waterfalls. Having a 4×4 helps us get to see a lot more than most but in some cases I’m not entirely sure that the squirrel lovers and the ‘very rare bird’ watchers agree with our routes taken to bring you these pictures. A good case in point being this little number. But all was okay because judging by what they shouted at us the duck was off anyway!

And finally, let me tell you quickly about The Tui bird. This is a native bird here that’s kind of like a big black bird that has been stretched to 3 times in length. What makes it so funny is the noises it makes. You know when an old person buys a mobile phone and they then keep going through the ring tones stopping on each one for a split second, well ladies and gentlemen, meet the Tui bird. They have a habit of hanging around in pairs and beeping and sqweeking at you from trees. One really funny thing they do is to sound exactly like Microsoft switching off. ‘Do-do-da-da’ The other one is to do a Tweeky from Buck Rogers in the 21st Century (those of you under 25 Google it)……’Biddy Biddy Biddy, Okay Buck!’ Oh and non indigenous ‘The Ballsy Miner Bird’. These thing love to play chicken with cars and yes I have slammed on the anchors at least 4 times, and I swear they sit in the bushes laughing at you after you have driven off.

Right well that’s it for this episode. Be safe and from what I keep hearing from good old blighty, we are going the right thing by staying away until it’s all over. MFI going bust now that I can understand because I’ve fitted their ‘kitchens’ but Woolworth’s? For crying out loud No. They are a British institution. They are as British as Fish & Chips, as British as getting into the last round and then crashing out, as British as rain on the 2nd week of Wimbledon, as British a looking at your watch when someone asks you if you want a beer, as British as Mr Raj Mohammed Ikillalotawhitepeople Patel Smith (er, that’s probably just put me on a CIA watch list)….well if I wasn’t after what Mr Simon Plumms suggested I look at the other day on redtube.com then I will be now. Quite incredible how that young lady walked home, never mind ping-pong balls, personally I shall never look upon a game of Rugby 7’s again in the same light.  

More next time about my brand new Cabhrihna Switchblade 2008 10m wave kite for £500 and another spankingly new Liquid Force Assault 9m for £225, anyone want me to buy some kites and send them home?????

Bestest regards to you all and god forbid redundancy should be heading any of your ways, trust me when I say, that personally, and for 90% of the people we meet travelling who it has happened to, it is a bizarre experience but one that should be grabbed by the horns. Had it not have happened to me, I would not be here. Take the money and go live a bit.

Chris and Blondie xx

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(W31 and W32 are new and W30 will appear next time)

-As we left the gate and the A340 Airbus pushed back we thought that would be the last we would see of Chile for a while, only 10 minutes later we were back to dump off a rather green and vomiting passenger who decided only after honking up most of the last 3 days worth of food all over themselves that they were in fact incapable of flying. So, 45 minutes later we rumbled down the runway for what seemed like an age before we lurched skywards for what was possibly the slowest takeoff ever. As the computer in front of us informed us that we were touching a massive 200mph we wondered if there was a ’small problem’ as we were still at no more than 1500 foot off the ground, then suddenly, as if the Captain realised that he was trying to take off in 5th gear, he jammed it into 2nd gear and we roared off into the dark sky like a scalded cat dowsed in petrol with a fire cracker jammed up its arse.

Of course the flight was the usual joyous affair with Pedro the seat kicker sitting directly behind me who insisted on hoofing my seat every few minutes. Then sitting to my right side was a big, thick Aussie guy who whilst listening to ‘Mama Mia’ on the entertainment system insisted on tapping his plastic cup on the metal edge of his food tray in time to the music. Add to this the ugliest kid in the entire world who screamed at the top of its lungs like it was being force fed sulphuric acid for most of the 14 hour flight, it didn’t make for the greatest of flight. I must admit that my solution to this issue was less than favourable and earned me no end of digs in the ribs and ‘flat stares’ from The General. The only solution at hand, or rather, bottom, was to let one go to settle and even the scores. Yes I have to admit that there is a certain sense of satisfaction from, ‘trumping one off’, ‘dumping the main valve’ and ‘equalising the pressure’ to gain retribution using the ‘brown cloud of stink’. The immediate result of said action was the big Aussie guy turned green, the seat kicker directly behind me almost fainted and the small screaming child almost suffocated. And to add insult to injury, there was either a swarm of mosquitos or fleas on our seats as most of us in row 12 were itching and scratching and left the plane covered in little red bites. So we were scratching like a naked bear in a cheap acrylic wooly jumper by the time we arrived in Auckland, New Zealand.

Which brings me neatly onto one of the most scary and pant filling experiences we have undertaken of late. Namely, a brush with The Law and HER MAJESTYS CUSTOMER AND EXCISE of New Zealand. Now everywhere you look there are signs and videos telling you how ANY infringement of ANY of the laws of New Zealand carry an immediate $200 fine, a prison stay and/or immediate deportation. Knowing this, and also being told by everyone prior to arriving that they are ‘really harsh’ we went for the option of declaring everything that we had, like new tent and camping gear. We even went to the great length of emptying the salt, pepper and oregano from our cooking kit. All around there are these funny little Beagle sniffer dogs who are looking not for drugs but for fruit and meat. As Blondie was in the loo getting rid of the highly offensive and thoroughly illegal ’salt and pepper’ I was chatting to another British guy as one of these dogs came up and sniffed around our bags whilst clambering all over them. It then showed such an interest in his bags that it all but started dry humping his backpack. An immediate on the spot search ensued that produced a stupid looking dog with its tongue hanging out, and its handler efficiently emptying out the entire bag onto the floor to produce nothing more fruity than a dirty pair G strings from his missus. Then is got worse, much worse for us!

As we headed through Customs and into the X-Ray bays we put our bags on the little conveyer belt along with our paperwork and mooched through the machine to be greeted the other side by a bloke holding a tiny conker sized Satsuma Orange in one hand and piece of paper with someone else’s name on in the other, ‘Is this yours Sir?, he enquired. ‘Nope’ I said. He then picked up another piece of paper from underneath the desk, ‘Is this one your Sir?’ whilst still holding the small Orange thing in the other hand. ‘Nope’ I said again. Then he pushed away a backpack that was in front of him before grabbing Karen’s day sack and saying, ‘Is this yours Sir?’ ‘Nope’ I said, ‘but it is my partners’. ‘Right he said’ whilst stuffing the tiny golf ball sized fruit into the side pouch of Karen’s backpack. ‘This’ he said, pointing to the day sack, ‘was in here and you are in direct breach of New Zealand’s Customs and Excise Regulations which carries an on the spot $200 fine,£10,000 Court fine, or time in prison…….COME WITH ME NOW!!!!!!!’…………

PHHHHHHAAAAAARRRRRPPPPPPPP!………(another small brown cloud appeared)

At which point someone poured hot chocolate pudding all down the back of my shorts! We were then unceremoniously frog marched to ‘THE INFRINGEMENT DESK’ in front of all the queuing people, including, screaming child, seater kicker and Mr Fart Nostrils. Anyhoo, ‘Mr Fruit-Hater’s’ supervisor starts to read us the riot act in a very serious manner as if we had just eaten BBQ’ed Kiwi bird and called the entire All Blacks Rugby Team a bunch of Blouse Wearing Poodle Walkers. So, he starts demanding $200. I tell him to bugger off and that he must be joking. He assures me that he isn’t joking and that it’s a very serious matter. So, in the manner to which I was accustomed with Orange for 5 years, I slipped into Legal Beagle mode and thought, ‘No, I’m not taking this’. So tucking my thumbs into my rucksack straps in Old Rumpole Of The Bailey fashion I started on our legal defence. My opening line was quite a crowd stopper. ‘Right, I want a Lawyer right here, right now and I want your bosses here, Oh and I want to call the British Consulate in Wellington’…the somewhat dumbfounded supervisor went a few shades of pale, then red and settled on a wide eyed blank stare. I then decided that seeing as though neither Karen or I saw the guy take the thing out of the bag that we also wanted, ‘every surveillance tape since we got off the aircraft’. Then I came out with my personal favourite and the fine saving line, ‘If your bloody sniffer dog is so good how come it missed the bag, in actual fact, I demand to see your sniffer dog’s personal calibration certificate and how it scored on its last 3 tests’. The guy looked at me and just sighed and said, ‘You are serious aren’t you?’ ‘Yup I said’. So his boss grabbed the paperwork and drew a thick redline through the fine sheet and said, ‘You are free to go but no more bloody fruit oh and welcome to New Zealand, have a nice day’. So sweating more than a pig sweats on a hot summers day in a sheepskin coat we walked through the arrivals door and into Auckland, NZ an hour later than planned.

A short cab ride took us to The Hilton were I burned 90,000 rewards points in 2 night (CAT 6). The next day we headed in a taxi to a Ellersley Racecourse where they have a second hand car market. Our Indian taxi driver called Dennis was very helpful and incredibly friendly, so friendly in fact that he followed us into the car market. 20 minutes later Dennis wanders up to us and says he’s found us 3 types of cars and would we like to follow him. Essentially, Dennis helped us check over, bid, safety check and buy a stunning Toyota Hilux Surf 4×4 Truck. He was so kind he even drove us to a bank to get the money, AND get this, called us the next day at The Hilton to make sure that everything was okay, to offer advice on where to go and what to be careful of (Orange Sniffing Pooches). What a lovely chap and what a warm welcome to New Zealand. In actual fact, this is not uncommon, everywhere you go people are just so friendly. I’m not joking, even at the coffee store or the bank people are genuinely interested in how your day is going? Almost to the point that you feel a little, er hello, do I know you? But they just take that extra few seconds to stop and chat.

We headed North from Auckland in search of new pastures and also new kites. A place called Army Bay was just delightful and we slept in the back in the 4×4. It’s just big enough for my 6 foot frame to stretch out. Waking up in a picture postcard deserted bay with waves lapping at the seashore just feet away from our door was wonderful. In the morning a lovely chappie called Robert started chatting to us and even took us back to his house for coffee and a good rundown on where to go in NZ. Again, if someone did that in the UK you would think they were a psychopath or axe murder, or worse, a Jehovah Witness, but no, Robert was just a very interesting 74 year old retired school teacher amongst other things, and wow what a beautiful house he had. So we heard that there was a Kite Surf Competition 4 hours South and that we might be able to get kit, so off we headed, stopping at a place called Raglan where 2 weeks ago a pod of Orca’s (Killer Whales) swam up a narrow river where Stringrays breed to where the guys from Ozone Kites were testing their R&D kites and yes someone even got it on camera!

After a few hours of driving along the much travelled Surf Coast Highway through gorges and valley and on into open countryside we eventually found a wonderful and very friendly town nestled at the feet of a 250 year, ready-to-pop-at-any-moment snow capped Volcano called Taranaki Region. It’s beauty and awe inspiring breathlessness can only be matched by the warm and friendly locals who live in its shadows. After rocking up at kite beach and chatting to the locals I ended up with an almost brand new 2008 Cabrihna Crossbow 3 12m, and a Crossbow 2 9m for £600 total and get this, a 2008 North Rocketfish 6,0″ for cool £313…….dudes I’m so happy. Oh the kites suck compared to North Rhino’s but then at least I’m back on the water so I can’t complain and I got them super cheap and I can kite with Cameron at Christmas.

Oh and here’s a funny story, well actually, a bit strange in a few ways. Now I haven’t dreamed about my Mum ever since it all happened but the one thing that I always say is that I just wish I could have one of her magical hugs. Those of you that knew my Mum know exactly what I mean. Well, here’s the strange thing, suddenly and out of the blue for no apparent reason, I had 4 nights of dreams about nothing else but my mum being around and giving me hugs???? How strange is that?? And I can tell you that with all this stunning scenery around, it just makes it all the much better. BUT, those dreams have now passed and have been replaced by this little stunner. In my dream I am Tarzan and I am swinging through the jungle on the vines wearing a Cammo G-string that for some reason is on back to front (ewww) whilst being chased by flying Penguins who are all mad as hell about something but they are all carrying Kalashnikov AK 47 Assault Rifles under their flippers??? Anyone got any ideas???

We got to the Kite contest to discover that it was the first official New Zealand Kiteboarding Wave Nationals. Which, next year will more than likey be a KPWT Wave Masters event. There was one other Pro there and the organisor said that it was in aid of charity and The Childrens Cancer Trust. So I agreed to shoot for free and give all of my proceeds directly to his charity. Well it seemed only right. The standard of riding was a tad sketchy but by the second day they seemed to be riding the waves a bit better. I guess we have just been spoiled for choice what with Abel, Jaime, Jo and Youri and so on. There are a few of the better images in W32 file. We also met a great bloke called Les who is a Chef on super yachts. Massive big airs won the day.

Okay so we moved on again to Tongariro Region which interestingly enough is where a lot of The Lord Of The Rings was filmed. So, as I write this I am looking out the window at MOUNT DOOM! Yup, that’s right good old Orc Country, with The Dark Lord Sauron him very self looking down from Mordor and I can tell you he’s mightily miffed about something. Yes Ladies and Gentlemen, marvel at the wonder of The Orc Road and The Ithilien Camp, be shocked and amazed by Emyn Muil but stand in awe of The Door Of Sammanth Naur. Of course in reality it’s all crap as you hoon up a track going up the side of the volcano doing 80kmh in 4 wheel drive with a dust storm spewing out from the back of the truck to discover that there is, in actual fact, no huge, red, fiery eye staring down at you, rather a few peeved looking hikers wishing they had a 4×4 to do the 16kms back to the road as we speed passed covering them in dust.

Having a 4×4 means essentially that we don’t hike up mountains, we drive up. We don’t wade across streams, we drive across. We don’t climb tress, we drive up them and chase small fury things along branches until they leap off the end, and yes, you’ve guessed it, in our 4×4 we follow. Having a 4×4 makes you feel like a sort of Superhero, wrapped up in your cape. Big chunky tyres and a 3 litre turbo charged engine makes you feel like you could drive to the centre of the earth before lunch with a caramel latte sitting in the coffee cup holder whilst listening to you iPod as you crash over boulders, ruts and Orcs.

All joking apart though, we have been travelling now for two and a half years and we have seen some pretty incredible things but New Zealand is beating them all. It is kind of tough to balance up things like the beauty of Machu Picchu, the majesticness of a Hump Back Whale breaching off the coast of Ecuador or the silence as a Bolivian Desert Fox edges closer and closer to you to almost take food from your hand. It just seems that New Zealand edges ahead though. For example, we drove a road called ‘The Forgotten Highway’ a few days ago. Before we left the locals warned, ‘Make sure you have a full tank of gas and a spare can as well. Watch out for unexpected things to happen and be careful as the weather changes really fast up there’. So off we headed along the 147km highway that you need a 4×4 to drive along as it is a gravel road with sometimes just rocks where the road should be. A sign saying ‘NO FUEL FOR 180KM’  makes you gulp a little harder than is nice. But then the glorious weather changes are you come around a bend into thick sheets of rain, then back to glorious sun shine, then hail, then fog, then ice, then sun, and so it continues as you stop off to take photos of various waterfalls, sheep, valleys, and so on. As we rounded one incredible viewpoint we saw a huge bird of prey swooping the road and we assumed that is was carrion it was after but as we got closer we realised that it was in actual fact a Duck, a very much alive Duck, running for its life straight down the middle of the road, followed by 12 little duckling. Now interfering in nature is a dangerous thing as life needs to go on, so I obeyed the rule. I stuck my hazard lights on, blocked the road and proceeded to run down the road waving my arms at the bird of preying whilst trying to shepherd the 13 water birds back into a ditch. Job done, I jumped back into the truck and drove off feeling mightily pleased with myself only to see the bird of prey come screaming out of the trees and the duck waddle back into the road to fight and I hope win its battle against the bird. Hoe Hum, life goes on I guess.

Later on the same road another emergency crossed our path as a hedgehog was smack bang in the middle of the road. We weren’t sure if it was sunbathing or had been half run over but it was still very much alive. So, in true boy fashion I found a stick and poked it. I then managed to get it off the road before we drove off. Luckily about 30 cars a day use this road so it stood a good chance. Around a few more bends and there were a million escaped sheep in the road, and so it went on like that for most of the trip. Just think what it must be like to drive across the set of Lord Of The Rings and you get the general idea.

Okay so that’s it for another episode of Around The World with Karen and Chris. Oh one last thing before we go, now this was funny and you will understand when you see the photos. Okay, so we are high up on the ski fields looking down on the valleys and over to Mount Doom. Well there is just a little bit of snow left here and there, so, seeing as though there is no one around for miles in any direction, whoff, off come my clothes and armed with only my North Face boots and my rucksack I climb into the snowy ravine for some funny pictures. (Thank God I have a good zoom cos it was very cold, if you know what I mean! Like a small frightened squirrel, huh hum, suffice to say gathering in my nuts wouldn’t have taken long! Anyhoo, we find another bank of snow and up I climb to have Blondie take a picture. ‘Lay on the side and pose for me’ she yells at me and I duly oblige. Then disaster, I slip and go face first down a snowy and icy bank. Like a human toboggan I raced down the slope heading for the lava rocks! I end up in a crumpled heap at the bottom with Blondie in absolute hysterics and me with ice jammed up inside my trousers!

Okay, so a quick update and sadly not such good news. Firstly, we are okay but a bit unsettled. We were at a camp site in Lake Taupo and we were asleep in the tent next to the truck when 3 trucks got broken into and they nicked all our stuff. Thank God we found it a few metres away. So we left and moved to another campsite 100km away, but it got worse, much worse. On the morning of Sunday 23rd at 4am we were woken by the Japanese guy next to us screaming at the top of his lungs. Essentially, he woke up with a dude IN HIS TENT wearing a white ski mask. He gave chase but the guy ran off with his wallet and backpack. I ran out of our tent and then back in again to put some shorts on….then, cut a very long story short, 7 tents had been burned open with a heat cutting tool, some tents had THREE openings big enough to crawl through and everyone had stuff nicked but they left it all behind and just took cash. About $3000 was taken. Everyone’s car or truck was broken into, including ours, for the second time in 3 days! We lost nothing but the Scene Of Crimes guys who came out said we were very lucky. So what with my camera being broken and now us being scared, er, sh*tless to stay in a tent and leave out truck alone we’ll take a small break from these blogs.

Trust me when I say this, If you believe in God, or like me don’t, well anyway when he/she/it/they created New Zealand on the best day of his life using a palette of pastel colours, an icecream scoop, 20 gamibbion sheep, more green paint than B&Q, wild animals and a passion for incredible and breath taking scenery that humbles the viewer into a position whereby you realise that Pacha Mama (Mother Earth) is a fragile and delicate thing that needs looking after. New Zealand is just beautiful.

Cheers from us and back soon with more fun and hi-jinks later and with any luck, far less robberies and stories of being fingerprinted by the NZ feds.

Hugs

Chris and Blondie

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Well that’s it. We’ve done it. This is going to be a long story by the way but we have done so much and it’s a bit of a review. We’ve completed the first leg of our Round The World Tour and it has been incredible, beyond words in fact. Some statistics that surprised us and might entertain you.

Days in South America (84). Total amount of steps taken as recorded by our pedometer (434,221 steps - Karen wishes it be known that as she takes more steps than me and as she is smaller and has shorter legs that she has covered more steps!?) Total hours spent on busses = (212). Hours on trains = (5). Kilometres in 4×4 (507km). Rough amount of km’s (13,000kms or 8125 miles)  Hotels stays (40). Highest point (5895m). Lowest point (-4m). Highest point looked at (6985m). Highest Temperature (+38.5). Lowest Temperature (-10). Litres of IV fluids consumed by Chris (4). Doctors needed (2 + 1 Nurse). Almost Muggings (1). Pictures taken (1367) Bottles of water consumed (almost 450 litres). Private Airplanes (1) 20 km Horse Rides (2) Close encounters with mouse (1) Flamingo’s Eaten (1) Llama Legs munched on (1) Police Rescues in a 911 Emergency Truck (1) Bicycle Vineyard ride (2) Incredible Memories (1,000,000’s)

                                                           AND OF COURSE NOT FORGETTING

Okay so it has been an incredible journey so far and one that we have absolutely loved. It is actually surprisingly harder than we thought. A famous travel writer once wrote that there is a subtle difference between a tourist and a traveller, namely a tourist seeks fun and ease whereas a traveller goes off the beaten path and outside their comfort zone. Now I’m not sure where we fit as we are travelling a fairly well trodden route. But the constant feeling of needed to move on is something that they just don’t tell you about in travel books. The daily feeling of pack your backpack, unpack your backpack, get on a bus, get off a bus, go to a hotel, check the bed for bugs, make sure they have hot water, check they have WiFi, go and site see, find somewhere safe to eat, keep an eye on bugs and bags, plan the next destination and book a hostel for the next day, try to work out where you are on a map the size of a bank card, realising that coming from an island (England) that distance is something that we just don’t get (50 miles is a long drive), try 800 kms (500 miles) one day and then do the same again for the next 3 days, think about spending 35 hours on the same bus!! Speaking of buses, let me talk about toilets for a moment (excuse me if I offend anyone).

Now for those of you that have backpacked before this will cause a wry smile, but for those of you that haven’t believe it or not toilets and all issues surrounding the subject actually become number one on the list of issues facing a traveller. I’m not being crude here, it’s just that it becomes a way of life when you are travelling. Dignity is something that flies out of the cracked toilet window and drifts under the broken bathroom door. Let me explain why. Now there are always 2 sides to toilet people, those that run in, deliver, and run out, and then those that sit and ponder for a while with a newspaper at the ready. Well, travel teaches you that this is no longer a private nor a strictly personal matter. The standard topic of conversation with fellow travellers becomes ‘toilets’ rather than ’sites, sounds, cities or experiences’. I know this may sound strange but there is a whole different ethos here.

Firstly, it’s strictly ‘PAY-AS-YOU-POO’, and if you haven’t got the correct change then you get a very annoyed South American grunting at you as you hand over a $10 note waiting for $9.75 change as you shift uncomfortably from foot to foot blaming the dog or the Llama behind you for the belly retching reek that is assaulting both of your nasal passages. However, before they open the cage to let you into the ‘cubicle’ they seem to have to slow time down even more. Now forget dignity and privacy, whooosh straight out the window. Think about going back to school when all the cubicle sides are 3 foot high. Think of random people looking you right in the eye ‘at that critical moment’ as you huff and puff and struggle with the realisation that a high carbohydrate diet is possibly not the most fun that you have ever had. And whilst sitting on a broken toilet with no seat and where ‘flushing toilets’ are something that NASA boffin’s are working on. We are serious when we say, think about the toilet scene in Trainspotting and make it 10 times worse.

Oh and get this, solid wooden doors for toilets, nah that’s for weirdos. Its glass see through doors straight onto corridors with NO LOCKS for South Americans and if at best you do get wooden doors then they are either saloon style half doors or slatted. Now factor into this the lovely fact that most toilets are unisex and toilet paper goes into a dustbin next to you, so when you are staying in a place with the opposite sex, you then get them standing outside the cubicle door which is 100% off putting be it no matter which side of the door you are on. For me personally, ‘toilets’ and all issues surrounding either side of the subject have always been a personal affair, but trust me, hot toilet seats, freshly floating women produced bottom Otters are just something that I do not want to see or be involved with. Try as you might to avoid the ‘morning rush’ or even try going for a sub zero ‘Stealth 2am Mission’ forget it, there is always some Doris standing there as you prepare for the forthcoming Armageddon. (maximum recorded aborted sessions 4)

As for locks, forget it, and they are so clever that they place the toilet exactly 1.5 feet further than your legs will stretch to try and wedge the door shut to Poo-in-peace. Even Nadia Komennech (famous 80’s Russian Gymnast - for our younger readers) wouldn’t be able to get into the shapes that you need to get into to keep that door closed. Now remember that if you are a chick and a chick walks in, or if you are a dude and a dude walks in, it’s not really a problem…..but if you are a dude and a cute chick walks in and stares you right in the eye as you have your shorts around you ankles ‘at the point of no return grunting like a mountain gorilla and sweating like a polar bear in a sauna’ and when ‘cabin doors are to manual’ then it is a frankly shocking and horrible experience. AND finally, the toilet staff insist on asking you how many sheets of paper you want (standard issue seems to be 3???? WTF????)

Buses by the way only have ‘Number One’ toilets. They are adamant about this and public poo’ing humiliation is a way of life if you dare to attempt a ’stealth mission’, forget smoke alarms in airplane toilets, these guys know when you try to ‘drop a sly one’. If you want to go on a 15 hour bus ride, you put your hand up whilst a great deal of fuss is made as they try desperately to find a stretch of open desert where the highest amount of cover is found namely, a rock the size of an OXO cube or a tree the size of an Office Christmas Tree that sits on the receptionists desk between her lucky Gonk and coffee cup. Then try to ‘perform’ as 38 angry Mexicans/Peruvians/Chileans all stare at you from the waiting and revving bus, not to mention the bemused Llama or Alpaca who has wondered over to see what you are doing to its bed. Right enough about that…..I will need counselling to get over some of what I have seen, trust me!!

Back to the travels. As we sit and look back over what we have seen and achieved it is with an incredible sense of enjoyment and accomplishment. 84 days of constant travel is quite something. The memories flood the back of your eyes bringing images to your mind and you struggle to place all the sites with the names and mental pictures. I must admit that some merge into one another. From Mexico into Guatemala, through ancient ruins after stone statue to huge mountains and beautiful churches, then into the raw heat of the jungle and out again into the cold rain, back up into the mountains and through tight ravines, plunging to valley floors and climbing once again to crest rock laden deserts with sunsets and sunrises tugging at your memory as moon after moon looks down on you with sparkling ease.

Kilometre after kilometre stretches out passed your bus window as your mind relaxes to a state where you are actually able to think about things with a clear mind and have no distractions. Old memories return and life seems to flow past like a sparkling river. (I like that bit) Some things that have long lain dormant in the recesses of your mind slowly drift back to the present moment, are then reviewed, or just seem to beckon a final answer before drifting away once again as some sort of appeased ghost. The experience is quite warming as everyone has ‘things they need to think about’ but just never seem to get the clear-head-space enough to do so. Sometimes tears well up in your eyes and your shoulders judder a little as one or maybe two tears roll down your cheek as a painful memory stirs a deep emotion and you struggle to keep it in, mentally trying to get the great weight back onto the top of the mental dustbin lid to keep it all in. Then you laugh as you see a dog chasing a chicken as you sit watching from your bus seat speeding along the empty desert road and your mind drifts back to reality. (and the fact that you still have 11 hours to go before the next toilet stop).

Our plans to head further south and to catch the Navimag Ferry all the way down through the Chilean Forges to Tierra Del Fuego and the bottom of Chile and up again into Argentina have had to go on hold as we just simply ran out of time. Losing 8 days to illness just simply means that we do not have the time to risk the journey of 5000kms. Next time we will do it.

A question? Have you ever heard anyone say, ‘that was the best steak that I have ever had!’? Well if ever you hear this you must say ‘Was it in Argentina?’ If the answer is ‘No’ then it is the best steak they have ever had in Europe. Let me try and explain what ‘REAL STEAK’ is. Now having practically lived in The London Hilton Metropole for almost 5 years and having had a fully expensed Corporate Credit Card for most of those (5 year rule of Freedom Of Information Act -Sorry Nick Clements if this comes as a shock(My old Boss) but I have paid up to £60 ($95) for a single Steak! (oh and that missing 2500 miles on my mileage return for my car was when it was in France with me on a wakeboarding holiday) So £60 on steak in the past doesn’t even include a chip or floppy salad leaf in sight and I was thinking it was the best ever steak, but I was wrong, very wrong. If you think of 8oz, 10oz or even 12oz steaks that get served to you in the UK, well I am sorry but they are about as flavoursome as Gandhi’s flip-flops and compare in taste as to licking the crotch of a particularly hairy and very smelly goat.

Firstly, there’s the size, if it is smaller than a telephone directory in thickness and size before it gets cooked then it is for the children. Then there is the flavour, it just slides off the fork and melts in the mouth as you gently roll it between your teeth. The Chilean Petite Verdot wine or Argentinean Malbec you swallow adds to the already soft and tender flavours rolling around your mouth rather than being a bottle of Blue Nun that helps the chunk of dried minute steak scratch its way down your throat that has been served to you by some surly Chav (Government Housing Person) on work experience in the Microwave Technicians department of the local Brewers Fayre Pub. Oh and the best bit, it’s as thick as a plumber’s wrist, as bloody as a Tarrentino video and costs for 700gram T Bone no more than £4.50!!!

Anyhoo, as we have travelled constantly South our grasp of Spanish has slowly improved enough that we can now have a full conversation in Latin American Spanish, well actually that’s a lie. I communicate in fluent Spanish in my head with people who stare bemused and blankly back at me as Spanish words trot off my tongue. I have the accent that I learnt from a good friend Jo Ciastula which is a sort of guttural Spanish growl, proper El Gringo stuff. But still they just look at me, the words seem right and the sounds are impressive but the Chilean person just stares blankly back at me…..and then, this is the worst bit, they repeat exactly what you have just said whilst tutting at you and calling you a ‘Loco Gringo’. I know that I must learn better Spanish as a mark of respect to our dear friend Mauricio so that next time we meet we can speak to Eva and Javis in Spanish and actually chat to Jaime Herraiz and Eduardo Bellini in Spanish for once.

Oh and let me tell you about Pan-Pipe music. Now for most people this is something that can be heard drifting from local town centres as visiting Peruvians pipe out some fancy tunes outside Debenhams Department Store. Well, close your eyes and picture sitting in a dusty, dark, hut constructed from mud placed in a rectangular mould then heated to form a building block. Then bring together three families who build you a house in a day whilst drinking Piso Sours. Top the thing off with a straw roof or a metal corrugated rust filled sheet and you get the idea. Now add the smell of cooking Llama meat and freshly dispatched Guinea Pig with smells of root vegetables with the stank wafts of stale earth (by the way Classic Peruvian and Chilean mountain women like those in the photos that you have seen, ready for this, wipe their bottoms on their skirts) ewwwwy.

Where was I? Oh yes, pan pipes, well this isn’t a folklore thing, this is a way of life. From the smallest of youngsters right up to the oldest of men, everyone seems to have a set of pipes in their mouths. And another thing, there are many different types! My personal favourite are the really big ones, like tenner pipes. Most tunes involve speeding up half way through until the piper can hardly blow quick enough to hold the tune. The small guitar that sits high on the chest of the jolly and often tipsy larger brother is strummed with maximum effort and enthusiasm with care nor flourish to whether it is in tune of not. The job of drum thumping goes to the smallest of the family who can barely see over the top of the Llama skin beat box as he thumps away to the tune of Condor  Paso. Other tunes seem to be limited to The Beatles ‘Hey Jude’, Simon & Garfunkel’s ‘I’d Rather Be A Hammer Than A Nail’ and some whistlable tune by the renowned French chick Sealion Dijon about ‘Always Loving You’ or something like that. Probably the most haunting sound of all though comes from the Flute! This is essentially played like a Recorded rather than the classic James Gallway style. The eerrie sound drifts further than the pipes and is a hair-on-the-back-of-the-neck-stander-upper.

But on a serious note, if there can ever be one on these stories, to view a snowy mountain peak stretching its hands into the pastel blue sky at 6500m with sides plunging thousands of feet to a valley floor covered in creams, greys, blues, vivid yellows and a mixed feeling that you are a mere second in a trillion years of history that has remained unchanged as you stare at its enigmatic beauty with the gentle sounds of Pan Pipe music drifting into your ears with words that recall a story of a once lost child on the mountain searching for the God Of The Wind who became friends with a Condor that lead him to safety during a snow storm and protected him. Now the next time you stand outside Debenhams Department Store and you hear Pan Pipe Music, stop, close your eyes and think of a mountain, a Condor, and a lost boy, only then will you truly understand that it’s a musical history that is thousands and thousands of years old. So it’s going to be out with the Nora Jones and Jack Johnson CD’s and in with ‘It’s A Pan Pipe Christmas’ from now on. (Matt and Gill Gwynfryn-Evans you have been warned, no more ‘Girl From Iponia’ for you at our next party.)

Just a quicky on showers, namely ‘Showering Together!’ As previously reported Blondie took one hell of a nasty fall out of the shower landing in the kitchen a week or so ago that resulted in a huge bruise on her right side that went black, blue, purple and yellow in a mere few seconds. Well, showers are a really dangerous thing, particularly doing it together when standing in a bath(a shower bath is a very rare thing in SA). Here’s what happened a few days ago. On a quiet morning we were in the process of having a shower when suddenly Blondie slipped and shot out of the bath wrapping herself in the shower curtain. I grabbed for anything that I could which resulted in a handful of hair and the soft skin under her left arm (yup the really painful bit). Well it stopped her enough but not before she had rolled onto her back whacking the back of her neck on the basin unit! Tears ensued as I struggled to turn the shower off. When everything calmed down and we checked her over I turned and stood up to take the whole tap unit right up the Gary Glitter and across the small of my back causing me excruciating pain and a bright blue bruise in seconds! Then to add insult to injury as I turned the shower back on again, it shot freezing cold water down my back and over Karen (who was still sitting on the bath floor), then of course the scalding hot water seared my arse and her legs, so I’m stuck in front of the damn shower unable to move whilst Karen scrambles out of the piping hot shower. The result of a Saturday morning relaxing shower 1) Bruised Neck 1) Arm Bruise 1) Scalded Bottom Cheek 1) Black & Purple Bottom Cheek……not quite a Radox advert I can tell you..so be careful out there!!!

We decided to do what travellers call ‘Splurging’ which essentially involves checking into a nice place and spending more than you normally do to feel a bit special and relax for a bit. So we found a deserted beach town called La Serena (about 500kms North of Santiago) and got a taxi to the sea front. There were hotels and cabañas in abundance so we went to one with a whole load of houses in the ground surrounding a big swimming pool. £25 was the cost for a night so we stayed for 4 days and visited a local supermarket where we stacked up on wine and steaks. The place was deserted and for 4 days we didn’t see anyone else here. The houses were like the sort of all wood and glass affairs that you see on Neighbours (see the picture) and the sun shone for all of those days. We went for a 11,680 step walk along the sea front which only got us 3/4 of the way to the next town, funny thing was we got followed by a pooch most of the way who looked most upset when we got in a taxi and went back.

But I did give it a bottle of water and we left it fast asleep in a border full of sea campion. Another brief doggie story was at a bus station a few morning  ago, this black Labrador pooch puppy wanders up to me and just leans against my leg as we were waiting for the next bus. It was so cute that I went and got some breakfast ready for the 8 hour bus ride and I got it a pack of 6 hot dog sausages (which cost 3 times what I spent on my breakfast). It whaffed them all down and then had a massage from my Crocs for the next 20 minutes. As we got on the bus it sat at the bottom of the steps and just sat there until we pulled out and drove off before it trotted off around the corner. I miss my old dog Digby.

So another 8 hour bus took us to Santiago which, in short is horrible. Another bus took us up and over the Andes again and into Argentina and was possibly the most stunning road we have travelled on. We drove past the highest mountain in all of South America at some 6985m! It was breathtaking, but that could have been the altitude. I think if you want to fall in love with Argentina then this area is not the one to come to. The people just seem, not very nice. I must admit that it is quite hard as when you look at the people, some with huge scars on their faces and some with no limbs that you sadly cannot help but to remember that a mere few years ago Great Britain was at War with these people. I know that is a horrible thing to say but it is just that a lot of Argentinean’s that we have met seem to dislike Brit’s quite a lot. What a shame as the country is stunning.

We took a bus one day to the vineyards area and went to the infamous Senior Hugo’s bike shop and rented 4 mountain bikes with Jo, Inga and me and Blondie and boldly rode off into the wine region armed with a map and a bottle of water. Well the sun was high in the sky and as we rode the Andes snow capped mountains stretched up into the blue skies beyond the vines forming one of the most stunning bike rides that I have ever seen. After 10km or so we crunched into the gravel of our first vineyard and were rewarded with a Bodega (wine tasting). Now I already had the biggest of wine hangovers so to top up again we sampled some wine that ranged from LIDL specials to Gran Reserves. Malbec is the grape of choice here and I must say that it is really quite good. We sampled 5 different vineyards offerings as we ambled around the countryside drinking and cycling. The most surprising was an Oaked Chardonnay that tasted just like white chocolate with a real mouthful of vanilla that was more than drinkable. I was intent on trying a bottle of 1944 Syrah, but sadly the ‘Mastercard’ price put me off. The owner just looked at me, shook his head and said, ‘PRICELESS SIR’.

As we left our last vineyard we’d met a Texan chappie called Jay and as we rode along we realised that I had a flat tyre, we soldiered on until the type popped off the rim. Then incredibly the local Feds turned up and called us a Rescue 911 truck to take us back, sadly for the girls me and Jay got to ride in the truck as we cruised along behind the girls. Police Officers with guns strapped to their legs did not see the funny side in me trying to get a DWARF8 picture with the flag on the side of their truck. In the middle of all of this Inga tried to get back onto her bike and got it all wrong. She sort of bunny-hopped around a bit before crashing backwards into a ditch. We thought it was hysterical but the Feds didn’t.

Well I’d better finish off here. We shot back down into Chile and are now spending our last few days here chilling out in a small beach town before we fly to New Zealand on Thursday 6th November for 3 months. We’ve ’splurged’ and have booked into The Auckland Hilton for 3 nights. (Justin/William/VB - that’s a LEVEL 6 Hilton!!!!)

Okay so we hope you have enjoyed the stories and fun goings on from South America. We are sure that there will be more funnies from NZ. Once again, thank you all so much for all the emails that we get saying about just how much people enjoy the pics and the ‘adventures’.

In closing, as our friends The Maaske Family say, ‘The Further We Go - The Closer We Become’ and that is so true of me and my wonderful and beautiful Princess Karen. It is a tough place to be in life when your Mum dies so horribly suddenly and then to lose my job that I loved so much so soon after. Then good friends suddenly fell away that I thought would draw nearer, whilst others appeared and helped me who I did not expect, who have turned out to be solid, true and amazing people. There is not a day that goes by when we do not think a) how lucky we are b) how everyday is an incredible adventure but c) and probably most importantly, the fact that, and I read this in a book by a famous Rock Band drummer, but this makes total sense to me……bare with me! He said, ‘When I was young and was scared, tired or just couldn’t sleep my mother would put me in a buggy and take me outside, or take me out in the car and the motion would sooth me and I would soon relax until I was happy and fell asleep. It was as if the shear thought of moving was soothing and it became a way of life for me, part of me, part of my make up, part of what makes me, me! Now when ever I feel, scared, tired or just can’t sleep I go out for a ride on my motorbike. One day I went out and just didn’t go back until 8 months later, that way I felt closer to the missing person in my life.’

Well now that I have no Mum and the other half of me is Karen it seems that the best thing to do is exactly what this guy said, ‘Go outside, keep on travelling, keep experiencing life and feeling closer to your Mum everyday’. And that is why we are doing this Around The World Tour for the next year or so.

Memories are an incredible driving force that fill your head with electricity and make you what and who you are, share that with a loved one on an adventure of a lifetime and you have more than life, you have Love, and I am very lucky to have all of this and everyday it gets stronger and better. (I think I might get the mickey taken out of me for that line!)

Hugs to all

Chris and Blondie signing off from Chile, South America and hello new horizons in New Zealand (where I can kite again WOHOOOOOOOOOOOOO)

Special thanks to all of our sponsors for all of their continuing support and encouragement

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