We were picked up from our hotel at the crack of dawn by Bismark - our driver/chef/guide/entertainer who then went to pick up the other six people that filled our Defender 110 (a newer version of my. now sold, Land-Rover). We were the 'English' group. 2 Brits, 2 from the USA, 1 New Zealander (who lives in Lavender Hill in London-town) and three Brazillians.
We were then taken across a pass that goes North-South over the Andes (the only one) and stopped at a pretty place.
P and T in front of picturesque lakes
Apparently, the English are Pirates. To be fair - it does seem that we played that role around the Latin Americas quite alot in olden times. However, I somehow doubt that it refers to Henry Morgan.
The English are pirates
We then went down into the valley, to a hotel that - we were informed - had the last toilets that we would see that day. And they sold coffee. We did both.
A picturesque lake
We then 4x4'd along very muddy tracks and along the shore (and sometimes in the edge) of a pretty lake. Our driver got out at one point and left the L-R steering itself in the deep ruts. It was probably more impressive for the less mechanically minded, as the car went left and right for a few hundred yards - apprently by itself whilst the drivers (we had 2 L-Rs in convoy) pretented to push from behind with their little fingers.
Our Land-Rover
We walked along the lakeside for 30 mins whilst they prepared our food (the best steak we have had so far) and we were treated to the sight of three foxes (who, presumably know that they get fed once a day.)
After returning to town, we ate in a nice bar where they were promoting Chandon 187 (a 1/4 bottle of fizz). Our demonstrably nutty waiter stated that Bismark was the maddest man he had ever met. I had burnt a CD of Hitch Hiker's Guide mp3 files for him - he had a penchant for quoting films and HHGTTG was one of his favourites. (No, that lot doesn't make sense - never mind).
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