I’ve visited the east coast of Spain every year for over ten years, ever since my parents were searching for their retirement home in the mid to late 90s. Whilst the Spanish have gone over the top with the number of new buildings, spoiling many parts of the Costa Blanca coastline, one natural beauty has remained unchanged: Montgó Massif. I’ve wanted to climb it every year, and this time I finally did it.

Autumn is fast approaching, but fortunately the weather is excellent, so there are plenty of opportunities to also explore some isolated beaches, eat at the many restaurants along the touristy Arenal, and take in the strong Spanish sun.

The actual trek up Montgó is relatively straightforward, but it contains plenty of variety, including a short 100m section of scrambling to get to the peak. Standing tall at only 753m, the mountain looks much higher due to its prominent location right next to the Mediterranean Sea. I call it ‘the elephant’ as its peak looks like the head of an elephant, and the steep drop to the sea seems like a perfect outline of its trunk. There’s even a big cave causing a shadow where the eye should be!

The sun is strong but a cloud hovers as Susanne and I reach the top, which slightly spoils the views. Nonetheless, it’s certainly a mountain that begs to be climbed again, so perhaps I won’t wait another 10 years for route number two!

It has been several years since I last ventured to the Lake District, and it was certainly a long time before I discovered an interest in climbing mountains. I also haven’t seen one of my school mates in a couple of years, so it seems like a perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

Despite my train being cancelled, I manage to make it to Darlington late on Friday night. Rob picks me up and we catch up over a late-night steak and beers. The plan was to drive west tomorrow and tackle Scafell Pike, England’s highest mountain. However, the weather forecast is horrendous so we decide to set up a camp halfway up, and hope that the weather is better on Sunday for the summit.

Saturday morning arrives and we head to Keswick, a climber’s paradise with dozens of mountaineering shops. It’s crammed with tourists and chucking down with rain but it still retains a quintessential English village feel. I eat a goulash soup (very English!) which sets me up for the rain-walk from Borrowdale.

The rain is immense, endlessly falling from the sky and drowning the trails and views. It doesn’t bode well, especially as I slip on a rock just five minutes into the trek and find myself sitting in a pool of water 30cm deep! The trail is more like a stream, and in places it takes some leaps of faith to avoid the flooded terrain. I barely touch my camera, and the views are nonexistent, but even so it’s an enjoyable walk and great to be out in the mountains again.

We reach Styhead Tarn, a pretty lake with some flat areas to setup camp. The rain is incessant, so it’s a quick rush to get the tent ready and take shelter. We cook some pasta in the tent, take a few swigs of whisky, and fall asleep.

A 05.30 alarm wakes me up and despite having slept well, it’s cold and I fear the worst about the weather outside. I unzip the tent and unbelievably, the clouds have shifted and it’s actually a beautiful day! The scenery is lit up by the rising sun and it’s exciting to see the surrounding mountains in all directions.

We pack up and head to the summit, passing a number of steep gullies that look wet and dangerous. Even the path we’re on is still slightly wet and it would have been risky to climb it in yesterday’s weather. There are a few other walkers at the summit, but fortunately they leave quickly as they’re attempting the Three Peaks challenge. It means we have the summit to ourselves and the views across the Lake District are fantastic, especially as the sun burns away the remaining whispers of clouds on the surrounding peaks.

We take a different route down, climbing another peak (Great End) on the way, which has a great view of the lake where we stayed last night. We scramble over the rocky terrain and join the trail that winds down the mountain, passing more and more tourists as we reach the bottom.

The sun is strong now and it’s unimaginable that the weather could be so different from yesterday, so it’s great to reach the car and look back on the mountain range that was invisible only 24 hours ago. I’ve now climbed each of the Three Peaks (it’s only taken 18 months..!) and looking forward to deciding which UK mountain will be next.

In 2004 I went on a trip through Scandinavia and Russia, and it spawned my love for travelling and photography. As I visited more countries, I understood the value of getting underneath the skin of a country, rather than simply ‘ticking it off the list’. However, when I visited my 39th country last year, I decided to make the 40th truly special.

The requirements were that the location be far from the tourist trail, allow for some beautiful photography, and offer the opportunity to test my newly-discovered interest in climbing. As I researched possible destinations, one jumped out of the page like no other: The Altai Mountains. It is one of the most remote locations in the world, thousands of kilometres away from civilisation, where desert meets mountain and the glaciers flow into seemingly endless plains. It would be a world that is opposite to life in London, and allow me to explore one of the few truly untouched places on earth, that looks the same today as it did thousands of years ago.

With about 7kg of clothes and 20kg of climbing and photography gear, my bag squeezes shut and my Mongolian adventure begins. The next two weeks will take Susanne and me into Asia for the first time (I can’t really count the two hours in eastern Istanbul!) and offer the potential of climbing three mountains over 4,000m, including Mongolia’s highest peak, Mount Khuiten.

We meet John, our mountain guide, along with a few others in our small group at Heathrow, and despite the airport disorganisation causing a three hour check-in, the Aeroflot flight gets us to Moscow just in time to catch the connecting overnight flight to Ulaan Baatar.

Unfortunately, our luggage doesn’t have the same luck, so we’re going to have to wait until tomorrow morning’s flight for our gear. It doesn’t matter too much as today the plan was to have a brief tour of Ulaan Baatar anyway. It’s 06.00 local time, which is 23.00 UK time, so we decide to drop off our hand luggage at the hotel and head straight out for site-seeing. However, after just 90 minutes of sleep in the past 24 hours, the jet-lag is inevitable and it hits me as soon as we reach the Gandantegchenling Monastery. Despite wandering around like a zombie, I do find it interesting as it’s so different to anything I’ve seen before. It’s only a couple of hundred years old, but the locals treat it like it’s been around for thousands of years and it’s captivating to watch them worship every statue and object. Both young and old visit the various dastans and institutes, few of which remain after the communist era. The most impressive is Migjed Janraisig, which is quite bland on the outside, but inside the building it holds an enormous 26.5 metre Buddha made of copper and gilded in gold; it’s truly jaw-dropping. Outside, there are chanting monks and children playing amongst the pigeons; I finally have my first Asian travel experiences!

We drive across the city and it’s a bit of a jumbled mess. Some buildings are new, some abandoned and there are plenty of building sites too. It’s like a teenager with loads of potential, but it just hasn’t decided what it wants to be when it’s older. The only constant is that on nearly every street there’s a karaoke bar! There are hundreds of them!

The main square is next to its parliament building which has some large and impressive statues in tribute to Ghengis Khan. It’s surprisingly quiet though, with very few people around and even fewer signs of trade. I haven’t seen a single coffee or snack bar in the whole city. I guess people are all at home waiting for the karaoke bars to open!

We have a tasty lunch but the lack of sleep really hits me and I even doze off for a few minutes at the table. Afterwards we head for the Mongolian National History Museum, which is reasonably small and is obviously centred around Genghis Khan’s triumphs across Asia. The section displaying the various regional clothing is also quite interesting. Unfortunately I’m absolutely shattered and can barely stay awake. The plan is to have a briefing back at the hotel and then go for dinner, but I decide to skip the dinner and go straight to bed at 19.00.

Day 3 (1 August 2011)
Ulaan Baatar, Bogd Khan National Park

12 hours of sleep and I feel full of energy. Breakfast is basic (unless you want a portion of chicken stew and rice!) and we’re relieved that all the luggage has safely arrived today.

Day-bags packed, we jump in the minibus and drive to Bogd Khan National Park, about 45 minutes south of the capital. Ulaan Baatar is an industrial city that clearly is going through a radical change, with power stations and building sites in every direction. However, the moment you’re out of the city, the landscape alters and green hills roll endlessly into the distance. The relatively short journey to the national park really gives a sense of how isolated and remote Mongolia is, since it’s a massive country and yet just a few kilometres out of the capital there’s practically no sign of human life.

At the park, we pass a few locals in gers and start the trek up Mount Tsetseguun. The weather is warm and the trail is a pretty straightforward two-hour walk up to the peak at 2,256m. We have a picnic lunch at the top (which offers some great views back to the capital, as well as further south into the endless hills) before marching back down.

For dinner we go to the ‘Broadway’ restaurant, which has pretty much every type of cuisine you can think of on the menu. Some in the group order beers and wine, only to discover that it’s illegal to sell alcohol on the first day of every month!

Back at the hotel the bags are re-packed in preparation for tomorrow’s early flight to Western Mongolia. This sounds easy, but when the boots, sleeping gear and climbing equipment take up 80% of the space, it’s like completing the world’s hardest jigsaw each time I pack!

Day 4 (2 August 2011)
Ulaan Baatar, Olgii, Altai Tavan Bogd National Park

Mongolia is 35 times as big as Switzerland, yet it has just half the number of people living across its land. Yesterday’s drive was the first indication of how sparsely populated this country is, but today’s three hour flight to Olgii, in far Western Mongolia, is the closest I’ve ever been to seeing planet Earth like it was before human civilisation. The views from the small 34-seater aeroplane are sublime, as for nearly the entire flight there are absolutely no roads, vehicles, people or buildings. The stunning green hills stretch out as far as the eye can see and the sun shines across the smooth land creating amazing, dune-like shadows.

The comfortable flight lands at Olgii airport, which is no more than a few rooms and a dusty runway. Our 4x4s arrive and we’re driven away from the swarms of mosquitos towards the mountains in the distance. Our five hour drive actually turns out to be eight hours, but the changing landscape and occasional stops make it reasonably enjoyable.

One stop in particular is memorable; I see Mount Khuiten for the first time and the reality of attempting the tallest mountain in Mongolia really hits home. It looks menacing but fills me with excitement and anticipation.

Several games of 20 questions later and we arrive in a picturesque green area with camels and goats, two large gers and a narrow stream flowing from the glaciers hidden behind the mountains in the distance.

We’re served tea and biscuits in our communal ger and after we pitch our two-man tents, we’re treated to a three-course dinner as John briefs us on tomorrow’s trek.

Day 5 (3 August 2011)
Altai Tavan Bogd National Park, Base Camp

A good night’s sleep, a wash in the cold stream and a simple breakfast sets me up for what I consider the beginning of the real part of the holiday. We wave goodbye to the local family and the innocent children who live in the other ger, and set off into the mountains.

I’ve about 10kg on my back today, but the pace is good and I find the going quite reasonable. The weather is perfect, as the heat from the strong sun is cooled by the high mountain winds. We trek about 9.5km, for six hours passing a few high viewpoints before a descent to 3,085m at base camp, just by the foot of the Alexander and Potaniin glaciers.

There are a few highlights, including some great mountain view and the wading across a river without boots and socks. However, the best experience is the first ‘close’ view of Khuiten, which straddles the two enormous glaciers flowing from China and Russia. It’s absolutely enormous and looks exactly like the challenge I hoped it would be.

Base camp is similar to last night, but it’s more remote and the long line of mountains that follow the borders of China and Russia make for a stunning backdrop. I decide to have a bath in the stream and words can’t describe how cold it is! The water is flowing directly from the glacier only 50m away, so it’s safe to say I won’t ever have a colder bath in all my life! It’s hugely refreshing of course, and it makes the subsequent hot soup and spaghetti bolognese go down a treat.

After dinner the sun disappears over the Altai Mountains and suddenly it rains, which I’ve always found to be such a comforting sound at the end of the day when I’m falling asleep inside a warm tent!

Day 6 (4 August 2011)
Base Camp, Acclimatisation Trek

A great day starts with a long lie-in (in mountaineering terms) before our departure at 09.00 towards the Russian border. Although it’s supposed to be our acclimatisation trek, it’s hugely enjoyable in itself. We follow the glacier westbound, before heading up a steep, rocky terrain towards one of those ‘never-ending’ summits, as each ridge reveals a further few hundred metres trek.

Suddenly, the horizon appears and the rural Russian landscape is before my eyes. There’s a rather modest marker that indicates the border, and standing between Russia and Mongolia without seeing anything but mountains and valleys makes you realise how big this world really is.

We trek along the borders that follow the ridge of this mountain to the next marker, which is slightly higher and offers even better views into Russia. We have a short rest and then descend down a slightly different route, which I really enjoy as the rocks change almost every 100m. From large boulders to small stones, there’s plenty of variety and gives a very visual example of how the cold winters carve up the mountain. One section is almost like walking on a pebble beach, and in another, you can spot large rocks which have been split into two so perfectly that they seem like giant jigsaw pieces.

The final descent back to the foot of the glacier is on a steep, narrow valley which is littered in shales. I love the sound of my heavy boots sliding amongst them, and it sums up the day’s hike up to 3,875m with a great variety of views and terrain.

The sun is still shining strongly, so I take advantage and wash my clothes in the glacial stream. It’s also an opportunity for another ice-cold cleanse, which turns out to be really lucky as shortly afterwards the sun disappears behind the clouds and the cold rain comes and goes throughout the evening and dinner.

Day 7 (5 August 2011)
Base Camp

Today was supposed to be a day of rest and preparation for tomorrow’s big climb to high camp, but the weather is foul and it means everything around camp is twice as difficult to complete.

However, it is a necessary day, as organising the packing is significantly harder than it sounds. It’s a 700m ascent, so every kilo counts: Pack too much and the climb is too hard; pack too little and I’m stuck at high altitude potentially without vital belongings. To make it harder, we need to carry the tent, food, gas burner, pots and utensils in addition to all our own clothes and equipment.

I also discover that at high camp it will be three in each tent. Whilst this makes sense for load-carrying, I think the tents are far too small for three people. I’m pretty tired today too, so this news, the bad weather and the lack of views means that although it’s an important rest day, it’s my least favourite so far.

Day 8 (6 August 2011)
Base Camp, High Camp

The weight of my bag is absolutely insane! I can barely lift it and yet I have to carry it 11km to high camp. Surprisingly, the weight doesn’t feel so bad when it’s on my back, but it certainly does slow my pace.

Fortunately, yesterday’s bad weather has completely cleared and we have sublime blue skies for the climb. The first few kilometres are tiring, but once we’re on the glacier, that’s when it really feels like hard work. However, Mount Khuiten becomes slightly closer with every step and the exciting thought of scaling it spurs me on.

Higher on the glacier, we rope up since there are a number of crevasses. There are no incidents, but George drops a glove and it skims down the ice about 30m away. It’s crazy to see it so close, and yet know that it’s an unnecessary risk to retrieve it.

After the long slog we reach high camp, which is on a slopped area of snow, with incredible views of our mountain objectives. I’m exhausted, so even the simple task of carving a space in the snow for the tent is really draining. With tents pitched, we spend the remaining hours of the day melting snow for the evening’s dinner and for tomorrow’s water supply. It certainly does give me a newly found appreciation for water on tap!

Day 9 (7 August 2011)
High Camp, Mount Khuiten

Today is the most important day of the trip, so when my 05.00 alarm wakes me and I hear the battering of the wind and snow against the tent, I fear the worst. However, unzipping the tent reveals another glorious blue sky and the sound was simply the top layer of snow blowing along the glacier and over the tent.

After a simple breakfast (there aren’t too many options when it takes 45 minutes to boil water!) we rope up and start plodding up the mountain. Although the weight of my bag is significantly reduced from yesterday, I find the going really tough. I’m unsure if it’s the altitude, the simple food or (most likely) my dearth of training, but every step is a real effort.

Most of the others are finding it much easier. There’s a real range of people on this expedition, from the youngest (Susanne) to the oldest (who is the same age as my father), most have more experience than me. The eldest has even reached 7,000m on Everest!

We’re roped up into two groups and the first is led by Usukho, who himself has scaled Everest twice. John leads me in the other group and we follow Usukho about 200m behind. For the first few hours, I’m one of the few holding back the pace, but as we reach 4,100m, I get my first view of the Chinese mountains and it’s like a shot of adrenaline as I find the next section (which is also the steepest) far more comfortable. We reach a ridge where there’s an option to go to either of Khuiten’s summits. John insists that the one on the right is a couple of metres higher, so we head straight to it.

The final steps are magical; I reach the highest point in Mongolia and the 360 degree view is spectacular. I can see mountain ranges in Mongolia, China and Russia, and it’s one of the most satisfying and rewarding moments of my life. Strangely, Kuscho led his group to the other summit, so we decide to follow the ridge and reach that point as well, just in case! The GPS says it’s a couple of metres lower, but it’s worth the extra effort, especially as it gives the best view of the peak we just climbed.

We’re obviously much quicker descending to high camp, but the morning’s slow pace and strong sunshine means we’re in for a few surprises. Just a couple of hundreds metres away from the tents, the snow has become much softer and John guides us around multiple crevasses. There are six of us on the rope, so a fall shouldn’t be serious, but it’s still a huge shock when Susanne suddenly finds herself waist-deep in the snow and her legs dangle above the crevasse! She pulls herself out and moments later Jerry also falls. This time the crevasse seems big, and when Eckhard jumps across, more snow falls into it. It’s my turn next, so I leap as far as I can onto what I think is solid snow, only for half of it to crumble beneath me. I pull my leg out and when I look back into the crevasse, I’m shocked that I can’t even see the bottom of it!

With a mix of relief and excitement, I’m back at the tent and it gives me great pleasure to look back at Khuiten knowing I’ve conquered it! Kuscho offers me some vodka and says that I have to dip my third finger in it and flick the drops towards anything which I want to thank or obtain good luck. Flicks completed, I down the vodka and return to the tent for an early night.

Day 10 (8 August 2011)
High camp, potential Nairandal ascent, Base camp

The wind and snow seems much stronger overnight, and unfortunately this morning’s 05.00 alarm doesn’t offer the same weather as yesterday. In fact, it’s the worst weather of the trip so far, and the high winds smash the snow horizontally across our four tents. John says the snow storm means it’s too dangerous to tackle Mount Nairandal. It’s a great disappointment, as the peak is the exact point where China, Russia and Mongolia meet. However, the real objective of this trip was Khuiten, so I’m just hugely grateful that this storm didn’t arrive 24 hours earlier.

We sit tight for a few hours and then pack up the tents for a return to base camp at 10.00. The weather is still pretty bad, but by the time we reach the edge of the glacier, the wind has dropped, the clouds have shifted and suddenly Nairandal is back into view. It’s a shame it didn’t happen earlier, but at least the weather is good whilst I’m carrying this huge load back to the base camp.

On the way, there’s a fantastic river which has torn a tunnel through the glacier. It’s absolutely enormous and it’s fascinating to watch the water disappear into the darkness within the glacier.

Upon arrival at base camp, we’re treated to a cup of fruit juice, and suddenly all the basic services seem like luxury! Water is available immediately, food isn’t in plastic containers and you don’t have to dig your own hole to go for a crap! There’s already one dug for you!!

After a few games of cards, a few shots of whisky and vodka, I pitch the tent and fall asleep.

Days 11-16 coming very soon…

I’ve just completed three months without drinking a single drop of alcohol. That’s 1/4 of a year, yet it doesn’t feel that long so it really shows how quickly 2011 is flying by. I didn’t plan on drinking anything until the end of this year’s main holiday in August, but it was always going to be tough to avoid a drink or two at a stag-do; a stag-do that is a long weekend in Belgium; a stag-do that is a long weekend in Belgium when there’s a three-day beer festival…

An early Eurostar journey takes us to Antwerp, via Bruxelles, arriving just in time for a typical Belgian lunch (in a pub) with just as many calories in the beer as the food. The healthy weekend continues with visits to a number of bars to prepare us for the onslaught of the beer festival, which is a series of tents with super-strong beers on tap. After a few hours we head north from the old town and wander through the surprisingly large ‘t Schipperskwartier, that seems even bigger than the similarly coloured area in Amsterdam.

My lack of drinking recently means I wake with a cracking hangover, but a tasty lunch on the river dock (and some hair of the dog) soon wakes me up for a repeat of day one. We do manage to squeeze in a couple of touristy things, such as the walk through the Sint-Anna tunnel that takes pedestrians to the westside of the river Scheldt, a stroll around the picturesque old town and the impressive Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekathedraal (Cathedral of our Lady), and even some time to watch an odd street-play whose actors seemed to have escaped from a mental hospital.

The stag-do ends appropriately with seven lads looking largely worse for wear on Sunday morning, for the painfully slow train trip back to London Kings Cross.

Following an early alarm, I take the underground to Kings Cross, a train for six hours to Glasgow and then hire a car (from the ridiculously friendly staff at Enterprise) for the final three hour stretch to Fort William. Despite a police crash investigation which delays the journey for around half an hour, it’s a relatively pain-free journey to the UK’s capital of outdoor activities. The weather is outstanding, so it’s particularly pleasant to drive through the beautiful highlands and along Glen Coe.

It’s a four-day trip to Scotland with Susanne, to learn some mountaineering skills and get a bit of practice ahead of this year’s main climbing holiday in July. Having bought a few climbing tools, I’m keen to figure out how they work!

Fort William is much smaller than I expected, but it sits on the loch quite perfectly, especially as the sun sets over the mountains in the west. There are plenty of trekkers wandering around, but there are also a huge number of people on their way to the local pubs. For such a small and remote place, it seems to have quite a drinking culture. That said, with the choice of whiskies they have here, it’s not entirely surprising! An indian meal (not great) and an early night sets me up for tomorrow’s adventures.

DAY 2 (23 APRIL 2011)
FORT WILLIAM, GLEN COE, BUACHAILLE ETIVE MÒR

At 08.00 we meet Alan Kimber, a friendly Englishman who has lived in Fort William for over 40 years. Coincidentally, his name is also on the front of our mountain guidebook, so it appears we’ve found the right chap to lead us up the mountains!

Based on the weather forecast, he suggests a plan for the next couple of days. Due to the rather mischievous outlook today, it’s decided to leave Ben Nevis for Sunday, and tackle another peak today. After a 30 minute drive, we reach the base of Buachaille Etive Mòr, one of the popular mountains in Glen Coe, due its varied routes and pyramid-like shape.

I decide to climb with all my photo gear, as I’d like to test out what I don’t need, and (more importantly) what I’d struggle to carry on harder routes. With a misty fog surrounding the mountain, we start the ascent.

A simple uphill trek brings us around the north edge of the mountain, and at the base of the Curved Ridge route. From a technical point of view, it’s easier than any of the indoor bouldering I’ve done recently. However, it’s still pretty steep and the thought of slipping is always at the back of my mind. It means concentration levels need to be high, especially as some of the rocks are wet and slippery.

Alan reels off advice throughout the day; even the most simple and obvious advice is really useful, as it’s all about using as little energy as possible to complete the route. The various rope techniques are particularly interesting, and I’m keen on making sure I get this right: Whilst this is not a technically challenging route, there are several points where a fall would be lethal. It plays at the back of my mind, but it also spurs me on.

Since we’re all connected by rope, it’s important to keep up the momentum, so there are few points that allow me to take out my camera gear. I’m conscious that I’m carrying about 6kg of unnecessary camera equipment, so even though it’s weighing me down a bit, it’s a great lesson learned.

After a few hours, we reach the summit and I celebrate with a Yorkie bar and a jump photo! The clouds also start to shift a little, so even though the weather isn’t fantastic, it allows me to see the base of the mountain and the route that I’ve just climbed, which is highly satisfying.

We trek down the easier ‘tourist’ route and return to Fort William, where Susanne and I are lucky enough to book a table at the Lime Tree, which has a varied selection of well-prepared food. However, we’re practically falling asleep at the table, so we quickly make our way back to the hotel for a well-deserved rest.

DAYS 3-4 (24-25 APRIL 2011)
FORT WILLIAM, BEN NEVIS, ONICH

I certainly feel yesterday’s efforts in my legs, but I’m truly excited about today’s climb. At 08.00 we meet Alan again and he describes the Tower Gully route that we’re going to attempt today on Ben Nevis. It’s on the north face so there should be loads of snow and plenty of opportunities to learn some mountaineering skills on snow and ice.

We drive to the base of the UK’s highest mountain, and the clouds hover around the towers. It looks rather moody, but this only increases my excitement. Setting off, I’ve replaced a number of camera lenses with extra climbing equipment. It really adds up and it’s suddenly so obvious why the lighter gear is so much more valuable.

I’m testing my new mountaineering boots, which actually aren’t made for this kind of climb, but I want to try them out a few times before I take them to higher altitudes. They’re comfortable, but clearly not designed for walking on rocky terrain, so I find the going quite tough for the first couple of hours. Fortunately, we soon hit snow and from there on it’s like having a mini massage each step I take!

Before the climb gets too steep, Alan teaches us how to perform a self-arrest with an ice axe. It’s the skill required to stop yourself if you slip on snow or ice, and start sliding down the mountain. Of course, you could find yourself flying down on your front or back, or even head first, so there are a number of scenarios that we need to learn. Whilst it’s not something I want to do for real, it is extremely good fun to practice!!

Further up the mountain, there are patches of ice which require some grade II climbing. Like yesterday, it’s not particularly challenging, but a fall would still be serious. It’s perfect practice for me and once again it’s hugely satisfying to look down on a section I’ve just climbed.

As we’re half way up, I suddenly hear a huge roar behind me. It starts like a rumble of a double bass, and then it breaks up, like a crashing of instruments falling down the mountain. It seems as if the avalanche has fallen right where we were climbing only minutes earlier, so it’s a perfect example of how careful (and lucky) climbers need to be.

The final stretch is up through Tower Gully. The snow is thick but Alan assesses the avalanche possibility and feels it’s safe enough to continue. I plunge my ice axe into the snow and it’s unbelievable how much easier it makes the climb. As I climb over the cornice, I look over my shoulder and can barely believe what I’ve achieved. In the other direction, it’s quite funny to see loads of other people stroll by on the tourist path, some of whom are just wearing shorts and basic trainers!

After a quick jump photo, we walk the final 100m to the summit and once again I celebrate with a Yorkie bar (this could be the start of something special!) Unfortunately the weather still hasn’t shifted the clouds, so there’s nothing to see as far as a view is concerned, so we take off most of our gear and start heading down the tourist path. It’s little more than a walk, but it’s quite tough on my feet due to my big boots, so I’m pleased to cross a soft, soggy marshland back back to our starting point on the north side.

I look back at Ben Nevis with a great sense of achievement; I’ve learned lots of new skills, learned loads about what things I shouldn’t take mountaineering (definitely not my 100-400mm lens!), but more importantly, I’ve had an absolutely fantastic time doing so. I’m already looking forward to the next mountain!

Dinner is at the most acclaimed restaurant in the area (Loch Leven Seafood Cafe), which is hidden down a rural side road near Onich. The food is great, but once again I’m absolutely shattered so it’s yet another early night.

The drive back to Glasgow on Easter Monday is a fantastic way to end the trip: Since the weather has picked up, we get some great views of the Highland mountains, which are practically begging me to climb them in the near future!

Special thanks to Alan Kimber for his guiding and for taking a few of the photos whilst climbing. I thoroughly recommend his company, which can be found here: www.westcoast-mountainguides.co.uk

It’s the first time I’ve flown with Virgin for 20 years and my expectations are high. It’s therefore disappointing that the food is awful, the seats are old and the entertainment screens keep breaking. Worst of all, a member of staff is late which means I was sitting on the plane for two hours before it even takes off.

Most people get off the plane in Antigua, and following some security checks it takes off again for the final 50 minutes towards San Juan. After 13 hours, I’ve finally arrived in Puerto Rico.

Following a successful year, my company rewards staff (and their ‘plus one’) with a holiday. It tends to be a beach resort in the Caribbean, so Susanne and I are extremely lucky that this year is Puerto Rico, where there are dozens of things to do aside from sitting on a beach. There are a couple of dinners and a day of company-organised activities, but I’ve added four days to the beginning of the trip to explore the rest of the island.

As a US colony, I don’t get to tick off another new country, but I’m still surprised at how American it is. Once we collect the hire car, I’m shocked at the number of chain stores and restaurants. We drive west and there’s a burger place almost every single kilometre. It’s built up and a bit dirty, but aside from the road signs in Spanish, it really feels like the US.

The road gets less busy the further from San Juan we travel. About 80km along the motorway, we take a turn towards Utuado, which means we’re heading south into the rural centre of the island. It’s pitch black outside, but the headlights illuminate the twisting road into the jungle. As we reach the Casa Grande Mountain Retreat, it feels like we’ve suddenly been transported into Latin America. Locals sit by the road with friends, food and drinks; the bamboo trees hang over our heads and the dogs sleep in the middle of the road without a care in the world.

I couldn’t ask for a better setting: The only thing separating me from the thick, forest trees and plants is the mosquito netting. The jungle noises make me feel a million miles away from home and I’m asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.

Day 2 (10 April 2011)
Rio Abajo Forest, Camuy Caves

We wake refreshed and finally get to see the jungle that surrounds the lodge. It’s a beautiful setting with plants and geckos everywhere and the sunshine lights up the luscious, green valley. We drive to the Camuy Caves and it’s a much more enjoyable drive now that the landscape is visible.

However, as I sit on the mini-train that takes us down to the entrance of the caves, it suddenly feels like I’m in Disneyland. It’s so touristy and there are screaming kids everywhere; it’s a complete contrast to the remote setting this morning. I was expecting a more adventurous caving adventure, but there simply isn’t enough time for anything aside from this main tour. However, the caves are massive and impressive nonetheless.

The plan was to drive south to Gilligan’s Island, but the twisting roads mean that it takes a lot longer than expected to get anywhere, so we decide to go to Lago Dos Bocas instead, where there are half a dozen small boats waiting to take guests to the various restaurants that are only accessible by water. The restaurant is not bad, but the views make it much better and it’s a relaxing end to the day.

Day 3 (11 April 2011)
Utuado, Ponce, Cerro de Punta

The rain overnight was immense. It sounded like the sky was falling and if I wasn’t so comfortable I would have jumped out of bed and danced in the rain! It means the clouds have shifted by the time I wake and the sun is stronger than ever. The plan is to climb the highest mountain in Puerto Rico, so we have another hearty breakfast before driving south. It involves driving along the Routa Panoramica, which is the mountain road that runs horizontally across the island. The road twists and turns like a roller coaster and there are regular, stunning views across the valleys to the Caribbean Ocean.

We drop our luggage off at our Hilton hotel in Ponce, which is great, even if it is the complete opposite to the jungle lodge. The room is massive and has a gorgeous view across the sea. Fortunately, like the jungle, it’s practically devoid of tourists. However, it’s clearly a resort that normally caters for families who don’t want to leave the hotel grounds: The staff are really confused when I explain that we’re driving back into the mountains. They think we’re checking out and can’t understand what other reason could explain our desire to leave!

The route to Cerro de Punta is beautiful and we’re really thrown into local Puerto Rican life. The American fast food chains are nowhere to be seen and the village life thrives in every direction. Unfortunately, this does mean that the climb to the highest point on the island is rather underwhelming. Whilst the views at the top are great (one can see the ocean on both sides of the mountain), it’s certainly not a trek and no effort has been made for tourists who want to climb it without a car.

It’s a bit late in the day to be visiting a coffee farm, so instead we head back to Ponce and briefly explore the black-sanded beach before going to the town centre for dinner. It’s a lovely little picturesque town with strong Spanish influences, but it’s completely empty. I’m not complaining (quite the opposite); I just can’t understand the volume of traffic on the surrounding roads when the town is so dead. We locate an Argentine restaurant and it’s hugely relaxing to sit outside in the warm evening air with empanadas, a massive steak and an even bigger piece of chocolate cake!

Day 4 (12 April 2011)
Ponce, Guanica, Gilligan’s Island

Today was supposed to be a day trip to Canon San Cristobal. However, we missed out on Gilligan’s Island on day two, so we decide to skip the trek in favour of the famous island, just off the coast from Guanica. It’s a great decision as it’s by far the most spectacular part of the trip so far. Mary Lee, a US pensioner who escaped Cuba in the 60s, lends us a two-man kayak, and we paddle across the crystal blue waters towards the island. It’s only one kilometre away, yet hardly anyone is doing the same. We find a deserted part of the island and it’s truly beautiful. The contrasts of colour, the strange vegetation which appears to grow upside down and the large variety of fish is everything I imagined the Caribbean to be.

Back on the mainland, we’re pulling the kayak back onto shore when we get the fright of our lives: Two enormous iguanas shuffle past us, so I grab my camera and chase them down the path as the dozens of crabs disappear behind the rocks. Suddenly, a rat darts across the path and Susanne sees a huge snake slither under the decking looking for its lunch!

We have our own lunch at a restaurant overlooking the sea, before driving east along the coast towards Coamo, where some natural thermal springs await. Just as I think I can’t be more relaxed, I step into the scorching water with the cool air blowing against my face… aaahhh! It’s a perfect way to unwind after the best day on the trip so far.

Day 5 (13 April 2011)
Ponce, El Cocal, Rio Grande

Today is all about getting to Rio Grande in the northeast by 3pm, so we take the long and scenic route anticlockwise around the coastline. There are parts where we’re driving on the Routa Panoramica, but the best part is finding a ridiculously steep road that takes us down to a gorgeous beach called El Cocal. Unbelievably, we’re the only people on the entire beach, and the beautifully soft sand stretches as far as the eye can see in both directions, with a row of palm trees rustling in the gentle breeze.

The waves are reasonably strong, so it’s fun to play in the warm water and then dry under the scorching sun as tiny crabs peak their heads out of small holes all around me.

A few hours later we approach Rio Grande on the northern coast and I spot the sign for the St. Regis Bahia Resort. From tonight onwards, the accommodation is in this ultra luxurious resort, which impresses from the moment I drive through the main gates. It’s set in a huge complex that includes all the usual beach resort luxuries (golf course, beach, lakes) but also happens to be surrounded by a huge tropical nature reserve.

Upon arrival, we’re treated to a five-star welcome and I also spot a few colleagues who have arrived to Puerto Rico today. The room is amazing: The shower room is nearly as large as my bedroom in London and even the bathroom mirror has a built-in tv hidden into it! It’s a relaxing dinner at one of the hotel’s private bars, before a well needed rest in preparation for tomorrow’s early start.

Day 6 (14 April 2011)
Rio Grande, Culebra

I’m waiting on the east coast of Puerto Rico but an hour after the scheduled departure time, our ferry hasn’t moved. However, it’s worth the wait as the 90 minute journey finally takes us to Culebra, one of two major islands in these bright blue waters. I actually think that Vieques (the larger of the two islands) has more to see, but I’m like a ten-year-old at the thought of seeing the abandoned tank which rests on Playa Flamenco, one of the world’s great beaches in Culebra.

Susanne thinks I’m bonkers, but I’m truly excited when I see it at the far north end of the beautiful beach. It’s only a tank, but it looks so ridiculously out of place and makes for some great photos.

The palm trees hang over the back of the beach and the sand is quite simply perfect: It’s like walking in soft flour as we stroll down the shore. Whilst I’m known for my intolerance to beach holidays, I do actually really enjoy myself. However, I still can’t see how anyone could do this for more than two days, let alone a couple of weeks! We stay for a few hours before heading back to catch the 17.00 ferry: It’s the last ferry of the day so we absolutely can’t risk missing it. We end up being far too early, and since this is Puerto Rico after all, the ferry doesn’t end up leaving until around 18.00; I’ve come to call it “Puerto Rico Time”…

The plan was to get back to the mainland by 18.30 so we’d have enough time to get to the nearby lake for some night kayaking. The dinoflagellates in the water illuminate blue when disturbed, so the kayaks leave a beautiful trail of colour. Unfortunately, Puerto Rico Time means we miss the tour and lose the opportunity to see this bizarre natural display. It’s a shame, but I feel we’ve done well to pack as many things into the week as we have done. It also means we have a slightly earlier night before our hike tomorrow in the jungle.

Day 7 (15 April 2011)
Rio Grande, El Yunque

One of the hotel’s pleasures is private dining on our balcony, overlooking the nature reserve. Despite the ridiculous cost (I’m not kidding – three eggs costs $21 and a single sausage is $8! Even a coffee sets you back $9… And don’t forget the obligatory 20% service charge!), we enjoy breakfast each day in this gorgeous setting.

It sets us up for another highlight of the trip: The El Yunque rainforest. We drive deep into the jungle to find the beginning of the Trade Winds Trail. It’s supposed to be the most challenging hike and also takes one to the highest point in the jungle.

There’s a local guide who sits at the beginning of the trail and he tells us that it’s about 3-4 hours each way, but it is due to rain. Undaunted, we start hiking. It is pretty wet and some of the rocks are slippery, but it’s really not a hard trek at all. Funnily enough, apart from the odd bird, we see very little wildlife. It’s a good walk, but just not at all as ‘jungle-like’ as we expected. In fact, remove some of the more unusual trees and it could quite easily be a thick wood in England. It’s still enjoyable, but unfortunately Susanne isn’t feeling well so after a couple of hours we decide to head back. It’s a wise choice, as the rain starts getting quite heavy and parts of the trail become flooded. We cut up our legs on the bizarre plants that dangle across the path, so the mix of blood and mud makes it look like we’ve gone into the jungle and kicked a boar to death!

We follow the trail signs, which are about as accurate as Puerto Rico Time, and find our way back to the beginning of the trail. This is where things get a bit odd: The guide is no longer sitting at the entrance and a bashed up car suddenly races off down the road. We look around only to find a huge sign above the trail map which says ‘Trail closed for repairs’…

Fortunately, the rental car is still securely parked, but a dozen thoughts go through our minds. Was the guide a fake? Was the trail ever open? Was the dodgy car on the lookout? We start thinking about what an easy con it could have been: Get an official looking uniform, remove the ‘closed’ sign and rob the dumb tourists, leaving them for dead four hours deep into the jungle… With a certain GN’R song, it’d make a great movie! Lesson learned, we drive back to the hotel.

After a play in the sea, we go for dinner at the exquisite Fern restaurant, with a delicious six-course tasting menu, before meeting some colleagues in a private bar to finish the day. Despite being a company ‘event’ it’s really casual and there’s barely a mention of work, so it’s a great end to the day.

Days 8-9 (16-17 April 2011)
Rio Grande, New York City, London

Today is the one day which I’m not free to do my own thing. My company sets up a bunch of activities near the beach and it’s actually a really enjoyable way to end the holiday. I run around the resort (treasure hunt), dive all over the place (volleyball), and swing a Thor-like hammer around (croquet), whilst soaking up the sun with the best weather of the trip.

After dinner we have an early wake-up call which begins the 20 hour journey back home via New York City, since there isn’t a direct flight back today. Despite American Airlines reaching new lows of horrendous service (seriously, I really need to avoid using them ever again), I’ve had a great trip and I absolutely can’t wait for the next one.

I’m pleasantly surprised by Air France. Lots of leg room, half-decent food and friendly staff take me from Heathrow to Paris. There’s a bit of a rush to make the connecting flight, but I make myself comfortable for the 12-hour journey to Argentina’s capital. Susanne is with me, who I met a year ago, so it’s a great way to start our trip across South America, by revisiting the city where we first met!

Day 2 (13 November 2010)
Buenos Aires

We wake in Argentina and quickly find the hotel, just a stone throw away from Av. 9 de Julio, the widest road in the world. The weather is fantastic, so we head for the Puerto Madero, the modern port area of the capital, with loads of bars and restaurants which are perfect for people-watching.

There’s a Nike city run, so the area is packed with bright yellow shirts. It’s the perfect way to start this two week adventure, by completely relaxing with a few drinks as the runners, skaters and boats go by.

Unfortunately the Costanera Sur Wildlife Reserve is just closing, so the lazy day finishes early and I find myself back at the hotel and ready to catch up on some sleep.

Day 3 (14 November 2010)
Buenos Aires

After yesterday’s lazy day and a ridiculous amount of sleep, I’m ready to start the real exploring. Palermo Viejo, the trendy and lively part of Buenos Aires, is a great area which deserves plenty of attention. So, after a quick jump at the Obelisk, we catch the underground to Plaza Italia, in the heart of Palermo. Susanne is obsessed with havannets de chocolate, so there’s a coffee/chocolate pit-stop before several hours of walking around Palermo’s beautiful parks.

The Botanical Gardens are quiet and romantic, whilst the Jardín Japonés makes me feel like I’m on another continent altogether. We walk for miles, but stop occasionally for photos and I even manage to consume what seems like a litre of the most delicious ice-cream at Un Altra Volta.

Although the gardens are well maintained, the surrounding areas are also fantastic. Buildings of different styles make every block fascinating, and really speaks volumes about this city’s history. Further north is the Parque Tres de Febrero. It also looks pretty and romantic, but apparently at night it’s the host of a completely different type of romance!

Susanne wants to see the elephants and I want to see the monkeys, so we walk through the city zoo on our way back towards Plaza Italia, even if I do hate seeing some of the tiny areas in which some of the animals are kept.

We end the day in Plaza Cortázar, where my last trip to Argentina ended (at about 5am). It’s suitably packed and we find a bar full of character to have some drinks and empanadas. The whole area oozes with character and it reminds me why I liked Buenos Aires so much a year ago. The day has absolutely flown by, so we head back to the Obelisk for a night shot of Av. 9 de Julio. It has been a frustrating day with white, cloudy skies, but I’m pleased to catch this long exposure shot which I missed last year.

Back at the hotel and I cant believe I’ve gone two days in Argentina without a steak – it’s sacrilegious!!

Day 4 (15 November 2010)
Buenos Aires, Coronia del Sacramento

Over breakfast, I spot a page in my guidebook that says there are regular ferry crossings to Coronia del Sacramento. I look at Susanne and she has the same grin on her face as I do: Let’s go to Uruguay!

We buy our tickets and find that we’ve got two hours to kill in Buenos Aires. Avenida de Mayo is another of the city’s famous streets. It starts at the Casa Rosada, and shoots inland to the west. I’m slightly underwhelmed with the road (it’s not nearly as interesting as my guidebook makes it out to be), but the Plaza del Congreso is an massive plaza with the very large and impressive palace towering above.

Back at the Madero port, we board the Biquebus ferry, get some more stamps in our passports and zip across the Rio de la Plata towards Uruguay. The views back to Buenos Aires are very good, since you can really take in the scale of this gigantic city.

One hour later and I take my first steps in Uruguay. Colonia is a touristy, yet quiet town which actually feels more Spanish than Latin American. Cobbled streets and old drawbridges give it a very picturesque feel, especially now that sun has broken through the clouds, lighting up the varying colours of beautiful flowers and trees. The view from the lighthouse is great too, although I can’t see Argentina in the distance, which I hear is possible on clear days.

I have a cocktail in the sun, and Susanne has an ice-cream which is absolutely smothered in whisky. It makes for a very relaxing (and completely different to the hectic city life across the river) afternoon which begs a return to Uruguay in the future.

Another ferry crossing and we reach the Hotel Carrson, which is absolutely awful, but the meeting point for the rest of the group on our Bolivian adventure. The group is large (too large in fact) but there seem to be some friendly characters and it bodes well for the trip. We all go for dinner and I finally get my steak which is delicious with a tasty bottle of Malbec.

Day 5 (16 November 2010)
Buenos Aires, Salta

The domestic airport is completely shut so the midday flight to Salta is via the absolutely packed international airport. The flight is quick and easy and we land in Northwest Argentina, an area famous for its wine and beautiful scenery.

Salta itself is much bigger than I expected. The main plaza is large and picturesque, and the whole city is buzzing with locals meeting in the centre or just sitting on a bench watching the world go by. It’s a bizarre environment as it feels like everyone is out and about. Unlike the UK, there’s a real sense of community and I love the fact that people are ‘living’ and not just plonked in front of the television at home.

The group sticks together in the afternoon and this is where the group size becomes a real hindrance. Ordering and paying for food takes forever and I feel like we’ve lost half the afternoon. When the group starts sightseeing through the city, I feel we’re just a bright umbrella away from being on a shit package holiday. Susanne and I decide to do our own thing (a couple of others do the same) and we prepare for tomorrow’s long day, which is the start of the real adventure.

Day 6 (17 November 2010)
Salta, Cafayate

Today was meant to be all about touring the countryside, visiting vineyards and sampling the local wines. Instead, we drive around 400km to Cafayate, a small town which is full of tourists. We visit one winery and after a 10 minute explanation on how they make the wine, we’re given a tiny taste of the cheapest white and red wines they produce. I’m surprised and disappointed, but on a positive note, the route to get here was absolutely beautiful. The mountains rise up to a modest 1,700m, but the views and varying rock colours make for some great photos.

On reflection, it would have been nicer to skip the wine tour and explore more of the mountains. The whole valley used to be covered by the sea and what has remained, millions of years later, is a series of gorges and remarkable rock formations.

Back in Salta, we break from the group again and find El Solar del Convento, a highly recommended restaurant just off the 9 de Julio Plaza. Its reputation precedes it. The atmosphere is sophisticated yet not pretentious, the service is the best I’ve had so far on this trip, and the food was excellent. The Malbec was also top-notch and blew away the crap we had from the winery early in the day. It’s a great way to end the Argentine section of this trip. Chile and Bolivia await, and I’m excited to see the altometer display some worthy figures!

Day 7 (18 November 2010)
Salta, San Pedro de Atacama

An early start and we all get to Salta’s bus station to catch the coach to San Pedro de Atacama, one of the driest places on earth. The coach is modern, and makes the journey fly by, especially with the great views as we climb to over 4,000m.

Even the border crossing into Chile is easy, despite the manual searching of everyone’s bags. As in the Patagonia crossings I did last year, they check for fruit, meat, nuts and of course coca leaves. I reluctantly dispose of the bags of coca leaves that I’ve been sucking for the past few days. Apparently you need 90kg of coca leaves to make a single gram of cocaine, so it seems a bit daft that I’m not allowed to take any leaves across the border; I’m pretty sure I can’t stuff 90kg of them in my mouth!

We pass some beautiful mountains, some of which are over 6,000m high, before reaching San Pedro de Atacama. It has a far more rural feel to it than Salta, despite the fact that it has practically been built for tourists, as nearly every building is a restaurant, shop or tour agency. The lack of tarmac roads means that it’s incredibly dusty, with sand flying everywhere each time a 4×4 passes or the wind blows. That said, it does add so much character to the small town.

The hotel is simple but very cute and reminiscent of the one I stayed in before I climbed the Sinai Mountains in Egypt. As a group we discuss all the options for the next 1.5 days. In reality, you could spend a week here and still not cover everything: The Valley of the Moon, the Death Valley, Star Gazing (it’s one of the best places in the world for astronomy), thermal springs, sand-boarding, mountain-climbing and numerous treks.

Most people want to do the Moon Valley, thermal springs and sand-boarding, but Susanne and I are very keen on climbing one of the mountains that is over 5,000m. Varcar seems the best: At 5,500m, it’s the only active volcano in the region and it requires a 05.00 start tomorrow, and means we can only go sand-boarding if we do it tonight. It sounds perfect, skimming down a sand-dune under the moonlight!

After a simple but tasty fish dinner, we meet at 21.30 only to be disappointed that the moonlight isn’t strong enough and we have to miss the sand-boarding. It’s a shame, but it does mean extra sleep before the early start tomorrow.

Day 8 (19 November 2010)
San Pedro de Atacama

We wait for an hour at 05.00 only to find that the 4×4 that was going to take us to the volcano is under repair. It’s hugely frustrating, especially as it’s absolutely freezing at this altitude when the sun isn’t out. Fortunately, our guide Christian has made some calls and we can go sand-boarding later this morning, and then climb another mountain this afternoon.

After a couple more hours sleep we join a German guy and an Argentine girl on a bouncy 4×4 trip into the Death Valley. It’s a stunning landscape and I finally feel like I’m on the adventure I wanted. We carry our sandboards for around ten minutes, reaching a big dune with powder-like sand which is begging for some tracks.

After a brief instruction, I’m surprised how easy it is, even if I do go relatively slowly and fall a few times! It’s such a strange experience to soak up the blisteringly hot sun, take in the stunning scenery and then hop off the edge of the sand-dune and carve my way down to the bottom! I’d definitely do it again, although I can’t begin to describe the energy needed to climb the sand dune every time I want another run! Where’s my air-conditioned ski-lift!?

It’s a pasta invigorating lunch before our next guide arrives with his repaired 4×4. It’s absolutely no surprise that it breaks down regularly, as he drives like a maniac and the suspension takes a hammering up to 5,100m. Toco mountain is not a volcano, but it is a little higher than Varcar, with its peak at 5,631m.

It’s not a difficult climb, but within 100m I know I’m not going to make it. My breathing is heavy and my legs are like jelly; the guide immediately says it’s the first signs of altitude sickness. I try to keep going, but then my head starts to pound with every step. I have to go back and although I’ve reached 5,375m, I’m hugely disappointed with myself.

With the wind blasting the side of the 4×4, I regain my strength, even if my hands and feet are still tingling. The guide told me that this happens as the body struggles to cope with the altitude and pumps blood to vital organs rather than limbs!

Susanne and the guide return an hour later, having picked up the pace and reached the summit before a quick descent. I’m proud of her but of course it’s such a shame that something out of my control has prevented me from joining the celebration at the top.

Another fast drive takes us back to San Pedro de Atacama, where we meet the others and join them for dinner. I’m not at all in the mood for drinks so return to the hotel for a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow we cross the border into Bolivia, the main reason for my South American trip, so I’m eager to experience the awe I felt when I visited Peru a couple of years ago.

Day 9 (20 November 2010)
San Pedro de Atacama, Valley of Dalí, Sol de Mañana

In a cloud of dust, a small minibus takes us to the Bolivian border. On the way, we pass Mount Toco and I reluctantly take a photo of the mountain that defeated me!

The border control is really quick and I enter my 39th country where several 4x4s are waiting to take us through the deserts of southwest Bolivia. The roads are nothing more than tyre tracks through this harsh and isolated landscape, so it makes for a bumpy and dusty ride. However, the mountains loom in every direction, so it’s hard to take my eyes off the stunning scenery.

It gets better, as we drive past many lagoons, each with unique colours, contrasting with the colourful rocks and mountains. The first is the Green Lagoon, followed by a drive through the Valley of Dalí to reach another lagoon, which is covered by spiralling formations of sand and dust. It’s a truly remarkable sight. Better yet, is the thermal pool which feeds into the lagoon. At 40 degrees, it’s like stepping into a bath tub and it’s my first unforgettable memory of Bolivia. Of course, I’m at around 4,000m, so the air is very cold, despite the scorching sun: Getting out of the thermal spring takes a bit of willpower!

I eat llama for lunch (it doesn’t seem too dissimilar from pork) and gulp a huge amount of water as I’m ridiculously dehydrated from the hot spring. I was only in for 10 minutes (the maximum recommended) but it totally drained me.

The next stop is for the Sol de Mañana geysers. Everyone ignores the ‘do not cross’ signs and peers into the bubbling geysers. They stink of sulphide and I can feel the heat from the ground below. I tread carefully between the geysers; there have been many stories of the ground collapsing beneath visitors, and I don’t fancy being another statistic for the guidebooks… That said, it does make a great spot for my first Bolivian jump!

More bouncing in the 4×4 and we finally reach our destination for the first night in the desert. It’s basic, with no heating and only minimal lighting for a couple of hours after sunset, but our guide manages to cook up the perfect cold weather food: A body warming soup followed by a massive amount of spaghetti bolognese. There’s also Bolivian wine although I only sample a little since I’m taking altitude sickness pills. I’m glad I am – the wine is revolting; somewhere between vinegar and cat’s piss!

I take a few night shots before climbing under the layers of blankets: Tomorrow is a huge day of driving and if today is anything to go by, it bodes very well indeed.

Day 10 (21 November 2010)
Laguna Colorada, Desert of Siloli, Ollague Vulcano, Salar de Chiguana

An early alarm and we all jump back in the 4x4s. Yesterday a couple of people were feeling the effects of the altitude, but fortunately a night’s rest seems to have done the trick.

The first stop is the Laguna Colorada and it’s one of the best landscapes I’ve ever seen. Aside from hundreds of flamingos, the lagoon is ridiculously red. I’ve never seen such a red colour in nature before; it’s as if Mother Nature has photoshopped the lagoon! I’m truly gobsmacked.

The Desert of Siloli isn’t something I was particularly excited about seeing. After the White Desert in Egypt, I wasn’t convinced rock formations in the middle of the Bolivian desert could compare. However, I’m completely proven wrong: It’s a fantastic area with gigantic rocks which appear to be out of place and lost in the desert. There are a few other tourists here, all acting like children, climbing and playing around the rocks: It’s like an enormous playground! It’s very photogenic too, so if it wasn’t for the blisteringly hot sun, I would have been happy to stay much longer than the 30 minutes that we did.

There are stops at a few more lagoons (Cañapa, ChairKota and Hedionda) and although they are pretty and full of birdlife, I feel like I’ve stalked enough flamingos for a lifetime!

The heat in the 4×4 is crazy. It’s a dilemma between sitting in a moving greenhouse or opening the windows and breathing litres of sandy air, so it’s a refreshing stop by Ollague Vulcano, where the wind blows over the jagged rocks. I climb the various viewpoints, soaking up the sun, with the smoke puffing out of the volcano in the distance.

We cross a train track by another security checkpoint before reaching a small town to stock up on water, and other essentials like packets of Pringles(!) There are loads of children running around the town, curious about their foreign visitors, and it’s another reminder about how simple and different life can be for people around the world.

I’m particularly excited about the next hotel. Not far from the salt plains, it’s actually built out of salt! Walls are made of salt bricks, with a salty mixture holding them together. The floor looks like someones has poured salt granules all over the place (it feels amazing when walking around barefooted!) and tables, chairs and ornaments are all carved out of salt rock.

The moon is immensely bright tonight, so I have another crack at some moon photography, with much better results. It’s a surreal experience to be standing in the middle of a desert and being able to see the various craters on the surface of the moon!

Day 11
22 November 2010
Salar de Uyuni, Uyuni

Today’s attraction was what created my first interest in travelling to Bolivia. The Salar de Uyuni is the biggest salt plain in the world and is a third of the size of Switzerland. It holds around 5.4m tonnes of lithium and lies at 3,656m above sea level, meaning that it creates a perfect contrast between the seemingly endless landscape of white salt against the brilliant blue sky. In wet season (January) it even floods, creating a perfect mirror across the desert floor.

However, the day doesn’t start as planned and I’m woken at around two in the morning by Susanne who has unfortunately fallen ill. It’s obviously some dodgy food that caused the problem, but the real issue is being in such a state when there’s no electricity and you’re using torches to scramble around a salt hotel in the middle of a desert. It’s not a pleasant start, but at least come 07.00, she appears to be through the worst of it, even if she is completely drained of energy.

Feeling slightly better, she joins us for the 4×4 trip into the centre of the salt plains. It starts with a short hike to the top of a little island that sits in the middle of the plains. It’s an absolutely amazing little island, since it’s littered with cacti, thriving in the harsh environment in which they live.

Another drive and we reach a location where I can pretty much only see salt in every direction, apart from the faint shadows of mountains that are hundreds of kilometres away. It’s everything I hoped it would be, from the crystal-like salt shapes on the ground to the perfect blue sky.

We do the touristy thing and play with perspective to get some unusual photos, but I waste a lot of time with ambitious shots that don’t really work. The best ideas are the simple ones, an everyone laughs and messed around with different objects. It’s a really perfect place to play with photography.

Before finishing the day in Uyuni, we visit the Train Cemetery, but although it’s impressive, the weather has suddenly changed and the quite skies make it hard to photograph the rusty, dark and abandoned trains.

Between the cemetery ad Uyuni is another unbelievable sight. There are literally millions of plastic bags, torn ti shreds and depositing rubbish all over the shrubs between the town and the desert. It’s disgusting and gives an idea of how bad certain services are in this country.

Uyuni is a perfect example of rural Bolivian life. Unlike some of the other towns I’ve seen on this trip, it has a real local feel to it, and is a stark reminder about how poor the country is. Old people (mainly women) roam the streets and every few metres there is another frail person selling anything from fruit and nuts to socks and knitwear.

The dust is unbelievable. I’ve been waking up and really gasping for air each day, but this place is a horrendously bad. The sand from the roads is bad enough, but the pollution adds to the mix: It really is a nightmare for asthmatics and contact lens wearers!

We go out for an Italian dinner (again!) and settle for an early night, since we’re so exhausted from the lack of sleep yesterday. Others stay out late, visiting the awfully named ‘Extreme Fun’ bar and downing shots until the early hours of the morning!

Day 12 (23 November 2010)
Uyuni, Potosí

Out first lie-in since Buenos Aires is a welcome rest, and sets us up for the long coach ride to Potosí. I feel I haven’t explored Uyuni properly. However, it’s the amazing countryside that is the reason why I’m in Bolivia and that’s why today’s day on the road is so enjoyable.

Despite being a relatively major road, the route from Uyuni to Potosí is basically a dirt track, with occasional sections that have tarmac. It twists and turns through the mountains, reaching close to 5,000m. Amongst the beautiful landscapes are a few buildings (which are nothing more than walls with a roof) and a few locals going about their rural lives. This is the real Bolivia and unlike some developing countries that I’ve visited, it doesn’t feel like things are going to change any time soon. It’s an eye-opening experience that I wish the whole world could see.

Potosí used to be the richest city in Latin America. Its silver mines depreciated in value and it nearly collapsed but for the demand for tin. It has certainly lost its ‘rich’ title, but is still proud of the fact that it’s the highest city in the world, at 4,088m. I can still feel the effects of the altitude too; it’s not easy putting in my contact lenses when my fingers and face are both completely numb!

Potosí is considerably bigger than any town I’ve seen in Bolivia so far, but still doesn’t seem any different to Uyuni. It’s like a city lost in time, that hasn’t changed in hundreds of years. Of course there are mobile phones, electrical stores and the odd modern looking building, but the street-sellers remain and the beggars still roam.

The frantic, busy roads are full of old mini-buses (which were clearly imported from China decades ago) crammed with people. Children are employed to announce each stop and many of them sit on the door entrance with their legs dangling out and scraping the road below.

From a photographic point of view, there is fodder everywhere, but I hold back, conscious that the better the photo, the more I’m highlighting their poverty.

There’s a quick walk around the city before an early dinner in a great little restaurant that has a wall covered in graffiti from travellers’ scribbles. Most people are shattered, but we all stay up to watch a documentary about a 12 year old boy who works in Potosí’s silver mines. It’s full of eye-opening facts about child labour, the dangers of mining and extreme lack of wealth in Bolivia.

Day 13 (24 November 2010)
Potosí

I’m visiting the silver mines today and I wake with the images of the documentary still embedded on my mind. On the minibus I try to imagine the journey that workers would make from the city up to Cerro Rico, knowing they have to spend their next hours (and in some cases a full 24 hour shift) in near darkness at temperatures of up to 40 degrees.

I change into the mining gear (I’m a little concerned at how very YMCA I look in these clothes…) and ascend the mountain that Potosí miners have climbed so many times. Near one of the mine-shafts, I spot the mother of the boy whose documentary I saw last night. It suddenly makes the shocking video so much more real, especially when nearby I see the boy’s brother, who is a few years older, but still a teenager preparing to enter the mines again. He sees that we’ve recognised them and smiles, waving at us like he’s a superstar. Out guide points out his sister (who can’t even be 10 years old) and she’s separating the rocks into piles, trying to identify some valuable minerals. The documentary was shocking, but this is hard to digest.

As part of the tour inside the mines, we pass Tio; workers believe that inside this mine they are away from God’s eyes and they need to respect the devil in order to save themselves from accidents. I don’t know if the guide is joking when he says they touch the devil’s privates and make a wish… I don’t take the risk: I grab the Tio and pray to get out of this mine alive!

We meet real miners who are still working in the same conditions as they did hundreds of years ago. We see the manual methods of drilling holes, the setting the dynamite (that they have to pay for using their own money!) and the crawling through muddy passages, filled with poor quality air. If they avoid the daily dangers such as falling into sub-shafts, cave-ins and the risk of dynamite accidents, then they get the privilege of dying from silicosis at an average age of just 40 years old.

It’s a journey that leaves us all shocked and grateful that we haven’t been born into this alternative world. We climb into various shafts and I even get a chance to carry out some work: It’s staggeringly tiring and I feel guilt as I hand it back over to the miner. He smiles and even hands me a small rock to take away. It’s not valuable to him, but to me it will be a reminder of this moment forever.

We exit the mines and are grateful not to have joined the 8,000,000 people to have died in this mountain. As a privilege for the tour, we gift coca leaves, 96% alcohol (!), and even dynamite to the various miners we meet.

Back under sunlight, the miners then show us how strong the dynamite can be. Taking just a small amount, they they blow it up; it’s a much bigger explosion than we expect, and the miners laugh and take huge satisfaction at our reactions!

Back in Potosí we have lunch, wander around the city and then prepare for the long bus journey that will take us to La Paz overnight. Potosí’s bus station is the most modern part of Bolivia I’ve seen to date (free wifi – I mean seriously – priorities!?) the locals love our game of hacky sack and we board the night bus. Tomorrow I’ll wake up in the highest capital city in the world – a slightly odd title since it’s not actually the capital of Bolivia!

Day 14 (25 November 2010)
La Paz

La Paz is far from its name suggests. Multiply the frenzy of Potosí tenfold, put it into a ten kilometre crater surrounded by dangerous slums, and you get La Paz.

The hotel is relatively good and very central. We arrive early but the hotel lets us check in and have breakfast. Once again, I’m in a city that hosts many sites ad I’m here for only a short period of time. My decisions revolve around tomorrow’s full day of biking. Susanne has her heart set on reaching 6,000m. I’d love to join her but there simply aren’t enough hours in the day and, in any case, I’m still concerned about how I’m coping with the altitude.

Huyana Potosi’s peak is at 6,078m. There are several companies claiming they can offer guides for this technical climb, so I spend the morning trying to help Susanne find a suitable English-speaking guide who we trust can do it safely. We finally come across a small, but very friendly local who seems to know the mountain range like the back of his hand. The challenging climb will start tonight at 23.30 and go throughout the night, finishing at some point tomorrow afternoon..! It means a siesta for Susanne whilst I join a few others in the group in a walk around the city’s cathedral and along the witches’ market (imagine your local corner shop, but with a few llama foetuses…)

I get an absurdly cheap massage just in time for dinner at a recommended Thai restaurant in the ‘modern’ part of La Paz. It’s like walking though a time machine into the future. Everything is clean and the poverty is nowhere to be seen. The Thai is excellent and quite possibly the best I’ve ever had. Spirits are high an despite the warning that we should not be hungover for tomorrow’s bike adventure, everyone has a ‘suitable’ number of drinks until around 02.00!

Day 15-16 (26-27 November 2010)
La Paz, Coroico,

About two years ago, I received an email with an attachment. It was a PowerPoint document with a series of photos and was name ‘The Most Dangerous Road in the World’. Ever since seeing the photos, I’ve wanted to witness it for myself. So you can imagine my excitement when I discovered that it’s possible to ride down its 63km route on a mountain bike!

Its winding route through the mountains of the Yungas jungle has taken many lives, and it earned its title a few years ago when around 200-300 people died each year by falling from the 1,000m high cliff-edges. Six of us are driven to around 4,600m, where the route begins. It’s like a childhood dream as nearly the whole 63km is a steep downhill to Coroico, a small town at just 1,525m.

I’m in two minds as I’m desperate to stop every few hundred metres for photos, since the mountain scenery is absolutely stunning. However, I also feel like I’d be letting down the 10-year-old Carlo if I didn’t absolutely scream down this perfect downhill road! For once, I half forget about photography and I let adrenaline take over. The first 20km is all downhill on a tarmac road and I simply fly down as fast as I can. If only if I could send a postcard back 20 years and tell myself what I’d be doing today! I’d be counting down the days!

After a police checkpoint (this is actually a very popular route to smuggle drugs from the jungles of Bolivia) I’m off the Tarmac and onto the bumpy, slippery and narrow section of this route, which is suitably named ‘The Death Road’.

The track is dry and as long as you are careful around the blind corners, I really don’t think it’s any different to any other road. However, all it takes is one mistake, just one stumble over a stone or a slip of the tyre and I’d be off the edge and fall to a certain death. The many crosses and plaques constantly reminde me how dangerous this really is, so I lower my speed and take in the gorgeous views. However, there are still plenty of straight sections where I speed up and fuel my adrenaline rush!

The views are sublime and I’d have loved to have stopped more often, but I don’t want to take anything away from the experience itself. It’s really spectacular and one of the greatest experiences of my life which would definitely deserve a repeat.

We reach the end of the trail where a small restaurant awaits. I really feel the jungle atmosphere as I get bitten to shreds by the mosquitos, but the person in real pain is David. He fell after about 20km and thought he’d badly bruised his shoulder. On closer inspection it’s clearly a broken collar bone, so it’s unbelievable how he made it down the remaining 40km. We later discover that he actually broke four bones, one of which punctured a lung! He must have pain threshold stronger than Superman’s!

Earlier in the day I said that there would be no way on earth I’d let someone drive me on that road. Imagine my surprise when I discover that we are going to drive back up the route we’d just completed! I eat my words and put my life into the driver’s hands as he navigates us up the winding route to La Paz. I sit at the window and there are moments when I can’t even see the road – just the 1,000m drop into the jungle! It’s truly nerve-wrecking but a wonderful way to review the route and take in the stunning scenery.

Back in La Paz, the sun is setting and the views across the city’s suburbs is amazing. It’s a shame I don’t have more time in La Paz as it would be spectacular to climb the city’s outer mountains and look across this ‘city crater’.

At the hotel lobby I spot Susanne, who is absolutely exhausted and there’s a huge relief from both of us since we know how dangerous each other’s trips have been. I feel as if I had the easy one: When I was out drinking last night, Susanne had just started her climb, walking through the night, crossing crevasses and fighting against freezing temperatures at around 6,000m! Unfortunately the amazing weather has not been favourable, since the strong sunshine in the early morning means the snow is potentially loose, and for this reason alone, she had to turn around and miss out on reaching the summit.

Tomorrow’s early flight means it’s a relatively calm one this evening. We go to a steak restaurant which has a good reputation, but the service is absolutely horrendous. Forgetting the meal, Susanne and I look back on the last 24 hours which are the best of the whole trip, with plenty of memories to keep us occupied on the four flights home (La Paz to Santa Cruz to Buenos Aires to Paris to London!)

The shuttle bus from the airport to Stavanger is running slightly late. It’s a mild hiccup at 01.00 after a late Friday night flight from Gatwick. Norway redeems itself as the bus driver takes a detour just so he can politely drop me off outside my hotel!

I wake a few hours later and Tonny, a mate from Copenhagen, meets me for breakfast. There’s no time to waste so we jump straight into the rental car and work our way east towards Lysefjorden. It’s a hilly, green landscape with water everywhere and actually reminds me of Wales. However, we approach a ferry crossing and suddenly the mountains grow and the fjords are everything I hoped for.

We reach the parking area at the base of Preikestolen and already the views are impressive as dark rocks rise vertically from the valley floor around us. The weather is completely random. It literally changes every few minutes, from torrential rain to blue skies, and everything in between. I’ve never seen so many rainbows and with the dark clouds, it creates some stunning scenery.

The trek to Preikestolen is not particularly long, but it’s reasonably steep in places. Furthermore, with the constantly changing weather, it’s very wet and many of the rocky paths are flooded with small streams. It’s the best of both worlds; the landscape is vibrant and green, yet since it’s near the end of summer, it’s not packed with tourists.

The higher we climb, the better the views of the fjords, especially along the ‘cliff route’ near the peak. However, nothing could have prepared me for the Preikestolen: It’s an absolutely perfect example of nature at its best. The views into and along the fjord are impressive enough, but the sheer vertical drop from where I’m standing is incredible. It’s like a giant has taken an axe to the cliff edges and sliced away huge, clean chunks off the mountain. Better still, is the weather. One minute the sun is shining brightly and the rocks appear to illuminate, causing a breathtaking view high above the water below. A few minutes later and it’s absolutely chucking it down, with clouds smothering the entire area. It’s such a strange feeling as my photos make it look like I’ve visited several times, in completely different seasons.

Of course, with such a surreal cliff edge, spirits are high amongst the (few) tourists that area there. Near the edge, a couple play tennis, a lady does yoga, and everyone else lowers themselves so they’re dangling over the nerve-racking drop. I obviously do a project jump, and that sets off another tourist from Australia, who hands me her camera and says ‘I want one like that!’

We stay for ages and take a ridiculous number of photos of this natural wonder. I really can’t begin to describe the feeling of sticking my head over the edge and staring down into the 604m abyss!

It’s a slightly different and equally impressive walk down the ‘hill route’ and as the weather continues to play games, it’s actually laughable how many rainbows I see.

Back at the car, we’re approached by the two tennis players who are tourists from Oslo and have missed the last bus to Stavanger. We give them a ride and as they slug back a bottle of Bacardi, they are grateful for the lift back to the city.

After a quick shower, we go to a highly recommended Indian restaurant and stuff ourselves silly. Whilst I’d love to go out Norwegian style, it has been a long day and tomorrow is an early start.

Day 3 (29 August 2010)
Stavanger, Bergen

A 06.15 alarm sets me off towards the airport and as I check in (using my fingerprint!) I wave goodbye to Stavanger, a region I’ll most certainly visit again.

Six years ago I visited Bergen very briefly at night, and I remember it being very picturesque. It’s great to be back and explore it properly, as I certainly didn’t do it justice in 2004. The hostel is as expensive as a good hotel, but its position is outstanding. It offers incredible views over Bergen, only beaten by the view from the top of the Ulrikken, which overlooks the small city at 642m high. I’m glad we take the funicular up, since it’s a steep walk down and I’m still carrying all my gear that I wouldn’t leave in the hostel lobby.

It’s a beautiful area, with hundreds of walking routes and one can see why it’s popular with trekkers. Once again the weather is changing randomly: It’s a mix of clouds and sun, then the heavy rain falls just long enough for us to visit Hakon’s Hall, which is by the World Heritage area of Bergen. Once the sun is out again, I explore the narrow alleys which are filled with colourful shops and it’s understandable why nearly every postcard shows this area of Bergen.

For a few hours we stroll around the hilly, northern part of the town, where there are fewer tourists and I get a sense for real Bergen life. It’s calm and relaxing, with unique little shops selling all kinds of homemade foods and drinks. The Lille Lungegårdsvannet is a small lake in the centre of Bergen, and unlike six years ago, there are a number of arty exhibits on show. One in particular is fantastic: It’s a huge cube which looks like it’s a lump of liquid metal, reacting to a powerful magnet. I can only assume that the artist was a fan of the T-1000!

Tomorrow is the start of the real road trip, so we have dinner by the port, catch the sunset from the hillside and return to the hostel for a relatively early night.

Day 4 (30 August 2010)
Bergen, Hardangerfjord, Stalheim, Flåm

The real road trip starts today, leaving Bergen early and driving south east along the Hardangerfjord. The weather is holding up, which really makes a difference with the luscious green valleys contrasting with the blue skies and red buildings. Waterfalls, that are in pretty much every single landscape, shine brilliantly amongst the colours, and it’s a good sign for the several hundred kilometres of road we’re about to travel along the west coast of Norway.

The Steinsdalsfossen is a popular tourist stop, not only for the size of the waterfall, but also because it’s possible to walk right up to it, and even behind it. After a quick coffee, we follow the fjord northeast, stopping occasionally for photos. The blue skies start to disappear behind clouds, but the area is so pure and natural that it doesn’t take anything away from the scenery.

Further north, we take a detour off the main road toward Stalheim. It’s another famous stop in the region, but since we’re in the first week of September, it’s devoid of other tourists, so the winding road is free to explore at our own pace. This valley is also home to a road that regularly appears in top ten lists of the world’s best drives: The Stalheimskleiva. It’s a ridiculously steep road that turns every 50 metres, swooping down the fjord like an enormous snake.

Before too long, we approach Flåm, one of the most famous fjord ‘resorts’, although it’s barely a small village and there’s not a soul in sight. I get a bit of a surprise at the hostel, when the owner explains that it’s a shared bathroom and we have to pay extra for the bed linen. Worst still, when I ask about the showers, she tells me that they are coin operated, giving you just five minutes of hot water! I’m almost afraid to ask how much it’s going to cost me to take a dump!

Day 5 (31 August 2010)
Flåm, Myrdal

Flåm is a huge tourist destination and yet it was practically a ghost town for dinner last night. However, this morning the gigantic ship arrives and hundreds of tourists flock this village. There are cameras waving everywhere and the few tourist shops suddenly start counting the kroners.

The train from Flåm to Myrdal (climbing 864m in altitude, over just 20km into the mountains) is supposed to be one of the best journeys in the world. It certainly is spectacular, but with the worst weather of the trip so far, it loses some of the colour and vibrance of the postcard pictures down in Flåm.

That said, the Kjosfossen is a beautiful waterfall and the train stops for a prolonged look. Better still, Norwegian folk music starts blaring and a couple of traditionally dressed women suddenly appear from the rocks around the waterfall and dance mysteriously and provokingly! It’s incredibly cheesy but a lot of fun!

However, the main reason for this train journey is so I can watch the pensioners take the train back down, and I can hop onto a rented bike and take the fun route! Tonny and I are given quite possibly the crappiest bikes on earth and we laugh as we bobble down the rocky steep path down the mountain. We make a detour to reach the Reinungavatnet and Seltufvatnet lakes, and out of luck we find the top of the waterfall which we saw from the train.

The train is approaching, and we notice the two dancing women run from a hut, take off their huge winter jackets and take their positions. It completely changes the ‘mystery’ of the dancing women! We can’t help joining in with the dancing, so if any tourists looked high up above the beautifully-dressed dancing women, they’d see two hikers dancing away and laughing hysterically to themselves!

The bumpy ride down the fjord could take only an hour or two, but there are so many great sports with beautiful views of the waterfalls, the fjords, the tiny remote homes and the absolutely stunning river with its emerald green water, so the journey takes much longer with all the stops. We leave our bikes and climb rocks a few times, to explore the stunning scenery and to find more photo opportunities.

We reach Flåm and once again it’s completely dead. It means another quiet bugget dinner (in a gorgeous setting) followed by a visit to the only pub, which is actually a brewery and pretty much the entire bar is made of natural materials. The bar itself, seats, table and building structure is all made of finely carved wood. The beer taps are even made of bones! The delicious ‘India Pale Ale’ sets me up for a well deserved long sleep.

Day 6 (1 September 2010)
Flåm, Aurland, Lærdal, Borgund, Kaupanger, Sognal, Jostedal, Gjerde

It’s another long day of driving, but the weather totally clears up which means plenty of stops and loads of photos. It starts with Stegastein, a man-made platform that overlooks Aurland. It’s a truly wonderful view, even from the public toilet which has its own window across the fjord!

Further north on the highland route is Lærdal, an incredibly cute little village which has lods of little colourful homes. I’ll remember it as a ghost town as there was practically not a person in sign, which is really odd as most photos of this village make it look like you can’t see the road through the tourists.

The highland road is impressive and really reminds me of Scotland. It’s a strange landscape as the Norwegian summer is over, which means there are pratically no tourists, but the wonderful weather means it’s like the middle of July and there’s a hardly any snow that we expected this high into the mountains.

Again, we avoid the main road (and the ridiculously boring 25km tunnel) and take the ‘historic’ road along the edges of the mountain. It’s quiet, beautiful, and a much more enjoyable way to experience rural Norway. We deliberately travel a few extra kilometres east, so we can visit the Borgund Church. It’s one of just 28 Norwegian churches that remain in the world and apparently the only one that stands as it did 800 years ago. It’s amazing. A real feat of carpentry and architecture, as the whole church is carved out of beautifully coloured wood.

Back west, we take the Fodness ferry crossing, visiting another (less impressive) church in Kaupanger, and then work our way around Sognalsfjorden, which is yet another stunning fjord, especially now that the sun is really shining strong, creating unbelievable blues and greens in every direction I look.

The final stretch is north along Jostadel, another winding road along the side of a fjord. With the sun low in the sky, the colours are truly remarkable; I’m seeing Norway in all its glory. Jostedal Hotel is another family-run place, practically deserted in the mountains, with gorgeous views all around. It’s unbelievably relaxing, and the fresh, cold air reminds me of Patagonia and yet again I feel like I’m a million miles from home.

Day 7 (2 September 2010)
Jostedalsbreen

Today was another highlight of the trip, with a day trekking on the Nigards Glacier. It’s a day where I really need good weather and I’m in luck: The sky is blue as far as the eye can see and the sun is strong enough to catch a tan. It’s incredible, considering that I’m further north than the Shetland Islands.

A short drive north and we reach the glacier. It’s very big and we can only see the tip of it creeping over the mountains. With crampons and ice axes, we join a group that includes a Spanish couple and bunch of reserved Singhalese.

As we ascend the glacier, the pace is very slow since we’re all tied together with ropes, in case of anyone slipping into crevasses or water holes. Apparently the crevasses on this part of the glacier aren’t too dangerous, at around 30m deep. However, the water holes can be deadly: You’d get sucked down and spat out at the bottom, or worse, you fall into a hole that gets narrower near the bottom and you’d drown, freeze, and turn up several years later for the next group of tourists to spot!

We trek up the glacier for a couple of hours, but disappointingly there is no actual ice climbing. Apparently the view from the top of the mountain is exceptional, as you’d see the full scale of the glacier, flowing from the horizon in the distance. However, it takes several hours to reach the peak so we settle for another photogenic spot, with a great view of the moon disappearing behind the glacier.

The route down is more challenging and more interesting, but unfortunately despite this trek being called the ‘Blue Ice Walk’, we don’t get a chance to venture into any of the massive blue caves. It’s another disappointment, but at least I get a chance to take some photos from the outside.

Back at the hotel, it’s unbelievably relaxing to sit on the sun deck, with shorts and t-shirt, the sun on my face and a cold beer in hand!

Day 8 (3 September 2010)
Gjerde, Hornindalsvatn Lake, Hellesyt, Geiranger

Another day of driving but this time there’s a time limit. We absolutely must reach Hellesyt for 15.00 otherwise there’s a long wait until the next ferry through the Geirangerfjord. Even though it’s only 50km as the crow flies, we have to circumnavigate the enormous Jostedal Glacier, so it’s actually around 250km.

That said, the pace is relaxed and there’s time for a number of stops en route. As with all roads in this region, the views are spectacular. Once again there isn’t a cloud in the sky, so the blue fjords and ridiculously green fields absolutely glow. Words can’t describe how beautiful this area is and one could easily spend more time exploring in more detail, including the deepest lake in Europe (Hornindalsvatn) whose depth is an incredible 514m. Even with this wonderful weather, it looks absolutely freezing!

Hellesyt is a picturesque village, which marks the beginning of one of the most famous ferry journeys in the world. We arrive with half an hour to spare, and then board the small ferry that will take us 20km down the Geirangerfjord. It’s absolutely breathtaking. The fjord cliffs are truly enormous, and even though there’s not too much water from the waterfalls, the whole route is still another example of nature leaving me gobsmacked.

Standing on the deck of the ferry, I turn into the stereotypical tourist in Norway, with my camera in hand and snapping away at the beauty passing before me. Whilst it’s absolutely incredible, I can’t imagine spending more time sitting on a ferry and experiencing a trip this way. It takes away the magic of ‘deserving’ the view and also means that you have to quickly shoot photos before you lose the moment.

Geiranger is really beautiful. The Norwegians have done well to control the number of buildings, and despite the huge ship that stays overnight in the port (with its fumes polluting the clean, mountain air), it feels like a lost village, hidden away from the world. It helps that it’s so quiet; I can’t imagine how different this place would be in the middle of summer.

The hotel is the best yet and we take advantage of Tonny’s status as a travel agent to get the room with the best view. It’s quite simply the best hotel room view I think I’ll ever see in my life! Further up into the mountain, is the famous Flydalsjuvet, where every daredevil gets their photo taken. The sun isn’t in the right place, so we decide to return tomorrow.

After a fish dinner, we try driving into the mountains for a better view of the sunset. We reach a really harsh landscape, with glaciers, dark rocks and much less greenery than down in the fjord, which we briefly explore before returning to the hotel to end the day.

Day 9 (4 September 2010)
Geiranger, Hellesyt, Ålesund

I was supposed to stay in Geiranger for two nights, but the non-existent travel options tomorrow mean that I have to do a last minute change of plan and travel to Ålesund today. However, it turns out to be one of the best days.

It starts with a hearty breakfast and an early morning trek to Geitelva, which gives a fantastic view of the Seven Sisters waterfalls. However, it’s still a little early in the day so although the view is exceptional, the sunlight isn’t ideal for photography. It’s a real shame as this area clearly has so much more to offer and I’ve only scraped the surface.

We complete the 10km hike and return to Flydalsjuvet, to get the daredevil photo I wanted yesterday. Since the weather is still out of this world, the view is perfect and completely sums up the beauty of this fjord. I take my postcard photos, saying my goodbyes to Tonny (he’s travelling for another three days further north into Norway) and return to the ferry back to Hellesyt.

From there, I catch a cheap bus (by Norwegian standards) to Ålesund, which is possibly the most scenic bus journey I’ve ever done! I was worried that the change of plans would wreck the day, but it really is a joyful journey, across the mountains and fjords. There’s a moment of panic at one point, when a group of French students get back onto the bus after the Magerholm-Ørsneset ferry crossing and realise they are one person short. The bus driver isn’t impressed and refuses to wait any longer, so they all get off to find their missing friend and the bus leaves them stranded!

Ålesund is small but geographically very interesting. It’s very hilly and the surrounding islands make it really unique. I climb up the steep hill to Aksla and arrive an hour before sunset. My plan was to see the sunset and then have dinner, but it’s absolutely gorgeous and the colours in the sky resemble an African sunset. I end up staying for three hours just watching the town turn from day to night. It’s a perfect way to end the final night of my trip.

Day 10 (5 September 2010)
Ålesund

It’s a placid final day, with a gentle walk around Ålesund. I spot the French group, so they must have found their friend and a way of getting here after all!

I was hoping to do a bit of shopping in the morning, but absolutely everything is shut on Sundays, including most coffee bars. I wander around taking a few photos, but there really isn’t too much to do, so I return to Aksla and climb to the top for one final view of the town, before my flight home via Oslo.

I decide to surprise visit my father for his birthday. I don’t normally visit my parents in the summer holidays, but it’s actually really nice to soak up the sun and have a energy-free holiday for a change. For the first time in years, I opt to leave my camera equipment at home, although I’m glad to take my underwater compact camera as it gives me a chance to try some more unusual jump shots.

Using a swimming pool, a 10 second timer, and a huge amount of patience, I finally get the shot I want. Below is the photo, along with a selection of the failed attempts..!

When I joined the boys on a long weekend to Berlin, I expected a grey city, scarred from the second World War. What I discovered was a vibrant place, full of energy and packed with culture. Oh – and a huge range of ridiculously strong beers, alongside every type of sausage you can possibly think of…

Day one was stereotypically German. Our nominated guide (David briefly lived in Berlin) takes us to a restaurant that has a huge garden, with long tables shared by locals and tourists. It’s essentially a massive beer garden, that also offers food. Being asparagus season, we all have a suitable amount of greens that will no doubt confirm the truth of the infamous myth tomorrow morning. We also try a variety of local beers that set the tone for the trip: This is all about seeing as much of the city as possible, so that our bodies don’t even think about nurturing a hangover.

Day 2 (5 June 2010)
Berlin

I wake the following morning at a respectable time and head straight for the Fernsehturm television tower, where David tells us that the only way we’ll have time to see the many sights is if we hire bikes. It’s a perfect call as we jump on our bikes and zip from one incredible monument to another. I’m truly amazed by my first impressions. Germany’s capital is absolutely packed with things to see. There are so many stunning statues and buildings, so it’s an absolute pleasure to cycle around the wide paths and roads, in complete awe of the architecture surrounding me.

The city, considerably flattened in World War II, has retained its openness, with parks and statues placed all over the city. I start with communism at the Engels & Marx monument, and then pass a huge motorcycle parade, the Altes Museum and Berliner Dom. The Konzerthaus Berlin is a good place to stop for a well deserved beer break before passing Checkpoint Charlie, which is a strange experience: As I stand in the middle of this busy city road, I can’t help think that less than 70 years ago it was one of the most dangerous places to be in the world.

A little further east we find the large remains of the Berlin Wall on Niederkirchnerstrasse, and visit the Topographie des Terrors. It’s surreal to stand next to the wall and consider the fact that such an insignificant object could represent so much.

We travel northwest and enter the absolutely gigantic Tiergarten. The sun is in full force as we reach the Schloss Bellevue so it’s perfect timing to ride through the park amongst all the locals soaking up the glorious weather.

On our way back east, there’s a brief stop at the Soviet War Memorial (I suddenly feel quite conscious of my CCCP t-shirt, I’m wearing…) and then to the Brandenburger Tor, which is one of the main symbols of Berlin and Germany. It’s large and impressive, but absolutely packed with tourists, so it requires a little more effort to find a unique shot.

We’ve packed so much into one day, but one of the most impressive stops was yet to come: The Holocaust-Mahnmal is enormous and is a very impressive memorial to the murdered Jews of Europe. Uniquely designed, and spanning across a 19,000 square meter site, it’s impossible not to be overwhelmed. It’s yet another outstanding example of how well Berlin is remembering its past, whilst educating for the future.

After all the cycling, it’s only fair that we end the day with a well-deserved amount of food and drink!

(Congrats if you spotted the error – I’m actually crossing into the East side of the wall)

Day 3 (6 June 2010)
Berlin

There are a number of areas in Berlin where you can still see the remains of the wall. The morning starts with a quick visit to an antique market, on our way to a huge area which has been kept exactly like the wall was before it was taken down in November 1989. It’s shocking to see the photos of all the people who tried to cross it, especially a chap called Winfried Freudenberg who died in a crossing attempt in March 1989.

Looking through the crack of one wall, across the field to the high second wall, it’s hard to imagine that anyone could make it across alive, and really underlines how desperate people must have been to risk it.

It’s a slightly relaxed afternoon with some beers and some rather aimless wandering around, before we decide to visit the spectacular Treptower Park. It’s an absolutely enormous Russian monument to remember those who died in battle for Berlin in the early 1940s. With the gorgeous weather, the Germans are out in hundreds and the parks are full of people playing, eating, drinking and sunbathing.

The evening starts quite sensibly, with an Italian restaurant and a few bottles of wine. What seems like it’s going to be a rather subdued second night, turns into complete silliness when we find a punk bar which has a karaoke night. My first ever solo karaoke effort goes down pretty well; I think Kylie Minogue would have been proud. I have a crack at Simon & Garfunkel’s Bridge Over Troubled Water and the local punks seem to appreciate my headbanging to the climax of the song.

However, the best moments are no doubt Max’s “I’m gonna make you bleed” line in Welcome to the Jungle, and Mark’s super-enthusiastic rendition of AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long.

It sets us up nicely to buy a bottle of whisky and enjoy the incessant ramblings of our new best friend, Herr Spargel…

Day 4 (7 June 2010)
Berlin

It’s not the most energetic of mornings, as everyone is feeling the effects of the late night. Before our afternoon flight back to London, we drag ourselves to the Fernsehturm Berlin, the famous television tower that has a rotating restaurant at the top. None of us can stomach food, so we just have coffees whilst Berlin’s cityscape spins around us. Germany’s capital has left a very strong impression on me, and there’s no doubt about it; I definitely will return.

It’s a frantic finish at work on Friday evening ahead of my overnight flight. Before I know it, I’m waking up in Egypt and hurtling through the empty streets of Cairo in a taxi that seems determined to break its record time (as well as trying to completely rip me off).

At about 08.00, Susanne and I arrive at the Oberi Mena House hotel, which is just a stone throw away from the pyramids. After a prolonged argument with the reception, we get the room we booked and although the accommodation is nothing to rave about, the view is simply sublime. The pyramids are everything I hoped they would be: Huge, magnificent, mind-boggling and perfectly photogenic.

After breakfast, Susanne opts for a 90 minute massage whilst I tour the hotel’s grounds taking photos of the pyramids from every possible angle under the blisteringly strong sun. An Italian lunch, a play in the swimming pool, a siesta and a French dinner (with belly dancer!) sets us up for the next seven, energetic days.

Day 3 (9 May 2010)
Cairo, Giza

An early start and our private guide takes us to the foot of the Great Pyramid. So many friends have told me that I’ll be disappointed, the crowds are obscene and the sights are underwhelming. I couldn’t disagree more. Firstly, at 5,000 years old, they are shockingly well preserved. However, it’s their sizes that impress: They are simply enormous. To build them with today’s technology would be an achievement, so it’s quite staggering how magnificently they stand.

If the outside is impressive, then the inside is mind-blowing. I climb the vent-like corridor up to the tomb, squeezing under low ceilings and narrow stairs and I feel like I’m in an Alien movie! Inside the Great Pyramid I can really see the scale of the architecture. Stone walls are massive, smoothly cut and perfectly joined like a gigantic jigsaw puzzle.

Wandering around the pyramids, I take in as many memories as I can of the last surviving ancient wonder of the world. It’s not just the sights that make it special; I’m also pleasantly surprised by the relatively low number of tourists, and even the local vendors aren’t overly pushy or aggressive.

On the other hand, the Sphinx is pretty busy. Whilst it’s still possible to get tourist free photos, there are large groups of stupidly (and disrespectfully) dressed tourists squeezing through the narrow paths of the Valley Temple of Khafre. That aside, the Sphinx is beautiful, even if it is a little smaller than I expected.

Next on the itinerary is a short tour of Cairo. The Hanging Church is pretty, the Citadel and its large Mohamed Ali Mosque is overwhelmingly grand and there’s also a quick visit of the Khan al-Khalili market, but since we’re the only people there, the storekeepers are annoyingly incessant. That said, I do like the shout from one chap: “What do I have to do to get your money?!”

The last stop is the Egyptian Museum. Walking around I can’t help feeling guilty for the fact that I’ve seen dozens of similar, stolen artifacts in the British Museum! Nonetheless it’s particularly interesting since we have a private guide detailing the story of each King or Queen statue that we pass.

Far and away the most exciting thing in the museum is the King Tut Exhibition. A year ago in London, I visited the ‘Tutankhamen on Tour’ show, only to be disappointed that the actual coffins and masks weren’t on show. It’s therefore hugely exciting (as well as overpowering) to stand in front of the golden mask and all of the immaculately preserved items of his tomb.

Another crazy Cairo car journey gets us back to the hotel and we go for the highly recommended Indian restaurant, even though my stomach is pleading with me to avoid it…

Day 4 (10 May 2010)
Cairo, Al-Farafra, White Desert

It’s no surprise to find I’ve a dodgy stomach, but fortunately it’s nothing to worry about so we jump into a minibus and nine hours later we reach our private jeep ride. We stop a few times on the way; for petrol, for lunch in an Oasis town and also for a couple of photo opportunities along the (mainly uninspiring) desert road south west of Cairo.

The bumpy ride gives me a cracker of a headache, but that doesn’t spoil the jeep ride into the White Desert. The low sun and the surreal white rock formations make for some stunning scenery. We arrive at our first camp and our Bedouin guide cooks us a lovely meal whilst the sun sets gorgeously in the background. As we take in the amazing setting, things get better when a desert fox approaches our camp. It’s timid and unbelievably cute, with its big ears flinching nervously as it creeps closer for a nibble of our dinner.

Although we get a choice to sleep in a tent, Susanne and I opt to sleep outside on the desert floor, with the beautiful African night sky above us. My headache is pretty bad so I settle down and fall asleep under the amazing, bright stars.

Day 5 (11 May 2010)
White Desert

After a fantastic night’s sleep in the open desert and a simple breakfast, we wave goodbye to the foxes (who are still lurking around the camp in the early hours) and set off to see the highlights of the White Desert.

I certainly expected photography fodder, but the White Desert is quite simply out of this world. Whilst I’ve often said places makes me feel like I’m on another planet, this place is completely unlike anything I’ve ever seen on Earth.

Mushroom-shaped limestones, of varying sizes, protrude from the white sandy landscape like something out of a science fiction film. It doesn’t become repetitive either, as the shapes and bizarre rock formations change every few kilometres, creating more surreal and mind-blowing views.

If it wasn’t extraordinary already, then the next stop really was: Sitting alone in the middle of the sandy desert, is an oasis, no bigger than 50m squared, with palm trees, bushes and a stream of fresh water pumping out of the desert floor.

I strip off, jump into the water and can barely believe I’m sitting in a pool of water in the middle of the Western Desert! Like being on a tiny island in the middle of the sea, I feel a million miles away from home, surrounded by nothing and without a sound in the air apart from the water trickling away into the desert floor.

We have lunch in this idyllic location before shooting off to more perfect photography locations in the afternoon. With the sun at full force, the intensely blue sky and the white rocks dipping their heads out of the yellow sand, I can’t dream of better contrasts of colour.

We visit the White House, a huge area of smooth rocks that rise high above the desert sand, where we see more foxes, with their heads sticking out of their little cave homes.

Yet another surprise is in store as our guide, Ibrahim Saleh, starts driving around some huge white rocks, searching for a suitable camping spot. He finds one in a smooth area of soft sand, with spectacular views in all directions. The camp is set, with just the jeep and a single cloth sheet protecting us from the morning sunrise. With sleeping bags and cushions on the floor, we eat a pasta dish before another night amongst the stars and foxes!

Day 6 (12 May 2010)
White Desert

Time and time again this trip exceeds itself. Today, it starts with a stop at the Ain Khadra oasis, which is much bigger than yesterday’s, but despite seeing sand in every direction, it doesn’t feel quite as secluded. However, nearby is a hidden cave, into which I crawl about 10m under the desert floor. It’s fascinating that a near lifeless desert can contain so many unusual and exciting features. I’m in a perfect playground and I can’t believe that we go for hours without a single other person in sight. The White Desert is so geographically jaw-dropping; if it was in the US then it would be packed full of tourists, but its remoteness in the Western Desert makes it all the more special.

We jump back in the 4×4 and hurtle across the landscape reaching speeds of up to 80km per hour. It’s thrilling and like a boat on a calm lake, we glide across the varying depths of sand and rock.

Ibrahim seems to play with his routes too, always choosing the more interesting turns and drops, over sand dunes and between the giant rocks.

The day then springs up surprise after surprise: Lunch is served under a huge overhanging limestone rock, which looks like it could fall at any moment. Ibrahim tells us there’s a great view at the top of the mountains so we climb through the hot and deep sand to reach the summit. He’s not wrong: The view is spectacular and even I’m lost for words and pause for a while before taking photos. It’s breath-taking and we stay a while, taking in its beauty.

Two more surprises are in store. The first is the jeep ride to another mountain peak, which gives another surreal valley view. Thousands of oval rocks, spread evenly across the valley floor and it just doesn’t look like anything else on Earth. In fact, the wind eroded rocks actually resemble thousands of eggs like in the ‘Alien’ film!

The final surprise is yet another amazing view, reached only by a narrow mountain footpath high above the sand dunes below. Our guide tells us that one could easily fill four days exploring the White Valley, and today certainly supports his view, as time and time again, I’m shocked by the never-ending beauty of this desert.

Another new spot is chosen for dinner and camping and this one is deep in the valley, with soft sand and high rise mountains all around us.

Once again the foxes keep us company as we eat our best meal yet (chicken, rice and a host of vegetables, in a delicious sauce – how he does it in the middle of the desert is a feat in itself!) and fall asleep in our final night in the White Desert.

Day 7 (13 May 2010)
White Desert, Crystal Mountain, Black Desert, Cairo

It’s another day of travelling but a very rewarding one. It all starts with me taking control of the wheel and zipping across the White Valley floor. Whilst I’m nowhere near as fast as Ibrahim, it’s still exhilarating stuff, reaching nearly 50kph and sliding up and over the hilly sand dunes!

We wave goodbye to Ibrahim and transfer to our minibus to Cairo. There are a couple of great stops on the way. Crystal Mountain is unimpressive from a distance, but close up I can see the thousands of crystals, embedded in the rock and glistening in the sun. It’s great fun to smash loose rocks together and see what exciting treasures are buried within!

A little further north-east is the Black Desert. Whilst it’s not as mind-blowing as the White Desert, the contrast of dark mountains with the light-coloured sand is very impressive, especially from the top of one of the mountains over which we scramble.

The journey back is more enjoyable than before, mainly as on the way out I had such a headache. This time I can really take in all the outrageous surplus real estate that is being constructed in Cairo’s suburbs. There are thousands and thousands of huge apartment blocks, mostly unfinished or abandoned, and some which even lean and bend above the weak, sandy foundations.

The traffic intensifies and our driver’s driving becomes aggressive and manic, just like everyone else’s. It’s like NASCAR racing, with lunatics trying to rush across on foot. Some people say that life in London is busy, but compared to Cairo, it’s like a countryside breeze! I find it strange to compare the deficient, modern apartment blocks, with the unbelievable pyramids that have stood proudly for nearly 5,000 years. Similarly strange is the comparison between Bedouin life, simple, calm, polite and friendly, with the aggressive city life of Cairo. It really makes me wonder what evolution has really taken place in the past 5,000 years.

This opinion is supported as Susanne and I go through security at Cairo’s airport, only to be offered bribes by two separate security guards. We politely decline their offers, only to find that the ‘illegal’ items which they wanted cash to admit, were actually allowed anyway!

Day 8 (14 May 2010)
Sharm El-Sheik, Sinai Mountains

We arrive late in Sharm El-Sheik, and as all the beach goers head in one direction, Susanne and I get a taxi in the opposite direction, northbound into the Sinai Mountains. I’m exhausted, fall asleep and wake up over two hours later in St. Katherine, at a cute hostel with beautifully local decorations.

It’s an early start and we meet our guide called (unsurprisingly) Mohamed. He has some English, but keeps to himself and starts leading us up the steep mountain trail.

We pass locals and the deeper we go into the mountains, the more simple the locals’ homes become. It’s not long before we reach homes that have no electricity, water filtered directly from local streams and the children stare at us like we’re martians from another planet.

Mohamed leaves us at a gorgeous small lake, which rests silently in the valley. As he disappears, we strip and cool off in the fresh water, with the stunning Sinai Mountains all around.

We find Mohamed and he invites us into a local’s home, where the owner makes some tea on an open fire, as the family carry on with their daily rural chores. It’s another wonderful experience, even if I’m trying hard not to think about how my stomach is going to react to the tea later on!

We climb further into the mountains and find another home, which will be our home for the night later on. We meet a couple of other travellers: One is a dodgy chap who looks like Ralph Fiennes, who I’m convinced is hiding behind a fake charity in order to syphon taxes for his own benefit. The other is friendly and seems quite bright, even if he did let himself turn a painfully raw-looking colour (“I didn’t think the sun would be that strong at 10am”…!)

Mr Sunburn tells us of his overnight supernatural experience at the top of Mount Katherine. In the middle of the night, he heard footsteps circling him, and even loud pieces of metal being scraped across the stone floor. I hang onto his every word and can’t wait to climb the mountain tomorrow morning!

After sharing a huge plate of food (literally – we each had spoons and dug into a massive plate of vegetables), Mohamed guides us up Mount Abbas Pasha. Once again he storms ahead, which although is rather unfriendly and dismissive, it does make Susanne and I feel like we’re are the only ones for miles around. We reach the peak, at 2304m and Mohamed says “Ok. I go. You stay for sunset. You have torch? Good. Yes, you walk alone to camp. In dark, yes. You have torch, yes? No problem.”

It all seems a bit odd that he would just abandon us on the mountain, but it does mean we get to share a stunning 360 degree view in complete isolation.

Although we do have torches, the trails can all look very similar and it would be easy to take a wrong turn and head deep into the seemingly endless mountains, so we leave as the sun sets so we just get back to the camp before it starts getting too dark and dangerous.

Dinner is with Mohamed and an energetic 24 year old who I think is his son. I try not to think where the chicken came from and gobble it down before my last night under the African night sky.