No sooner had we flogged our way to the northernmost point of our trip, trying to escape the chill Patagonian winds, than it's now too bloomin' hot.

Since our last post we continued north to the Chilean / Bolivian border only to find it wasn't legal for foreigners to take a Chilean plated bike into Bolivia. Only Chilean permanent residents can do that, and, as we are barely resident anywhere, we were on a dusty wicket.

Fortunately, for once, we got a friendly Adouna who kindly made an "excepcion".......'cause we were really nice people. Anne's crying helped.

Two hundred and thirty kilometres of dusty gravel, broken up roads and nerves shot to pieces later, we blew in to the Bolivia metropolis that is Uyuni.

Our elder son had recommended we visit Uyuni. He also recommended we chew Coca leaves to avoid the effects of altitude, Uyuni being at 3,600 metres above sea level. As we drove through what looked much like a (brick) work-in-progress, ramshackle town, I had to wonder just how much Coca leaves he'd been chewing before coming to the conclusion that Uyuni was "brilliant."

Some long term readers might know I tend to think in pictures and what instantly came to mind was an image of Butch and Sundance arriving in Bolivia for the first time and stepping off the train in Santa Ines, into a dusty, broken down, adobe farmyard.

"It could be worse. You get a lot more for your money in Bolivia." said Butch.

"It could be worse" said Anne. At least we're booked into the fancy hotel.

An hotel with a spa!!!!

Jacuzzi, steam room and swimming pool, all on the edge of a huge desert. We couldn't help but feel guilty trampling all over the environment while relaxing on the, "pants off" massage table.

And that's another scary story.