Having left El Calafate, we proceeded up the Ruta 40 to Perito Moreno. The route was very rough, dusty and bumpy to say the least and we didn't get much sleep on the 10 hour trip as it was like trying to sleep in a bouncy castle with a million kids jumping up and down on it. Most of the scenery was very baron and flat but it was an experience. There were no real towns along the route and toilet stops were by rivers which had clumps of trees either side and the driver announcing that boys went to the left and girls to the right. Eventually, we arrived at Perito Moreno at about 10 at night and very quickly found ourselves some digs. Can't really say much about the town as it hadn't much going for it but we were hoping to go and see cuevos de las manos (caves with 10, 000 year old hand prints). As it was Sunday the first morning there we couldn't do a lot as everything was shut. Therefore, on Monday we decided to leave the hotel, see the caves and then make our way to Chile. We tried the tour agencies that were supposed to go there and one was shut and the other had us sitting there for an hour while they tried to get through a driver, by phone, we realised we were really in the back of beyond. Needless to say we said our farewells to the agency and decided to move into Chile. This all went pretty slick, in a weird sort of way, compared to the previous weeks standards. First, as we got to the bus station we could see our bus pulling out in the distance, so Donna just put her hand up as it passed us on the main road and to our astonishment he stopped and let us on. We then got to Los Antiguos, where a dodgy guy with a battered minibus told us he was the official bus to Chile Chico (first town over the border of Chile). Not wanting to waste time we excepted his offer, paid our money and got in with a couple of Isreallys and a Mexican (no he wasn't smoking a cigar or wearing a sombrero). The border crossing to Chile Chico was eventful though as they took our passports away and went in the back room for half an hour, leaving us sweating at the desk. They then came back and gave us our passports back, what they were doing with them god only knows but there could be a couple of Bolivian refugees called Neil O'Connor and Donna French working some Chilean farm somewhere. We were now in Chile Chico.