We have crossed the border into Bolivia, our third country. The border was interesting. It is the main route from Chile to La Paz and the queue of lorries was at least a mile and a half long. Luckily we drove passed them to the tourist and bus queue. We soon understood why the queues were so long. The experience with Bolivian immigration and customs was rather different to the other borders. There were four different offices to visit in three different buildings (one just a room in a block of shops). The customs officer (located in a portacabin) sent us to a different office for a bit of paperwork and then to another office to have it signed. They had obviously lost enthusiasm for their job as they gave a cursory glance in the back of Gerty and confiscated a couple of bananas (that were in clear view) leaving salad and more bananas in a bag. They had even looked in said bag but hadn't moved the bread and biscuits on the top. We didn’t hang around and passed an equally long queue of lorries going into Chile.

We had been looking forward to coming down from 4400 metres as we had both been feeling light headed but no such luck as we got down to 3600 metres and that was it. We were on the massive altiplano formed millions of years ago between two chains of the Andes. The land is high as a result of all the sediment washed down from the mountains. We drove for several hours through bleak and barren landscape with few settlements (guide books use words such as starkly beautiful with mountains shimmering under clear skies and majestic volcanic peaks). Finally we came to a dusty town which had no accommodation so we drove on, after filling with diesel. We as foreigners have to pay £1 a litre but nationals only pay half that amount. You can of course park around the corner and carry in and fill a jerry can in which case you pay around 50p a litre. Overall everything seems to be a lot cheaper than in Chile and Argentina.

It started to get dark so we pulled up at a tyre repair shop and asked if we could stay on his forecourt overnight (when I say forecourt I mean a dirty, dusty bit of ground between his shop and the main road). It cost us a small bottle of rum that we keep for these occasions (the owners have never asked for money and seem only too pleased to have us camping on their land!). This owner was a very nice chap and came over to have a good look at Gerty. He kept chuckling (I wonder why). The altitude had dropped to 3300 metres but it was still difficult to breathe easily and when the sun went down it was freezing cold (maybe that's why he was laughing). We had an early night and jumped into our sleeping bags with a lot of clothes on. During the night I awoke to water (condensation) dripping on me. Still at least it wasn’t frozen which it was when we camped higher.

Next day we continued driving on the altiplano , through some mountains and down to Cochabamba (2800 metres) in the so called Central Valley.

Cochabamba is a large bustling city midway between the Altiplano and the Eastern Lowland’s (which includes the Amazon basin). We had a nice stroll around the plaza where we came across a collection of boards with the pages of the newspaper pinned to them. People had written comments on the papers and nearby groups of men were having heated discussions (I assume about items in the newspapers).

Before we left we visited a house (well palace actually) of a tin baron Simon Patino. He became one of the world’s wealthiest men ($100 million by1920) by buying tin mines in Bolivia and a smelting plant in Europe. The house (built between 1917 and 1925) was designed by a French Architect and is decorated in a hotchpot of European styles, as though he couldn’t make up his mind what he liked. He died in 1947 before he ever got to live in it and just before Bolivia nationalised the mines.

I am afraid to admit we visited another supermarket which turned out to be a good decision as we found Heinz Baked Beans, Sharwoods Mango Chutney, Twinnings tea, Colmans mustard and Marmite rice cakes. I won’t speak too soon as maybe Cochabamba has the only such supermarket in Bolivia (are you getting the impression we are a bit fixated on food!). I later found out only one other such supermarket existed in a town we were not intending to visit.

Next day we headed for Parque Nacional Toro Toro. The park is about 130 kilometres from the town and we should have made the journey in about 4 hours but it took us 8 hours. Why you ask. Bolivia has very few road names and road signs so getting anywhere is not easy and you rely heavily on the information gleamed from pedestrians. Not helped by the fact that there is no SATNAV mapping for Bolivia (just the country where you need it) .We learnt quickly not to ask the elderly as most didn’t understand what you were asking or had never heard of towns, even those nearby. At one junction, again with no signs, Peter was just about to ask a man for directions when he just smiled and pointed. He is obviously used to lost tourists on their way to the park. It was a long day but luckily the Hotel at the park was very nice. The actual road to the park (100 kilometres of it) was cobbled and must have taken forever to construct. That night we broke out our first tin of Baked Beans-they were gorgeous.

The park, which is only small, was well worth the drive. It includes some great sights including a hanging valley, low mountains with twisted geological formations, deep eroded canyons, picturesque waterfalls, massive caves, ocean life fossils and my favourite; dinosaur footprints. They were just great. One set was of a giant quadruped herbivore that had stepped in soft river mud which had squeezed up around its feet and later turned to rock. In another area there were footprints of a three toed (Pterodactyl) bird which hopped around. You could see the marks where it used the tips of its wings for balance (at least that’s the theory). The ocean fossils consisted of hundreds of small creatures that lived in the shallow sea that had once covered the area before tectonic activity lifted the ocean to 3000 metres.

After this we headed back to the main road and east to Samaipata. On the way we stopped at Incallajta, a political and administrative centre in the southern most region of the Inca territory. It was built around 1430. The site includes a very large rectangular building,78 x 26 metres (the biggest known roofed Inca building).