We arrived in Puerto Montt in the mid-afternoon, it was very much a working town with a low tourist count. Before we left our hostel we asked if the town was safe to walk - "Si" said the receptionist as he slid three bolts hometo lock the door behind us. The town was dimly lit and slightly scary but undeterred we entered a local bar for our obligatory "dos cervezas". Looking around the room our eyes came to rest on the man in the corner, his face full of character, hardened by the weather and lined with experience. It was his eyes however that captured our attention, they were the eyes of a gunfighter, focussed and unblinking and he was coming over to us.

"Ingles?" he said but it was more of a statement than a question ... "I am from Argentina" he continued "and I will give you the opportunity of revenge for Maradona and 'la mano de Dios'". He coolly placed a knife on the table; it was a fighting weapon with a blade 8 inches long, probably forged, fashioned and honed by expert Japanese craftsmen in the backstreets of Buenos Aires. He had chosen the weapon and stipulated that "the red fluid of life must be spilled this night" but I was allowed to choose the style of combat. My own knife had a shorter European blade, manufactured deep in the Alps by artisans from the Swiss Army and their emblem was boldly emblazoned on the handle. This was not a good match for a traditional knife fight but it was up to me to pick the nature of the competition and I elected for a speed test - Removing a cork from a bottle of Malbec - My knife with its specialist attachment won the day, honour was served by the spilling of the red fluid and vengeance was mine.

Having avoided "sleeping with the fishes" we went down to the fishing port on our second day …. Most of the fish had not fared so well, there were thousands of dead fish and shellfish of every kind being brought ashore and sold. The smaller fish and miscellaneous fish inwards were being thrown back into the sea were and immediately feasted on by giant greedy seals.