Pucon to Santiago to San Pedro de Atacama to Vicuna to Santiago

The evening JAC bus from Pucon was possibly one of the quietest and hassle-free journeys we've had yet. We'd decided at the last minute to extend the tickets for Santa Cruz that we had purchased earlier in the day so that we go straight through to Santiago and skip the planned trip to the Colchagua valley wine route. We pulled in to the bustling Santiago bus station around 7:30am the next day and after deciding on a hostel over a coffee, we jumped into a taxi only to find that the hostel doesn't exist (or the cab driver can't find it....). The quirky Hostel Chimba on the next street provided a suitable alternative even though the room was freezing cold.

We soon discovered that Chile's wine regions would be much more difficult to penetrate than Argentina's as most of the vineyards require prior booking at least 48 hours ahead, but we eventually managed to get booked on a half day visit to a winery close to the outskirts of the city in Maipo. Touristur picked us up at 9am for our visit to the Underraga winery which is one of the oldest and largest wine producers in Chile. Our small group of 4 were led around by a knowledgeable English speaking guide who gave us the most informative tour we have yet received taking us through the entire process from how they decide where to plant certain grapevines to the bottling and shipping process. We left there 2 bottles heavier and with a free wine glass and mini bottle too!

The rest of the quiet Sunday was spent playing tourist around central Santiago. Due to the number of earthquakes that the region suffers there aren't many historical buildings, but lots of drab tower blocks, with shiny new modern skyscrapers being built around them. Our self guided walking tour was completed with the best bit saved until last. We boarded the antique carriage to ride the funicular up the steep slopes of Cerro San Cristobel, the hill that towers above the "bohemian" district of Bellavista. We walked around the park until we reached the top where hordes of people are sitting, praying, contemplating, cuddling or smooching beneath the massive statue of the Virgin Mary.We stayed long enough to enjoy the sunset and the magnificent views across the city.

The next day we rushed through the Metro in a panic so we could get back to the sprawling Estacion Central bus station in time for our afternoon bus to Calama. We scoffed a disgusting hotdog and nervously waited for the bus to arrive. At 3pm, the 13:55 bus eventually rolled into the station and we left 15 minutes later glad that we had bothered to rush to the terminal. The skanky bus made its way through central Chile, with lush bright green rolling hills dotted with wind farms with the Pacific ocean crashing waves against the coastline to our left.

We woke up cold with bright sunlight beaming through the windows as we headed through the smart beach resort of Antofagasta. Moving on through dry dusty desert framed by mountains and rubbish strewn along the gravelly flat plain, we tried to ignore the stench of the bus toilet next to us. There's not much happening in the small Calama bus terminal, so we kill time by checking emails in a broom cupboard that's disguised as an internet cafe. Our connecting bus is late and finally leaves at 3:45pm, passing through more barren landscapes. As we approach San Pedro, the scenery transforms dramatically into a valley that resembles a bubbling cauldron of red mud that has been frozen in time.

San Pedro de Atacama is 3000m or so above sea level. It's a small baking hot place with dusty unpaved streets that are lined with more hostels, eateries and tour agencies than it seems to need. During the afternoons, wind gusts through the streets whipping dust into your eyes. The Plaza de Armas is a small quiet square lined with a couple of restaurants, cafes, a small internet shop and a pretty white-washed adobe church. We locate our hostel Sonchek - a nice adobe style cluster of rooms set around a sunny cobbled courtyard.

An afternoon trip to our second "moon valley" was a nice day out with a friendly English speaking guide. The jagged salt formations formed by centuries of wind, water and tectonic plate movement towered on either side of us, jutting out from the desert sand and making audible cracking and sighing sounds as they contracted and expanded in the heat. It was like a set from an early Star Trek episode as we walked through the mysterious landscape with narrow funnel-like crevices. This Valle De La Luna differed from the one we saw in Argentina in that the formations were not as unusual, but the overall tour was far more enjoyable. The next stop was the Valle de Muerte which spread out below us as a spectacular formation of red cliffs and high towers and ravines of red rock formations that looked like an army of soldiers standing sentinel in the inhospitable desert below. We went to watch the sunset and have our photo taken on a precipitous ledge that cropped out high over the valley below, prompting references to the old "Wiley Coyote" cartoons.

The next day started with a 5am pick up for a 2 hour drive to El Tatio geysers for sunrise. At 4300m above sea level the highest geo-thermal field in the world is a spectacular landscape of steaming fumaroles and bubbling pools of hot salty water. We are surrounded by pits and crevices of varying sizes all spitting, hissing and fuming sending plumes of steam billowing for metres above us in the bitterly cold morning air. At times the breeze shifted so that we were engulfed in the pungent clouds. We spent a few hours ooohing and aaahing at the boiling cauldrons in the ground and passed on the opportunity of bathing in the hot pool.On the way back we stopped at a small village that I suspected had been set up purely for tourists and relented to having my photo taken with some kind of llama as it was the last opportunity to do so before leaving South America. I resigned myself to getting ripped off and paid 300pesos to a cackling old hag who probably didn't even own the damn thing, but just happened to be sitting next to it and had stumbled upon a guaranteed money earner. The creature had freakishly long eye lashes and kept staring at me whilst making a strange guttural whinnying noise, which only increased my discomfort and the feeling that I was stood nervously next to a hairy transvestite camelid who was intent on showing me a good time whether I wanted it or not. As soon as Katy had stopped laughing long enough to pick herself up from the floor and take the photo, I scurried away thinking the whole encounter felt rather sordid.

We were disappointed to discover that the night time star gazing tours were not running due to a full moon so we booked a 6pm departure from San Pedro on the Atacama 2000 bus back to Calama. As we pull in we're getting nervous as we're cutting it very fine to make our 8pm connecting bus to La Serena. The bus drives past the terminal and seems to get stuck at every red light - by now we're twitching on the edge of our seats. We jump off at the company garage only to find out that the bus we need was 5 minutes back down the road! Panic sets in as it is now practically 8pm - we cannot miss that bus! We hail a taxi and are forced to literally beg the driver to take us - he obviously thinks it's not worth his time for the short journey. Katy doesn't give up and he finally relents and we squash ourselves and our massive bags into the back of the car. The taxi pulls up beside the terminal and we thrust change into the drivers hand before jumping out and running across the busy road praying the bus hasn't departed.

Safely aboard the Atacama VIP bus we reflected on the excitement and tried to ignore the babies crying, the men snoring and the loud tinny tss tss from our neighbours headphones. Hours later, the bus gets stopped with flashing blue lights up ahead. Two burly policemen climb board accompanied by a black Labrador - all three are dressed in fluorescent jackets. The dog wanders up and down the aisle and settles between me and the man on the other side. I casually ignore the dog, concentrating on playing it cool more than is necessary for an innocent man. The two cops peer over and apparently decide that the man with the nervous grin on his face poses no threat and stomp down the stairs off the bus.

16 hours later we arrive in La Serena and initially get off at wrong bus stop. We correct ourselves and hang around the right bus terminal for the 13:40 Via Elqui bus to Vicuna. The drive through the fertile Elqui valley is beautiful. A horseshoe shape of hills and mountains surround the vegetable farms and vineyards that stretch for fields upon fields with a hundred shades of green. We arrive at the bus terminal in the baking sun - there's not much here and not much in the guide book. Katy figures out north and we find the Plaza de Armas, the main street and the agency I'd emailed about the stargazing trip. The prospects for stargazing are not looking good as it's getting cloudy slowly, but the helpful lady points us in the direction of a hostel which turns out to be a bit pricey but there's not many other options. We go for dinner at one of the two restaurants in town. We're the only customers in the massive place and the waiter resembles Wormtongue from Lord Of The Rings.

A huge breakfast of fruit, juice, scrambled eggs, bread, cereal, makes us sick the next morning, so we stayed in our room until the cleaner kicked us out. We walked to the end of town to find our way, probably the wrong way, via the back of someone's farm and up the dusty steep path to Cerro de Virgen where a small Mary statue is bizarrely surrounded by the town's electricity and phone pylons. The sun is beating down, but there's a nice breeze gently cooling us. From the top of the hill you get great views of Vicuna town and the green fields and vineyards in the valley. They stretch for miles until they reach the base of snow peaked mountains. Across the valley you can see light reflecting from the surface of the observatories at the top of the other hills. The gentle buzz of the pylons and the distant sound of traffic are the only noise.

Chile has the best skies for night-time observations with only 30 or so cloudy nights per year. We spend a fascinating evening at Mamalluca observatory high in the Elqui hills being shown stars, planets, clusters and astrological formations. Though the telescope at 30cm in diameter is tiny in comparison to neighbouring observatories we can still see Saturn and its rings and the many craters on the nearly full moon that shines so bright the image plays on your retinas for a while after. Though the glowing moon is obscuring many star formations and the milky-way in the sky, it's still a thoroughly interesting and engaging tour that make you realise just how tiny we are amidst the thousands of galaxies that are out in space.

The following morning, in an overly theatrical display of affability, the hostel landlord shakes my hand firmly and grabs Katy, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. We poke around at the breakfast spread wondering which item had caused us discomfort the previous morning, and notice the lecherous old man pawing at the other female guests. Feeling slightly violated we beat a hasty retreat mumbling something about needing a good wash.

We travelled by bus along roads lined with pink peppercorn trees and trees weighted with bright purple blossoms and vineyards that stretched for miles languishing in the heat beneath colourful mountains radiant with hues of pink, orange, red, green and blue - until we reached the quiet little town of Pisco Elqui. The pretty little square with its rather twee "gothic" style church was a nice place to stop and bask in the scorching hot sun. Pisco Elqui in Chile has long disputed with the town of Pisco in Peru over the origin, and the right to produce and promote the strong colourless grape brandy known as pisco.So as we were in the region it seemed only right to tour the local Mistral pisco distillery even though it was entirely in Spanish. Katy gave an award winning performance of someone who was under-standing every word that was being said, whilst listening and nodding at what she hoped were the correct points. (She has saved us so many times during this trip with her language skills and the ability to interpret what is being said whilst I've been frustratingly floundering somewhere behind.) The place is small and charming and the tour had a written English accompaniment, and ended with a free glass and pisco sour.

We leave the slightly backward "country hick" town of Vicuna on a 22:30 Elqui bus back to Santiago. One relatively painless journey later we arrive at 6am and board the Metro to Santa Lucia to find the Green House hostel - which is actually green. A bleary-eyed old lady still in her night-gown shows us to a tired and dated bedroom where we get our heads down for a couple of hours before embarking on a mission to post our mementoes back to the UK. Our last full day in South America was spent exploring other sights of Santiago that we had skipped the first time. We had an amazing lunch at the bustling and vibrant Mercado Central fish market. I tucked into a surprisingly tasty grey coloured slop whilst Katy had a soup crammed with an assortment of seafood which included meaty mussels about the size of a child's hand. We scoffed down our meal and were treated to an impromptu performance of Mariachi style guitar players - who were actually pretty good. We left there and saw crowds of people lining the streets for the funeral of a TV personality and obvious national treasure. We joined the throngs for a while until we decided that we weren't going to see anything and didn't know who he was anyway so sloped off to the Musee Belles Artes for the exhibition of Degas' famous ballerina sculptures.

The flight out of Santiago the next day was marred by getting infuriated at the airport by having the cabin bag check after the shops. I was fuming at the rip off of buying a drink only to have them take it away from me 5 minutes later unopened! Unbelievable...We land in Auckland on Friday 03:30 local time and try to get our heads round the time difference - it's 12:30pm on Thurs in South America.....