Have you ever watched those animal or natural history documentaries where the killer whales, or orcas, are cruising in the shallows and then rushing the beach? Where they deliberately beach themselves trying to ambush the seals in the wash of the breaking waves? And whether they succeed or not, they wait for the next wave to help them wriggle off and then try again? Puerto Madryn is the place where you have to come before you head to the remote reserve, Peninsula Valdes, where this happens. But we came at the wrong time as February is when the killer whales come and terrorize the seals. Another time then!

After careful consideration of our fast dwindling finances (BA was far more expensive than we ever anticipated! A dorm in a hostel was the same price as a day's rent in London!), it was time to get out our tent, nicknamed "The Pocket Hotel", and do some camping after a 22hr bus journey.

Before you grimace, the long distance buses in Argentina are actually quite pleasant. Much more leg room than an aircraft, drinks, videos and almost fully reclining seats, called semi-cama, and a game of bingo! Now that you don't get on transport anywhere else! And we should know! Bingo, baby!

But a two man tent, with two backpacks was always going to be a squeeze.....so our lucky bags got themselves a little kiddie's tent of their own! Some might say we are practicing for kids......

As you head south of BA, the landscape changes from green, lush and flat to semi-arid, brown and flat. Welcome to the flatlands of Patagonia where the estancias are the size of small countries and the hardy Patagonian sheep have run of the stony windswept landscape. Here is a land seemingly empty of people, places and plants. Here the wind enjoys complete uninterrupted ranges upon which to howl!

It was for this reason, and the fact that West Africa is having a few troubles of there own, that the world famous Paris-Dakar rally was staged in Argentina and Chile this year (www.dakar.com). Not only was the political situation stable and good, but the landscape and terrain is just as tough and challenging as that found in West Africa! As the show came rolling into town, bikers, trucks and dunebuggy cars were given a police escort to the cheers of the waiting crowds. Cresting a dune and the scene before you is like that of a movie. A large dust filled encampment of new arrivals spreads out before you with sponsor's banners fluttering in the wind, helicopters whup-whupping their way overhead and the fence line guarded by the gendarmerie and weary competitors crashing bruised and battered bodies into hastily erected tents. All the time watched by eager holiday makers anxious to take in the whole spectacle before them.

Because there is not much on the east coast of Argentina in the way of towns, Peurto Madryn is an exception and is an obvious place for "the Dakar" to come for the night. But the Dakar is a new kid to the block in these parts. Here the cruise ships come to offload thousands to oogle at what the barren landscapes and rugged coastlines might contain; it is an important site of Welsh historic significance because it was here that the first settlers arrived in 1865 and carved, literally, the first Welsh nooks into the Patagonian landscapes (Puerto Madryn is a Spanish corruption of the original Welsh name of Porth Madryn) and it is also a place where a whole lot of Argentina goes for their summer holidays. Or so it seemed!

The sheltered bay where PM lies has long mud-coloured beaches (there is no coral here to give the white sandy beaches reminiscent of paradise, which is a shame really) where the Argies come in their millions. Nothing really stirs until 10:00, a few souls stagger out to see what the weather might do, and then slowly but surely, the drip to the beach becomes a flood, until the beach is packed cheek to jowl with sun basking Argies hiding behind their piles of kit!

Rule of thumb: Argies do not travel light. In the two campsites that we called home while we were in PM and absorbing all the overspend from BA (yes, it was bread and water for a little while), we were amazed at what was needed for a trip to the beach and a night at the campsite! They literally packed everything INCLUDING the kitchen sink. We sat and watched as vehicles and bags were unpacked. Packed South African black taxis travel light compared to these guys! We are not even sure what they needed half the stuff for anyway! But as we sipped red wine (a very special treat at £2.50 a bottle!), the cabaret of unpacking went on, much to our amusement and enjoyment!

How could one come all the way to this stunning spot and not go for a swim or have sundowners? It would have been a crime not to. Besides you never know what birds you might spy on the beach! One day it is the Argies in their beach costumes and the next it might be a penguin grooming themself without a care in the world!

After the hurly-burly rush of BA, this little sea side spot was a breath of, literally, fresh air. But also a chance to see the natives up close and personal! What was the rest of the camping going to be like?!