When you take over 300 photos on a bus journey then it surely deserves a post of its own. We left San Pedro bound for Salta in Argentina. I hadn't had much sleep because of my toothache and felt like sh#t. If I have a restless night then Donna doesn't sleep much either, so neither of us felt good. The bus laboured uphill climbing through desert towards distant volcanoes. I tried to sleep but couldn't and glad for it as the scenery was glorious. Desert turned to scrub with occasional groups of llamas grazing. After several salt lakes we reached Paso de Jama at 13, 800 feet. We expected to descend immediately as we did crossing the Andes the first time from Santiago to Mendoza but that wasn't the case. We crossed a high Andean plateau for several hours, the scrub was replaced by salt flats as far as we could see and then we climbed further. Incredibly there are people living up here in this remote area. Small settlements of adobe buildings along with donkeys, goats and llamas - this is a quiet existence. I wonder what it's like in the winter? We thought Paso de Jama would be the highest point but not so, we continued to ascend through multi coloured mountain-scape to 15,800 feet. Our crisp packets inflated so much with the reduced air pressure that one of them burst. The traffic was mainly buses, pickups and car transporters! All we kept seeing was car transporters headed for Argentina loaded and returning to Chile empty. The driving in South America is very questionable. They have the same solid lines painted down the middle of the road meaning 'no overtaking' but the drivers seem to interpret these as 'have you got the b#lls to pass someone on the most dangerous section of road' - and they do (all the time). We had seats at the front, great for the views but frightening to watch when the driver decides to pass a lorry on a blind bend. Next came cactus land followed by the descent, a twisting hair-pinned road snaking down the mountain. The scenery changed again, along the rivers it was a verdant green of crops towered over by mountains of so many hues it's difficult to describe them and do them justice. Then came the Hill of 7 colours at Purmamarca - truly a wonderful sight. The multi coloured rocky valley fizzled out and we were amidst tall green mountains shrouded with cloud. The first 7 hours of this bus journey (mainly on Ruta 52) was well worth staying awake for regardless of how tired we both were. As we neared conurbations the road flattened, the traffic increased and the scenery couldn't compete with what had gone before. Now that's what you call a bus journey.