The end of the world as we know it...

A Welsh teahouse in Patagonia? That`s right. Loads of them. I`d tried to get Tim excited by the idea of a cream tea but by the time we got to the little town of Gaiman (by police escort no less as the gringos were lost) they were all closed.

It was a long drive from Puerto Madryn and Tim was knackered but if you haven`t seen penguins before, the colony at Punto Tombo was worth it (bypass only if you`ve been to Philip Island, Australia) I wish I hadn`t seen two carrion birds eating a new-born alive, that`s for sure.

The previous day we whalewatched in Peninusula Valdes. A day after the official season, we were lucky to see a Southern Right whale and her calf. They came right up to the boat and mum inquistively stuck her head out to spy on us. The huge, dark whale shape disappearing under the hull and emerging the other side, was one I`ll not forget.

The rest was rugged coastline populated with elephant seals, sealions and yep, penguins. Very like the Otago Peninsula. Much of Patagonia reminds me sharply of New Zealand. Snow capped Andes look much like snowcapped Southern Alps, I guess.

From there, we journeyed across country to Bariloche. I can`t honestly understand what the fuss is about here. Sure, the surrounding areas are stunning - beautiful treks for example - but the town itself is a mishmash of ugly buildings, mostly commercial (read tourist) and sadly for somewhere with such potential, town planning - or lack of it - was a disaster.

Christmas day, however, was a pleasant one. Tim slaved over two chickens, trimmings, pumpkin AND apple pie. With the help of a couple of pals, we polished off 2 christmas dinners (with a lakeside spa in between) in one day.

Caught up with a friend 3 hours north in San Martin de los Andes - gorgeous little place reminicent of Wanaka, NZ. Wished we could´ve stayed longer but had prebooked bus tickets to Perito Moreno.

Route 40 is a slow bumpy ride at the best of times but little did we realise, the bus out of there was the start of the journey from hell. My guidebook didn`t make it clear that the town of Perito Moreno is not home to the glacier of the same name. Perito Moreno is a backwater ghost town and despite prepaid hotel reservations, we weren`t staying. It took over 2 days of travel to reach the real home of the (absolutely spectacular) glacier, El Calafate.

Nice town but a disappointing New Year`s eve. It doesn`t get dark till 11.30 this far south so midnight passed almost sober and unnoticed! I also got bedbugged and was hideously allergic. Face, hands and neck covered in painful, swollen welts. The hostel (Marco Polo) ignored my discomfort, embarrassment and pleas for a refund and gave me a beer instead. Nice.

Couldn`t get out of there fast enough (wouldn`t even sit on the sofa) Took my welts to El Chalten, the national trekking capital. Given that I don`t trek, it was an odd decision but the right one. They gave a damn about my predicament and facial carnage - narrowly missed going to the hospital for a shot.

El Chalten is very windy, tiny and surrounded by nothing but mountains. No phone networks, wifi, nada. Tim trekked, I hung out.

Next, made the difficult decision not to go to Torres del Paine, Chile. Five day treks, however beautiful, are not my thing. So Tim went his way and I went mine. Which was supposed to be Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world - but the airline had other ideas and duped me into boarding a flight to the international trout capital instead....(?!) Don`t ask!

A short bus ride and I am finally here. Fin del Mundo, literally the end of the world.