The door of the Chevvy van opened and we all piled out into the brilliant sunlight of a summers evening - in February. At that point the infamous Patagonian wind gripped us in it's teeth, the van door opened once again, and we all piled back in for wind-proof coats and woolly hats.

After 4 hours of bumping and rattling along a gravel track across the seemingly barren wasteland of Southern Patagonia we saw the perfectly calm expanse of Seno Ultima Esperanza - Last Hope Sound - ahead of us. Soon after, the mountains of the Torres Del Paine National Park came into view and with that first glimpse of the Horns of Paine our dream became a reality. Now, here we were struggling to put tents up in a gale and believing that the appalling weather which we had all been lead to expect was going to materialise. What pessimists!

That night we dined like kings in a simple wooden refugio with no electricity or running water. Copious quantities of Chilean wine ensured early bonding of the group which continued throughout the trip.