Now I know why I haven't been waking mush before 8am lately; because, it's still dark. I made it in plenty of time for the bus though which was due to leave at 9am. Buying the ticket the day before, I said Is taking a bike and was told that wasn't a problem. But, the driver didn't quite see it like that when he saw the bike. He lamented "no es un camion, es un bus", basically he made allot of noise saying that it was a bus not a truck he's driving. Shortly, the co-driver and on-board attendant showed up, to my relieve, and loaded the bike underneath in the baggage-hole, where there was lots of space.

The bus journey was a good 29 hours and a marked improvement in climate was noticeable over the coarse of that time as the bus drove North. Leaving Punta Arenas to yet another cold grey day and shortly it was pouring rain. The route North retraced my cycle journey South in February on National Route 3. By 11pm that evening we'd reached the town of Caleta Oliva where we stopped at a petrol-station for a break: here it was no longer raining and it felt warm outside. I slept well during the night and when I awoke in the grey light of dawn, I glance out seeing that the bus now drove along a road in inland Patagonia, entering a town which Is quick to recognise as Gobernador Costa by the old pioneer wagons along the main thoroughfare. I slept again and when I awoke there was bright early morning sunshine and wooded hills in Autumn brown and red, and another town, this time El Bolson.

I'm in Osorno in Chile. I've just arrive now at 2pm. And this most be the thing I dislike about travelling the most, namely arriving in a strange town. Although it's only 2 in the afternoon, it'll probably take the rest of the day cycling here and there looking for a place to stay. Incidentally, I chose to get off the bus in Osorno rather than staying on to Puerto Montt, because I've been to the later before and I thought the former would be a small place but no, it's almost as big a city as Puerto Montt.

I study a map on the wall at the bus-terminal as there wasn't an info centre. I see that there's a campsite out by the main North-South road, or the Pan-Americana, so I begin cycling in that direction. I'm so uncomfortable as I'm wearing street cloths, and it's warm here, the jeans I've to roll up to keep the flair out of the chain. After a longest sweaty ride in busy afternoon traffic, I reach the slip road down to Pan-Americana and decide that there isn't mush use in pursuing this supposed campsite longer as it's going to be too far out of town, and, I need to buy food and other things before leaving town. Chief amongst things I need is a map of Chile. I have a look in a couple of petrol-station on the cycle back into town without luck. I then vouch on the tourist info centre having a reasonable map of the region.

I find the info centre. The young guy behind the counter looks the type that spend all night in night-clubs getting waisted. He spoke through his teeth and had no enthusiasm, he looked as if he could do with sleep. I came away with a glossy brochure of things to do as well as a list of hotels all of which looked very expensive.

I sat down in despare. I concidered riding out of town and finding a place to wild-camp but I need to buy food and I didn't want to leave the bike unattented outside a supermercado. So I look at the bouchure again and ride around the corner to a hotel without any stars. It is 20.000pesos (£25) which I think is the most I've ever paid anywhere, but I took it anyway. Later on the way to the supermercado I found a good detailed map in a petrol-station.