Two hundred and seventy-seven days later we made it to England, the closest Iain has been to his homeland in three and a half years! Arriving in England we knew it was time to start unwinding, taking a break from life on the road as we catch up with family and friends in the beautiful city of London and in the rolling green countryside towns of Tonbridge, Cambridge, Malvern Hills, then south to Wickham and Portsmouth on the coast.
If the cheapest flight from New York to London stopped over in Iceland you would be a fool to pass up the opportunity to visit one of the most photogenic countries on the planet. With a strong passion for anything Scandinavian Treeny insisted on making the stopover despite Iain’s hesitation at the foreseeable dent it would put in our budget. Treeny pleaded her case, “But there are volcanos, lava fields, glaciers, cute Scandinavian houses, Vikings, Norse Gods, did I mention the volcanos”? Her persistence eventually won out. So off we flew, north toward the Arctic Circle, to the tiny little island of Iceland, that isn’t actually very icy at all, and has names so long and complicated only the Icelandic people can pronounce them.
The ten hour bus ride from San Pedro de Atacama in Chile across the border to Salta in Argentina was by far one of the most spectacular bus journey’s we have ever taken. The bus made its way over high altitude lunar landscapes, passed flamingo filled lakes, volcanic peaks, and rolling Andean mountains. As the bus navigated its way down the windy roads on the Argentine side of the Andes, we were mystified by the rainbow coloured mountains and quaint little mud-brick villages. It was certainly worth every penny of the AUS$56 we forked out for the trip. Sadly our faces were too busy being stuck to the window, in awe of the view, to bother taking photos, unlike the guy in front of us who was snapping away constantly the whole trip. Click, click, click!