Perhaps the fact that we were asked to help bump-start the bus out of Potosi wasnīt the best omen for the journey ahead; apparently starter motors are entirely optional in Bolivia. Three hours, one puncture and one broken brake disk later the situation came to a head when the driver managed to stall on the steepest and narrowest hill. Having free wheeled back down half a kilometer in reverse to a flattish bit of road, the male contingent spent a good half an hour pushing the bus back and forth trying to get the engine going again. We were close to giving up hope and thinking about walking to the next village but a final bit of effort was rewarded by a splutter of life and a cheer. Thankfully the next time it happened we were on a downhill which meant that we could get up enough speed from the slope. Of course the battery was dead flat and so the minute of free wheeling to gain momentum was without the aid of headlights. At this point a request was made for Robīs head torch and it was halfway along the bus towards the driver before he managed to get the engine going for the final time.

By the time we arrived in Uyuni we were beginning to regret entrusting ourselves to the Bolivian transport system but not even the opportunity of sharing a tent with Gary and I could tempt Hannah to join us on the bikes. And so for the last month we have been travelling by bus, plane and boat on the "Gringo" trail.

Uyuni was once an important junction for the British built railway system that once criss-crossed the Altiplano. In his youth Dad once spent a day with a train driver, shunting carriages back and forth on the sidings here. Nowadays the trains are abandoned in the desert- decayed and sad shadows of their former selves. Need I say more?! Uyuni now serves as a base for tourists wanting to join jeep tours of the Salar de Uyuni and the lakes near the Chilean border.

The Salar is the largest salt flat in the world and absolutely breathtaking. Perfectly flat and blindingly white, it is 400km long and 200km wide. In the middle of it is the Isla del Pescador (Island of the fishermen), a cactus covered outcrop of rock which hasnīt seen fish for 40,000 years. It is said to contain 10 billion tons of salt of which less than 25,000 tons is extracted annually. The miners, like in Potosi, are part of a cooperative. This means that although they get to keep a good percentage of their (meagre) revenue, there is no corporate investment in machinery which could massively increase their output. The next few days were spent driving on ragged roads in the barren and beautiful region south of the Salar with itīs colourful lagunas, llamas, alpacas, rock formations and flamingos.

Back in Uyuni we said farewell to Rob "Wet Wipe" West, who had to return to Blighty to sit his Sandhurst entrance tests and to catch up with the Archers. We headed up to Lake Titicaca via La Paz. As every school kid knows Lake Titicaca is the highest commercially navigable lake in the world at 3,812m. It is also the base for the Bolivian navy, even though Bolivia has been landlocked since a war against Chile in 1879, after which part of the "fleet" was transported by mule over the Andes. We took a boat out to the beautiful Isla del Sol, which is where man was born in Inca mythology, and spent a couple of days relaxing and exploring the ruins.

Next on our whistlestop tour was Rurrenabaque, which at 200m is a different world to the harsh, cold and plantless Altiplano. We chose to take a motor-canoe there, which took 3 days but we managed to go for a couple of walks in the jungle, spend a night in an isolated jungle community, swing on some vines, swim in a waterfall, see a poisonous Curare tree and get comprehensively bitten by mosquitoes.

Rurrenabaque is a fair size town half way between La Paz and the Brazilian border and at the edge of the Amazon basin. It is also close to the Pampas, which is essentially flooded jungle and therefore perfect for wildlife spotting. Another 3 days in canoes allowed us to see (and catch) alligators, be mobbed by monkeys, go anaconda hunting (protected by nothing but wellies), fish for piranha, experience a high speed canoe pile up and swim with pink river dolphins.

After our experiences of Bolivian buses it was a brave move to buy plane tickets back to La Paz, and all the local women on the flights praying before take off didnīt fill me with much confidence. Someone up there was listening though and we are now back at 4000m, having said farewell to Hannah who sadly has to go back to work (eh?), and about to take our last bus back to Potosi before starting out on the bikes again at a little bit more of a relaxed pace. Phewwww.