We always knew it would take a long time to get there. It was a tiny, remote port wedged between the sea, the Argentinian border and two ice caps.
It took us three planes, five buses, four hitch hikes and a few stretches of walking over five days but we made it to Puerto Yungay eventually.
One memorable hitching point saw us in the same layby for the best part of 24 hours. Someone told us they´d come back for us in the evening, the policemen said they were sure we´d get picked up the next morning but still we waited, swatting flies, chewing grit and baking in the sun.
But the beauty of hitch-hiking is that it only takes one person to stop to make your day. They took us part way to our ferry, then a pick up truck threw is in the back for long enough that we could walk the final 20 miles. Except that meant another day´s delay as there was no way we´d reach that evening´s boat.
Until, 20 minutes before departure, a jeep screetched to a halt in response to our extended thumbs, squeezed us in with the other passengers and belted it down the dirt tracks at top speed, rolling onto the ferry just minutes before departure. We were hot and sweaty, tired and dusty but had made it to the Pacific coast.
