Hello Raleigh 98B staffies, this is Journo Boy, over.

Yes, from the mosquitoes of Belize to the wilds of Patagonia, there is no end to Raleigh's reach...

I thought I'd let you know how I got on with the 98Hers out here in Chile. Hopefully I won't bore you to tears. Apart from that, seasonal greetings to you all, and remember kids, a tree's not just for Christmas.

To begin at the beginning, we should start with old Pinocchio himself, and the sudden storm which brewed on the otherwise tranquil horizon of Raleigh's work in Chile. With three days to D-day, Head Office decided in their wisdom that they should adhere to Foreign Office advice. They postponed my flight by a week, with the caveat that if the situation changed I'd be able to go. Result: one pissed off journo. A day later, I had acquired a French passport from the Consulate in London (still not sure whether that means I'll have to faire le squaddie bit for a year or not...), signed a "no-responsibility"note for Raleigh and basically stamped my feet until Lindsay Bos said OK. I left. I arrived.

After a few days running around in Santiago trying to get background on the green scene and issues in Chile, I took a train south. The sleeping car dated from the 1930s, the carriages from the 1960s and the food from the 1980s. It was great. I stopped off at the seaside town of Puerto Montt, which was pretty dismal and included a compound piled high with mountains of woodchips bound for Japan. Chilean forestry remains unsustainable to say the least. Still, I managed to get to some picturesque fishing villages and spent some time in the Lake District which, with snow-capped Mount Fuji volcanoes and mirror smooth lakes, would have sent Wordworth into a right old tis.

From there to Coyhaique [COYAIKEE], where Raleigh has its Field Base up on a hillside above the town. Like Belize, they've been here for ages and the FB is therefore pretty sorted with dorms and a homely yet simple office. There's also space for all the venturers, with showers, washing, cooking facilities and a large hut for meetings, eatings and dancings. It's a beautiful place with great views of the surrounding snowy mountains and plenty of forests all around.

Differences to Belize include:

-- Due to the logistics of the different project sites in Chile, ie there fuggin miles apart, changeovers happen over a week. Also, venturers stay in half groups throughout the expedition and know what projects they'll be on next. This makes sense logistically and also, from what feedback I got, seems to help with team dynamics and all that nonsense.

-- This one's for Pete G: There is only one expedition T-shirt at the end and a sweatshirt at the beginning! Because of the Pinochet situation no-one was allowed to wear anything Raleigh while in towns.

-- No bashas! that was a definite disappointment for me, since I found them to be a right laugh, and also pretty essential for some personal space! This is due to the Hanta virus, carried by rodents, which results in rapid death from their shit or piss. Tents are therefore the norm now in Chile, and these are supposed to be kept shut at all times. These get trashed, leek, stink and are a right pain in the arse to live in over expedition if you ask me. Snoring tentmates don't help much either...

-- Adventure! Whole phases of sea-kayaking, canoeing, moutain trekking and trekking. None of this poncy four-day up Vicky Peak mallarky. Harsh and challenging conditions in extremely remote locations. No re-supplies and plenty of Manjar (squidgy caramel milk sugar stuff which the venturers smear on anything, yes, including themselves...)

-- Anything else? Oh yes, the climate. It's cold and it rains menageries most of the time. Clouds swept up from the Pacific dump their loads as they hit the Andes, resulting in 5 metre precipitation rates a year. Winds from the Antarctic south also blow up the cordillera, and chill you to the bone. Deployment on Phase1 was pretty dismal from all accounts ("I can't stand the rain" nominated as this phase's song...). That said, some project sites basked in glorious sunshine and I was very lucky with the weather. Some sites however, saw about three days of sun for whole phases...

Meanwhile, I had two main stories in mind for Raleigh. The first was the work they've been doing over the last two years in the Laguna San Rafael National Park. Funding comes from the UK Darwin Initiative and is aimed at accumulating baseline data within the park for a biodiversity survey, but also to help with the management of the growing tourism trade there. The second was the travel angle on Raleigh, which I think is particularly pertinent for Chile -- the whole of South America opens up from there. Learning a bit of Spanish, acclimatising to Latin culture and meeting travel mates all seem to be combine well with the expedition. This should go to the Independent on Sunday, but if I can find someone who pays more than their miserly rates, I'll sell it there.

So the Laguna was my first stop. After three days at FB, the weather finally cleared enough for a small plane to fly me and my PR dahling down there (only other access by boat). The Park itself covers all of the Northern Patagonian Ice Field, and in one corner of this lies the lagoon. Awesome flight down with a stunt pilot who grinned insanely as he banked back and forth to let me get some great photos of the glaciers and mountains. We arrived to find the camp deserted -- nothing like good comms eh... It's housed in the burnt-out hulk of an old hotel built in the 1970s. Welcome to the Hotel Patagonia.

At one point we were going to have to go back to FB since there was no radio contact and no-one around. I could feel my first Raleigh rebellion brewing. Thankfully, people did turn up. We whizzed off in Avon inflatables across to a beach on the other side of the lagoon where they had established another camp. The project consists of tracking a rare and endangered wild cat called the KodKod. They're trapped, collared and weighed, and then the venturers spend their time monitoring their habits and habitat with radio receivers that go beep, beep. Sounds quite wild, but in fact the cat resembles my neighbour's in size, and are getting increasingly used to human company -- one tended to chill out in the park warden't hut and eat the food left for it. Needless to say, he was very popular with the KodKoders who could sit in the hut next door with a fire and go beep, beep without moving...

The Beach, as it became known, was situated slap bang in front of where the San Rafael Glacier slides inexorably into the laguna's waters. On either side, towering snow-capped mountains embrace it with robes of green forests. Truly a wondrous place to spend a few days "researching". To me, the glacier resembled a mammoth Aquafresh Mr Whippy machine - d'yer want a flake with that? But hey, that's just me. The glacier calves chunks of ice as big as houses every so often. Cobalt and aquamarine icebergs drift on the lagoon, flecks of cork on a giant grey-blue wineglass. Some of these drift up to the shores where they get stranded, slowly melting and metamorphosing before your eyes like old ships in breakers' yards. Washing next to icebergs will be one of the more surreal memories I'll take home with me. The glacier also groans and roars as it sends its offspring out into the world. At night, it glows eerily. It seems like Old Man Time is aching as the echoes reverberate around the mountains and shores. There are also porpoises, sealions, terns and albatrosses to be spotted.

I spent about five nights there in all. Basically there wasn't a lot to do but wait for the cats to be trapped and do some drawing of the odd plant. Lazy days! I got on very well with Tamsin the PRO, who was as great a flirt as me. We soon decided we were on honeymoon together, though I hasten to add that nothing unprofessional occurred between us! The boathandler was a mad Cornishman by the name of Nelly who'd been a venturer out in Belize back in 94 or 95 I think. His favourite expression was ARSE (West country accent required) which soon became the verbal totem of the three phases of KodKoders. The PM was an army sergeant called Geoff who was very popular and had the respect of all the venturers. He spent most of his time talking like Smashy and Nicey from Harry Enfield -- it's lagunatastic and all for charidee, right kids? kinda thing...

The other project site was over on another shore of the lagoon. They were cutting a trail through dense forest so that one day a 10 km trek will be possible to another, even bigger, glacier. They managed one k in three weeks however. Very hard work. The best part was the fording of a river which had to be done with ropes and carabiners and all that. I spent a night in the forest with them, sleeping in Goretex "bivvy bags" and got dunked on the way back over the river. Cheers.

Back to the Hotel Patagonia where Christmas beckoned. This was done in true Waleigh spiwit, including, as well as the usual decorations, crackers, stockings, Midnight Mass, Queen's Speech, holy bread, the singing of carols and lashings of food saved up especially. Very surreal but very endearing too. Really great bunch of venturers, and I had a top time with them. On Boxing Day we all went out for a jolly, and got right up close and personal to the glacier. Its phalanx of spiky blue ice looms a hundred or so metres above you and it's a very humbling experience. It's also pretty scary since you never quite know when a bloody great council flat is going to hurl itself into the water. My photos of this day are tops, and will be available for viewing on the net no doubt.

After ten days, the "indefatigable" Austral III turned up to take us all back north and to drop off the 3rd phasers. This old bath-tug, used to carrying livestock or wood, is chartered by Raleigh and is home for the next 16 hours of diesel asphyxiation, rolling seas and dodgy toilets. I met Fred then, the PM from Coco who I'd missed back on 98B. Had a good chat with him, and filled him on how the project had gone after he'd left (hmm...). He was the PM on the sea-kayaking, and his wife Pat was PA to Keith Tuckwell, the EL (top man).

Chilled changeover at FB where I was able to wash clothes and meet some more of the expedition. Then came the rude awakening of Mountain Trek (or schlep?) which I thought would provide a good example of adventure on Raleigh, and well, cos I love the mountains and fancied spending a few days up 'em without a crampon. The trekking takes place in the Cerro Castillo National Park, two hours south of Coyhaique. The peak is only 2,600 metres but that doesn't take away from the awesome landscapes. The base camp was a four hour march up from the Landy drop off, and getting all the kit and food up there took three days in all. Finally got all the stuff up late one evening, started to cook dinner, and one anomymous journo spilt the dehy about two minutes before it was ready. Doh! We were all freezing, sodden and knackered, but hey, shit happens right? Group linchings do to, so I've heard.

The base camp was situated in the last of the southern beech forest before the scree and snow began in earnest. Towering mountains loomed over us on three sides, their cathedral spires and gargoyle peaks incandescent in the last of the evening light. I woke up on breakfast duty the next day, and all the water in messtins, etc was frozen solid. You try starting a fire! The next days were spent learning skills and sliding very fast on our bums down snowy slopes using ice axes to come to a giggling halt. Lots of fun. On what I thought would be my last day, we got up at five and headed up to a col with a rock-strewn gulley. Hard going all the way, using ropes and crampons for the last bit in hurricane winds that blew you over the minute you stood up. Lunch and group photos were spent in the shelter on the other side, before more bum sliding all the way back down the hill to base camp.

The next day I went down the hill, someone having confirmed with FB that there would indeed be a Landy to pick me up. Two hours passed waiting and no sign. Two venturers then appeared from nowhere to tell us there'd been a cock up. The Flying Scotsman Neil (all 5foot5 of him), the PM, was not impressed...Back up the hill in three hours to join the others who had been digging snow holes all day. Yes, this is Raleigh, and digging a hole out of sheer ice is a challenge and, let's face it, a bit of a laugh. I reached them on the slopes, ensconced in their icy chambers, which at night were candle-lit and very cosy. I, however, was wholly captivated by the idea of sleeping outside in the snow and proceeded to dig myself a little ditch out of the wind.

I think that was my most memorable night of the expedition with the snow, stars and howling wind, the liquid, magic-potion clouds quicksilvering across the haloed moon, and the jagged black incisors of the mountain peaks biting into the lapis sky. The company of a most beautiful and lovely venturette has no bearing whatsoever on this. You try snogging in sub zero temperatures in a Force 7 gale from the holes in your bivvy bags!!!!!

The next day I found myself back at FB and my time with Raleigh over. ?Que?

After two days sorting myself and kit out, I left for two weeks on my own, with promises to return for the WashUp party n all that. That was great, and I've managed to research two travel articles which I reckon are juicy, to be sure. Also managed to get a bit more under the skin of Chile and the Chileans, something that was niggling me a bit after a more than a month in the country. And of course there was more stunning scenery, of mountains, glaciers, waterfalls and coiling, snaking roads...

With regards to my experiences of the Pinochet situation, I've been saying, on first meeting people, that I'm French. Although I don't really like the idea of being a Frog, having won the World Cup, it does carry a bit of cachet... With a name like Dominic and an un-English accent on my Spanish, I got away with it. Talking more to people I then admitted I was actually English. It's hard to know how people are going to react. The reality is that Chile is pretty much split pro and anti the ex-dictator, so sometimes people shook my hand and said "nice one", and sometimes they were were antagonistic. I tried not to commit myself to anything before the other person had declared their view. That I found quite hard, since I've studied the Pinochet era and my aunt had to leave the country having lived here for a few years when he came to power. Friends of hers disappeared.

If people are pro-Pinochet, they tend to say that all that is claimed abroad is lies, that he did great things, and that the country was in such chaos before he took power that something had to be done. The road which courses south through Chilean Patagonia is called the Carretera Austral Augusto Pinochet no less, and was his brain-child. Without it, there would have been no opening up of the frontier and no lives for the people who have settled here. It's also recent, some sections were only completed in the last ten years. Therefore, it's pretty much given that if you travel along the road and talk to the villagers, they're all going to be in favour of the old man and anti-Brit. At the end of the day however, I myself didn't have any unpleasant experiences at all. In fact, I feel it was a fascinating time to be in Chile. I was told by an ex-PRO in London that before Pinochet was a great unmentionable. With news of his fate dominating the media 24 hrs a day, that certainly wasn't the case during my trip. What's even more remarkable is the diversity of opinion that you encounter. Everyone has a different opinion.

I think the most important point to take on board is that the events of the last two months have seriously damaged the reconciliation process that has been happening since 89. Chile is once more a divided country and its democracy, with its numerous parties and fragile coalition, has been substantially destabilised. That this should happen because of foreign countries' intervention is the worst part, I find. Chileans need to decide for themselves, and deal in their own way, with their country's historical baggage. Whether they follow the South African, Guatemalan, Argentinian or even Spanish examples of post-dictatorship democracy, they should be allowed to do this themselves or they'll never reconcile what happened, or find the concensus required to build a strong unified country.

But anyway, back to the WashUp party. As ever that proved hilarious with some great skits and some painfully embarassing attempts at amateur dramatics. There was of course the usual dose of nudity, water drenching and casualties the next day -- but no lightweights on saline drips I hasten to add. Memories of Camp Oakley were everywhere, though I did appreciate the cool morning-after as opposed to the blazing dusty heat of Belize...It was fun to meet more of the expedition then, though I found it frustrating to meet some cool people only to say goodbye to them the next day. The venturers all left on a two-day journey back to Santiago, via Argentina, and, though I would have loved to have stayed on with the staffies, I decided to fly back to Santiago to finish off the interviews and research I wanted to do there.

As you might have noticed by now, I had a wonderful time. I feel privileged as ever to have been welcomed so warmly into the busom of the Raleigh family, and to have had the opportunity to share great experiences with good people. The landscapes of Patagonia are epic and wondrous, and I feel like I've only scratched the surface of Chile's Pandora's box of delights. I also have some wonderful material to flog when I get back home. I've long dreamed of coming to Chile, and the reality of its scenery, people and culture was infinitely more intense. I'm even considering coming back as PRO on the same exped next year... I met the next EL who was shadowing Keith before taking over for January's 99A and we get on very well. Keith is off to do the Oman exped if that happens (Iraq?!?), and I'd be well up for trying another angle on Raleigh for that. We shall see...

Well done for making it as far as here. Sorry to regale you with these sickeningly-wonderful sights and sounds. It's not fair I know! I was reading a lot of Bruce Chatwin while on this trip, and he refers to writers as 'cutpurses' raiding other people's experiences. I reckon that makes me the Artful Dodger on Raleigh, and considering the song he sings in the Oliver Twist film, it's not a bad analogy. Oh yeah, and I'm a JAMMY bastard to boot!!!!

See yers and take care,

Dom