Our last day in Patagonia, I suggested a final hike, to which Anita hissed, "you mean a bloody TREK up the sheer face of another poxy mountain?!" Understandably a bit reluctant to go after the last crippling experience, she gave in because there was a minimum of 2 people required to go and no-one else had signed up (Anita : "ooh there's a surprise!").
We trekked through luscious woodland, across babbling brooks and carpets of yellow flowers. The trees were draped in what's known as "old man's beard", a wispy draping parasite which feels like a loofah and doesn't harm the host tree.
Our last day in Patagonia, I suggested a final hike, to which Anita hissed, "you mean a bloody TREK up the sheer face of another poxy mountain?!" Understandably a bit reluctant to go after the last crippling experience, she gave in because there was a minimum of 2 people required to go and no-one else had signed up (Anita : "ooh there's a surprise!"). 
We trekked through luscious woodland, across babbling brooks and carpets of yellow flowers. The trees were draped in what's known as "old man's beard", a wispy draping parasite which feels like a loofah and doesn't harm the host tree.
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