Fly back up to the Chilean Lake District and after a wine spilling, scream inducing spot of turbulence somewhere over the Patagonian Andes, we touch down relieved in Puerto Montt.
There's no time to settle the nerves with a stiff pisco however as we are whisked straight to an 'adventure lodge' in a remote mountain valley once frequented by Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid for a bit of horseriding. Unfortunately the next morning we are woken by the sound of torrential rain on our tin roof and are issued with green waterproof ponchos and luridly light blue waterproof trousers to commence the hack into the mountains (not quite the gaucho image we were hoping for).
Rain gets harder all day and riding through mountain streams that would normally be gentle trickles becomes a perilous crossing of raging torrents with water almost reaching the bottom of the saddle and overflowing the tops of our boots. Needless to say the remains of the whisky we bought in Patagonia came in very handy.
We are now settled in the safer environs of Puerto Varas, drumming up a bit of festive cheer before the big day.