Patagonian Expedition Race 2012: stepping into a world of ice

Patagonian Expedition Race 2012: stepping into a world of ice

It’s been seven days since a total of 19 teams set off into the far south of Chilean Patagonia, and through a mix of settled weather, good preparation, dogged persistence and scenic inspiration, a surprising number are still racing through the wilderness.

Traditionally, between 30 and 50 per cent of participating teams usually finish the annual Patagonian Expedition Race, and its always the closing stages when the going really gets tough. This year it's also where it course is at its most spectacular.
This year the route has taken participants into the Cordillera Darwin, in the south of Chilean Tierra del Fuego, and the names of the different checkpoints offered a hint at the terrain: Paso de las Nieves (Passage of the Snow), El Turbal (The Peat Bog) and Paso Glaciar (Glacier Passage).

Previous editions of the race have seen racers steered through the far Western fjords, around the mighty pointed peaks of Torres del Paine and all the way down to the spiky summits of the world’s southernmost trekking routes on Isla Navarino.

With 245 miles – more than two thirds of the overall journey – already clocked up, it would be easy to think that the remaining 106 miles would be considered the home straight. But when you’re greeted by some of the most remote landscapes on the planet, that’s simply not the case.

Since Friday night, the leading team, which includes Briton Nick Gracie, has been setting a strong pace, despite the varied and difficult terrain.

At the Paso de las Nieves, recent snowfall created some interesting trekking conditions, to go with cool temperatures at up to 2,000 metres, while El Turbal, a spectacular wild peat bog which glows bright orange, is equally challenging. Firm and well structured to the touch, it appears to be safe ground until you step on it – if the ground is wet, you'll find yourself sinking fast. American racer Chelsey Gribbon is so short she admitted concerns about drowning in El Turbal when she took on her first race two years ago.

India by rail

India by rail in 2012
The train judders to a halt and jolts me out of deep sleep. I peer out of the carriage window into the foggy night. On the final leg of a 2,300-mile railway journey across India, we have pulled up at a station somewhere in Assam, in the north-eastern states. It is 3.05am. Under harsh overhead lights, dozens of people are sleeping on the platform, great lumpy bundles of bedding and shawls. I get up from my bunk bed, pad up the corridor of the sleeper carriage, a dark cave of snoring, and step down onto the platform.

The station signs tell me that we are at Lumding, a junction 40 miles or so south of the Brahmaputra river. Beyond the river are Bhutan and Tibet; to the west is Bangladesh; to the east, Burma. It’s the far frontier of the Indian railway network.

Half-asleep fellow passengers fill their plastic water bottles from platform taps or drink tea poured from huge chrome kettles by wide-awake “chai wallahs”. Stray dogs dart past, scavenging for food.

Slowly the great caterpillar of carriages pulls off and we clamber back aboard. My wife, Clare, is still sleeping peacefully in the top bunk, unaware of Lumding, and I’m soon lulled back to sleep by the lumbering rhythm of train-on-track, train-on-track.

Clare and I have been trundling across India for 10 days. We started at the most westerly station on the regular passenger network – Okha in the state of Gujarat, 100 miles down the coast from Pakistan – and will soon be pulling into Ledo, the network’s most easterly station, a tiny Assamese town of tea gardens and coal mines. We could have done the bulk of this journey on one train, the Dwarka Express, but it runs only on Fridays. It sets off from Okha at just before noon and, 2,000 miles later, pulls into Guwahati, the capital of Assam, on Monday morning. Sixty-seven hours at an average speed of 30mph. We love Indian trains, but not that much.

Vietnam: ethnic tourism among the valleys with no name

Vietnam in 2012: ethnic tourism among the valleys with no name
A typhoon had blown in during the day. White rain clouds lay like a boiling sea in the valleys, creating the illusion that the twisting mountain pass was an ocean road. As our vehicle turned a blind corner we came across a gaggle of motorcyclists, caped against the rain and gawping over the edge.

A lorry had gone over while overtaking another lorry, trusting to a hard shoulder that had gone soft in the rain. Through the clouds we saw that the plummeting vehicle had ploughed a vertical groove of red earth in the sheer mountainside. Its roof was visible, a couple of hundred feet below.

Most live in rural areas, growing rice, practising slash-and-burn farming, keeping animals, making handicrafts, worshipping their ancestors and believing in spirits. Many still wear their distinctive, traditional dress – or at least the women do; men tend to go for the easy option and wear Western clothes these days – and this is part of what makes them especially intriguing and attractive to foreigners. Market days, when different groups come together in a throng of colour and noise, are thrilling spectacles.

Incredibly, the driver had just been hauled up alive and whisked off to hospital. As the men continued to stare, a woman in a beautiful and strange costume strode away from the scene as if in disgust. She was the reason we had come to this remote, mountainous region in the north of Vietnam, just 50 miles from the Chinese border. Her distinctive look – black tunic and trousers embroidered with red-and-white patterned panels, red scarf and headdress – marked her out as a member of the Dao ethnic minority, one of 54 ethnic groups in Vietnam.

The Viets are the biggest group, accounting for 86 per cent of the population and dominating mainstream culture. To varying extents, the remaining minorities lead marginalised lives, both culturally and geographically.

La Résidence, Hué, Vietnam: hotel review

La Résidence, Hué, Vietnam: hotel review 2012
Overview

This former residence of the French envoy in colonial days is the place to stay in the city of Hué in central Vietnam. Hué is steeped in history, from the days of the imperial court to the Vietnam War, and La Résidence is perfectly located for getting around yet also nicely secluded. It was fully refurbished in 2011, when new wings were added. The 30m saltwater pool next to the river is fabulous and the spa is also first class (try the Monticelli mud wrap).

Location 8/10

Next to the Perfume River, on the opposite bank from the Citadel and the Imperial City (based on the Forbidden City in Beijing), within a pleasant riverbank stroll of the town.
La Résidence, in the Vietnamese city of Hué, resembles a landlocked ocean liner of the Twenties, says Nigel Richardson.

With 122 rooms and suites, La Résidence prides itself on being a boutique hotel. Rooms feature dark wood, silks, Art Deco features and Wi-Fi, and most have views across the river to the Citadel. The Resident Suite, on the top floor of the old governor's house, has a wonderful rooftop terrace with river views and isn't extortionate, at £235 per night.

Food & drink 7/10

Most tourists eat in town but if you feel like splashing out, Le Parfum restaurant – a stunning setting of black lacquer, old photos and tropical plants – offers high-quality French and Asian fusion dishes: rice rolls (about £3), duck foie gras (£12), Australian beef tenderloin (£18). Elsewhere on the ground floor, Le Gouverneur Bar sprawls rather and lacks intimacy.

Computicket travel- questions

Computicket travel- questions
Which was your worst holiday?

We once booked a horse-drawn caravan in Ireland. The pictures on the website were absolutely idyllic, but the reality was a horse that absolutely hated us. We don’t know anything about horses. It used to go really slowly, so we’d try to make it go faster – they’d said “Kick it on!” – but we didn’t know what to do and it used to kick and bite us and we were all really scared of it. It ended with our pulling it along, with people making rude gestures to us out of their cars. The Irish seem to hate people in gipsy caravans. The axle came off on the bridge to Ballykissangel [Avoca, in County Wicklow], it rained the entire time and it was really depressing.

What was your worst experience on holiday?

Years ago I sprained my ankle on the first day of skiing in Celerina , Switzerland. I had to watch the others for a long time. But then we decided to go and have a look at Venice, and that was perfect. So I was glad in the end I’d injured myself.

What’s the biggest packing mistake you’ve made?

When I went to Cape Town to film Kidnap and Ransom in 2011, it was sweltering in February – I was having to lie on the kitchen floor to keep cool because it had ceramic tiles. I didn’t have the right clothes. When I went back in 2012 for the second series, I just imagined it would be the same. It was cold and all I took was flip-flops and summer dresses, so I’d got it wrong again.

What’s the worst hotel you’ve stayed in?

We went to the Chelsea Hotel in New York City because of its bohemian past as the home of writers and musicians, and it was just horrible. We imagined we were being very bohemian, but all we wanted was clean sheets. I don’t want much from a hotel, but I do want clean sheets.

What do you avoid on holiday?

I avoid loads of people, because I’d rather have a bit of countryside and an experience that’s different from London, where I live.

What do you hate about holidays?
Nothing, although I always appreciate home when I come back. I always think this is the best place in the entire world. Britain gets a lot of things right; I worry for our future, but I think of the NHS and the BBC, our tolerance and our green belt and I just think we’re so privileged to live here. I’m always happy to come home.The feeding scheme was launched to help improve the nutritional status of the people of South Africa.