Days 34 & 35 - from Pucon to San Pedro de Atacama.

Catch the early morning bus from Valdivia to Pucón. The weather’s getting warmer and sunnier, the further north I travel. You can see all of the Villarica volcano. Am welcomed by Cristian’s mum and the dogs, since Cristian’s off climbing mountains in the north of Chile, in Parque Nacional Lauca.

Collect the rest of my gear, use the day to repack with a view to sending one bag of stuff to Mike’s in Lima as soon as I get to Arequipa, and to start booking accommodation in Peru. Try to make up for the relative malnutrition of the last few weeks by filling up on wholesome vegetarian food and fruit juices at Trawén and ¡ecole!.

The two friendly German girls staying at Tree House are travelling around the world for a year; they’ve just come from Peru and are keen to give me tips. They couldn’t do the most popular Inca Trail because of the mudslide, but they did the jungle one instead and tell me it was awesome. They’ve just come back from the volcano climb and tell me how brilliant it was. When they learn that I write for the Rough Guide, they chorus: “We love the Rough Guide; we’re travelling with it right now!” I modestly take credit for all the good work the Rough Guide’s ever done: “Always happy to meet our fans!” They say that having talked to other travellers travelling with either the Rough Guide or the Lonely Planet Shoestring guide, the consensus is that the LP ‘is shit’ by comparison. “One tip, though – their Getting There and Away section is better.” I take that on board.

Take the overnight bus to Santiago, having told Cristian’s mum that I’ll see her at Cristian and Sophie’s wedding in Portsmouth in July. The ride is hot and airless. One of the disadvantages of travelling by posher Tur Bus is that you have no control over climate conditions, and if the driver decides to turn up the heating and switch off the air-con, then sauna it is. On cheaper buses you can fling open a window. The fat guy next to me keeps snorting in his sleep and I keep elbowing him.

I have three hours to kill in Santiago before hopping on my 24-hour bus to Calama in the north, in order to then connect to San Pedro de Atacama. Where does a hungry Anna K go for breakfast? Why, to the fish market, of course! I've loved the Mercado Central ever since Mike introduced me to it in 2005, and I will argue with anyone who dares suggest that machas a la pamesana (razor clams baked with parmesan) washed down with hot fishy broth is not the ideal breakfast!

I squeeze into the Metro along with the morning commuters, get off at Universidad de Chile and walk up Paseo Ahumado, taking the typical morning scene: businessmen plugged into I-Pods having their shoes shined, sellers flogging copies of the latest laws or frying honey-roasted peanuts in street carts…I find a little eatery open away from the centre of the market – the centre’s for tourists – and sate my appetite for early morning seafood.

When I get back to the bus, bearing in mind that I’ve got a long bus journey ahead of me, I make sure that I’ve got Immodium within reach. True, I’ve never had food poisoning anywhere but the States and Spain, but as the saying goes, “Keep your friends close but your anti-diarrhetics closer.”

I zone in and out during the bus journey. We pass by vineyards, which are then replaced by dusty hills covered in low green bushes and studded with candelabra cacti. Pink peppercorn trees grow by the road, reminding me of my trip into the Elqui Valley, a little further north, two years ago. We went to a pisco distillery plant and that’s where I experienced my first earthquake – just a few seconds of feeling as if you’re in a dodgy lift.

Trash is everywhere. Plastic and cans are blown all over the landscape, especially when we near a city. We pass through Ovalle, La Serena, Copiapó, getting five minutes to stretch our legs and grab something to eat. I snooze, trace our progress in my Chile road atlas (I love maps!) or I read “Slaves of New York”. It’s very rare for me to be reading something for hours, uninterrupted; there’s usually too much to do and I feel guilty about taking time out. But on a bus journey like this, I can’t do much more. I’ve already gone through my guidebooks to Peru, circling all the places I need to visit on the city maps and salivating in anticipation of Peruvian street food. The preliminary work is done.

I'm stopping in San Pedro de Atacama for just under two days - to catch my breath, go star gazing and psyche myself up for the second part of my journey.