Woke to a stunning & dry day with a glorious views of the snow covered, still active, smoking volcano, that dominates Pucon, directly outside my window.
Headed into town with hopes of climbing to the volcano's crater but it was not happening as they "hadn't expected the good weather", so had not organised the trip..... So much for meteorological data!
I went into one tour shop and tried my best Spanish to ask what I could do for the day, only to receive a reply in a ripe Bristolian accent, laughing and telling me how crap my Spanish was.
As it was, tours were limited that day (or so i was told), so instead I ended up hiring a mountain bike and heading off into the wilderness.
After cycling for a while my arse became very sore and the initial enthusiasm drained from me (a bit like the membership of the Association of Black Police Officers would, just after it announced its affiliation with the BNP), but I found I was to far out to justify turning back. I managed to push through the pain barrier and did so by imagining pushing some sharp object through the face of the utter Bastard from Bristol, who had convinced me this was a great way to pass a day.
Eventually, and very slowly, my direction of travel swung round to head back towards Pucon but I was denied the pleasure of inserting the heavy bike pump, which I had carried all round the route, into the ear of the Bristol expat and then inflating his face to 50psi as unfortunatly he was no where to be found..
Looking like a man with an historic case of haemorrhoids, I wandered back to the hostel and soaked my arse in the bath but vowed that if I ever treat that fella, whilst on an ambulance shift in Bristol, I will use him to prove my theory that you can give intravenous fluid through a cannulated retina.
Beautifully sunny day, great views, sore bum.