From El Chalten we headed south, 143 miles to El Calafate. What a wonderful quiet paved road for motorcycling. Sensational.

Now El Calafate is a Patagonia tourist hot spot and decent accommodation is hard to source at a reasonable price. But I’m an international traveller with an eye for functional affordable living in any town. Today was another success and Susan loved our private room in a hostel.

We’ve each got our own set of bunk beds. Sweet. You can sleep up or down, it’s your own choice. Susan and Mrs Hip would struggle to jump up top so they sleep below. I’m a drunk and would fall out of the top bunk so I sleep below. Happy as two low bunk llamas in dormitory heaven.

Look how Susan has her own bedside light and a little wooden shelf where she can charge her phone. Bet you’ve never stayed in a hotel with a personal charging shelf? These are the small details that make travelling a pleasure.

Susan and I had one major argument whilst we were there. You’re allowed to sublet the beds. We had two spare bunks and that’s $40 a night times four nights – a potential $160 income. I was sympathetic that Susan didn’t want to share with an extra two guys. Neither did I. So what’s the problem? As usual Susan got her own way but I do think she’s a bit unreasonable and I’m sure you agree.

Here’s the outside.

Okay I appreciate there’s no paved road and the front needs a bit of landscaping but look at the inside where we mix with the young, trendy hostellers. Oh ya! Are you going hiking today? Ya! You just must see the emerald green lake, its awesome. Ya! Ya! Have you been to Tierra del Fuego yet? Ya you must! Ya!

I feel so comfortable in this young people travel environment. Ya I really do. Awesome.

So if you’re ever looking for a quirky alternative to holiday accommodation please give me a call for some advice. My slogan is ‘why sleep with the ordinary when you can have the extraordinary’. Nice.

Next, I’ve got a bit of a confession to make. I’ve got a personal smell problem. It’s quite embarrassing but I’m happy to share it with you.

You see it all started when we went shopping to the local supermarket for dinner. We eat out almost every night so it’s quite nice to occasionally buy something in. On this night we purchased some freshly roasted chicken in a plastic bag. You know what I’m talking about – freshly roasted but you suspect it’s been sitting in the hot cabinet for two days.

We left the supermarket and walked back to our small apartment. I had the carrier bag over my shoulder.

Now let me set the scene. Every town in South America has many stray dogs. They’re everywhere and generally very friendly.

They mope around in packs of three and four, sometimes sitting on street corners and chasing cars. They sleep in the middle of pavements, sleep in the middle of roads, sleep anywhere likely to get under your feet. They don’t care. It’s a dog’s life.

They wander into pubs and restaurants looking for food or just a nice place to sleep. The staff watch the dogs wander in and walk around the tables. The staff don’t care. The dogs don’t care. It’s Argentina life.

The other day a girl was in the bar on a high stool and table when a giant black dog wandered in, sniffed the burger and easily made the high table on his hind legs. He didn’t snatch. He just waited for food. What a polite giant of a dog. Of course the girl squeeled and we all laughed. She wasn’t sharing though so polite giant of a dog moved onto the next table.

So on this day we’re walking home when a big dog followed closely behind. Susan says to me ‘oh he really likes you’, followed by ‘Oh Clif the chicken, the fat’.

Oh no! The fat and chicken juices were running down my jacket, my only jacket, and my trousers, my only trousers. It wasn’t just a bit. It was the whole damn lot. I was a greasy dripping chicken mess.

Susan later did her best in the shower with bathroom soap but the trousers still had stains where a man really doesn’t want stains. ‘Live with it’ is basically the feedback I got from my understanding wife.

So when we arrived in El Calafate I appeared to have a friendly dog issue. It started when we walked into town and a big variety dog followed me. He came right up to me and he was smiling! I kid you not! He had a huge grin!

Now if you know dogs you will know they can smile. It’s a strange almost devilish smile where the lips turn up. It can look a bit like a snarl.

Well big variety dog was smiling at me. More particularly he was smiling at my leg. Susan may have left me with embarrassing stains on my trousers but she had also obviously left me with a smell and this dog thought ‘here’s the biggest damn chicken I’ve ever seen’! Thankfully, he didn’t know what to do with this ‘big chicken’ and we managed to chase him away. He’s probably still dog dreaming of me to this day.

So El Calafate with it’s many stray dogs has been a bit of a problem for me. I’m getting dog stalked. As ‘big chicken’ walks along past sleeping dogs on the pavement their heads lift as they smell me. Then they follow. Honestly, I’m like the bloody dog pied piper! It’s not just the odd dog. Oh no! I can have a few walking behind and they’re all smiling, in that devilish way, at ‘big chicken’ nervously walking along the footway.

It’s been a problem for Susan as well. For two days we walked down to the wetlands next to the town as Susan wanted to take photos of the flamingos. Unfortunately the local stray dogs had other ideas and chased them away. Why are the dogs there? Well they followed ‘big chicken’ of course!

Here’s a photo of Susan forlornly looking out into the wetlands at the flamingos in the very far distance. There’s two strays in photo and their pal ‘mad cross collie’s is behind us siiting in the middle of the road, ‘on guard’, waiting to chase the next car.

The car chasing dogs are great. Love them. Hard as nails trying to bite a car. If I’m reincarnated as a dog I want to be in Argentina. Wandering about pubs eating food then out to chase cars. Wonderful.

So I hear you ask. All that talk of ‘big chicken’ is making me hungry. Tell us about the food in El Calafate. Anything ‘ass slapping’ good?

Yup, just look at this 👇

Now this is a very popular Argentine way of cooking – the parrilla. BBQ over wood fire. This is lamb and we had it with blood sausage and chorizo. Outstanding.

I apologise for the standard of photography. The photo was taken through a window and the ghostly image of me is a consequence. However, as I always say – a ghostly image of me brightens up any photo.

The following day Susan took me on a journey to see glaciers. I have to put up with these side trips as that’s what being in a relationship is all about. Compromise and sharing in your partner’s interests. That’s what Susan says.

Personally, I think there’s enough craft beer bars to keep us entertained for four days so I hope everyone appreciates the caring, sharing, empathetic side of me by going on a side trip with Susan. I’m not looking for thanks. Just some quiet appreciation. Thanks.

So I found myself on a coach heading for a boat. What on earth were two bikers doing on a coach with other people?

Within ten minutes Susan said ‘I really don’t like this, I much prefer just you and me on the bike’. Now I know some of you will think I’m making this up but this blog is censored by Susan and if you’re reading this then it’s got through. Enough said!

Thankfully the coach journey was only an hour and then we got on the catamaran to see some ice.

‘Yo VIP, let’s kick it’

‘Ice, Ice baby’

‘Ice, ice baby’

That’s the icebergs. Here’s the glaciers.

It really was a wonderful day on a boat. We even met a lovely couple from Buenos Aires and we now have an emergency phone number if I get ‘up to my arse in trouble’.

The day ended with a couple of beers from the marvelous Patagonia Brewery. Well the universe needs balance – Susan had her way all day with ice, ice, baby, and now it was my time. Beer, beer, baby.

• El Chalten
• South America