Aloha and all that

That Starbucks gift token had turned us into sort of fiends for hunting out Starbucks – not something we'd been accustomed to before! It was quite a fun mini-adventure in itself. We became quite attached to our Starbucks quests. Our last was sipping cold Frappucinos in Honolulu airport (we had rather a long time between flights) and tentatively nibbling the only morsels of food we could afford to buy there. Turned out our flight from LA to Honolulu, despite being over a lunchtime, did not offer us any food, and we'd only scrounged a blueberry muffin from that accursed hostel.

Arriving in Hawaii we were suddenly back to that humid heat we'd left behind when we arrived in winter. It took a bit of getting used to. The airport was like a whole new world. So laid back, with all the staff in Hawaiian shirts – even the little icons on the toilet signs. We flew from Honolulu to Hilo on the Big Island, and were met there by our first couchsurfing host, Robert. He seemed to be the king of couchsurfing there. As we travelled round everyone we met had either stayed with Robert, had heard of him, or were hosting surfers who had already stayed with him. As he drove us out of the airport he pointed out Obama's plane just casually parked – the spare one he uses when it's not Air Force One. I suppose it makes sense that he spent the holidays in Hawaii!

His house was full of Basque/Spanish girls who seemed to have been busily checking out our profile and already knew everything about us. We were a teeny bit jet-lagged, but for these guys it was party time. They gave us beers and hot food and we played music videos on YouTube until Paul and I finally caved and went to bed. Next morning the Spanish girls gave us some thoughts about where to go, and warned us about centipedes. I kid you not. I thought they were joking, but apparently if a centipede bites you it could go pretty badly. We never saw a centipede, but just thinking about them made me giggle a little bit.

Robert gave us a lift into downtown Hilo to have a look at a great farmer's market and meet a Scottish friend of his who ran a ukulele shop. Hilo's a hippy and tourist paradise. Some lovely shops with merchandise way too expensive for us to think about buying. We found a free bus (dominated by an unhinged Hawaiian girl) and went to wander along some beaches. We even saw a turtle just swimming around a secluded little pool, which was cool.

Back at Robert's was a whole new set of couchsurfers to replace the Spanish girls – Emily, Billy and Grace. Billy and Grace were musicians who were spending a while trying to earn money playing on the Big Island, and Emily was WWOOFing on the island for a few months. She had just had a bike accident and seemed worryingly spaced out. Seemed like she needed the doctor to check her head over again. That evening we were going to the Hilo kava bar to see Billy and Grace play. He does gypsy fiddle type stuff, and she does a sort of folk-rap. They put on a really good show, and Paul got to join in with a bit of fiddling now and then. Kava is this stuff native to this part of the world which you grind up and drink as a tea, or put in brownies, or whatever you can think of, and has a similar effect to marijuana. It was a great night, and afterwards we headed back to Robert's to eat a curry I'd made and have guacamole which Robert seems to have on tap. We'd also made use of these crazy tiny red Hawaiian chillies which we'd completely underestimated the strength of. People were gasping for more yoghurt, but we found the chillies very exciting and I bashed the remainders up the next day to make a powerful hot sauce. I was so entranced by it I took a photo.

We woke on New Year's Eve to find the Spanish girls back. They'd been rumbled by the police for camping without a permit and had crawled back into the welcoming fold of Robert's living room. With our new wheels we took a drive up the island, stopping at some gorgeous botanical gardens (in the rain – this side of the island isn't so lush and green without reason) and looked at beaches and views. That evening the Spanish girls had decided to organise a party at Robert's. Emily, Billy and Grace were back, and then a couple more people turned up. There was great food, dancing, musical times (got to have a bit of a jam with Billy and Grace, and do a few songs as well). The Spanish girls did some Basque dancing, and Paul made shortbread and sang Auld Lang Syne with everyone. Probably one of the best New Year parties I've been to, in fact. It was a weird feeling to be among the last people in the world to celebrate it.

We finally managed to prize ourselves from Robert's hospitable arms on New Years Day and took the car to Volcano to meet our new host, Seth. Robert had invited Seth to the party, but he seemed to have had an adventure of his own that night. It was amazing he was alive and in to receive us! His house was one of the most unusual we've stayed in. It's a series of wooden-frame domes covered with tarpaulins, plus an outside toilet shack and outside shower. No electricity or light – basically camping indoors. It was very cool. We were staying on the top floor of the main dome which had ropes for swinging on hanging from the roof.

After a bit of coffee with Seth we drove to the volcano national park. It was so very cool to hike around an actual live volcano. We went round the rim and across a crater floor and the frozen lava. So surreal, like being on another planet. A scene from Star Trek or something, with all the rainforest-esque landscape around it. We saw steam vents, sulphur pits, and the glowing crater after dark. It was quite an adventure finding Seth's place again because there are no street lamps around Volcano, and moreso when we found it and fumbled around with candles for a while because he wasn't in to turn the generator on.

The next day we were all feeling very optimistic about sunshine coming out (it always rained heavily overnight, but was often sunny for at least some of the day) and so went for a beach theme. We started off at another very cool farmer's market (in the pouring rain), and then went snorkelling in some tidal pools. Because of the rain there was no-one else there, but it let off for a bit so Paul and I could take it in turns to use Seth's snorkel. Neither of us had done it before, and I really wasn't expecting how beautiful it was. It was actually amazing, despite the rain.

Then we went to some naturally hot pools and were nibbled by some fish, before going to a local hippy beach where they have a big drumming session every Sunday. On our way down to the path a guy asked us, 'want any bud?' and when we all politely declined, angrily shouted, 'what the fuck are you coming to the beach for, then? Just to look at naked people?' There wasn't much going on as the rain had chased many away, but there were a good few naked stoned people and drums. The waves looked lethal – you've got to worry for the hippies. I wouldn't be surprised if that place had its share of Sunday deaths

We waited for darkness at the place where the lava from the volcano flowed across the road and into the sea. Despite our optimism, the rain had not let off and was pummelling down harder than ever, and us in our skimpy beach clothes. The volcano area is not really a warm place, either. We did try and wait for a break in the rain before heading for the flow, but could not avoid several bone-chilling drenchings. It was worth it, though. We arrived quite early and got front row seats (the people behind us constantly moaned about it – 'maybe the front row should move to let people behind have a look... that guy in the hat is in the way...' etc. Well maybe they should have got there earlier and waited longer in the rain like we did. We deserved our view). It started off as a vast volcanic landscape with a little glow. Then suddenly the glow erupted as a whole flow of lava broke through the crust and trickled down. It was a bit like watching paint dry, but in a fun way. A bit more exciting. And as it got darker more glowing trails appeared all over the hillside. It was amazing to watch the flow approach. Another surreal moment. We filmed it so along with the New Year party and some of our other adventures in the USA, it's part of our USA video.

We ended the evening with some songs, tunes, and quesadillas with Seth, and then prepared to leave the next day. That morning we finally braved the outdoor shower (as I mentioned, Volcano is not warm), and then headed up Saddle Road across the centre of the island. This road is normally out of bounds to rental cars because sections of it are loose gravel, but we were determined to cross it because in the middle was the highest mountain in the world, Mauna Kea. It's not actually the highest mountain above sea-level, but as its base is on the ocean floor, it's technically the tallest. It's very important to the Big Island because it is home to all the observatories. And with some of the clearest skies available, these are top observatories. Anyone who's anyone has an observatory there. The UK has 2. We reached the visitor's centre and immediately noticed the colder, thinner air. The next bit of the road (to the summit) was definitely out of bounds to us, but the Spanish girls had managed it fine in their rental, and we were feeling a bit daring. Although the couple stranded at the visitor's centre because their rental car had been totalled on loose rocks was a bit of a concern.

The summit was about as high as the highest point of the Inca Trail (with no chance to get acclimatised) and it was freezing cold and windy. There was a bit of hiking to do, and then a breathtaking view of the volcanic rocky landscape below. It would have been stunning to see at night, but it might have been a bit much for the car. Taking it on that road was nerve-racking enough in the daytime. On the way back down we noticed that Paul's iPod had stopped working again (hark back to Peru and Bolivia). It worked again at a lower elevation – so it seems as though it doesn't like certain altitudes as it had stopped when at altitude in Puno before.

The other side of the island was nice and sunny, and we found a nice beach with some historic ruins, and watched the sunset. Then to our next couchsurf hosts – Shannon and Ronja. They're both massage therapists and live in a fancy condo complex in Waikoloa Village. They had access to a hot tub and a pool, and let me into their store-cupboard to do some cooking (I love other people's ingredients). They'd also heard of Robert, and were meant to be hosting the Basque girls next. Funny. And out at night from there, being so close to Mauna Kea, the stars were amazing. I've never seen so many, or the sky so dark.

Next day we'd discovered from a sign at the Observatory visitor centre that the BBC was filming at a nearby beach LIVE. What's more it was a Prof Brian Cox show (sadly he wasn't there). So much excitement was not to be missed. We hurried down and watched for a bit, talking to some of the amateur astronomers who were being featured in the special on sun-gazing. To our joy they invited us to come and see their telescopes. We got into conversation about astronomy and science communication, and soon found ourselves manning telescopes and being in the background of the shots. So very surreal – live on British TV from Hawaii. We learnt a lot to, and saw yet another facet of Big Island life with the astronomy society people.

Now, for us this trip is one big liminal zone – a transitional year if you would. That means we're a danger to ourselves and others in ethnological terms. Oh yes, we are.

After the sun-gazing we drove to a place recommended by Ronja for a hike. Truly it was beautiful, but possibly one of our most dangerous times of the trip so far. That bit of the island was another rain zone, for a start. Despite that it all began well with an amazing view and a steep walk down to a nice beach. After that there were paths (unmaintained, we later read). The direction we took was to be my decision, and even though it was muddy and bugs bit us everywhere, it was still going well. Still lovely views, still a nice walk. But then the path we were following got a little steep. To the extent that if we were to keep following it we would have to abseil down the cliff-side using ropes that were tied to some trees. A normal person would turn back, especially someone with our low level of fitness, but Paul seemed confident he could make it and I trusted him. I did, however, have quite a fear of death as I backed down that valley-side with no idea how long I would have to be doing it for. In fact, it was a teeny bit terrifying and I decided that there must be another way round once we reached the bottom which would mean we wouldn't have to go back up that way.

We actually made it down in one piece, and I had a bit of an adrenalin high from it. The path led to a bamboo forest, through which was one magical-looking corridor. The bamboo tunnel spat us out onto a dry river-bed paved in boulders. We followed it down towards the sea and found a camp surrounded by ropes of the same ilk as the ones we'd climbed down, with tarpaulins hidden in the bushes to cover the ropes at night. It looked like it had recently been inhabited. We had a look at the sea, and then I got it into my head that if we followed the river bed in the other direction, we would find another way round and back into our original valley. Wrong. We scrambled over the rocks in the river bed for about an hour before Paul put his foot down and turned back. His shoes were split and he was not a happy bunny. I was a little bit concerned about the lateness of the day, and had to accept the inevitable of scaling back up that rope path. For the record, it was a nice walk through the valley! So peaceful, secluded, green, etc etc.

We were making good time and found the rope camp in half the time it had taken to get as far as we had. But then we couldn't find the bamboo tunnel. No matter how hard we searched the river bank, we just couldn't find a way back onto the path, and without that we'd never find the ropes again. We were stuck, and Paul panicked. Plus we were both tired and weak from not much food. We searched around in a whirl for about half an hour, finally pushing our way through forest in a rough direction, hoping we'd find the ropes again. I was beginning to wonder if anyone was meant to use the rope path except for the people who had made that camp. Perhaps this was their secret spot. It all seemed a bit dodgy and weird. We even stumbled across a ruined village down there. We were at the point of despair – we were lost and it was starting to rain again – but then I saw the entrance to the bamboo tunnel, and we were saved.

Except now it was really pissing down with rain, and what had been a risky abseil was now a slippery death-trap of mud. I realised how badly prepared we were for this hike – we had no first aid kit and no way of getting help if one of us got injured (which was very possible, even in the river bed) save going out and waving at a helicopter. Hopefully the girls would call someone when we didn't come home, and they'd discover our forlornly abandoned hire-car. We had no desire to stay the night at the dodgy rope-camp either, so we were very pleased to find our way again.

I think it was only a rush of adrenalin that got me up the rope path. At one point my sunglasses fell out of my pocket and rolled down the hillside behind me. And what did I do? I lowered myself carefully backwards to get them, kicking stones loose which fell and knocked the glasses further out of my grasp. I don't know how we both managed it. I really thought I was going to die, and the rain all the while was hurtling down making the path more and more dangerous. What if our strength failed? What if we slipped?

We made it back up (with an hour and a half's walk still to go). I was so relieved. I'm NEVER doing that again. We warned some passers-by – if you see a path with ropes hanging down it, don't be tempted. Just turn back. I think we must have looked very dishevelled. When we reached the car again on the other side of the other valley, what did we find? There had been a way round the valley by the beach. And there was us risking death going up and down. Very funny. Anyway, we got back alive, tired, muddy, and bleeding just a little. Back in time for tea, as is the rule for all good adventurers. The girls had invited their friends round and our first words through the door: epic. They all laughed, because they were making 'epic cookies'. I was enlisted to make another couple of store-cupboard curries, which was fun. One of the visitors, Bonnie, had violin, and was interested in Scottish music. We had some tunes and some good craic generally.

The next day was our last on the Big Island. We drove back to Hilo to kill time before taking the car back to the airport. Paul bought a Hawaiian shirt (well, you couldn't expect him not to, could you?). I had acquired a Hawaiian dress from Grace, so we were all kitted out. We even bought Paul new walking boots. Our last stop was Honolulu, which most people had warned us was a rubbish place. But we only had a day there so we weren't bothered. Our final host, Kimberly, picked us up and presented us with garlands of flowers like in the movies. We spent our Honolulu day walking around the beaches and the city. It was big and touristy, and indeed it was a bit like Miami. But it was much nicer, and was situated among some very different style mountains to the Big Island. We went to Waikiki beach, and were glad we didn't spend our whole trip around there. But all in all we were pleasantly surprised by the place. I even found a gallery showing the paintings of this artist I'd become obsessed with when I was 12 or 13 (Christian R Lassen).

We left early in the morning, and as a result Paul managed to lose yet another useful thing – the power adaptor. That definitely put a dampener on things. But no matter – next we were to be crossing the dateline (oh the confusion!) and heading to Fiji.

All in all, Hawai'i was amazing. It's a beautiful place with none of the difficulties we found in places like Cuba, and it didn't feel like a part of the US either. We met some great people and had some great times. What's more, we managed to stay in budget! What a triumph!

Christmassy Times in The Bay

So San Francisco turns out to be a really lovely city - quite different from the other North American cities we've visited so far. First of all it's very Spanish looking which is unsurprising as that's who first colonised area. There were many buidings which wouldn't be out of place in Havana or in Lima. Also, it's always really disconcerting and quite cool seeing the really famous landmarks right in front of you and here we have the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz (although prior to visiting all my knowledge on Alcatraz and San Francisco comes from Eddie Izzard). The other thing is, it's surprising how Californian all the people look and sound.They all have the "laid back man" accent, may of them have long hair (men and women) or mullets and they don't have any aversions to wearing shorts even when it's freezing cold and chucking it down rain. Despite our bleary-eyed-ness we were able to take in a lot of the sites, practically stumbling upon some pretty well known areas and street names (Haight-Asbury where the summer of love was centred being a good example). We found Fisherman's warf which was kinda touristy but also cool - especially when you get out and rough the corner where there's loads of nice shops.

The next day was earmarked for a touristy site - the sort of thing we usually avoid but this was a must: Alcatraz. Prior to taking the Ferry we made our way to "Boudin's", a bakery next to the wharf we'd passed the previous day. It turns out (unbeknownst to us) that San Francisco is the home of sourdough bread, something that has now taken off across the world. Here they use a load as a soup bowl, serving up delights like clam chowder and tomato soup in it. We both had the clam chowder which was fab, especially when you get to eat the bowl afterwards. We bought a couple of the loaves as well to have a go with ourselves that evening.

Alcatraz was a forbidding place, particularly in the grey, rainy weather we encountered it in. It started off life with just a lighthouse on it before becoming a military fort (being perfectly situated to guard the San Francisco Bay), a military prison and then the high-security penitentiary it's famous for. The prison held a number of famous criminals including Al Capone and George Stroud, the "Bird Man". It must have been a hellish place to be - there was little in the way of entertainment as this was a day that punishment rather than reform was the ideal. Particularly uncooperative inmates were sent to solitary confinement or "The Hole" where the cells had no bars to let light in - they were literally kept in the dark for days. In the tour commentary there was a story of one inmate in The Hole who passed time by tossing a button into the air, hunting for it in the dark until it was found before repeating the entertainment over again. These days it would be regarded as a form of torture and against international law unless you were clever enough to keep your prisoners in a corner of Cuba...

It was eventually closed in 1963 as it was no longer financially viable and also, attitudes towards prison were moving towards reform rather than punishment. It lay abandoned for years before in the late 60s it was occupied by a bunch of Native Americans who managed to hold out for over a year and a half in a statement of their rights to live as they wanted to (relocation and "Americanisation" policies being the order of the day at this point). It was a particularly powerful statement that the first land viewed as ships entered they bay belonged to the Native Americans. The occupation eventually ended but it's thought to have been the catalyst for the changing in laws and attitudes surrounding the Native Americans.

That evening we had our own sourdough experiment with the bread we'd bought in the bakery. I made a bolognese sauce which we served in the sourdough bowls with some carrots on the side. It was fab and we agreed that in future all soups should be served that way. I was a bit concerned about how to cut out the hole but a cut round with the knife and scoop out with the hands did the trick.

California in many people's minds is the home of wine and this is a trick we didn't want to miss out on. Like much of North America, transport to remoter areas is really tricky but thankfully, Casey was able to lend us his car while he was working at the gas station. It had clearly been through the wars (and rained on us inside on occasions) but drove like a dream and was a huge boon. There are two wine valleys: Sonoma and Napa and since Sonoma was the nearest, that's where we headed. First we took in Sonoma itself which is a lovely wee town with loads of wine shops and a really fab deli giving out free samples of cheese and fudge. We then headed up the valley to take our chances in the wineries. We wandered into a couple of the tasting rooms before settling on one (Blackstone) which only charged $5 to taste 4 wines. I was driving so Charlotte was doing the tasting. The guy there (like all the folk we've encountered in California) was exceptionally friendly and keen to chat about Scotland and his own visit there. C particularly like the Pinot Noir so we took note of that and moved on. The other winery we visited was the Robledo Family Winery. This one was particularly impressive as the owner, Reynaldo Robledo was originally a Mexican migrant vineyard worker (a grape picker essentially) who had managed to build up the expertise and cash to open his own place. He employs his whole family (and there's many of them) so it really is a family business in the true sense. The guys there were really lovely and enthusiastic about telling us the story. It was particularly nice to see the photo of Reynaldo with Obama and the Mexican president taken at a dinner he'd been at. Charlotte's favourite there was the 2006 "El Rey" ("The King") Cabernet Sauvignon. Unfortunately, the budget wouldn't allow us to buy a bottle but we did feel we'd really had a proper Californian wine experience.

The rain hammered on our roof all night. Incidently, I should mention that we were staying in a stand-alone apartment in the garden of Casey's folks house. Casey himself usually lives in it when he's here but he'd gone to stay in one of the guest bedrooms in the house so we could use it. What a man! Vicky and Dusty, his mum and brother are both artists and have just opened up a gallery down the road. It had been closed every time that we'd tried to go in but Casey was good enough to get hold of the key and give us a private visit. It's a great place - a wee gallery at the front and open-plan booths to act as studios at the back. They've already managed to get a photographer to take one of the booths and there's more artists on the way. The Divines' artowrok is stunning. Dusty's is based on fantasy (he also does illustration) and wouldn't be out place illustrating the likes of J. R. R. Tolkien or Neil Gaiman. He had some great female figues and some of the colours and textures were just amazing. Vicky's is mostly still life. She'd painted my favourite painting of the gallery which was their cat in a garden seen through a bevelled window. I loved the way she'd got the effect of the bevel of the windows. There was also a really cool one of a bowl of apples with a gun and an iguana (just to make you ask I guess).

Casey dropped us off at the Marin Civic Centre. It's a really odd building which has been used in a couple of movies. We were there for the Farmer's Market, reputedly one of the biggest in the state. The weather was very changeable and would be OK for a bit and then pour for a bit, much to the deficit of the stallholders who still seemed to maintain their Californian cheer. There were free samples abound including cheese, hot pepper sauces, yoghurt (cow and sheep milk!), tofu and a load of Afghan breads and sauces. The women with the Afghan stuff was like a machine slapping sauces on the bread and then handing it to anyone who stopped to breath. We bought tofu, Afghan sauces and bread, red and yellow beetroots, a brownie, a cinnamon bun and some apple cider and headed back to the Divine's place to shelter from the teaming rain. Thanks to my Moray House application I now have access to the University's proxy so we watched the Howard Goodall "Truth About Christmas Carols". It was great a and had much of it's background music taken from my favourite Christmas album, Maddy Prior and the Carnival Band's "A Tapestry of Carols". It also had a great and lengthy section on C.F. Alexander, the writer of "Once in Royal David's City" who is C's 6th great aunt. There was also a nice bit with Bella Hardy and Ian Stephenson. We were probably watching just as the St. James 9 Lessons and Carols was on (if it hadn't been called of for snow) so that was appropriate. We also followed one of my Christmas traditions by watching the 1984 BBC series of "The Box of Delights", something that you can also do by either buying the DVD or by watching it on YouTube.

On our last day in San Francisco we headed into the countryside. It was still raining but we had Casey's car, now with the leak fixed by that savour of all mankind - gaffer tape! There's lots of lovely woods and beach around Fairfax so we took a wee loop route that gave us a taste of both. Being the stalwart adventurers we are, we even braved the rain and resultant mud for a 5 mile walk. We rewarded ourselves back at the Divine's place with some Krispy Kreme doughnuts from Safeway the calories of which probably negated the walk. Never mind.

Casey's last act of heroism was to drive us into San Francisco to catch the train to San Jose where we were to stay with Fiona, Charlotte's dad's cousin. She's the USA sales and marketing manager for a company that makes seals that can withstand the crazy physical and chemical conditions that are necessary in processes such as silicon chip manufacture - a useful product here in silicon valley. In fact, they're used in all sorts of bits of kit so I'd bet my bottom dollar that the School of Chemistry back home has a few. Given that we were now in the lead up to Christmas our days in San Jose were pretty lazy with wanders round the area and (bravely for me since my cycling accident a few years back) a cycle into Los Gatos which has quite a few pretty Spanish-type buildings. Like us, Fiona is really into cooking and has a lovely kitchen so we took the opportunity to fling ourselves into a bit of Christmas cooking with mince pies and shortbread. We also made a meal for Fiona and her daughter Gemma of giant tomatoes baked with an egg and cream inside accompanied by my famous wedges with roasted garlic dip. Having a kitchen is a thing that we really miss about not having a home and Christmas is a time that we generally do a lot of cooking so it was great to be able to do that again.

On the 24th December I opened the last door on my self-made advent calendar. Each day we've taken a photos of me opening the doors so these are in our special Christmas video with some other highlights from December.

That night we went to bed listening for the sound of sleighbells...

Christmas day arrived and for the most part smelt of BBQing turkey. Fiona was the goddess of the Christmas meal and was preparing a full-on Christmas meal but the oven couldn't take all the things requiring baking so the only thing for it was to BBQ the turkey. How sad. She'd even made a proper Chriistmas pudding complete with a mascarpone brandy sauce. There was a card for Charlotte and me on the table when we came down which turned out to be an IOU for T-shirts from Gemma. She's recently started up a business selling bespoke T-shirts and even has her own printer. It's an amazing beast. We hummed and hawed for ages about what to have but eventually settled on "Will Play for Food" with a picture of a cat playing the fiddle. It was really cool to be able to watch your own T-shirts being printed. That afternoon Fiona's brother in-law and his wife came round for the Christmas meal. We greeted them with our mulled wine and chatted loads about our trip and what we do back in Edinburgh. Fiona's brother-in-law is also a musician so we had plenty in common there. The meal came and was fantastic - turkey, roast tatties, sweet potato dauphinois, sprouts, carrots, a classic Christmas meal and the BBQd turkey was a particular highlight. As we wolfed down the pud I felt glad to be in a place where Christmas is properly celebrated. It would have been dreadful to miss it! After dinner we chatted more a played some tunes before parting company and passing out. It was a fantastic Christmas day and certainly one to remember. We even got a present from Fiona's in-laws of a Starbucks voucher. A very useful thing when you're needing a pep-up.

We took the train the next day which was to be our last long-distance journey in North America. as our Greyhound passes had ran out there was no need to suffer the hound any longer so we took the slightly luxurious option. It was a double-decker train - something I'd never seen before and we were on the top deck which was pretty exciting. After 10 hours we arrived in LA, got a bus to the airport and got the courtesy shuttle to the hostel. When we arrived at reception it was totally insane. There was a woman having an argument with reception about her kids being accused of stealing someone else's laptop charger. We got the ditzy blond who seemed to take an age to check us in getting very confused about whether we'd booked or not and how many beds we'd booked. When we eventually got to our room and opened the door the smell of damp hit us in the face. The carpet was soaking wet - probably a result of the shower room having little in the way of ventilation and thus every showerer filled the room with steam. It was a bit like camping - you had to make sure you had everything within arms length before getting into bed and taking off your shoes. It was cheap though and we'd been travelling for ages so we put our heads down and crashed out.

We took the bus into Hollywood the next day. We only had a single day in LA so it seemed th obvious destination. When we got out onto Hollywood Boulevard it was a crazy place. There were tourists absolutely everywhere and loads of folk trying to sell us tours round the districts where the celebrities lives - seems a bit voyeuristic to me. It was cool to see all the stars on the pavement and also cool to see the "Hollywood" sign up on the hill. We also took in Sunset Boulevard and Melrose Avenue which had all the hip-and-groovy boutiques. I wouldn't say it was a favourite place of either of us but was certainly interesting to see. Back at the lodge we got back to find that Charlotte's wash bag had been stolen - we strongly suspected it was the room cleaner. Luckily, we'd had the foresight to take all the valuables with us as there were no lockers apparent. She was really and understandably annoyed as it had load of things that are really important to her. It was a difficult situation as we're as sure as we can be that it was the maid but can't prove it. Everything else was shut up in our bags and it didn't look like they had been tampered with thankfully.

The next morning, Charlotte had a chat with the maid who let her have a look in her storage cupboard and what do you know? Ther was her shower bag hanging up. It was tantamount to admitting that one of them had stolen it - I was flabbergasted she got it back! The courtesy shuttle took us to the airport where after check-in we encountered the longest queue for security I've ever seen. It moved pretty quickly and we made it to the gate just as the flight was boarding. The plane took off and we headed west....

The rain it raineth every day

Paul neglected to mention that in all the tension created by the transfer back to US Greyhound, he left his beloved Advent calendar at the station. It's an endless stream of losing important things, really!

In Portland, Oregon, we were visiting some more Inca Trail compatriots, Barb (and John), Dick (and Tsuru). We were greeted by torrential rain that barely stopped pouring the whole week we were there. Great. The rain didn't stop Barb and John from showing us the Oregon sights, however. The whole area around Portland is tree-ful and beautiful (we could tell through the rain) - filled with conifers, gorges, waterfalls, rivers and the like. On the first day they took us to a science museum where Paul re-discovered his inner 10-year-old (a regular thing these days) and I had an encounter with an axolotl. I never realised what an intensely sinister-looking creature it is. My only other experience with them is through a painting of me which hangs in a gallery of the same name!

That evening we met a friend of B+J's who'd once studied in Edinburgh, and the next day we went out for breakfast - which is something Paul's been looking forward to for ages. Those American portion sizes we hear so much about are no exaggeration. I could barely make it through my 'small breakfast'. Bloated, we went for a drive to have a look at a mist-shrouded gorge, and several waterfalls including Multnomah Falls, which was swollen to a massive size. In the evening we were re-united with Dick and Tsuru, and reminisced about the Inca Trail, Freddie, and 'coca leaps'.

I have to make a comment about B+J's house. It has a library! I've always wanted one - and they've got one, with rows of shelves and everything! So exciting. Anyway, Saturday was so washed out that we cowered in the house whilst Barb bravely went out to help her daughter-out-law (called this because she's not actually married to B+J's son, so not 'in-law') set up her stall for the Saturday market (she's an artist). We waited cosily inside, before heading out to see the new Narnia film (incidentally, for those who've seen it - what's with the cheesy theme song, eh? Also, what's with the plot? The one strong(ish) point seemed to be Eustace, and he was CGI for most of it.)

Sundays B+J's family go out for breakfast together (Paul is very excited about all this breakfasting) - so we met their son David, daughter-out-law Sarah, and Barb's mum. Sunday afternoon was something which is becoming one if their winter traditions - we went to the house of their friends Max and Leslie to make tamales. Max is from New Mexico and gets his beans straight from there, I'll have you know. The men sat around watching the football (Paul participated in order to try and understand its appeal - it still looks like wussy rugby to me) whilst the ladies made the tamales. It involved rolling some shredded pork and some corn stuff in corn husks to be steamed. We're not sure how many we made, but it was enough to last 3 households the winter! Tsuru's were the prettiest. We finished up with Paul and I doing a bit of music - we must sing for our supper after all!

Monday Barb was busy learning about taxes (zzzzzzzz), so it was Dick and Tsuru's turn to babysit us. We took a drive out to the coast - it was like being back in Scotland, what with all the rain and the bleak looking waves. Still more gorgeous scenery though. Then we visited Astoria, renowned for its bridge, but more exciting to Paul for its movie locations. We trespassed at the houses that were used in Short Circuit and The Goonies. That evening Tsuru made Japanese things for us, and we drank their wine (they have a vineyard). Tsuru also spent time helping us work out the Japanese leg of our trip, which was no end of help and for which we shall be eternally grateful. It's no longer such a scary and expensive place. It's just an expensive place now.

Tuesday night was another dinner with more people to meet - this time Sarah's parents. Her dad is a banjo player in a bluegrass band, so we got some good tunes with him. He's also a member of the Society for Creative Anachronism. I just love the term 'creative anachronism'!

Weds it was time to take our leave, and as an up-yours to us, the rain stopped and the sun came out a teeny bit. Our bus wasn't until the evening, so we took a walk around Portland - which we discovered is a really nice city! All the shops were in full Christmas bloom (which made Paul happy - I forgot to mention that he'd managed to print out a new Advent calendar so all was right with the world again). My favourite part of the day was discovering a gorgeous shop full of beautiful things (www.mystiqueartisangallery.com) - I was so sad it wasn't in Edinburgh. Lots of lovely artwork (a lot not mentioned on the website for some reason, my favourite stuff was by this artist: www.daviddelamare.com) and carnival masks. But not falling into the cliche that those kinds of shops are prone to do. Just really interesting artwork.

Sadly we had to say goodbye to Barb and John, but it was fantastic to see them again and to get to know them better. It's been so nice to have been able to meet up with so many of the Peru people. This was also to be our last Greyhound journey, and not one we'd forget in a hurry! For a start, Paul nearly got himself arrested in the station for trying to take a photo of the jaunty Christmas hat the staff had put on an effigy of the Hound. Bad Paul. Obviously that sort of subversive act is illegal. Then, a few hours into the journey (an overnight, I might add), our bus broke down. Luckily it was only about a mile from a station, and we were able to half crawl, half coast in. But then subdued chaos arose.

We all got off and mooched around in a sort of concerned indignation. There was a bus behind ours which we'd be getting on, but it was clear that there was no way we'd all fit. The sharper of us made sure we were at the front of whatever queues there were. I left Paul with the bags and got onto the new bus just as a lady was moving out of a double seat carrying a 2-year-old and joined her 5-year-old opposite. She let me claim her original seat, before the driver told us all to get off to let the original passengers find their places again. I knew that double seat was now free, so I sneakily left my stuff on it and got off the bus with everyone else. Quick thinking, eh? The whole time I was terrified I was going to be discovered and the driver was going to shout at me. It's a lucky thing I did do that though, as there weren't enough seats and there was no way Paul and I would have been sitting together otherwise.

More and more people got on, and then there were the new passengers to account for. They had to stand in the aisles, and that mum ended up with both kids on her lap as she gave up her last seat. I am very grateful to her - that was a long night, worse for the people in the aisles. What a way to end our Greyhound odyssey!

The bus took us to Sacramento, California, where it finally wasn't raining and where Casey (another uni folksoc friend) was waiting for us in his car. Casey currently lives a ridiculous lifestyle which meant he hadn't been to bed the night before as he'd been up finishing prototypes for a Useful Thing he is about to make millions on. He does 12 hour shifts at a petrol station multitasking by developing his company there, and the rest of the hours he can force himself to stay awake for honing the product. Suffice it to say, we were quite privileged that he had time to pick us up!

California is becoming one of my new favourite places, and I especially love Casey's family home in Fairfax near San Francisco. It was gloriously sunny and we drove up a super-steep driveway through woods to the house (pausing to nudge the deer out of our path). The house is something that is continuously growing (Casey's dad is an architect) and is full of graceful mess both inside and out (and a swimming pool!). Anyway, it's beautiful - I wish I lived there. Paul was particularly pleased about the Christmas tree in the living room.

Casey had things to do (are we surprised?) so he dropped us at the bus station and Paul and I ventured into San Francisco (barely awake, but sensible enough to make the most of the sunshine... in our heart of hearts we knew it wouldn't last). We discovered that rightly is San Francisco reputed for being a Really Cool city, and spent the day wandering around and enjoying the sunshine. Casey took us out for Mexican in the evening (apparently, outside of Mexico, California is the place to have it) - but even then the rain was setting in. The sunshine was misleading. It was downpour from then on.

Boston Cream Pie and other Fatty treats

We left a wet and rainy New York and arrived in an equally soggy Boston to be met by Ian, one of our friends from Folksoc. He took us back to Johanna's (his girlfriend and another Folksoc friend) flat which we were to be staying in. It was in the district of Cambrige, in the shadow of the famous Harvard University - it felt a bit like Marchmont in Edinburgh with the amount of students kicking around. In a dramatic move of hospitality and self-sacrifice, Johanna had us stay in her room while she and Ian indoor-camped on the living room floor. Ian went out to work so we chilled out at the flat for a bit before Johanna came home and we headed out for Mexican food at a new place that had just opened up round the corner. There were some discussions of plans to go out but these were abandoned due to our laziness and the soggy weather so we went to the supermarket instead in preparation for the next day.

The weather hadn't really let up the next morning but we headed out to explore Boston anyhow. It's a very different city to New York, much smaller in terms of geographical size but also in terms of height as the number of ridiculously high skyscrapers really plummeted. It also felt very English (this was New England after all) as many of the buildings date from colonial times. Boston is kind of where the USA started and a number of important events happened here (including the famous "Boston Tea Party" which was a big statement against UK imperialism in the yet-to-be-formed USA). Conveniently, the local tourist board have laid out a "Freedom Trail" along the pavement - it's a line of red stones you can follow which takes you past various sites. It turned out to be quite a good way to see some bits of the city so we followed it, admiring the (albeit damp) buildings as we went. We passed the graveyard where Samuel Adams (important revolutionary and now face of lager) was buried which struck me as everyone's picture of a graveyard with low, tombstone haped... tombstones buried in the ground. It reminded me of the "Thriller" video. Along the way we veered off when we saw interesting streets and stumbled across the original "Cheers" bar (where everyone knows your name), the very atmospheric (and steamy) holocaust memorial and a legendary local pastry place "Mike's Pastries" where we stopped for a cuppa and a slice of Boston Cream Pie. It's a calorific chocolate/vanilla cream/sponge treat which we gulped down. On the way back to Johanna's we visited the Goodwill Store (a USA charity shop) where we stocked up on books and winter clothes - the temperature had dropped a lot since we left North Carolina.

That evening Johanna had arranged a session so after a classic UK meal of baked tatties and prawn cocktail (made by us - a meal we've been fantasising about since Cuba) the place was invaded by the local Scottish folk scene. They were lovely folk and great musicians so we all had a smashing evening of tunes, songs, scones, brownies, purple corn chips and a couple of pumkin ales. Good times.

We didn't quite start as early as we'd planned the next day but we were early enough to take a 2h drive out to the Sugar Loaf mountain which we duly climbed. Is was a bit of a hardcore climb to start with but the autumn colours were stunning and the view from the top was outstanding. There's a far higher concentration of deciduous trees in this part of the USA which is why it's quite so famous for autumn colours and rightly so. We came back to Boston to go to "Mr. Bartley's Burgers" - a bit of a local legend (in the same way as Kebab Mahal in Edinburgh) for gourmet burgers. They had a massive hotplate which they slapped on lumps of minced beef which were then cooked to your burger specifications (medium, rare etc.). It was a crazy place and very popular - we had to queue outside but we got in when they had free seats at the counter which was the best place to observe the kitchen action. All the burgers have names which you can see on their website. Johanna and I had a the Joe Biden (this guy is scary), Charlotte had the BP (oh look Britain messed up another former colony) and Ian had the Mitt Romney (2012 or bust). They really were fabulous burgers and reminded me that I really need to work on making that kind of BBQ sauce that you get in the USA. We then went for ice cream at "JP Licks" another local legendary place. I had the very seasonal flavours of pumpkin spice and carrot cake and both were amazing. On the way back to Johanna's we dropped in by a local deli/grocery which sold loads of British items (presumably catering for UK students studying at Harvard). You wouldn't wan to buy anything mind as the Scott's Porridge Oats were $10.99 a box and the Walker's mince pies were $26.99 for six (you do the maths, it's about $1.50/£1). Cha ching! We headed back to the flat devoid of UK produce and collapsed in front of a DVD of "V for Vendetta", feeling very 5th November-ish.

Coincidently, we went from one Harvard to another the next day as we bid our farewells to Ian and Johanna (to whom more thanks - I really can't believe the hospitality of the people we've been staying with here). Harvard is also a little village west of Boston where Steve and Harriet Freidrich live along with their two youngest kids, Katherine and Charlie. Sophia, their oldest, was at primary school in Bath with Charlotte and is one of her longest-standing friends. Steve and Harriet took us to their lovely house where we installed ourselves in Sophia's room before heading for Brunch at Mike's diner. I've been wanting to visit a real old-time USA diner for ages and this was definitely my kind of place. There were stuffed bears, moose heads and various other dead animals mounted around the walls and the waitresses were loving mine and Charlotte's accents.

The pancakes we had were to die for (and we fully expected to after eating them) along with the sides of corned beef hash, bacon and "home fries" - a local speciality similar to what my primary school used to serve as "sautéed potatoes". Steve was particularly keen to make sure we had real maple syrup (as opposed to maple flavour syrup) which came in wee bottles like whisky miniatures. If I wasn't worried about carrying them around I'd have kept the bottles. We accompanied Steve, Harriet and Charlie to church later that evening (Katharine was at hockey practise) before sitting down to Harriet's home-cooked ham with potatoes dauphinois and brussels sprouts. Oddly enough, the Friedrichs and I share a common love to this much maligned green vegetable. We spent ages that evening quizzing Steve about his job. He flies Boeing 737s (and other aircraft) for private individuals and has flown Tony Blair, Elton John and Michael Caine amongst others. It's odd to think of Charlotte and I travelling on a low and tight budget when there's folk out there who have a plane to lend to the likes of Elton John.

Harriet works at local Fruitlands museum where we were treated to an outstanding lunch served by a very enthusiastic waitress who quizzed us on our travels. The museum is a mixture of art and local history and was started by the parents of Louisa May Alcott who wrote "Little Women". I was particularly interested in the exhibitions about Shakers. They were (and are although there's only three left!) a religious sect kind of connected to Quakers who were into communal living. When you joined the Shakers you had to dissolve your marriage as the members were celibate and lived as brothers and sisters. Any children were raised by the community rather than their parents. Their name comes from the shaky dancing they do during worship and their best known as the origin of the tune for "Lord of the Dance". They've kind of diminished now - you can imagine that any religion that encourages celibacy of its members is unlikely to last. That evening we were supposed to be going to Katherine's hockey match but it was cancelled due to the weather. Instead we spent a very pleasant evening playing our hosts a few tunes and teaching them the card game we learnt from the South Africans on the Inca Trail. They seemed to enjoy the skulduggery that could be applied to fellow players.

We bid Harriet and Steve a fond farewell the next day just as their upstairs was turning into a work-site with a bunch of guys laying a new floor. It looked like life was about to become pretty noisy (it already was when we left) but we were very grateful that they hosted us despite the upheavals!

Our bus for Montreal left the next afternoon - it was a fairly uneventful journey but when we arrived at the border I was very excited to be finally using my Canadian passport. As we entered into Canada I considered the legion of Canadian celebrities; Mike Myers, Joni Mitchell, Alanis Morissette, Keanu Reeves, Shania Twain, Hayden Christensen, Jim Carrey, Pamela Anderson and.....me.

We headed north.