The first of the early mornings on the road. Screams could be heard reverberating around the hostel as Junketeers attempted the ice shower challenge. The bikes were unravelled from the courtyard jigsaw puzzle, hoisted out into the early morning haze and loaded up for another day's action. Paddy took the lead out of the city... the wrong way. After a local realigned his GPS the Furballs headed off in the right direction and began the long and winding climb into the Andes. A quick stop for breakfast and a rescue of the fuel- free Estonian team and the climb continued. Sometime after midday the furballs hit the top. The scenery at 4300 metres was truly epic. A quick stop for a Kodak moment and the wagons rolled on. The peaks opened out into the Altiplano. Huge, high altitude plains crossed by roads longer and straighter than Terry's nose, encased in snow-capped peaks. Ellis likened this scenery to driving into an everlasting postcard...which is pretty deep for an infanteer. A few more minor breakdowns and we were starting to get into our convoy rhythm. After battling our way through the carnage of Juliaca city centre, where we were far too scared to actually stop for lunch, having violated a one way street and run several red lights, we picked up some snacks and headed out of town on a four lane highway with a minimum speed limit that we couldn't actually achieve. Juliaca, over all, went well. Finally we rounded a peak onto the shores of Lake Titicaca, a huge expanse of water perched at 3800', and pressed on to our destination for the night a hotel and spa in Chicuito, south of Puno. Oh, the luxury. Hot showers, good food and comfy beds....and, of course, Gin. Team Money were happy campers, except for Paddy, who was man down courtesy of Craig passing on the Man Flu torch.