After a whopping sixty four hours of travel to reach the most southernly town in the world, my plane descends with my face stuck to the window. It’s impossible to open my eyes wide enough to take in the incredible uninterrupted snow capped peaks that make up the worlds longest mountain range; the Andes. Stretching 7,242 km, this mass of land seems stuck in an ice age more suited for giant dinosaurs than a Scottish girl and her bicycle. I gulp hard knowing I will pedal through this seemingly impossible territory. For the first time in 2 years of cycling the world a thought of acquiring a map enters my mind. Perhaps a compass too. But I’ve never used a compass before and it’s highly conceivable I could get this so wrong. But I want to get it so right. I don’t want to die.