Diary. South America.

São Paulo is in full carnival as we pass through ... Endless TV programmes where panels of experts endlessly dissect the merits and demerits of each float like Sky Sports post football match.

Fly over the multiple, massive milk-chocolate braids of the Paraguay River and on over the vastness of northern Argentina ... to the Andes.

They are massive. Shiny white at the top and grungy, brown-ochre rust – no living plants, no green. Jagged, razor-like edges.

Flying 20000 feet between big peaks that look higher! Then down into the steep little valley where Santiago sits.

It’s got a lot bigger, and smarter and newer.

Go down to the Isla de Maipo (an "island" between two arms of the very winding river Maipo) where vineyards have grown enormously in extent. Semi-wild horses still wander in the shallows.

Tarapacá Estate (Chileans emphasise the last 'a') which was a collection of sheds first time we bought has done very well indeed. Now the vineyards run to the horizon and up the steep hills.

And the Estate House is splendid in pink and white with gardens and pools. Many wine people come here. Everyone should. Difficult to imagine nicer. Lots of tour groups come. Several today.

Sitting soaking the sun and views with Claudio - who we've known since about 1992 - he used to work for Hector Rossi, the man who taught me Chilean wine.

We bump into a couple of Laithwaites customers ... from Nottingham, on a tour. I think Dr Rao and his friend are pleased to see their wine merchant does actually go do what he says he does. They want my job!

With our hosts we taste, we chat. Momentous times. They are short of wine. Last year they lost thousands and thousands of litres here in the earthquake. The road to Tarapacá ran red for hours! Are still rebuilding the winery. Only just got the insurance.


Because the light is perfect Yves wants to take lots of shots. He wants me on a horse, but I refuse. Barbara jumps at the opportunity and hurtles off with the Huasos (like Gauchos) and Christian the winemaker.

After clambering painfully on foot (have got this fasciitis thing - a sore heel) up some seriously steep vineyards I reckon I will, after all, try a horse. I do and it’s very nice to me. A kind horse. Thank you, horse.