There is a temptation to think of everywhere in Central and South America as being fairly close together. Not so.
The final leg of our journey began by taking the 10 hour flight from Buenos Aires to Mexico City, which is actually the same distance as travelling from the north coast of Ireland to Botswana.
I know this because Mel's Dad, Robert, worked it out for us.
Using the trusted method of measuring out the distance on his map between forefinger and thumb, then making an arc out from Ballycastle to identify destinations of the same distance from his home. Hardly scientific, but pretty accurate all the same I reckon.
Leaving the capital we headed up to Los Mochis for the classic Copper Canyon Train to Chihuahua (above). The ride of 16 hours took us through stunning scenery, clinging to the edge of steep canyons and traversing single guage bridges over numerous lakes, rivers and valleys.
However, the fantastic train ride was quickly forgotten though as we discovered the state of our hotel in Chihuahua - the worst part being that our arrival in the middle of the night didn't really give us the option of taking our business elsewhere.
I'll spare you the goriest of the details, but Mel was forced into wearing flip flops due to a sudden onset of carpet-phobia and our shower curtain rail was partially constructed using a bar of soap. You get the idea.
Classic rail journeys are one thing, but perhaps even better our brief return to Mexico gave us the chance to catch up with a few old amigos.
Victoria, Montejo, Tecate and of course, Modelo Especial (below).
Still reigning numero uno in the beer league.
Those of you paying really close attention will have noticed this is in fact an export bottle of Modelo.
I forgot while actually in Mexico, but it wasn't to hard to pick up a six-pack as we crossed the border into the Texas.
More on that next time ...