Yakety yak

During their long shared captivity, Brian Keenan and John McCarthy fantasised about breeding yaks in Patagonia - an eminently…

During their long shared captivity, Brian Keenan and John McCarthy fantasised about breeding yaks in Patagonia - an eminently healthy fantasy. John explains: " There had been no powerful investment in the project . . . Yak farming was a symbol of our shared sense of humour, the determination to preserve and believe in a future beyond captivity."

Five years after their release, and no longer in need of fantasises, the two men set off to enjoy a leisurely two-month holiday in Chile, happy to be together again, touring a wondrously beautiful country while gathering material for a joint book. Their friendship, forged in such extraordinary circumstances, seems to have been proof against the minor irritations inherent in shared journeys. But, alas, their collaboration as authors is unrewarding for the reader. Between Extremes will be of interest mainly to those who feel curious about their relationship's development since they were freed.

In each chapter, shortish alternate sections are contributed by Brian and John - a confusing device, as their styles are not always readily distinguishable. The overall effect is jerky and demands more concentration than such a banal book deserves. The following sample of dialogue, from a page opened at random, does not give a false impression. "The cabin is a great find. We did some shopping at a supermarket and Brian has elected to cook tonight's supper. I begin browsing through the guidebooks thinking of where we should head for the next day. Brian appears with a bottle of red wine to top up my glass. `I'll throw those bloody books in that lake!' `What?'. `Jesus, John, you drive all day, we stop in a fine place and all you can think of is, where next? Give me a break! Instead of where are we going tomorrow, think about where we are now.' `But there are still so many places to see!' `Yes, but you know most places are like the last place and anyway we can't see everything. Take it easy, soak up the atmosphere a little.' `You want to stay here tomorrow night then, loaf about a bit?' `Sounds good to me.' I take a deep sip of Tarapaca, feel the sun warm on my face as I look at the lake and volcanoes. `Bugger it! You're right - I'll go see the manager and tell him.' `Now you're whistling Dixie! The steaks will be ready in five minutes.' "

Between Extremes has one of those misleading dust-jackets favoured by publishers' sales departments. It depicts the authors and a riding horse against a snow-streaked High Andean background and suggests an adventurous journey. In fact, John and Brian were quite timid tourists in Chile and do not pretend otherwise. They hired guides to take them to the places where tourists go, or used local buses and trains, or rented vehicles to motor down stretches of the Pan American highway - "that famous road on which the intrepid traveller can journey from Alaska to Patagonia. In our many captive fantasies both John and I had often talked of exploring this mythic highway".

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Our heroes' week-long horse trek into the high Andes was organised for a group of wealthy "intrepid" tourists whose sustenance included smoked salmon sandwiches carried to improbable altitudes by a packmule. To photograph this daring episode a friend, Tom Owen Edmunds, flew out from the UK. Brian or John (I forget which) remarks that on such narrow paths, horse riding, however terrifying, must be preferable to walking or cycling. He is wrong. I am familiar with the terrain described and it is considerably less nerve wracking - and therefore less tiring - on foot than on horseback.

Post-trek, Brian and John treated themselves to "a few days' relaxation in an old colonial hacienda, Los Lingues", now a luxury hotel where their fellow guests included "an American heiress, a wealthy Belgian lawyer and his American wife, and a trio of Chilean folk singers called Los Parakeets". Los Lingues is owned by Chilean aristocrats, a father and son, whose family have lived on this hacienda since 1599. On hearing of the ex-hostages' incarceration their hosts wept and John writes: "I think we both experienced a number of such moments when we first came home, often with complete strangers."

Inexplicably, both John and Brian quite often found themselves bored by their surroundings. En route to San Pedro de Atacama by bus, Brian complained about the "unstimulating " emptiness of the desert landscape. Then came the Salar - "grim beyond belief . . . ugly and hostile". And for John, on the boat voyage to Patagonia, "Boredom sets in as wildness loses its romantic appeal." Elsewhere John (or Brian) notes: "Monotony of constant travel is getting to us. It wearies you in a way that you are not really conscious of."

Given these attitudes and reactions, Between Extremes needs padding, and this is provided by Brian's interests in Bernardo O'Higgins and his devotion to the poetry of Pablo Neruda, liberally quoted from in many chapters.

Dervla Murphy's book, One Foot in Laos, will be published shortly