There was an outside chance they might meet on the road, but the nearest they got was within a day of each other at Tok Junction back in eastern Alaska. Ever since then, I have followed the parallel journeys of the two bearded Scots. I'm delighted to say that Scott is safely back home and with a hard-fought World Record. He has kindly been helping me with a few logistics, particularly through the Atacama Desert, and I asked him if he would write a blog to share his experiences through this remote part of Chile.

Hi, I'm Scott Napier and earlier this year I broke the world record for cycling the length of the Americas. I took 125 days to ride the 14000 miles from Deadhorse, Alaska to Ushuaia, Argentina.

Taking a rest before the long down and up of my first canyon in the Atacama

As a fellow Scot I was in touch with Mark for most of the trip and his support and banter were very welcome on the long lonely road. Although our routes through the Americas were quite different, the stretch that Mark is currently on (along the Peruvian coast and down into Chile) is almost the same as my own. Here are a couple of my experiences from the road south.

When I was asked to write a blog about this part of the trip the first thing that came into my mind was wind. Most of the time in Peru there was a strong headwind coming off the Pacific. On the whole it was manageable, I just stuck the head down and plugged away until I reached 100 miles (anything over 100 miles and I was up on record pace). One day in particular sticks out in my mind. It was the section of road about 50 miles south of the Nazca Lines and boy did the wind blow. The road was going through very open exposed desert and the wind was so strong I spent most of the day getting sand blasted. It was like taking a shower in a stream of smashed glass. Ouchy! The metal on my chainset and cranks started the day with a nice glossy finish but by the time I ducked for cover in the evening they'd become distinctly matt. Now, from a world record point of view this was a frustrating day. My mileage was way down and my effort was way up. But there's something exciting about putting yourself in these extreme conditions. If I looked out of my window at home and saw such weather I'd have had no hesitation about crawling back into my scratcher for some more kip. Going out for a ride in it would be the last thing on my mind! But there I was, churning away at 6 miles per hour facing up to all that Mother Nature could throw at me, and it was kinda fun.

It was so windy in this part of Peru that the sand dunes were covering the road. These guys were out trying to clear the sand, and make a buck from the passing motorists!

Further south the weather once again played a big role. The Atacama Desert in Chile stretches some 600 miles from near the Peruvian border down to Copiapo. I was getting a fairer crack of the whip when it came to wind direction, catching some sweet tail wind and making it count with some good daily mileages. More of a problem was the extreme range of temperatures. The nights were very cold. I'd got into a habit of just throwing my mat down wherever I stopped and jumping in my sleeping bag. This was good from an energy and time saving point of view but man was it Baltic trying to get going in the morning! The first couple of hours riding would be really cold as the sun slowly made its way up from behind the mountains. Having destroyed my gloves by turning them into pads for my handlebars I was left with a combination of socks and poly bags for my hands. Not glamorous, not practical, but surprisingly effective!

Amazing road. Why I am I not on a motorbike..?

The desert is a dry and harsh place to be cycling. A lot of time is spent wondering where the next drink of water is going to come from. But for all the wind, heat and cold for me the desert is a special place. It's so peaceful and quiet; just you, the bike and the open road. And once the days cycling is done could there be anything more special than lying cosy in your sleeping bag under the stars? Enjoy it Mark!

Enjoying the local produce, I drank so much Inca Kola I swear I had withdrawal symptoms when I left Peru. As for the blood on my knee, this is evidence that men really can't multi task. I was riding along, attempting to scoff an ice cream, when I spotted some bananas in a shop. With my eye off the road my wheel went into a rut and before I knew what was going on I was grinding tarmac with my knee as a brake. It should be noted, however, that the ice cream came through this incident unscathed, and was very tasty.

To see some more pictures from my trip check out my Facebook album.

Keep an eye out for more geoblogging from BBC Scotland Learning soon. Thanks to Val and Ali for making this post possible.

I was met by volunteers from Pisco Sin Fronteras, an organisation that was set up to help the thousands of people who lost their homes. Later I spent the night in one of the shanty towns, called El Molino, on the outskirts of Pisco.

I was in the area for less than 24 hours, but have been left very saddened by what I experienced. In truth I found it hard to re-motivate myself on the bike to the task ahead, which didn't seem quite so important as it had before, in the context of the struggle for basic human existence and rights that I had seen.

As the volunteers showed me around, it soon became clear how wrong my first impressions had been and how their work here is now almost the only outside help that the town receives.

After the earthquake, millions of dollars were donated to the town for reconstruction. The residents I met in Pisco told me that before the last election, the government erected walls with doorways and window holes to be built throughout the town wherever a building had fallen down. These, so called, 'walls of shame' hide the fact that people are living in whatever they have been able to rebuild themselves.

For thousands this means houses of bamboo, plywood and cardboard in shanty towns with no sanitation or running water. I saw where buckets of faeces were thrown in the field beside the houses and listened to the community leaders telling me how ill the children are becoming. I was invited to spend the night with Maria and her family. She, like others, seemed desperate to tell her story.

On the surface she was cheery and strong for her family and community, but to me she admitted that she was still sad for her friends and the life she had lost, felt angry at the government for not helping despite many promises and how she lived in fear of another earthquake. Her house was one of the nicest in the community, with a painted front, concrete floors and fitted walls, but by almost anyone's standards she still lived with almost nothing, and little hope of any change in the future.

During the evening I was sitting in her tiny house on stumps of wood, when she brought me a plate of chicken. I asked her where hers was but she insisted they would eat soon and to carry on. Without having the Spanish to ask more questions I did as told. An hour later I was devastated to watch Maria and her two daughters eating a dry white roll each for their dinner. Later Maria admitted on camera that chicken was very expensive for them. I felt terrible but at the same time very humbled by their hospitality in spite of their situation. I slept on the floor and was up at 5am to film everyone already up and working.

I have seen and past through areas of absolute poverty in countries including Pakistan, India and Kenya, but I have never stayed with the people and heard their stories. It was very saddening and an experience I won't forget.

It is amazing how many contrasting and extreme situations I have experienced on this expedition - it is too much to remember! However, something I won't forget is the wonderful welcome and spirits of the people of Pisco, despite the challenges they face.

With 11 year-old twins on board it's a truly remarkable challenge for the Vogel family, and it's not the first time they have hopped on the bikes for something like this - visit their website to find out more. When they reach their destination, the boys will have earned the Guinness World Record as the youngest people to cycle the Pan-American Highway.

Nancy has kindly written an article about their tales from the road for the blog, this is their story...

Family on Bikes
by Nancy Sathre-Vogel

One might expect a strong, young, single male to take off to ride his bike from one end of the earth to the other, but a family? A life on the two wheels may not be the expected route for raising kids, but it's a whole lot more fun!

In June 2008 my husband and I climbed on our bikes along with our kids, (then) 10-year-old twins Davy and Daryl, to cycle halfway around the globe - north to south - along the Pan American Highway. The day we pedalled southward out of Prudhoe Bay, Alaska on the shores of the Arctic Ocean was one of those crystal clear arctic days and I felt like I could see all 18,000 miles of our journey ahead across the grassy tundra. All four of us were excited to finally be on our way - the whole earth lay before us like some kind of massive red carpet welcoming us to a life filled with adventure.

We've shivered in unimaginable cold, sweated like fevered pigs in sweltering jungle heat, and basked in beautiful spring days. Our children have climbed trees of every imaginable variety, swung on vines like Tarzan, and tasted exotic fruits they had never heard of. In short - the four of us have had to opportunity to get to know our world.

As we've cycled through eleven counties so far, we've also had the opportunity to get to know the world's people. There is something about the bikes that draws people toward us; that encourages people to reach out to us in ways they never would if we were in our own car. It might be something simple like handing us a bag of apples or tomatoes, or it could be as complex as hiding caches of Gatorade along the highway, but people of all walks of life have reached out and added magic to our lives.

I can tell story after story about the people we've met. About the woman in Oregon who handed us the keys to her house and said, "Go on in and make yourselves at home. I'll be there in a few hours." And she didn't even know our names. Or the ER doctor in California who pulled up alongside us and asked, "Would you like to stay at my house tonight?" Or the man who cycled up to where we were eating crackers and cheese in a park in Texas and invited us to his home for a warm dinner and soft bed for the night.

One day in Mexico we ended up in a migrant workers' camp and our boys played on the dirt floor of a tumble-down shack with some of the poorest kids in the country. Another day, we were invited to stay with an incredibly wealthy family where Davy and Daryl played video games while sitting on posh, luxurious furniture. Young and old. Rich and poor. White, black, and brown. All have reached out to add magic where none was expected, but all was greatly appreciated.

I'm convinced traveling on bike is best way to see the world. On bikes, we live the world. We experience the mountains by grinding up and plunging down. We understand the idea of valleys and coastlines. We see how life varies depending on altitude and latitude. In short - traveling on bike allows us and our children to gain a much deeper respect for Mother Nature and the earth's peoples than we could ever gain in any other manner.

And so we come to the question we are asked all the time - why? Why would a normal, everyday, ordinary, American family take to life on the road? No, it isn't necessarily to break the world record as the youngest people to cycle the Pan American Highway, although that is a part of it. Mostly, we just want to get to know the world as it really is - not through some kind of sugar-coated, glass-encased glasses. John and I want our boys to truly understand what our planet is made of and to understand her people - and that is exactly what is happening.

Nancy also had a chat with Mark about his motivation for his expeditions and found out where his passion for cycling began.