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Published: December 5th 2009
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"Blame the Chileans!" grunts the Argentinian driver, explaining why the bus was running five hours late thanks to a strike at the border.
The overland journey from Rio Gallegos to Ushuaia, both in Argentina, has the bureaucratic inconvenience of passing through Chile. That means four border controls, each time off the bus, queue up, fill out the forms, passports stamped and bags checked. For this both the Argentinians and the Chileans can be blamed, both countries claiming their piece of Tierra del Fuego (nevermind the now extinct indigenous inhabitants). Within a few hours we had left Argentina, entered Chile, crossed the Strait of Magellan in a ferry, left Chile and re-entered Argentina.
Finally after all the stopping and starting, we clocked up the mileage along the Ruta 3, hitting Km 3000 as darkness fell. Then suddenly I had one of those magic moments. Three things happened all at once: it started snowing; random play on my MP3 selected the Kaiser Chiefs who blasted out
"Oh my god I can't believe it I've never been this far away from home" and I saw the twinkling lights of Ushuaia, the southern-most city in the world. There is only one logical conclusion I can draw from such an event - my MP3 is psychic. Obviously.
Nippy in the nip!
The tropical ladies of Ushuaia. So what is there once the road literally ends? Ushuaia isn't as small or remote as I thought it should be considering that it is located at the end of the earth. It has a population of about 60,000 (about the same as Limerick), there are stray husky dogs roaming the streets, two Irish pubs, fancy department stores with designer clothes, internet cafes that play '2 Many Djs' as background music and a handful of strip clubs (I wonder do the ladies start out in their thermals?!). Ushuaia was cold but by no means desolate. Wandering along the main drag layered up like Michelin man, I found it all a bit disappointing really.
"The only way is up!" joked my mum when I called to wish her a happy birthday. As it turned out, she was wrong (doesn't happen
too often ;-) ) - the only was was down.
In a fit of crazed excitement, we booked a last minute deal on an expedition cruise to Cape Horn leaving that weekend. It was still a major expense, put it this way, we
saved almost US$1,500. As Ireland v France was kicking off in Croke Park, we boarded the
Via Australis and settled into our cabin. The lat minute offer fills which ever cabins haven't been sold, and as luck would have it, we bagged one of the best cabins on board. An itinerary had been placed in our room. It was completely full with hardly a break. When we weren't due out on expeditions, there were presentation talks, documentary films and entertainment (think bingo). After the safety briefing (in short, don't throw yourself overboard), we attended a cocktail reception in the lounge where we were introduced to the captain and crew. The captain had a beard which was somehow reassuring. Could we have trusted a seafaring captain who didn't have a beard? With a blast of the horn we then set sail, heading through the Beagle Channel. Next came a beautifully presented four-course meal in the dining room, followed by an open bar in the lounge. Not an average day for us backpackers. We couldn't stop giggling.
In the early hours a steady rocking woke me and reminded me I was on a boat. Not feeling the ship shape, at least I had a few hours sleep left. Not so. Over the ship's intercom at the outrageous
time of 6.30am it was announced that conditions were favourable for a landing at Cape Horn. It didn't feel favourable, we were still rocking.
On with the life jackets and into the Zodiac boats (like inflatable dingys but sturdy) we went, whizzing our way to the southern-most tip of land in the world. The Cape was more like what the end of the earth should be. Nevermind four seasons in one day, we had four seasons in one hour! There were fierce gusts of wind that caught my breath, then a sudden stillness in the air. It snowed to the point of being a blizzard then the sun beamed and warmed our cheeks. We poked our heads into the tiny chapel and signed the visitor's book. There was nothing left to do but have a snowball fight!
The rest of the day was crazily busy as we diligently followed the itinerary. There was a documentary on Kildare-born Shackleton (I learned that if you are determined enough, you can do anything), a presentation on glaciers (which aren't actually made from ice, but from compacted snow) and a lecture on Darwin (where I learned that even when everyone thinks you
are wrong, you could still be right). By the time we were due out on the day's second expedition to Wulaia Bay, I was in serious need of a siesta. Aren't cruises meant to be relaxing?
We decided to give up on the hectic itinerary on day three and gave the sailing knots demonstration a miss. Instead we wrapped ourselves up and headed onto the top panoramic deck for views of the west coast of Tierra del Fuego island and the appropriately named Glacier Alley. All around were snow-capped peaks. The white tops seemed to melt into the white clouds, snow indistinguishable from sky where the two touched. The lower bare part of the mountains were threaded with white veins of snow. Between mountains were inlets, some with glaciers witting silently int he crease of the valley, as though waiting for something to happen. A solitary albatross overtook the ship, flying impossibly close to the water on the hunt for food. If I an ever in a life or death situation where only making a secure sailor's knot will save me, I still don't think I will regret skipping that lecture.
We also had time to visit the
bridge. The captain wasn't about (he was probably trimming his beard) but one of the officers was happy to show us the charts and pointed out up ahead where we would shortly be exposed to the full force of the Pacific Ocean before swinging to the right towards the Strait of Magellan.
After lunch, it was into the Zodiac boats again for an expedition to the Alakaluf Fjord and its two ancient inhabitants - Piloto and Nena glaciers, estimated to be 1,000 years old. The Zodiac pushed its way through lumps of ice to reach these magnificent rivers of ice. The snow was so old and compacted, it had turned into blue ice. Twice in our presence chunks of ice broke off, crashing into the water. The noise echoed through the fjord. I had goose bumps and I wasn't even cold.
Overnight we powered up the Magellan Strait and arrived at Magdalena Island for our last expedition. On Magdaleno Island there is an 85,000 strong penguin colony. These were the same type of penguins as the one James wrote about in the last blog. Whilst at Punta Tombo the eggs hadn't hatched yet, here we had the honour
of seeing newly born baby penguins! Blind at birth, the babes looked cold and lost, glad to be snuggling under their mum or dad (hard to tell which - penguins have equality of the sexes when it comes to child rearing and fishing, so PC). Very very cute indeed.
Altogether we sailed 520 nautical miles on board the Via Australis. James and I have now literally travelled to the end of the earth together. So the only way is up - there is nowhere further down to go to (Antarctica doesn't count - it is a special fragile place tourists shouldn't be allowed to visit). Let's hope I'll never need to tie a sailing knot on the way back up.
From Jess
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Gay
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Onward and upward
A lovely, lyrical account, Jess. Thanks a lot. xx