My southward journey continued:

Since I pretty much live on a map, as my mom says, I am largely in a constant state of frustration. Wherever I go, I know that there is something else just a bit farther down the road. It is there on the map, and it bothers me to no end that I cannot go there. That’s why going to Barrow, AK was so fulfilling. I could not go any farther—it was the end of the continent. Needless to say, Punta Arenas was not sufficient, there were still two ‘cities’ even further south—Ushuaia, AR and Puerto Williams, CL. I heard Ushuaia was beautiful and worth the 10 hour bus ride just to say you’ve been there. Sadly, no buses return from Ushuaia on Sundays, making a Friday-Sunday trip impossible. I decided to check on flights to Puerto Williams. Not surprisingly, the return flight on Monday was full, which is what you get for ‘playing it by ear.’

Not knowing exactly what I was going to do for four days in Punta Arenas, I signed up for a tour that would depart from the hostel at 10am on Thursday. Why not? I had nothing else to do, and since it was a holiday, everything was closed. I was joined by two Hungarian sisters, one of whom was an astronomer. They were very interesting and fun to talk to. Then we picked up an older guy who hopped in the van and immediately said “Bonjour. Vous parlez le francais?” One of the Hungarian girls and I both said, “oui.” It was an odd moment, and Jean-Pierre from Toulouse didn’t seem to find it the least bit interesting or surprising that this American could speak fluent French, and that the Hungarian girl could certainly hold her own. Jean-Pierre’s Spanish and English were both fairly atrocious (yet he sure tried hard), so during the tour I often found myself translating to and from French, Spanish, and English. Anyway, the tour took us south out of Punta Arenas. Cruising down the road, we saw porpoises, flamingos, eagles, an eagle eating a rabbit, and numerous other birds. It really reminded me of Alaska or an Indian reservation—right as you leave town the landscape is empty and the people who do live out of town live in crumbling cabins with 14 rusted out trucks on the lawn. In addition it was chilly and right next to the water. It felt so much more familiar, than anything around Santiago or Melipilla. The weather was amazing and as we approached the end of the road, the view opened up and we gazed across the Strait of Magellan at the Cordillera Darwin—a gorgeous and impossibly remote range of white glacier capped mountains—one of them rising more than 2500 meters above sea level. We ended up 60 km south of Punta Arenas as far as the rough dirt road would take us. This was as far south on the American continent as one could go (in a car). The actual Cape Froward was a couple days hike south. So we snapped some pictures and then headed to Fuerte Bulnes. This was the first Spanish settlement in the area. The fort was reconstructed, since thatch and wood buildings last about 20 minutes in the climate of Patagonia. The Spanish did not last long at this rough spot and later relocated to Punta Arenas—which has an interesting history of being settled by Swiss, English, and Croatians—some of whom still retain strong ties to their homeland. The tour was a bit pricey but worth it. I had no other options of getting out of Punta Arenas anyway—so it was nice to see the landscape and go as far south on the mainland as I possibly could.

Later that evening I was hanging out at the hostel and joined a conversation between this Australian couple and the Hungarian girls. I really had no place in this conversation, but it was fascinating. The couple was understandably far more interested in the Hungarian girls’ stories of communism and their take on the war in the Balkans than my white American life. This couple was about the age of my parents, and (sorry mom) way way way cooler. They have pretty much been everywhere. They visited Boeing and stayed in the San Juans. Not to mention Europe, Asia and Africa. They have also driven the remote dirt highway to Inuvik, Northwest Territories on the Arctic Ocean—which they did with their children in an old VW bus. Talk about a family vacation. “It’s a great road, but no one ever takes it!” Their son is currently backpacking across China or something, and their 16 year old daughter is on a high school exchange program to Vladivostok. Of course, why not Vladivostok? The father was telling these stories in that over-excited passionate Australian way. Everything was funny, including the fact that upon reentering civilization after hiking for a week in Torres Del Paine national park, they found several text messages from their daughter along the lines of “Help dad.” “I have a BIG problem, call me NOW.” “Where are you guys?” “I need money to leave the country NOW.” It turns out Russia decided to change their visa policies, and their daughter had 2 days to leave the country and re enter. So apparently she went to Korea and has been hanging out there until the visa issue is resolved. Did I mention she is only 16? Possibly my favorite story of theirs was about the boa. They were trying to convince us that Australia is not really THAT full of poisonous things, and it’s just as normal as anywhere else.

“Except for this one time…I came home late and was opening the garage door. Suddenly this huge thing fell from the roof and landed on my head. I let out quite a scream, and then realized it was a boa. The thing was like 4 feet long! Living in our garage, imagine that!”

He told this story with the accent and all the excitement of the crocodile hunter RIP. But other than that, Australia is perfectly safe…

That was it for the first part of my journey. I’ll add another post about the next few days soon.