As we sink though patchy cloud and are thrown teasing glimpses of the Southern Andes, Sebastian (a random, next to me, in 18A) informs me that the ''Ushuia runway very short. Very difficult.'' He smilingly mimes that I should pray. ''After runway, sea! Splash!!'' As we gently touch down and slam on the reverse thrusters, he mockingly touches the four points and kisses his cross necklace. We laugh & when the doors open bid fare well. Valerie, my Swiss traveling comrade and personal translator, & I disembark to a dramatic smokey mountainous sunset. Buenos Aires, 30 degrees C. Ushuia, officially most southerly city in the world, 10 degrees. 20 degrees have disappeared. I'm the only person in a t-shirt. And it's not too bad (the temperature not the T-shirt). Brisk, but fresh. Jolly English, wot. Bravo. Etc.
Ushuia sits at the bottom of the black snow-capped Patagonian Andes, pushing straight out of the sea. The 'Gateway to Antarctica' bordering a fantastically mountainous national park, skirted by the Beagle Channel (containing sealions and penguins a plenty) and in the winter it becomes a ski resort. It is also 'famous' for its changeable weather, proudly claiming that you can enjoy all four seasons weather in a single day. Sometimes twice over.
My first impression from the taxi is that it looks alot like Switzerland, but with no style. Second impression: this is the end of the world and it's warmer than England. Third impression: the town appears to be ruled by dogs (there may even be more dogs that people) Fouth impression: this place has roundabouts! The first I've seen in all South America. The fourth impression should't have been as exciting as it was.
We settle into a dorm head for grub. Our fellow dormies aren't interested in joining us. It seems Zennon, a shy and retiring fellow after an early night, is infinitely duller that his name would suggest. Later we stomp down the hilly town to a recommended restaurant, an Asado buffet, and sample some bbq'd Patagonian lamb with a full bodied Malbec. A chef behind a hatch aranges full, splayed animals around a log fire and over a charcole griddle. You go up and using the international language of pointing, he hacks off and sends you a wedge of succulent, smokey meat roughly the size you'd share with a nuclear family on a Sunday back home. After't bufit I sleep like a full & tired log, irrespective of feeling each and every plank in through the ropey matress.
Originally one of Spain's penal colonies (hands up if you'd prefer to be sent to Australia?) after tut Europeans took over. Sadly when they wandered in, their gift to the underdressed, long-armed Yamana indians was measles, pneumonia and TB. 50 years later the 1000-strong tribe were down to 45. These days the ancient prison makes for a fascinating museum, with info on the prison, local maritime history and crazy local fauna.
All of a sudden we realise we're late for the Beagle Chanel catamarang tour we booked yesterday, so we dash, are given the tickets and hop aboard, seating with a sigh of relief as we cast off. An elderly Argentinian lady (that more than reminded me of my late Nana) informs us we're on the 2 hour non-penguin tour, not the 6 hour penguin tour after all. Pretty gutted and too late to turn back, we settle into the short tour and see a lighthouse, a load of cormorants wot look a bit like penguins but ain't and some impressive sealions that looked a resemble Barry White, my mate Rich Marsh and everything in between. (Fortunately, the cruise company realised their mistake with tickets and we got a free penguin cruise later that week and a free hot chocolate and some vouchers for a glass of Champers each. Happy days...)
Did you know the lucky 300kg Bull Sealion has up to 10 wives? Well you do now. Every day's a school day folks.
The next day we took a national park trek and canoe trip with Ash, a young Brit doctor, and and 4 Argeys. The uninhabited coastal forest was very Lord of the Rings, and I kept expecting a stack of Urukhai to scream past. Our guide, the spitting image of Jude Law (see photo when I get it up, it's uncanny), pointed out crazy trees allergic to mushrooms, how to get your vitamin C off tut land (for when you run out of vitamin pills) and which eidble leaves taste of Salami.
The canadian canoe paddle was ridiculously tranquil. The only people on the still lake, we splashed past big geese and birds under clear blue sunny skies and surrounded by a crystal clear mountain panorama. Apparently, Ushuia only has 10 still, sunny days per year, and it seemed the three we were there were some of them.
Lady luck smiles on again. She and I have got on well thus far.
In other news: My spanish is coming along a little. Today I discovered that tired (cansada) and married (casada) are ironically similar. Arf arf. Forgive the cynicism.
Asta luego amigos,
Barns
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