Down Patagonia way – the bottom of the Americas

   Punta Arenas was a surprise and a revelation.  It was a pleasant little town, and its’ people came across cheerful and industrious.  For the first time on our adventure we found a place where everything just worked, easily too.  We wanted to go to see the penguins.  No problem, we can book you in for this afternoon.  We would like to see Fuerto Bulnes too.  Well we only do afternoons but here are two other operators with a choice of morning departures for the following day.

   The penguins were delightful in their breeding colony on Isla Magdalena.  They were delightful but poor buggers, their island in the Magellan Straight was bitterly cold.  “It was lovely, but muy muy frio”, Kizzy told our tour guide at Fuerto Bulnes the next morning.  "This is your summer, isn’t it?”  More of an indictment than a question, really.  “Here, there is no summer,” came the baleful response. 

   On the island you could see the moment, about 20 minutes into our hour ashore, that people started looking nervously toward the ferry anchored a short way off the beach, hoping for an early return.  One passenger disembarked, a lady in her eighties I suspect, although rugged up as she was it’s hard to be certain.  I took a look at her hospital issue walking stick and uncertain progress up the pebble beach and wondered if she would make the return journey.  Bless her but she found the only bench on the island and sat it out, in the windiest spot possibly of the entire Magellan Straight, without a single word of complaint.

   Fuerto Bulnes marked the most southerly point of our travels, a short (but surprisingly cold, wet and uncomfortable) trek of 40km from Cabo Froward, the very bottom of mainland South America.  It is the historic location of the first Chilean settlement to occupy the Magellan Straight, Mostly a recreation but evocative nonetheless.  Amusingly there is a marker you pass about 2km to the north that purports to be the geographical centre of Chile, being equidistant from the northern border with Peru and the extent of the Chilean Antarctic territory at the South Pole. 

Why is that man head-butting the tree and calling it an idiot?

   Despite warnings from the various popular guidebooks about difficulty booking connections in the high season, we had no trouble finding a bus to Puerto Natales.  Sadly I had trouble remembering to take the camera with us when we left the bus.  Hence, we have no photographic evidence of the southerly extremities of our travels.  Amazingly, the images here are in fact very lifelike recreations.  Gallingly, the photo I had the camera out to take was almost identical to the one here: taken specifically to put on the blog and illustrating the vast majority of the Patagonian scenery from the bus.

   Such is life.  We had a choice of five cameras we could purchase in Puerto Natales, all of which incorporated an idiot premium in the price (I swear, they separate it on the receipt).  One was an underwater digital camera with a warranty that expired in 2002.  Another was a Toy Story camera with fun games and three interchangeable fascias.  Sadly it only had capacity for 70 photos.  If we could have added a memory card that would have been the one for me.  We now have the next cheapest, a very pink Samsung.  “Do you have another colour?”  Quizzical stare from the assistant.  “No, we don’t have another camera.”  God help the next idiot.  I hope they find the one with fun games for Woody and Buzz.  Ours takes good photos.  We’re happy.

Down Patagonia way

    How strange things are at the bottom of Argentina.  Towards the top end of Patagonia (sort of like the beginning of the end of the world) lies Puerto Madryn.  The main attraction is the wildlife on the nearby Peninsula Valdes.  However, on arrival we were helpfully informed by a pleasant British chap, Jonathan, that the tours are quite pricey (about £55pp including park entry) and we had managed to turn up in time to see almost no wildlife.  Incidentally, Jonathan was travelling alone because, as he put it, it would be unfair to inflict his company on anyone for an entire 5 months.  Kizzy nodded sagely and reminisced at the 18 hours on the bus with me.  I bent down to tie my laces but sadly she was out of range of the cricket bat handle. 

   Puerto Madryn Is quite pleasant as a beach resort with blue seas, a sandy beach and a climate that’s lovely in the sunshine but turns chilly whenever a cloud gets in the way.  In other words, it’s a bit like Cornwall, which had me and Kizzy pining after pasties and cream teas.  After debating the merits of 18 hours on a plane and 4 hours on a train to have afternoon tea in Penzance, we stumbled across the somewhat surreal existence of “Welsh” communities that sprung up in this part of the world about 150 years ago. 

   Our trip to Gaiman, two buses and an hour and a half down the road was a surreal antidote to homesickness.  The Welsh settlers here found somewhere a little bit drier than Cardiff and now in their 8^th generation or so they still maintain a close affinity with the homeland, dual-language signage and truly embarrassing clothes for the kids and all.  Tris, I have to ask, is this really how your mum dressed you back on the borders?

   We stopped in one of the 5 tea houses in town to indulge in a “Welsh” tea with more sticky and sweet cakes than Kizzy could manage.  The proprietors were pleased to see us, as was the young man in tourist information.  We were the only tourists in town when we arrived.  We were later joined in the tea house by an Argentine family who looked a little bewildered by the place but clearly realised that this was it for the town and ordered the tea out of curiosity.  We were directed to the town’s first house, built by David Roberts.  Dave, if you’re reading this, your first house is nothing to shout about but at least you’re on the property ladder.  I don’t think you’ll convince Clemmie to move to Gaiman any time soon. 

   Incidentally, this blog is as you can tell about 4 days behind the times.  Today was the first day in which we started heading north.  We took a day trip to Fuerto Bulnes, 60km south of Punta Arenas at the bottom of mainland South America.  To put this in perspective I will put a map up with the next post.