To Antarctica and back

So Ron made it out of quarantine in time for the Falkland Islands and our first view of penguins in the wild. Our ship couldn't get into the inner harbour at Stanley, so we tendered in and were met by a fleet of minibuses to take us on our tours. We chose to go to Bluff Beach Cove and its Gentoo penguin flock. That was a half-hour trip along nice roads and another half hour in landrover over tussocks and bog. What the Falklands lack in trees (thanks to the eternal, everlasting wind) they make up for in peat. Until recently peat was the main fuel on the islands. Now they use bottled gas and wind-generated electricity.
We had an hour to walk among the penguins, most of which were this year's chicks waiting for mom and dad to get back from their 50 km daily swim in the ocean. Most of the parents set out on their fishing trips at dawn; some fish at night and hang around to babysit during the day. The chicks are almost as big as their parents – just about knee high – and losing their fluff, but they've got a couple more months of hanging around on the beach being fed – lucky clucks.
It was good to meet some of the Falklanders, too. The guys who drove the minibus and the landrover were basic salt-of-the-earth sheep farmers but full of opinions and snippets of information. I get the feeling you've got to be both tough and gentle to live as they do. The Falklands seem like a place full of good and caring people. And they love their Queen and their Britishness. One guy told us, “When the Argentinians landed in 1982 they thought they'd be greeted as liberators. Boy did they get a surprise!”
After the penguin visit we grabbed some fish & chips at the pub and prowled around the town. It's the same latitude (south, not north) as Canmore and many of the same things grow there – potatoes, peas, lupines, poppies. And they love their gardens. I could feel at home on the Falklands, I think. I found a few balls of Falkland Islands wool (spun in England and shipped back for sale there) to make Ron a hat and scarf.

Then we headed off to sea for almost a week away from “civilization” as we cruised around Antarctica. We were hugely fortunate in the weather. We were told our ship was able to sail places no other vessel our size had been able to visit before. For most of the time the weather was clear, the winds were calm, and the icebergs were relatively small. So we saw scenes of beauty that are beyond description. Even photographs just skim the surface. It was utterly lovely. Glaciers, ice sheets (disintegrating), penguins, whales – the whole deal. Maybe when I get a chance to upload some photos to Flickr you can get some idea, but really you have to go.
It wasn't all smooth sailing, of course. Our first evening in Antarctic waters we experienced a real gale with winds as strong as any I've ever experienced. I really thought I was going to be blown off the deck. Bits of the ceiling of the promenade deck were ripped off, leading to a violation of the Antarctic treaty by our ship – we actually left a few strips of aluminum behind in the water, and maybe a few deck chair cushions. Holland-America takes the Antarctic regulations so seriously that people aren't allowed to smoke on the deck (making the smokers' areas of the ship even less pleasant to pass through) in case they drop cigarette butts into the ocean. And instead of treating and releasing grey water, which they do everywhere else, they asked us to reduce our water consumption so the ship could store all its wastes. And we were warned not to let our hats be blown off into the water.
I was struck by the number of other ships we met on our travels there. They were all smaller vessels; the largest was the Marco Polo carrying 400 passengers instead of its usual 800 (and our 1300). That was so everyone could get a chance to walk on Antarctica. The regulations allow a maximum of 100 people to go ashore at once, so the Marco Polo spends a day letting people off in batches of 100. We, of course, never got a chance to really touch Antarctic snow, except the flew flakes that blew into our faces one evening.
For three days we sailed through fjords and past ice and islands. Air temperature was about 3C, and the water was just above 0. For three nights it hardly got dark with sunset at 9:50 and sunrise at 3:45. And then we headed back north to Cape Horn.

We got an idea there of why the ancient mariners wanted to find some other way of getting past the tip of South America. About an hour before we got within sight of land another mighty gale blew up and fog enveloped us. We had a dim view of an island with a big cliff on it (that was Cape Horn), and then we continued east towards the entrance to the Beagle Channel (named after the ship that carried Charles Darwin around the world as he mulled over the origin of species).

Yesterday morning we found ourselves in the Argentinian town of Ushuaia, which calls itself the most southerly city in the world. But I don't think so. It can't be a city because it doesn't have a cathedral, and there's a Chilean town across the passage that is more southerly. But never mind, it's awfully far south. It was warmish – 14C? - but certainly didn't feel much like midsummer. Ushuaia used to be a penal colony – much of it was built by prisoners, who also stripped the trees from the mountains around and constructed a little railroad. These days there are government subsidies for things like the natural gas people use to heat their houses, but the town still has a frontier feel about it. It doesn't look all that prosperous, either, with abandoned construction projects even downtown Lots of tourist-oriented businesses though, with emphasis on outdoor activities. It's the jumping-off point for many trips to Antarctica, but there are lots of wilderness activities in Tierra de la Fuego too – camping, hiking, climbing, and in the winter skiing. It's kind of like Banff, but less prosperous.
We had a look around town and a bus and train ride through the countryside – so nice to see green things again! But no pines or spruces, just 2 or 3 kinds of southern beech - and then explored the town a bit. Found some more wool in a tourist shop, locally grown and spun. And we had some fantastic king crab soup and some great locally-brewed beer in “the Irish pub at the end of the world”. Then off again through the Beagle Channel to see yet more stunningly beautiful glaciers and mountains – the southern end of the Andes.

Today we're in Chile, in Punto Arenas on the Straits of Magellan. It's a bigger town than Ushuaia and a little more prosperous-seeming. Before the Panama Canal was built it was a major stopping-off point for shipping, and now it does a lot of tourist business. Prices seem lower than in Ushuaia. Got myself a nice handwoven jacket for $28 and a cute sweater for Dima for $12 that would have been $30-40 in Argentina. And they have superb king crab here, too – I had a huge crab salad for lunch.
But the wind! I could hardly stand up against it, and really did get blown around. The air temperature was quite warm, but the wind was so fierce and cold that I was glad to have my winter jacket on. Our taxi driver said there was just a little wind today. There are some trees around, but most of them seem to be carefully tended. It's not an easy place to be a tall object.
I didn't find any wool myself, but at dinner I met someone who'd found a store full of it – hand spun, hand dyed – and got 2.5 kg of it. Lucky thing!

Tomorrow we continue our journey north, back to the land where summer feels like summer.