The Voyage of M.S. Explorer to Antarctica 14/11/06

It's 10.40 and I have just come down from on deck.I understand the name Tierra del Fuego now. When explorers first came by Ushuaia they sighted the fires of the natives on the shoreline, hence Land of Fire. However, looking back at the fast vanishing Ushuaia, I saw more to this explanation. The fires have now become city lights, yet there is still a hellish look to the area. The sky above the city was very dark, the mountains hording clouds up like a winning gambler. The orange of the streetlights then reflect off this cloud creating a vast, lurid glow. The quaint city is thus transformed into the last gateway to Hell. One lonely light winked on and off right up to the point where the city disappeared, a Francesca de Rimini screaming her anguish. The glow remained though and did long after I left.

Despite having hours between the baggage drop and embarkation, I still ran out of time and had to board the bus without enough money in my pocket, or so I feared. Luckily credit cards will do and a tab system is in place. The coaches, by the way, (there were two) were there to take us the very short distance to the quayside. Customs apparently won't let us through on foot.

I imagine there are less than a hundred passengers, but they vary enormously in age and nationality. The youngest are probably around 20, the oldest in his seventies. Over 10% are Irish, including my cabin mate Brian (who, for those of you from Palmerstown, knows Mark Sartini), Brian and Louise, a couple living in Boston, Marie, a sixty-something woman who is now travelling alone after her daughter had to pull out, Michael and Siobhan from the West I think, and a trio of elderly people from Kildare. Other nationalities include English, American, Polish, Finnish, Swedish, Swiss, Japanese, Chinese, Dutch and Australian. The vast majority are engaged in extended trips around South America or the world (one Swiss couple have been travelling for 2 and a half years), that put my little jaunt to shame. The third inhabitant of my cabin, Marc (a Swiss/Peruvian), has 11 months behind him and another 6 to go.

At the reception I got talking to the resident geologist, Lance, who is very familiar with West Ireland, and so got to my cabin late. Typically I ended up with the top bunk.

Dinner, at 7.30, was quite tasty; spring roll, crab soup, grilled trout with caviar sauce and cheesecake for dessert. It followed a lifeboat drill and indeed the day has so far flown by with every moment until now filled with event. Apparently rough seas are ahead, so I have taken my seasickness tablets.