Back in Ushuaia

It was a 6 o'clock start this morning. Not in the mood for sausage and beans, I stuck to grapefruit and grapes for breakfast and plenty of apple juice. I wasn't ill, just tired and after breakfast I headed back for an hour's rest before we disembarked at 8. Time passed quickly and I fairly jumped out when the call came over the intercom. Haste is not always wise and as I got down from my bunk I slipped and wrenched my arms in some way trying to catch myself (my right shoulder is pretty sore now). The shock to the system was enough to have me retching for a few moments and I was pale enough when I emerged to prompt Marie to offer me medicine. I got by though.

One coach had already left with those going to the airport. Another one was to take those staying on in Ushuaia to their hotels and hostels. It was a bit of a disaster. Often passengers could see their hotel a minute's walk away, but had to wait while the coach went a different direction. Then at every stop the woman coordinating the operation insisted on seeing the people into their hotels, and eventually the delay caused many on the coach to rebel. Many just up and left. My guesthouse was sufficiently far out to keep me in my place, but it was the best part of two hours before I got to Casa Alba. Alba met me at the door and I slept a couple of hours before heading into town to do some laundry.

I had agreed to meet Marc and Brian at 8 for dinner and drinks. For one reason or another I didn't get to eat all day, so by 8 I was starving. However, Brian had ended up going on a car trip with some of the gang from his hostel and so needed to get back shower etc.. We all went back and had a few drinks. In the end there was a bit of a pizza party and by the time orders got sorted it was 10 or later. Nice hostel, I have to admit, very cosy.

The next day I found myself sharing breakfast with a Texan family of three. The father was a former military man now teaching some sort of propaganda class in the local highschool. This was applepie America and I had to watch my p's and q's, though "penguin pooh" slipped out and caused silence.

After breakfast, I decided to walk to the Martial Glacier, situated behind the city of Ushuaia. Alba claimed it would be an hour and a half. Not quite. It took me nearly an hour to find the entrance of the track.

Initially the way was easy. I had my walkman on with everything from Brian Eno to Aphex Twin and at times I powered along. Other times I didn't. It began to get marshy. A couple had entered the forest a few minutes before me, but I could see no sign of them, but then I was stopping for pictures.

The first track ended at the base of the chair lift, but there was an alternative "stipper" track for those who wanted to continue walking. Such as me. Very soon I realised that "stipper" meant "steeper" and what was marshy ground was now swamp. Inevitably my runner went right down into the wet soil and I had to put on my wellies, fortunately in my backpack. Just as well because only a step or two later my leg went in up to the rim of the welly. It was tough going from then on, if it hadn't been before.

Eventually I scrambled out at the top of the chair lift. There was a little cafe there and the couple who were ahead of me had just started their soup. They did not have their wellies and the woman was ready to abandon any further walking. It turned out they were Canadian, French Canadian. When they asked about Antarctica I began to show them some of my snaps. A quiet "Mon Dieu!" was uttered by the woman every so often.

The soup and wine I had were very welcome, as was the stove: it was getting colder. However, there was a little bit of tomfoolery with the cheque and they ended up taking three pesos. I had intended giving them three as a tip anyhow, so I went on without hassle.

The hour to the top was of course a little longer than that. Once you got to the snow of the glacier, the stone turned to shale and climbing was a little difficult. I paused a lot to get my footing. Intermittently it would snow and things were very chilly. Eventually though I got as far as I could without climbing equipment and the view, as promised, was spectacular. As regards a glacier, there is very little there, just big snow drifts. Over the tops of the surrounding mountains, clouds swirled, while below neer the bay the recent snow had moved to the town. I did my photo shoot (alas they are on a disk headed home) and then began to head back down.

Being lazy, I started to follow some tracks left in the snow. Rather than tackle shifting shale again, the snow I felt would be easier going. It might have been were I not sinking in up to my thighs. Eventually I decided the shale was the easier option after all and headed back to the rock. I had gone off the beaten track though and getting back gave me some scary moments.

Eventually at the chair lift still in good time, I made still better practically running down the dirt road beside the lift. All in all it looked like I'd be home early, by 6 at any rate. I begin to walk the road to town believing that what it took up in its winding nature, it would give in terms of the firm footing it would afford me. I was wrong. On and on I walked, the road taking huge loops into the countryside. eventually i was lucky enough to hail a passing cab and got home near 7.

I was meeting Brian for dinner, Marc having left early that morning. This time we went straight to the restaurant and at Brian's recommendation I tried the excellent steak (in the guesthouse the Texan had conceded that the Argentinians could teach them a thing or two about steak). A table away sat the Canadians and then down beside us sat two old women from the Antarctic trip. It all made for a pleasant meal. Then it was on to the Dublin for drinks until 2.

The next day I flew to Santiago. An Australian from the trip, Emmy, was also on the flight. For once I got a window seat and at one point I believe we flew over Torres del Paine. It was stupendous landscape with high snowy spires, rusty rock and many, many real glaciers. Besides staring at this, I read. The only unusual thing about the flight was that for once I was a little nervous. I think this was mainly due to my concern about Santiago. My view of the city before had not been entirely complimentary and I was now to arrive at 10 at night. I wasn't sure of the location of my hotel and all in all what lay ahead was a little uncertain.