The end of the world

Argentina | Anno 2017

 

Thursday, November 2 | Ushuaia

Friday, November 3 | Tierra del Fuego NP

Saturday, November 4 | Ushuaia – El Calafate

 

 

Thursday, November 2 | Ushuaia

With a wide curve, the pilot initiates the descent over the Beagle Channel. There is no trace here of the endless grassy steppes of Patagonia. Snow-capped peaks dominate the scenery to the horizon. Slowly, we descend into this majestic backdrop, flanked on either side by white mountain ridges.

 

Andes Mountains, Beagle Channel

In the left distance, we spot our destination, a grey-white spot on a green alluvial strip at the foot of that massive mountain range. They've built the airport on a mushroom-shaped promontory. The runway fits perfectly into the tight surroundings; it seems like the peninsula was created just for it.

We're lucky ones because with a temperature of 12 °C (54 °F), it's a beautiful, warm day

Welcome to the end of the world, the calm Ines greets us. We're really lucky, as she adds with a twinkle in her eye, given the temperature of 12 °C (54 °F), making it a beautiful, warm day for Ushuaia.

 

Beagle Channel

Driver Gabino brought a massive bus along. As he navigates through the streets of Ushuaia, we learn that there are about 70,000 inhabitants in this farthest corner of the planet. However, getting lost is nearly impossible in this city. The streets form a perfect chessboard pattern around Avenida San Martín, the main street. Incidentally, it is the only street where something is happening.

On the other side of the Beagle Channel – to the south – lies Chile. This natural passage connects the Atlantic Ocean with the Pacific Ocean. It owes its name to the HMS Beagle, the ship with which Charles Darwin made his famous journey to the Galápagos Islands around 1835. This passage is not entirely safe; nowadays, sea vessels prefer the Strait of Magellan, a few hundred kilometres to the north.

Weather reports are not of much interest here. They always sound the same: Possible rain. Two hundred days of rain per year is the norm in Ushuaia. Sometimes a shower lasts a few minutes, sometimes a few hours, sometimes an entire day. A blue sky can be expected at most thirty days a year. On the other hand, you can always count on the wind, day after day.

A steep zigzag road takes us further up the slope. It leads all the way to the kettle valley of the relatively modest Martial Glacier. But we don't drive that far. It's quarter past two when Gabino drops us off at the hotel doorstep, almost five kilometres from the city centre.

 

Ushuaia on the Beagle Channel

The view is unparalleled. Two hundred meters below, Ushuaia lies at our feet – the town, its harbour, its airport. Beyond that, the Beagle Channel extends with its many islands. And in the far distance, Chilean mountain peaks fill the horizon.

A city that boasts a prison as its main attraction raises eyebrows

Ushuaia – Museo Marítimo y del Presidio

A city that promotes a prison as its main attraction raises eyebrows. But Ushuaia's history is largely centred around that prison. We descend to the city centre, have a late lunch, and stroll to the Museo Marítimo y del Presidio at the western end of the city.

Ushuaia had at most about forty houses when they began building the prison in 1902. The construction became the responsibility of the prisoners themselves, repeat offenders of serious crimes. It would take them eighteen years to complete.

It was meant to be a building with eight wings, arranged in a star shape around a central rotunda. This design would allow easy monitoring of all the corridors. In practice, only five wings were completed. Each wing had two floors with 76 small cells, each for a single prisoner. The construction was intended for 380 inmates, but at its peak, more than 600 criminals – and some political prisoners – would involuntarily find shelter there.

 

Former prison – Central corridor

Prison cells

One of the wings has been preserved in the state it was when the cells were in use. Even now, on the threshold of spring, it is bitterly cold. We count three heaters in the corridor, serving almost eighty cells. What must it have been like behind those wooden cell doors in the heart of winter?

In another wing, we read stories about life in the prison – the food and health, the work and punishments, the censored correspondence, the solid iron chains the prisoners had around their ankles whenever they were moved...

It must have been hallucinatory conditions on that remote island if it was considered better here

Originally, the prison was located on Isla de los Estados, an island some distance off the coast in the Atlantic Ocean. For humanitarian reasons, we read, the prison was transferred here. It must have been hallucinatory conditions on that remote island if it was considered better here.

Some cells provide information about other notorious prisons. The crème de la crème is on display – Alcatraz, Devil's Island, Robben Island, Australian penal colonies, the Gulag Archipelago, Nazi concentration camps, ... Argentina was no exception when it came to brutality. The message is clear – all nations had blood on their hands.

Less depressing is the exhibition about Antarctica. Half a prison wing is devoted to it. The considerable interest in Antarctica here is no coincidence. Patagonia was once part of what is now the Antarctic region. To remind us of this, a massive Antarctic peninsula still points like a beckoning index finger towards South America. Only about eight hundred kilometres – often tumultuous waters – separate the two continents. This makes Ushuaia the ideal base for tourist expeditions to the Antarctic region.

They deliberately let themselves be trapped by the pack ice to make observations through-out the entire Antarctic winter

Belgica – Model

Belgica – Trapped by pack ice

It was not a tourist expedition, the undertaking led by the Belgian Adrien de Gerlache between 1897 and 1899. On the contrary, it was the very first purely scientific expedition to the Antarctic region. They deliberately let themselves be trapped by the pack ice to make observations throughout the entire Antarctic winter. They had to accept that they wouldn't see the sun for more than 66 days.

 

Ushuaia – Avenida San Martín

A prominent place is reserved here for the Belgian Antarctic Expedition, including a model of the Belgica, the ship that endured that harsh winter. Onboard was Roald Amundsen, who would later reach the South Pole first in 1911. Frederick Cook was also part of the expedition, the man who in 1908 claimed to be the first to reach the North Pole – a claim contested by Robert Peary and his supporters.

 

Dolphin gull

We stroll along the promenade to the harbour. Rock blocks protect the shore from the waves, and this is where dolphin gulls feel at home. They are beautiful birds with grey feathers, a red beak, and matching eyes and legs. However, they are far from gentle, not hesitating to steal eggs and even chicks from the nests of other seabirds.

 

Ushuaia – Cerro Martial, harbour

Busts along the path pay tribute to Argentine polar explorers. They might be noble unknowns to us, were it not for the fact that the Belgian Adrien de Gerlache stands right at the forefront. The same fate as elsewhere in the world awaits these busts, and the dolphin gulls ensure that.

 

Bust of Adrien de Gerlache

Imperial shag

Bust with Dolphin Gull

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Friday, November 3 | Tierra del Fuego NP

Dark rain clouds are arranged in scattered formation above the Beagle Channel. However, the sun does not give in. Sunbeams pierce through the clouds, creating a play of light and darkness on the water and the mountains. They cast a golden veil over the distant peaks.

 

Beagle Channel

Below, the city seems motionless at our feet. From behind the breakfast table, we observe how the clouds conspire to gradually pull an even grey cloud cover over the bay.

The fact that it's raining when we leave at half-past eight doesn't surprise us. It's a mild, gentle rain, but with ice-cold droplets. Typical for a summer day in Ushuaia, Ines tries to cheer us up.

Nevertheless, the city receives an average of no more than 700 mm of rainfall annually. Ushuaia's geographical position isn't that exceptional, actually. The city is as far from the South Pole as, say, Belfast or Gdansk are from the North Pole. However, in the Southern Hemisphere, it has no competition. It's a whopping 2,300 km closer to the South Pole than Cape Town.

Meanwhile, driver Alberto has set a course westward on the unpaved RN 3 towards Tierra del Fuego National Park. Ferdinand Magellan gave this name to the region during his passage in 1520. Today, it's the name of both the national park and the province, as well as the island we find ourselves on.

Smoking volcanoes and glowing lava flows are what you might expect with a name like Tierra del Fuego, meaning Land of Fire

Smoking volcanoes and glowing lava flows are what you might expect with a name like Tierra del Fuego, meaning Land of Fire. But that's not accurate. Magellan was inspired by the numerous fires the indigenous people lit – near their huts, during hunting, and even in their boats.

This had its reasons because the Yahgan people largely went naked. They smeared their bodies with animal fat, wearing only a sea lion fur over their shoulders sometimes.

 

Yahgan family

Chimango caracara

In this harsh climate, you have to be quite crazy to endure that. Nevertheless, the Yahgan thrive there. If you have to collect mussels day in and day out – often in the rain – and chase sea lions in boats to scrape together your livelihood, your clothes are constantly wet. It can't be healthy.

Since 1871, the first missionaries appeared. And they thought they knew better. They focused on one of the works of mercy – clothing the naked. With disastrous consequences.

Gradually, more settlers appeared. In their wake, modern civilization diseases entered. Soon, the original population was decimated – from three thousand Yahgans in 1880 to a hundred in 1910.

This zeal for civilization was mainly driven by the rivalry between Chile and Argentina. Because Chile was colonizing its share of Tierra del Fuego, and Argentina couldn't lag behind. After all, this piece of Argentina was strategically important for navigation in the Strait of Magellan and the Beagle Channel. Imagine if Chile were to quietly annex it.

So, in 1883, President Roca came up with a bold plan to colonize the region. Ushuaia became the spearhead of that development. A large, permanent settlement would be established here. It would become the capital of Tierra del Fuego, and later also of the Falkland Islands or Malvinas. And even of a sector of Antarctica that Argentina mistakenly considers its territory.

The missionaries focused on one of the works of mercy – clothing the naked. With disastrous consequences

The first step would be the construction of a prison. The initiative for that came in 1902, as we now know. Until 1947, recidivists of the worst kind would find a not-so-comfortable abode there.

During the day, hard labour awaited them. First, the goal was to build the prison and lay a railway. Once those were ready, the prisoners were sent out every day by train to chop wood, regardless of the season.

That's exactly what we are going to do as well – make part of that historic train journey, specifically the last seven of the original twenty-five kilometres, but in somewhat more comfortable conditions.

Heroic music echoes through the speakers. As if we are about to conquer the Wild West again.

Heroic music echoes through the speakers. As if we are about to conquer the Wild West again

Tren del Fin del Mundo – Engineer Porta

With that intention, we are not alone. Half a dozen buses, numerous minibuses, and off-road vehicles have already arrived – the parking lot is full. Altogether, there must be several hundred eager individuals waiting for the departure of the two trains. Unmoved, some chimangos observe all the hustle from fence posts.

Greasy smoke wafts over the platform. In front of us stands Engineer Porta, the first steam locomotive entirely built in Argentina. It was put into operation in 1939. It's a narrow-gauge train, with a track width of only sixty centimetres.

 

Tierra del Fuego National Park – Valley of the Río Pipo

Not without effort, we settle into the narrow wagons, knees close together, almost like sardines in a tin can. But we shouldn't complain, we read in the brochure. Because in the past, prisoners were transported in the open air. In all weather conditions, they sat on flat cars, their chained feet dangling above the tracks. On rainy days or during heavy snowfall, they sometimes had to push the locomotive back onto the tracks. We are fortunate indeed.

Escape was pointless. Where could you go in this vast, inhospitable land?

It's twenty minutes to ten when our Tren del Fin del Mundo leaves the station. Heroic music echoes through the speakers. As if we are about to conquer the Wild West again, it seems. It has just stopped raining.

Slowly, we chug into the valley of the Río Pipo. This is where the prisoners worked as lumberjacks. Glad to be doing chores outdoors, as otherwise, they would be rotting away in their cold, damp cells. Escape was pointless. Where could you go in this vast, inhospitable land? Yet some dared to try. But you never heard from them again. Unless their lifeless body was found.

 

The height of the stumps indicates the season in which the trees were felled

 

At the Cascada de la Macarena, we make a brief stop. In the past, the prisoner train used to stop here regularly to replenish water. A pump is still standing, but it seems unnecessary. We climb up to the waterfall.

Down on the banks of the Pipo, three modest huts and a primitive canoe are on display. They call it a reconstruction of a campamento aborigen, a temporary residence of the Yahgan.

 

Yahgan – Temporary huts and canoe

Construction of the railroad by prisoners

For forty years, there was vigorous logging in this valley, completely haphazard, without any form of planning. The result is evident. A gloomy landscape slides past the window, with tree stumps as silent witnesses of the extensive deforestation. They are mostly short stubs, sometimes reaching a meter high. The latter reminds us that the snow here can sometimes reach chest height. The height of the stumps indicates the season in which the trees were felled.

However, the role of this little train in the history of Ushuaia's development can hardly be overstated. The wood that the prisoners brought to the city played an essential role in construction works. And the prisoners themselves were indispensable in the construction of roads, bridges, electricity, and water supply.

Faithfully, Alberto waits for us with his bus at the end station. The rain is back again. An unpaved track now takes us, as if through a green tunnel, deeper into the national park.

 

Río Pipo

About ten thousand years ago, the glaciers definitively retreated from this area. Since then, humans have hardly engaged with this area. You could call it primary forest, says Ines. And the desolate landscape that we just passed through on the train must have looked the same over a century ago, she adds with a hint of nostalgia.

The desolate landscape that we just passed through on the train must have looked the same over a century ago

The fact that these lenga trees were so massively felled is attributed to their numerous qualities – thick, tall trunks of sturdy and durable wood, easy to work with. Carpenters simply appreciate those characteristics.

 

Cascada de la Macarena

False beeches

Lengas belong to the southern beeches, but they are actually false beeches. They have no genetic relation to true beeches, which are found only in the Northern Hemisphere. In fact, almost everything here is a false beech, including the guindo and ñire that thrive in this area.

In reality, this part of the Tierra del Fuego province is an island. A fairly large island, indeed. With an area of almost 40,000 km², it is about the size of Switzerland. However, Tierra del Fuego has only 200,000 inhabitants – which doesn't really surprise us.

The surrounding seawater helps maintain a surprisingly constant temperature in Tierra del Fuego – averaging 10°C (50 °F) in summer and 0°C (32 °F) in winter. In winter, the mercury will never drop below ten degrees below zero (14 °F). The fact that it often feels much colder here is due to the biting wind.

 

Cerro Cόndor

Brown-red moss and marshy water form the bottom of the valley. It's better not to walk over it, Ines advises, as the water goes nine meters deep. They call such peat grounds here turbal.

Normally, dead plant material breaks down quite quickly. Here, it just doesn't seem to work. The low temperature and slightly acidic water slow down the process. The next layer forms over it before the previous one has decomposed.

Upland geese are monogamous. You will almost always see them faithfully strolling through the grass in pairs

Chilean house wren

Upland goose (m)

This halts the decomposition because without oxygen, bacteria cannot do their job. Due to the increasing pressure from new layers and the absence of oxygen, peat is gradually formed. If you wait long enough, even coal can emerge from it. But then we are talking about a period of millions of years and a layer hundreds of meters thick.

Peat is there to be exploited. At least, that's how they used to view it in Ireland and Scotland. They needed fuel, and there were hardly any trees. But here, no one is interested. In the past, they had trees as fuel; nowadays, they have abundant gas. So the peat remains untouched.

Gradually, the sun makes its presence felt, occasionally breaking through the clouds. It stays dry now. Fortunately, as we have a short walk ahead.

Add a touch of fog and you have a real ghost forest

Beard moss

Alberto drops us off at the Centro de Visitantes in Alakush. An upland goose struts through the grass. It's a male, his white plumage with a grey stripe looks very elegant. He can fly exceptionally well, up to one and a half kilometres high. But during moulting, he is forced to stay on the ground because he temporarily loses some flight feathers.

Nowhere is a female to be seen. That's strange because upland geese are monogamous. You will almost always see them faithfully strolling through the grass in pairs.

 

Río Lapataia, Cerro Cόndor

Ines leads us upstream along the banks of the wide Río Lapataia. For a brief moment, she immerses us in the rugged nature of Tierra del Fuego. Plants endure tough conditions in this inhospitable environment, each developing its own survival strategy.

The glacier that carved out this U-shaped valley is no longer visible since the end of the Ice Ages. The river now only carries meltwater. Where the moraine once was, we now encounter the calm, clear waters of Lago Roca – or Lago Acigami, as the Chileans call this body of water.

In the slow-flowing water, a flying steamer duck is looking around. Of the four species of steamer ducks, this is the only one that can fly. The river doesn't seem deep. Across the water, the snowy Cerro Cóndor rises. It's Chilean territory, just a few kilometres away. Higher up, a black-chested buzzard-eagle explores the surroundings, searching for small mammals. It looks like an eagle but is more closely related to buzzards. Patches of false beech forests are its favourite haunts.

Where the ground is a bit moister, mallicos feel right at home. They are also called Andean buttercups. The small white-yellow flowers barely rise above the grass blades. Underground, their rhizomes crawl in all directions, forming large clusters of flowers.

Beard moss thrives abundantly on the bare trunks of lenga trees in the forest. The trees are covered with it. Add a touch of mist, and you have a real ghost forest. That's a good sign because beard moss only flourishes in very pure air.

Mistletoe is also abundantly represented. They call these hemiparasites misodendrum. They settle exclusively on false beeches, and only on young specimens because older trees have too thick bark. There, they slumber for several years before growing into a large, spherical mistletoe. They take care of photosynthesis themselves, but they need to seek water and minerals from their host tree. That’s why they’re called hemiparasites.

 

Misodendrum (mistletoe)

Darwin fungus

Another unwelcome guest with an exclusive appetite for false beeches is the Darwin fungus. Where this fungus settles, it leads to a pockmarked thickening of the branch. It looks grotesque, but the tree suffers no harm, except for the orange balls that eventually emerge. Darwin compared their colour to that of an egg yolk. These fruiting bodies are also called Indian bread because they were part of the staple diet of the Yahgan.

If you taste the berries of the calafate or the michay, you will surely return to Patagonia

Calafate

Michay

Here and there, shrubs are already in full bloom, such as the calafate with its yellow flowers and the michay with its orange berries. Both belong to the barberry family and have earned the title of the national plant of Patagonia. Legend has it that if you taste these berries, you will surely return to Patagonia. Nevertheless, it's primarily birds that take advantage of them. The berries hide among long, sharp thorns and have a rather tart taste.

Hundreds of orange-red clusters hang on the branches of the parrilla plants. These too will grow into berries. The shrub is closely related to the black currant used to make Crème de cassis.

 

Parilla

Beard moss

Downstream along the Lapataia we go now, in search of the real end of the world. In the middle of the river, two black-necked swans catch our attention. Their name does them justice – white body, black neck, black head, with a fiery red knob on their beak. These swans are only found in South America.

 

Black-necked swans

You won't find many mammals in Tierra del Fuego. At most, some foxes, guanacos, and rodents. The harsh climate is responsible for that, as well as human activities. Humans have introduced some exotic species – rabbits, muskrats, beavers – for commercial reasons, as fur brings in money.

Beavers, in particular, have caused significant damage. They have no natural predators here, and they reproduce unhindered. An adult beaver can weigh up to 25 kg, which is much heavier than in Canada, their land of origin. They fell trees to build dams, submerging other trees, causing them to die.

If beavers only caused harm to humans, there would be no problem, Ines adds significantly

Towards the end of the world

The gnawing work of a beaver

Nothing to worry about; that's just how nature works, one might say. Indeed, agrees Ines, as long as we're talking about Canada. In Canada, trees grow quickly enough to prevent deforestation. However, here, trees grow too slowly, leaving only desolation. This has detrimental effects on the rest of the fauna.

In short, the natural balance has been disrupted. Park rangers find themselves compelled to systematically kill beavers. If beavers only caused harm to humans, there would be no problem, Ines adds significantly.

Dismantling beaver dams is not an option either. Before you know it, a new dam will appear elsewhere. On the other hand, leaving the dams where they are will attract new beaver colonies exactly there and nowhere else. This makes it easier for park rangers to keep an eye on them.

It's a bit shocking. It looks as if the densely wooded valley has been recently ravaged by a small lava flow

 

Ines takes us to a castorera, a beaver dam. It's a bit shocking. It looks as if the densely wooded valley has been recently ravaged by a small lava flow. Only dead trees remain standing on the bare riverbanks.

 

Black-crowned night heron (juvenile)

Along the stream, a black-crowned night heron strolls, one of the smaller herons with the typical compact posture. The chaos around him doesn't bother him. Frogs, insects, larvae, and small fish capture his interest. It's a juvenile black-crowned night heron, as its feathers are still brown with white spots. We'll have to wait a bit longer to see the beautiful black-green back and white belly of the mature black-crowned night heron.

 

 

Just after one o'clock, we reach Bahía Lapataia, a modest inlet of the Beagle Channel, barely two kilometres from the Chilean border. This is the southern endpoint of RN 3, and therefore also the Pan-American Highway. For the northern endpoint, you'd have to head to Alaska, precisely 17,848 km away from here, as we read.

When it comes to tranquillity and desolation, you indeed feel like you're at the end of the world in this remote place

Bahía Lapataia

According to the Argentinians, this is also considered the end of the world. The Chileans definitely don't agree. South of the Beagle Channel, there is still a piece of Chile the size of three Belgian provinces. Mostly uninhabited, but still the southernmost region in the world – after Antarctica.

However, when it comes to tranquillity and desolation, you indeed feel like you're at the end of the world in this remote place. The road comes to a dead end in an empty no man's land where only the wooden walkway reminds you of human activity.

 

Upland geese (m and f)

Like a tiny dot, a powerful albatross floats tirelessly above the water in the distance. A couple of upland geese forage through the grass. Finally, we can observe the chestnut-brown female, slightly smaller than her partner.

 

Southern crested caracara

Unperturbed, a southern crested caracara sits in the grass, not even far from us. A seemingly tame bird of prey. Our proximity hardly makes it look up, but that's more a result of habituation. It feeds on live prey – rodents, birds, frogs, insects. However, it doesn't disdain carrion, stranded fish, or roadkill. You might see it scavenging in landfills or around houses, looking for leftovers. Human silhouettes are a familiar sight to it.

For lunch, we have our sights set on Tia Elvira in Ushuaia. The offering of fish and seafood is said to be impressive. And it turns out to be true. The menu is teeming with fish, octopuses, shellfish, and crustaceans. We opt for the centolla, the king crab – either al ajillo, a la parmesana, a la provenzal, or al roquefort.

Satisfied, we stroll to the pier and board the Elisabetta, a large catamaran that effortlessly accommodates 168 passengers.

 

Isla Bridges

At quarter past four, the moorings are released. Our journey will take us about fifteen kilometres eastward through the Beagle Channel. Several small rocky islands protrude above the water. In themselves, nothing extraordinary, except that they are teeming with life. Whole colonies of birds and sea lions call them home.

Also remarkable is the majestic scenery unfolding on either side of the strait. Deep blue, partly snow-capped peaks slope steeply toward the water. It's not really cold, but the biting wind brings the apparent temperature close to freezing. A dense cloud cover prevents the sun from making any changes.

We suspect, however, that beneath those white and black wriggling birds, an island is hiding

Imperial shags

Soon, the first island comes into view. We suspect, at least, that beneath those white and black wriggling birds, an island is hiding. However, not much of the grey rocks is visible.

There must be thousands of imperial shags residing here. With their large size, blue eyes, yellow knob on their beak, and the cute crest on their head, they are remarkable figures.

 

Imperial shag

Small fish are their favourite meal, and they also delve into lobsters that they retrieve directly from the seabed. However, local fishermen do not see them as a threat because the fish they go after are not commercially fished.

 

Kelp gull

Dolphin gulls and kelp gulls are also present, and even the occasional kelp goose. Kelp geese take their name quite literally. The only thing they eat is kelp, the brown seaweed that thrives like a true forest beneath the sea surface.

 

Southern giant petrel

Gracefully, a southern giant petrel flies past us at low altitude. The colonies on the rocky islands are a feast for him. Eggs, chicks, dead animals, afterbirths from marine mammals, that's all he needs. Around the turn of the century, there were fears that the southern giant petrel was facing extinction, but that has proven to be a false alarm.

 

Sea lions

Once again, an island comes into view. Here, it's sea lions that rule the roost. Impressive males vigilantly watch over their harem. They meticulously scan the surroundings, sitting upright with their heads held high, while dozens of females rest at their feet. Occasionally, they assert their patriarchal claims with loud roars, as if they've never heard of #MeToo.

 

Sea lions

Birds collectively avoid the island; among those large sea lions, they don't feel at home.

With loud roars, the sea lions occasionally reaffirm their patriarchal claims, as if they've never heard of #MeToo

Sea lion (m)

Sea lions – Harem

It's a completely different scene on Isla Bridges. There's no sign of sea lions or birds on this green, hilly island. Mosses, succulents, and low bushes dominate the landscape.

 

Disembarkation on Isla Bridges

The Elisabetta enters a small inlet until its hulls find stability on the calm, shallow waterbed. Deckhands throw out a gangplank. We can step ashore for a while, stretch our legs, and explore this inhospitable environment.

 

 

On the beach, we are immediately greeted by a Yahgan family. This inhospitable island was their habitat. A man, woman, and a little boy – albeit in plastic – stand in front of their primitive tepee made of branches. Naturally aked, we realize, while we climb up, shivering in our Gore-Tex, under the icy, biting wind.

 

Yahgan family with tepee

Chaura

Empty shells at the woman's feet remind us that bivalve molluscs constituted a significant part of their diet. They had to plunge into the icy waters day in and day out to gather them.

Thomas Bridges was the first to decide to clothe and Christianize these Yahgans. However, his contributions go far beyond that. He was, in fact, the founder of Ushuaia. Additionally, he compiled a unique grammar, including a vocabulary list of Yámana, the language of the Yahgans. He managed to inventory more than 30,000 words. This island was later named after him.

Thomas Bridges managed to inventory more than 30,000 words of Yámana, the language of the Yahgans. This island was later named after him

Climbing through dense vegetation, we ascend to a higher elevation. Every plant seems to strive not to stand out too much above its neighbours and catch too much wind. Therefore, the vegetation rarely reaches higher than our calves.

Nevertheless, the variety and richness of colours of the plants are overwhelming. Mosses and succulents abound. The thorny barberry is not yet in bloom, but the prickly heath cautiously reveals its purplish-red flowers.

 

Yareta

Sometimes, it seems as if rounded boulders are covered with bright green moss. But that is just an illusion. It's yareta, an evergreen plant typically found only in the high Andes. It’s not bothered by the harsh climate, as long as it receives enough water, growing steadily at a rate of about 15 millimetres per year.

 

Faro Les Éclaireurs

We climb back on board the Elisabetta and sail to the Faro Les Éclaireurs, a lonely lighthouse amidst a group of barren islets. The weathered tower has been standing there since 1920. It still produces a light flash every ten seconds that can be seen from fourteen kilometres away. However, these flashes are generated fully automatically. The lighthouse is no longer inhabited, and the equipment is remotely controlled. Solar panels provide the required electricity. Sun? Anyone?

 

Imperial shags

The islands are teeming with life. Imperial shags once again dominate the scene, but a few rock shags also claim their spot. Their orange-red beaks immediately catch the eye.

Imperial shags dominate the scene, but a few rock shags also claim their spot

Imperial shag		Rock shag
Rock shags		Snowy sheathbills

With their blue-eyed counterparts, they rarely get into conflicts. Imperial shags pursue their prey deeper at sea, while rock shags are content with what they find in shallow coastal waters – their ambitions rarely extend beyond five meters deep.

Sea lions have once again claimed an entire island. A pair of kelp geese is left alone. At the foot of the lighthouse, they forage among the stones – he in a spotless white suit, she in a dark brown jacket with a grey stripe.

Also a dozen snowy sheathbills can be seen running around. Looking a bit like chicken but genetically unrelated, these small waders share more similarities with plovers and lapwings. When the opportunity arises, they steal krill and fish from penguins.

 

Kelp goose (m)

Kelp goose (f)

Around six o'clock, we begin the journey back to Ushuaia. It is still quite clear, and darkness won't set in until after nine o'clock.

 

Faro Les Éclaireurs

While enjoying the excellent cuisine in the hotel, we see snowflakes gently fall in the garden outside. However, we shouldn't hope for a white snow carpet, as the delicate flakes immediately melt away.

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Saturday, November 4 | Ushuaia – El Calafate

A delicate white snow blanket covers the mountain slopes and the forests. Birds are not deterred by this, and they sit cheerfully chirping in the treetops. The idyllic layer of white on the dark pines, the evergreen deciduous trees, and the pale beard moss creates a Christmas atmosphere.

 

The idyllic layer of white on the dark pines and the pale beard moss create a Christmas atmosphere

Austral thrush

Down in the city, it turns out to be completely free of snow. Along the tide line, gulls, ducks, and plovers scavenge among the rocks on the beach. It is low tide, and the water in the bay is almost perfectly calm.

Driver Carlos takes us to the airport. The Argentinians have named it Aeropuerto Malvinas Argentinas, leaving nothing undone to remind foreign visitors of their claims to those islands.

Just before noon, we board a Boeing 737 700/800 of Aerolíneas Argentinas. El Calafate, at the foot of the Andes, about six hundred kilometres to the northwest, is our next destination. The sun breaks through the clouds regularly. The morning snow seems nothing more than a distant memory. We fly quite low for a few minutes in a westerly direction above the Beagle Channel.

 

Beagle Channel

In the water, the silhouette of a submarine can be seen. It is sailing eastward, towards the Atlantic Ocean. Little do we know that this is likely the ARA San Juan, heading from Ushuaia to Mar del Plata, and that the Argentine navy will have its last contact with this submarine on November 15. The rescue operation will be abandoned on November 30. With its 44 crew members still on board, the submarine rests somewhere on the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.

 

Ushuaia – Runway

Beagle Channel – Submarine ARA San Juan?

With a broad turn, the plane swings northward and offers us a panoramic view of the mighty Beagle Channel. Clouds cling to the slopes of the snow-capped peaks, but the blue water lies sunny and almost ripple-free. Shortly thereafter, the elongated Lago Fagnano makes its appearance.

 

Beagle Channel

Then a dense white cloud cover takes over the scenery. We can be assured, as Ines, with a grinning farewell, has reminded us that the climate in El Calafate will be much milder than in Ushuaia.

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Jaak Palmans
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