On our first night back in Ushuaia I slept like a log because, I suppose, I was in a bed that was no longer moving around under the gentle rolling motion of the sea. It felt strange at first but I soon got used to it. My mind must’ve been relieved too since I had the most vivid dreams that night which involved me being shipwrecked after the boat was thrown into somersaults after a violent storm which resulted in me being kidnapped and help captive by a gang of angry walruses. I was eventually rescued by Jane and Sarah (my sisters) at which point I woke up to a feeling of great relief. Weird.
It was great being on land again and we took the opportunity to do something that we’d not been able to do for almost three weeks and so we went for a walk. It turned out to be a 20km round trip, scrambling up loose scree on the side of a mountain to take a look at the glacier at the far end of Ushuaia. We were going to take the cable car to ease the pain, but after we found it costs almost £13 for a trip of 500m that ends nowhere near the glacier we thought better of it. It was a good walk though and we were both shattered afterwards. I can’t help thinking that Ushuaia is living on borrowed time though because the glacier was miniscule and this is one of their bigger attractions. Besides, after Antarctica, it was going to take a lot to impress me.
Our next destination was El Calafate which was a little farther north and the change in scenery was incredible. We got off the plane and went to wait for the bus into town and the landscape was just desert, mountains and sky. It was beautiful in its starkness and I started to wonder how far from town we actually were as there was nothing to see for miles other than the airport. It turned out it was a bit of an illusion because in 30 minutes or so we were dropped off at our hostel. The town itself was a bit of a dustbowl, at least where we were staying but it was pleasant enough. We spent our time there wandering around the nature reserve that turned out to be flooded so was a little disappointing. There were more empty beer bottles bobbing around in the water than there were fowl so I think we just timed it wrong. The next day we took a trip to Torres Del Paine in the Chilean National Park. This, of course, involved crossing the border which was pretty painless but slow.
There were a few highlights of this trip, one of which was seeing the Torres (high mountains) which were being beautifully lit by the sun and stood behind a huge lake of the most iridescent emerald green. Apparently the lake is that colour due to the large amount of copper deposits in it. It was stunning. 
Another highlight was a little fox that looked startled as our bus pulled up in front of another lake. He was a lovely little fella, all bushy and dappled grey unlike the mangy little scavengers we get at home and he soon plucked up enough courage to just sit there posing for photos for us. Very obliging!The hostel that we were staying was comfortable enough except that it was crawling with cocky teenagers and early twenty-somethings. Many of them were from the middle east where apparently they come out of their national service with a wad of cash and want to travel the world. I don’t care where they came from but they were over-confident and strutted around like they owned the place; especially the kitchen. I wasn’t happy one evening as I stood there drumming my fingers on the worktop as I waited to cook steak for our tea. It was worth waiting for though as the beef in Argentina is the best I’ve tasted anywhere. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to cook our own food but we were in the hostel one night when we saw this guy slap a very Fred Flinstone style slab of steak in a wok (this was the only vessel big enough to take it). He’d only paid the equivalent of about £2 for this gargantuan hunk of protein so we thought we’d follow suit a couple of days later. It was lush but I felt like a python trying to digest a small calf afterwards.
A few days later and we took a bus to El Calafate where we did some amazing walks. This little frontier town is tiny and was only built so that Argentina could lay claim to the land before Chile got their mits on it. It shows as it is a shabby collection of mismatched buildings and temporary shacks but full of character. Our first day there we took a six hour round-trip walk to yet another glacier. The walk itself was fantastic as we ambled up mountain sides and through woods and valley floors, beside glacial streams and sandy knolls. Ultimately, after about three hours we reached the glacier which was really quite disappointing and we headed back after a short while retracing our foot steps. The weather was bizarre in that at the start of the walk it was quite sunny and really quite warm with very little wind, however, as soon as we started to reach the glacier there was snow in the air and the wind was becoming quite fierce. Again, once we reached the start of the trail, all was calm and sunny.
We ate a local stew that night called Locro made from lots of beans and curious cuts of meat which we washed down with locally made beer from the onsite microbrewery. Delicious.
The following day, still knackered from the previous day’s walk, we decided we’d tackle a walk to another mountain called Fitz Roy. We struggled initially, but pressed on and got right to the stage where we had a fantastic view of the mountain without having to scramble up any steep paths. Our little picnic was very welcome as we sat there gawping at the brilliant scenery. We came back to town with a slight detour as we wanted to take a look at Laguna Capri which was a small lake about two thirds of the way back into town. As with everything around us, it was stunning and while we sat there a little bird came hopping around our feet to see why we were intruding into his little world. It was perfectly peaceful.We left El Calafate the next day to join the bus heading towards Esquel along Route 40. I wasn’t around when Rich booked this part of the trip as I’d gone off to find a cash point, but I soon found out that it’s actually a two day journey. The first part of which was exhausting, despite sitting there and doing nothing, but the road is only sealed on short parts whereas the rest of it is just very dusty and bumpy gravel. My teeth were chattering after the twelve hours that it took to reach Perito Moreno, a backwater town with nothing much going for it, where we stayed in a vile hotel that made the one out of The Shining look bijou and inviting. We even had the wind howling through a broken window making the curtains billow in true hammer-horror style. It was just missing a thunderous storm and a couple of bats fluttering around to complete the picture.
We set off the next day at 7.45am to another ten or so hours on the bus. The guide had arranged a taxi pick up for us so that we could get off the bus and head towards Esquel as the bus was taking the rest of the passengers straight to Bariloche. Fortunately the taxi was there by the time we were which was lucky because I really didn’t fancy being dropped off in the middle of nowhere with the nearest town almost 20km away. I have a sense of adventure, but there are limits.
We’re now in Esquel staying in another funny little hotel which looks like it was last renovated in the 1950’s. Think melamine, plywood, nylon sheets and vinyl seats and you’ll get the picture. Still, the beds are nice and firm which is a miracle given that they’re probably older than me. We took the bus to Trevelin this afternoon which is an old Welsh colonial town about 18km from here. The guide book doesn’t say much about it but Rich was quite keen to go because of his Welsh heritage. We went to the museum where I chatted to the attendant in as much Spanish as I could remember. I told her that Rich’s parents were from Wales whereupon she started speaking to him in fluent Welsh. He was obviously taken aback and sheepishly told her in English that ‘Yakee Dar’ was all he knew. Excuse my spelling of that, but I don’t do Welsh either. The museum was fascinating and crammed full of Welsh artefacts from the early settlers. After that we went to sit in the park for a bit and our conversation went thus:
Richard: "I’m a little disappointed, I thought the people would look more Welsh but they all look like Diego Maradonna."
Danny: "Even the women."
Richard: "Especially the women."
This summed up the place really. After that we headed to the real attraction and went for afternoon tea in one of the two recommended tea houses. The book said not to have lunch beforehand as what you get at tea is really enough for two and it went on to suggest that you share one tea between two. However, when we sat down and ordered the complete service (not knowing what it entailed) we were brought a pot of tea, two scones, some jam, bread and cheese. We thought that maybe the book was a little out of date and that they’d scaled down the portions in the name of profts, so we tucked in and were quite satisfied with what she’d presented us.
However, seconds after I had popped the last crumbs of scone into my gob the waitress then re-emerged with a large plate of five different cakes for us. Two slices of each! We were gobsmacked but because each one was so delicious we managed to plough our way through the bountiful feast and finally sat back with distended stomachs and a requirement to be winched out of our chairs. She came back, looked at the empty plates and nodded in a semi-approving / impressed manner which spoke volumes. I don’t think most of her customers usually manage that much sugary food in one sitting so I think we did her generosity proud.We took a slow walk back to the bus stop and are now back at the hotel trying not to move too quickly in case there’s an explosion of some sort. The first thing I did when we got back was to cut my hair (badly) and take a shower – I think I’m subconsciously trying to purge myself. Maybe a sly finger down the throat would be more effective…
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