Ciudades del Fin del Mundo

We've done a lot of trekking in the past few weeks, and I figured it was time to allot some attention to those few precious days in town we've had as well (precious because they generally included showers, Doritos, and interaction with other human beings).

To begin, Puerto Williams, Chile was our base-camp town for the Dientes trek. It is located at 54 56' S 67 37'W. and with it's windswept streets, corrguated roofs, and gang of wild horses that hang out on the firehouse's front lawn, Puerto Williams really feels like the final frontier, the rock bottom of the earth. It really is the southernmost permanently inhabited town in the world, so remote that we had to go to the elementary school library to find the Internets.

Downtown Port Williams as seen from the airport

The one-room Port Williams airport

Port Williams marina with Los Dientes in the background

Before embarking on the five-day Dientes trek, we spent a couple hours milling about the PW's 5 or 6 unpaved roads, trying to find white gas for the Whisperlight, notifying the police of our intentions to hike the Dientes, and eating a quick lunch acquired from one of the island's two supermercados: orange soda, pan (plain white bread rolls), and queso (some quickie mart variety of packaged sliced white). Not-so-exciting food, but then again, all provisions are either flown- or boated-in to Port Williams and the produce section of the market was a fair reminder of this grim reality: limp greens, a quartered squash, naranjas verdes, and potatoes. Lots of potatoes.

Food is often a strong motivator in our choice of hostel - if you have a breakfast buffet, we're yours! Thus, throughout our pasta- and oatmeal-fueled trek in Los Dientes, we looked forward to a home-cooked meal with our host in Puerto Williams, a cheerful and locally reknown culinary artist named Patty. To the incongruous sounds of back-to-back dubbed episodes of The Simpsons, we gorged ourselves on Patty's roasted beef (Jeff), potatoes, green salad, and 750ml of wine that no one would share with us (?). We slept hard that night!

The following morning we stumbled upon the local panaderia and some freshly baked empanadas manzanas con sucre. Despite its remoteness, Puerto Williams left me with memories of a finally full belly and a rested, almost homey happiness.

We, however, left Puerto Williams to cross the Beagle Channel in an uncomfortably cramped zodiac boat that hadn't run for a few days due to strong wind and rain. To get to the boat from P. Williams, we first piled into a minivan with two other Americans, a driver and her young daughter. On our 60 minute drive to Puerto Navarino (another town/couple of buildings on Isla Navarino), we dropped the little girl off at her abuela's house, pulled over in the middle of the road and switched drivers with a van coming from the opposite direction (the only traffic we saw along the dirt road), delivered groceries to a remote house (?), and fought to keep our breakfasts on the increasingly very windy road.

Argentina across the Beagle Channel as seen from Puerto Navarino, Chile

Zodiac boat from Puerto Navarino on Island Navarino, Chile

On the Beagle Channel crossing

After forty minutes of getting to know our fellow border-crossers (and getting personal with their luggage), the zodiac pulled into the wake of a police boat and "docked" in Ushuaia, Argentina. We proceeded to fireman-pass the luggage and climb over four more boats to reach Argentina. Boat. Boat. Boat. Boat. Dock!

Our arrival in the Port of Ushuaia

We breezed through the Argentina port's customs and Ushuaia greeted us with sunshine, a 20 degree jump in temperature, and paved streets of traffic and bustling tourists, many from one of the cruise boats docked nearby. The contrast from Puerto Williams was striking. Signs, museums, and restaurants everywhere reinforced the city's claim to its "El fin del mundo" location, but at 54 48 S 68 18' W, Ushuaia doesn't reeally deserve this self-proclaimed title.

Ushuaia building with Chilean peaks in the background

Black market money exchange = the way to go!

Some of the giant lupine that thrives down here

Rainbow bridge over the river

Appropriate.

Jeff on one of our walks around Ushuaia

We tried not to judge the city too harshly for its blatant marketing scheme during our one full day there, and we had lots of fun exploring its outskirts on a 10km run that took us nearly to the airport (whoops), and a 10km grind up to the Martial Glacier, which serves as the city's beautiful backdrop.

On the walk up to the Martial Glacier

Jeff took the trail up to the ice

I opted for the more level path to some miradors of Ushuaia

Glacier Martial

On the way back down from the glacier, I coerced Jeff to pay for two things on which he religiously resists spending money: a taxi and some ice! Turns out I had a strained knee from Paso Virginia, and our running about the hills above Ushuaia wasn't helping.. nothing a night of R.I.C.E and some Pisco couldn't fix. Short of an informative trip to a miniatures museum on the Yamana people of Tierra del Fuego (who: a. always carried fire with them in their canoes, b. belayed each other down cliffs to club cormorants, and c. were immortalized as tiny figurines in these dioramas created by a Belgian miniatures artist who also worked on the movie Dune?!), we rested the rest of our time in the false end of the world.

Cheap food and accommodation were challenging to find in Ushuaia, and we ended up ordering two large pizzas our first night in town. I wished I knew how to say "bottomless stomach" or "high metabolism" in response to the server's bemusement at our order. I think the staff at our hotel may have been equally bemused at our ability to empty the bread basket at breakfast every morning! We finally found a restaurant known for its large portions (El Turco) and promptly ran into someone we had met at Campamento Italiano in Torres Del Paine, that fateful rainy morning that campers collectively shared disappointment at the Valle Del Frances being closed. She works for Backroads Travel and had nearly three weeks off between leading a mountain biking trip in Bariloche and treks in El Calafate and El Chalten. Que vida! We swapped tales of our respective treks in Los Dientes (turns out we may have followed some of her footprints on the first snowy pass), and ran into her again at our hostel in El Calafate, but Jeff will tell you more about that final chapter for our adventures in Patagonia!