Blown South

The next day we awoke on our beautiful river spot to bright skies and the promise of more birdwatching.

The penguin colony at Santa Cruz is quite different to the one we had planned to visit at Monte León. For a start, it’s free and not inside a national park. Instead, it’s accessed by walking around the back of a large secured port facility. You have to sign in first at the gate and let them know you’re going, even though you don’t really enter the compound itself. Part of the reason for this is also for your own safety. The colony is only accessible by walking around 3km down the beach when the tide is low. As it’s slow going along the rocky shore, you’ve got to time it right to make sure you can get there and back with enough time to see the birds as well.

Our previous riverside camp spot had put us close and, once we’d negotiated the rough track back to the main road, it wasn’t far to reach the port. We parked in a small car park, leaving the cats in the van. Even though it was a sunny day, it was much cooler down here and we didn’t need to worry about them being shut inside. We signed in at a small office and got directions on how to walk around the compound and access the trail along the back of the bay. We met a family who had just returned, the kids buzzing from the visit. It looked promising.

It took us a good hour to walk over to the colony. We made our way around the back of the bay and then struck across a narrow spit of land into the inlet behind where the penguins mainly lived. As we reached the opposite shore we knew we were close. There were bits of penguin everywhere, in various states of decomposition and entirety. We picked our way through the remains and hoped there would be more living ones further on. Of course, it’s nature. Out here nothing is managed by people. A huge colony lives here: breeding, dying and surviving. We were still in breeding season and, as we got closer, we began to see nest upon nest of penguins with their typical two chicks inside.

The colony is vast. It’s probably another two kilometres to walk across it all. Penguins were everywhere: in burrows, in bushes, on the beach and swimming in the sea. Despite the fact that we were the only people there, they weren’t bothered by us. We could get incredibly close before getting the tell-tale head wobble warning us not to come any nearer.

It was incredible to stand there in such wilderness. Not another human in sight and no signs of them either. No walkways, signs or fences. You could imagine you were the first people to discover this place. We spent ages wandering around, losing both our microphones in the process, but at least getting some awesome photos.

We even spotted several armadillos up close, a first for us. Normally we’ve only seen fleeting glimpses of them beetling away at speed.

Perhaps it was a good thing that we didn’t get into the other place, because I think this experience would have been hard to beat. Finally satisfied that I’d seen enough penguins, we trudged back over the shifting rocky pebbles and deceptively soft sand left by the receding tide to our indignant cats.

We had now nearly reached the end of mainland Argentina. In fact, as we rejoined the main road from Santa Cruz, we were only three and a half hours from the Chilean border. In order to reach Ushuaia, you must leave mainland Argentina and enter mainland Chile before catching a ferry to Tierra del Fuego. Once there, you continue on through Chile until, once again, you cross the border back into Argentina’s half of the island where Ushuaia is situated. It may seem silly, but due to the Boundary Treaty of 1881 the island was divided along the meridian 68°34’W to ensure a fair split between the two countries, as prior to this both Chile and Argentina claimed the island entirely for themselves.

For us as travellers, the repeated border crossings meant getting the pet papers in order and so we headed towards Río Gallegos, the last town with the government office needed to do it. We parked up on another pleasant riverside spot just outside town for the night.

In the morning, we headed straight into town to get the paperwork underway, first sorting the vet certificate and then taking the papers to SENASA. We met probably the friendliest SENASA agent ever, who insisted on having a good chat and sharing her mate with us while she processed our request. To make it cheaper, we agreed to wait the 72 hours. After the usual faffing around with bank payments and photocopies, everything was underway. Now we just needed to wait out the weekend by our riverside camp.

We returned to town to collect the papers on Tuesday, deciding we’d stop for one night before leaving the following day. We’d had a pleasant few days by the river. The weather hadn’t been too windy and Lee had even gone for a swim. It was easy to forget where we were. Río Gallegos is the third windiest city on earth and that night we found out the hard way. We parked up on the banks of the river, a known party spot, doing our Christmas decorating.

We hoped it would be quiet as it was only Tuesday. Despite hearing the odd noisy car, it was the wind that disturbed us the most, waking us as it hit full force during the night and prompting a rapid departure the following morning.

It was less than half an hour to reach the Chilean border and the wind hadn’t relented. Ruby was buffeted across the road as we drove and we took care opening the doors when we got out at the border so they didn’t get ripped clean off the van. We headed inside and did the usual formalities before pulling round to the inspection queue. The customs agent huddled inside his hood and shouted at us to be heard, despite standing right at the window. We tried to hand over the cats’ papers, which threatened to tear in half as we passed them out into the gale. He gave a brief grunt before retreating further into his jacket and waving us on.

As we headed into Chile, we saw Horst and Christine parked at the side of the road having just finished their lunch. We continued on together towards the small town of Cerro Sombrero. The visitor centre there promised all the facilities, including hot showers. First though, it was time for a proper landmark moment. We needed to get the ferry to the island. It can sometimes be cancelled due to high winds, but even though the trucks in the queue swayed ominously in front of us, it was apparently still running.

It’s only a short half-hour crossing to reach the island and I was glad of that. The ferry rolled heavily in the waves, the horizon an ever-tilting line. As the crossing grew rougher, we sat in Ruby with a foot on the brake to prevent an accident. Our handbrake wasn’t really up to this sort of thing. As I began to feel distinctly seasick, the port finally drew nearer.

Christine and I walked off ahead so we could film the momentous occasion of Ruby first touching Tierra del Fuego. Ushuaia was now within touching distance. A steep gravel slope covered in seaweed and mud led up from the boat. Lorries slipped as they clawed their way up it and then, nearly the last vehicle off the ferry, it was our turn. We had made it.

The wind did not abate as we continued onwards. We drove slowly, the engine revving hard against the additional force. Lorries overtook us, pulling the van violently into their slipstream as they temporarily blocked the crosswind. You had to be ready the second they pulled ahead too, because as soon as the wind returned the van would swerve across the road. It was not a pleasant drive, but nothing could dampen our spirits at being so close to the end of the world.

After a steady drive into town, we decided the visitor centre was far too exposed. We headed off in search of shelter, eventually parking close to a large wall. Spending our evening with a gin and tonic in hand in the far more civilised interior of Ivo, we barely felt the wind. Back in Ruby though, the pop-top canvas still strained and slapped despite our windbreak. At least with the shelter, it was good enough to sleep.

The following morning we of course made the most of the hot shower facilities before heading onwards. This would be the fastest we had ever crossed two borders. In just under 24 hours we were back at the Argentinian border. It was probably one of the most relaxed crossings so far. We did the bare minimum and then hesitantly drove off as there appeared to be no one in sight either to inspect the vehicle or take our stamped paper slip proving we’d done everything we were supposed to.

We had planned to stay in Río Grande near the YPF petrol station on the outskirts that night. But after stocking up in the shop and wandering around town in the wind for a bit, we decided it was too much for us. Instead, we continued south in search of a more sheltered spot, eventually finding one a bit further down the road. Tomorrow would be the day we reached Ushuaia.