Getting There

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November 28, 2022 - En Route

After nearly 8 months the wait is over.  It’s time to go. The Ocean Endeavour is over a third of the way through the Drake Passage on its way to our rendezvous in Ushuaia.  The National Geographic Resolution left the Weddell Sea early in the morning and is on a parallel course to the Ocean Endeavour but over 100 miles to the east.  The Seabourn Venture also left the Weddell overnight but is taking a more leisure course and it is still in the Antarctic Sound.  The Ocean Adventurer paused briefly at Paulet Island.  The one remaining ship in the Weddell Sea is the MV Ortelius, but after visiting Snow Hill Island it too seems to be heading to the Sound.

As for my journey, it begins.  The flights all seem to be on time - for now.  It is a strange experience to be traveling without my family, not that I’m a stranger to solo travel or even being apprehensive about it.  It’s just a little disorienting because I can count on one hand all the times I’ve flown solo in the last two-plus decades.  But I’m absolutely certain I’ll get into the flow as soon as I put the key in the ignition and start my drive up to Phoenix.  I prefer to leave from Tucson airport but for this journey the price differential of departing from Phoenix versus Tucson was so great that it was worth it to make the drive north.

The trip is starting off very good. Moderate lines at security but they moved quickly, maybe the staff are still in Thanksgiving mode trying to process as many people as quickly as possible. First time I've seen things work efficiently at an airport in quite a while. 

While waiting to board I sat next to a woman from Argentina. She taught at Columbia for 30 years - Latin American Literature. Her kids went to MIT, Columbia, NYU. She was visiting her son here - he's an astronomer at U of A and he probably knows Emma's dad.

No one in the middle seat, Woo-hoo! It'd be so nice if it happens on the flight to Buenos Aires too! Finally starting to relax, everything is largely out of my hands now. The plane landed at Houston a little early and since I had a short connection that was welcome. As it turned out though the flight to Buenos Aires was delayed a few minutes, and coupled with not having to go through security again, I had ample time to make it to the gate. But still, the wait was less than 20 minutes which gave me time for a quick call to Mary Jane and Gianna. 

Boarding went smoothly and to my surprise - another empty middle seat! Today must be my lucky travel day - maybe my luck will hold for tomorrow. The meal was an overcooked pasta with some veggies in it. I didn't realize I was hungry until I started eating and as mediocre as the pasta was I devoured it. I don't think about food when in transit, eating is a distant second to the primary goals of getting to gates early enough to command some carry-on storage space - something that is in short supply after the baggage problems earlier in the year when people adopted a "Covid be damned" attitude and starting traveling in earnest, overwhelming service staff in multiple sectors around the globe. 

After a 10-hour flight and a yogurt and cookie breakfast the plane landed in Buenos Aires. I thought I had adequate time, 4 hours, to make my connecting flight but it turned out I did have time but not nearly as much as I thought. The experience provided a great example of the difference between a plan on paper and the execution of that plan in the real world.

Tuesday, November 29, 2022 - Buenos Aries

In a first for me, my connecting flight was at a different airport. The flight from Houston arrived in Buenos Aires at the international airport, Ezeiza (EZE). The flight to Ushuaia departs from the Jorge Newbery Airport (AEP), closer to downtown Buenos Aires - a one and a half hour drive. Fortunately, Chimu provided pretty good instructions on which transport service to use and how to find them. Even though the flight arrived on time, it took considerable time to get through Passport Control, retrieve my checked bag, and pass through customs. By the time I got to the ground transport service desk it was about 10:15 am and the next bus for AEP didn't leave until 11:00 - not quite enough time. No worries, I just had to pay for a private taxi from the service, $52 (about 8600 Argentine pesos). 

My driver was from Peru with English skills about as good as my Spanish. Still, we were able to have a choppy and stilted conversation. What little I saw of Buenos Aires on the drive showed a clean but dated city of 4 million, complete with traffic and graffiti that you'd find in any metropolis. The city and its people had a definite European vibe to it. Not the buildings so much as there was none of the grand, old buildings you find in Europe, but more the people, their sense of style and fashion and the organization of the city itself. I was reminded of the migration of Europeans, mainly southern Europeans, to Argentina in the late 1800's and early 1900's and of a later, darker migration when the richer, luckier Nazi's fled Germany as WWII drew to a close.

The car radio played old school rock and roll - Rolling Stones, Beatles, Guns 'n Roses. And there was one song that stood out, mainly because you'd never hear it on the radio in the US for obvious reasons. Axel Rose was belting out the lyrics, and I'm paraphrasing, "I loved her but I had to kill her . . ." I wasn't sure if he was lamenting a sick pet he had to put down but the fact is that song just would not fly in the US.

Even with the faster service, I didn't arrive at Newbery Airport until after noon - and the departure desk was chaos. United Airlines didn't issue me boarding passes for the Aerolineas Argentinas flight so I had to queue up and wait. When it was my turn to present my documents to get a boarding pass, I drew the one agent who was weighing carry-ons. 

Aerolineas Argentinas' policy is carry-on weight can't exceed 8 kilos - mine was over 12, about 26 pounds. I was in a Catch-22. If I pulled the camera bag out of the suitcase I'd come close to making the weight, but then I'd have too many carry-ons. She didn't want to let the bag pass as is and I was unwilling to check a bag with a few thousand dollars of camera equipment in it. Stalemate. 

Thankfully, she eventually decided to punt the issue to the gate personnel. She tagged the carry on as "passed" - without my main camera bag, which would make my third carry on item - camera bag, backpack, small suitcase.

Tuesday, November 29, 2022  - The Passport

I thanked her, here they don't pronounce the "s" in "gracias", and I finally went up the escalator to the security checkpoint and the gates. I did make a stop though to put my camera bag back in the suitcase so I just had the carry-on and my backpack (no one the wiser!), along with my winter coat that I've been hauling around since Phoenix. The coat, along with me traveling for over 24 hours now, would play a part in the next little drama. 

I try to plan my moves ahead of time, specific pant pockets for phone, passport, wallet - easier to remember where they are. I prepare for security checks ahead of time to have boarding passes, passport, etc. readily available, sometimes in hand, as I approach. It keeps me from fumbling around for documents and acting confused. 

I approached the security person and forgetting that when I transferred the camera bag back into the suitcase I had put my passport along with the boarding pass in the hand I've been using to carry the coat, I instinctively reached for my passport in my hip pocket. Not there. OK, check the other pockets. Nothing. I started to get that sinking feeling when you realize your well-planned excursion was going to take a hard left turn and maybe get derailed entirely. Check the backpack, where the important things normally reside. Nope, not there either. Gone. Panic. I've never lost a passport and boarding pass before - being in a foreign country made the situation worse. 

I still had a photo of the passport on my phone, that would help in securing a replacement maybe, but it wouldn't get me on the plane to Ushuaia. Panic. Retrace steps, all the way back to the ticketing counter. Moving fast in the hot, moist air - the temperature in Buenos Aires was in the high 80's. The sweat started pouring off my head as I frantically sprinted back to all the places I stopped at, the restroom, the ticket counter, the bag transfer, even places I thought about stopping at but didn't. If I got back fast enough to where I left it, it would still be there, right? Who would want a perfectly good US passport, right? Nothing. Nowhere.

I paused in a quiet spot to strategize my next action. Now , what do I do? I grabbed a kerchief out of the backpack to wipe the sweat off me. I was drenched. I unfurled the coat from my arm . . . and the passport and boarding pass tumbled out. Somehow it had gotten tangled up in the coat and miraculously it hadn't bounced out as I was jogging through the airport. Salvation. 

I went back to the checkpoint and presented the documents. The security woman smiled at me saying, "Calor?" ("Hot?") - I smiled back, wiped my head and replied, "Si, mui."

I got to the gate without further incident and even had a few minutes to cool down a bit thanks to a 30-minute delay - without that I probably would've missed the flight. God watches over drunks and fools - I fit in there somewhere. My empty middle seat luck ran out on both the remaining flights. Fortunately, they were short - two and a half hours to Trelew, another two hours to Ushuaia. 

Tuesday, November 29, 2022 - Trelew

The land around Trelew is a treeless, windswept, forbidding spot on the coast. The "airport" consists of small building, a fuel truck, a wind sock, and a single runway. There are no boarding gates. Passengers emerge from a set of double doors and take a short walk to climb the portable stairs, I only saw one, and board their flight. But people got off and people got on. 

A little research showed that Trelew was founded by Welsh immigrants and has become a commercial hub accounting for 90 percent of Argentina's wool processing. Clearly, there was more here than what met the eye. 

Despite the desolate view from the sky there are actually nearly 100,000 people who live there making it one of the largest Argentine cities in Patagonia. It is also home to the Museum of Paleontology Egidio Feruglio, showcasing the rich paleontological heritage of the Patagonia region, which is, I suspect, the main draw for the visitors who disembarked there - although many were certainly residents returning from business or pleasure in Buenos Aires 

Tuesday, November 29, 2022 - Ushuaia

The final flight of my journey landed in Ushuaia, more or less on time, amidst cloudy skies. The winds made landing a bit of a challenge for the pilot and when we landed the passengers erupted in applause. I made it. The most southern town on the planet - as long as you don't count McMurdo Station and the other scientific outposts in Antarctica. 

One of the first things that struck me as i exited the airport to wait for a taxi was the tree line - the elevation above which trees cannot grow because of climate, winds, etc. In Colorado, the tree line is about 10,000 - 11,000 feet. Even in Alaska's Brooks Range, well north of the Arctic Circle, the tree line is 2,000 - 3,000 feet. Here in Ushuaia, as best I can estimate, less than 1,000, maybe only 500 feet. There is a perfectly horizontal line in the mountains surrounding Ushuaia that separates the rich green forests from the snowy and barren and rock of the mountain peaks. Snow and rock. Preparing me for the White Continent - sans penguins. 

A five dollar taxi ride brought me to my bed for the night at Hosteria Sloggett, just up the hill from the docks. The establishment is owned and operated by Andres, a hulking and serious but cordial immigrant from Croatia. I'm not really sure how to describe the place, a hospitality house maybe? It's a rough, old building patched here and there with sheets of corrugated metal but inside it was spotless. Andres went into great detail explaining the rules of the house (no parties, no smoking), breakfast, water, etc. in a well-rehearsed monologue he's given countless times. He walked me up to room 37 (there can't be more than 10 guest rooms in the place) and continued on with detailed explanations of the lights, the bathroom, the television, the electronic door lock.

I asked him about nearby eating places and he was prepared with an electronic list that he plotted out on Google Maps. Then he left me to familiarize myself with my home for the night. The room was, like the building, old and rough but spotlessly clean. In a nod to the European heritage of Argentina there was even a bidet in the bathroom. There were two beds in the room and the size of them made me chuckle. Lying on the bed, hands touching my hips, I could easily reach both edges of the mattress. Note to self, don't rollover tonight lest I end up on the floor. 

There is a great view of the harbor from Hosteria Sloggett and some of the rooms enjoy that view. But not mine. Room 37 is on the mountain side where there is a view of the snowy mountains that surround Ushuaia - and of the cell tower, radio tower, and satellite antenna farm that are right across the street. If I were paying for a view I might be miffed, but my interest was only in a shower and a bed and Hosteria Sloggett filled the bill.

Around 8 pm I walked down to the restaurant, passing by weathered buildings that housed businesses and families. I reached the place, it was dark inside. In yet another nod to European roots, it did not open for dinner until 8:30. I roamed the streets, thinking I'll just go back to the room but I passed by a charming bakery that was open. The aroma of their goods spilled out onto the street and drew me in. The cheerful staff was scurrying about doing the things you do in bakeries and I was surprised at the quantity and variety of pastries, cakes, and breads in the display cases. They also made sandwiches. Perfect. I ordered a jamon y queso that was simple but delicious. It set me back all of $1.30. 

I ate my sandwich back at the room, made a few calls, showered, and rearranged the contents of my suitcases now that I didn't have to deal with airports. Well after 10 pm it was still light outside and even though I did not feel tired, just before midnight I forced my brain to stop thinking and I drifted off to slumber land. 

Wednesday, November 30, 2022 - Hosteleria Sloggett

It was getting bright by 4 am but, as usual, I was up well before the sun. A busy day is planned. Breakfast at 7, taxi to the new hotel to drop off luggage, then continuing on to Tren del Fin del Mundo for a narrow gauge rail ride to the Tierra del Fuego National Park where I hope to get some good shots before the weather starts closing in later in the day. 

I went downstairs for breakfast right at 7:00 and Andres was already engaged in his daily chores. It was a simple breakfast; tea, toast, and jam, but the view was magnificent. The best part though was chatting with Andres. As I’d mentioned, he is originally from Croatia but he didn’t say what brought him to Ushuaia. He is a bit of an adventurer, I think anyone who lives in Ushuaia is bent that way, and he had a few photos from his motorcycling days displayed in the dining area. One that caught my eye was him and his motorcycle posed in front of a giant hand sculpture, maybe 30 feet high, in the middle of a very empty desert. 

The photo was taken in Chile’s Atacama Desert which vies with Antarctica’s Dry Valleys for the driest place on the planet. I mean dry as in it has not rained there in hundreds of years, some say thousands, others say it has never rained there. Andres took 45 days out of his normal life to motorcycle up there from Ushuaia, going through Tierra del Fuego then up the coast to Atacama. He beamed as he spoke of the trip in his Spanglish and it was clearly one of the memorable moments of his life. I asked him about the origins of the name Sloggett, as in his Hosteria Sloggett, because it’s such an odd name and he beamed all over again. He brought me over to a map on the wall and pointed to a little bay near the east end of the Beagle Channel - Sloggett Bay. According to Andres, 150 years ago it was a place where, due to a confluence of geologic structures and actions, one could literally pluck gold from the beaches, it would just wash ashore, especially after violent storms. He said people still occasionally go there but there are no roads and there are some treacherous river crossings if you approach it on foot or in an ATV. He seemed to know a lot about the area and without him stating so I suspect Andres spent more than a couple days at Sloggett Bay and it may have even financed his hosteria. 

Andres called a taxi to bring me to a 24/7 money exchange at the Hotel Antarctica, continue on to the Las Hayas Hotel to drop off my bags, and then on to the Tren del Fin del Mundo that will take me to the national park. Rogelio arrived a few minutes later, I bid farewell to Andres and we were on our way. Along the way, Rogelio suggested meeting at the train’s final stop where he could take me deeper into the park. He seemed like a decent guy, I had the time since check-in wasn’t until 3:00 at Las Hayas, so I agreed. 

Wednesday, November 30, 2022 - Tren del Fin del Mundo Station

I was the first person at the station but soon the tour busses started arriving and the waiting area and gift shop were packed in no time. Because I had paid for a premium ticket, a staff person, kind of a personal concierge, helped me get a mandatory park ticket that was not included in the price. After paying Rogelio I had 3,100 Argentine pesos left and I thought that would be enough. I was wrong. The ticket cost 3,200 pesos. The literature stressed that you needed cash - Argentine cash - to buy the park pass but my concierge helped me get one anyway. 

Wednesday, November 30, 2022 - Tren del Fin del Mundo

After a short wait I boarded my carriage where a split of champagne (well, sparking wine technically, but a good Chandon Brut nonetheless) along with a pot of tea, some orange juice, the ever-present jamon y queso sandwich, and some pastries were waiting for me. There were only two other people in the carriage - a young couple from Brazil who were on holiday. This was a true narrow gauge railway and I could touch both walls of the carriage from the narrow aisle. With a shriek from its whistle, the train embarked and I’ve got to say I it felt pretty damn good to be clattering down the track, enjoying the vistas, and sipping champagne. 

Rogelio was there waiting for me at the last stop and we took off on the dirt road to go deeper into the park. The mountains, the water, the trees, the snow, it was a non-stop scenic paradise. There was a wildness to it that was refreshing, a cleansing of the soul. We stopped periodically for me to hike around and take some closer shots and more than once Rogelio dropped me off at a trail and I met up with him later down the road. The exercise felt great and I was surprised how effortless it was even though I’m not in shape at all. Perhaps it’s one of the benefits of living at a higher altitude - when you get down to sea level where there’s more oxygen and physical tasks seem to take less effort. 

Wednesday, November 30, 2022  - Tierra del Fuego National Park

One of the amusing moments occurred when Rogelio stopped at a lakeside dock where a government official set up in a small concession stand will stamp your passport with the official seal of the park - along with some penguin caricatures, snowflakes, and something that resembles a postage stamp. It was a bit kitschy but I broke out in laughter when I saw the penguins in my passport. 

Eventually, we circled back - you take the same road out that you came in - and Rogelio dropped me off at Las Hayas. I was a little early for check-in so I had time to get a lamb burger and a local beer (Beagle) in the hotel restaurant - they complimented each other nicely. And speaking of compliments, the waitress gave me a Spanish language menu that I probably could have navigated but I asked for an English one instead. She apologized and said she thought I was Argentinian because my Spanish pronunciation was so good. Huh? I think most people would disagree with her but, hey, I’ll take compliments whenever I can! 

I checked into the room and it was much more traditional and just as clean as my room at Hosteria Sloggett - but without the same heart. And, yes, they had a bidet in the bathroom. The European influence is strong here. 

I met up with the ground manager for the cruise who had set up a table in the lobby and we got final paperwork out of the way. She was a perfect selection for the position because she was so enthusiastic even though she’s not boarding the ship. Her enthusiasm was contagious and left you feeling that this was going to be an exhilarating journey. I asked her about an optional photography package that had previously been offered that I originally declined but when I read more about it I thought it might be worthwhile as the participants use more powerful and slightly larger zodiacs with a greater range and seating that’s better suited to photography. She recommended against it though because apparently the ice is thicker than usual and not breaking up as early this season so they haven’t been able to launch the larger zodiacs.

There was an ice breaker planned for the travelers that evening, kind of a no-host happy hour but I opted out and used the time for phone calls, writing, uploading photos, and adding to the website instead. During my call with Gianna (the phone system down here does not accommodate conference calls so I had to talk with Mary Jane and Gianna separately) I got a text from Verizon saying something like, “Hey, we notice you’re spending a lot of minutes on the phone, you’d be better off with the Travel Pass at $10 a day for unlimited service instead.” Huh? What? I thought I was using their Travel Pass. I quickly went to their website and saw that without their Travel Pass Verizon charges $1.79 per minute for phone calls! That’s gonna hurt but I’ll deal with it when I return. It should be automatic, if you use your phone in a foreign country and a pricing plan that makes sense is in place it should be automatic. 

Thursday, December 1, 2022 - Downtown Ushuaia

The day started with blustery winds and the rains that have been pushed off for two days now have started, although it’s a light rain. Breakfast at 7:00, bags downstairs by 9:00, checkout at 11:00, at the dock by 3:00, board the ship, settle into cabin 8007, and wait for the ship to embark down the Beagle Channel and on to Antarctica. That is the plan for the day. The Ocean Endeavour entered the Beagle Channel last night and is expected to dock in Ushuaia at 9:00 am.

Rain and snow are predicted for the week in Ushuaia but it remains to be seen how much that will affect passage through the Drake. Seeing the weather turn this morning makes me appreciate all the more the fine weather I enjoyed yesterday in Tierra del Fuego Park. I’m a little sniffly this morning so time to break out the meds and homeopathic cures and not let any viruses take hold - let them migrate to someone else. 

Breakfast done, bags down. Time to rest a bit before checking out and embarking on a walking tour of downtown; i.e., the old part of7ur ucI 7dtu67c7ddc8iu666666cCT x cyst 777uttu66u76 ft utmost 6utcu68xtx 766uu66udd777ud7dydry 7ut76cuc7d7t7dtuf7uxuft6dudry c76c 7.5 xutuutx776 du 6udu67 CT 6ut4c7tducux5duu7duu5dcyst 77tft 68dt78 cut 55uudu66xfiuffx7u6uuu7iid777c766666 CT 6d76u66d6tut66566ifyu6t666tux6cit'd 117d6uuff666666666 ft x dry 777 dry 66 dry 666tdry 6uuuttd775udry cytology 7777 dry u6etuc cycle cry 76 cytology 677xuu6c 66 cry t76 Cy cuff 6dd7ttuycuic6 cytology 5d77776666 du 66666ud6ccf66666556d766 cycling 7 dry dry 6 CT 66 dry 666666rur666c5 dry 66tdu66 cry 6666 dry 6 dry 6666c666ueecycle 5 dry cry 67t777 cry 6 dry f cry 666 CT 76 cytology 66666d666x56dxufggt66t6 cut cuff 66dddddd 6666xxdry 6uddf7dt56f7uddddcccdry 66 dry 6 duct dry 66666 dry dry dry 7c66 dry 6 Sry 66ttxxvdry 6666 Dr c6ddx strap 655555 cry du 6 du dry cyc cut 6 dry dc 6dddxxxx5ccuuxxccc6 CT 666tttcuddy 666 dry 5d dry dry t,6tttcut 77fffCT 77xxxv6ccyccccct6cccfdddcccc66 y dye dry t dry 66ccccc 666 du 6 Duffy u cry D87 xd6 cry 7dd6v u7.5 u7c CT 7 it 7 cry 7i6 cry cycle xc7xcu. 

Well, that was interesting. I drifted off while typing (this is all being written on my phone) and I didn't get to the final word of my sentence, "Ushuaia", before the phone fell onto my chest. The random letters are the result of the touchscreen resting on my chest while I was in a short but deep sleep. I decided to let it stay. 

The wind is roaring but the rain has abated for now. Now that I've stopped moving and have time to let my mind and body settle, I realize I'm exhausted. The endless pack, unpack, sort, balance, rearrange, and meeting tight deadlines for four days now have taken a toll. Soon though, I'll be aboard the Ocean Endeavour which, right on schedule, has docked - alongside five other ships. It's a busy day in the port of Ushuaia.

Thursday, December 1, 2022 - Presidio de Ushuaia

I was lucky to catch the 11:00 shuttle into town, a half dozen people couldn't get on and were stuck at the hotel unless they got a taxi. Starting to meet some shipmates, all from Australia so far so that should up the fun factor. They informed me that Intrepid, which is clearly the senior partner with Chimu, targets the Australian market so I suspect those of us from the USA will be in the minority. 

I spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon walking around Central Ushuaia. It's a mix of tourist shops, eateries, pubs, and museums. The number of young people roaming the street suggests to me that Ushuaia is one of the "cool" places to be - unless you're more inclined to tropical beaches and resorts. Most of my time was spent at the Museo Maritimo y ex-Presidio de Ushuaia. A former prison now turned into a maritime and prison museum. 

The place was foreboding, very much like Alcatraz in San Francisco - it was also fascinating. About 5 minutes after I paid my admission the power went out and that just added to the "ambiance". Fortunately, there was enough ambient light to see the displays which honored early explorers, the whaling industry, shipwrecks, those who lost their lives in the waters between Ushuaia and Antarctica, and, of course, the prisoners. Walking the halls and entering the cells invoked the feeling that being sentenced to do time in Ushuaia was most likely a death sentence.