Welcome to Patagonia

After way too much relaxation at Erratic Rock in Puerto Natales, Chile, I finally headed to the park. Torres del Paine is a National Park in southern Chile and is the biggest tourist destination in these parts. This locale is also a part of Patagonia, which is an area covering a big chunk of South America, south of Buenos Aires and Santiago, the vast majority of which is Argentine soil, but a sliver of which is Chilean.

From Puerto Natales, you can take a bus to the park which will drop you off at any of several points therein, or you can rent a car and drive yourself. I rented a car, since I  knew I would want to stop at about 375 spots along the way to take pictures. Once in the park, you can camp, hike, stay the night at a refugio—basically a lodge, and there are several in the park—or, as I did, sleep in the back seat of a teeny-tiny car. I knew it would be an uncomfortable night, but it was only one night, so I also knew I could tolerate it.

About half way to the park—it's a 2-to-3-hour drive—the pavement ends and the gravel and dirt begin. From here on in, it's all washboarding and a bit slower going. Before entering the park, you can either split off to the left and drive toward the ferry, which transports you between two areas within the park, or you can stay right and come into the park from the East, if you're interested in going straight to "the towers." That's the way I took, but I didn't know exactly where I was, although I had a map with me that I had purchased in Puerto Natales.

I paid the 15,000-peso entrance fee—just over $33—got a small, paper park map, and proceeded into the park. I drove for a while, actually feeling a bit depressed, feeling lost, and not knowing where I was going. I finally pulled over when I saw a small tour bus on the side of the road—the kind for photographers, based on all the guys standing near the road with tripods and SLRs—and asked where I was, as I couldn't pinpoint my location on the map. The driver showed me where we were and where a couple good spots would be to spend the night in preparation for sunrise, if I wanted to shoot the towers.

With that, I turned around, went back to the entrance, asked the ranger if I could get back into the park in the morning without having to pay again, and, upon receiving a "yes," proceeded out of the park entrance. Shortly thereafter, I hung a left and headed toward Cascada Paine, a set of rapids along Río Paine. I pulled over at the rapids, shot for a few minutes, then continued onto Laguna Azul, where I spent the night, overlooking the lake and rocky peaks of the park.

After arriving at the lake, I built myself a sub with ham, cheese, and mustard, ate some Kryzpos—think of them as Latin American Pringles—and gulped down a bit of the Coke from my previously-opened one-and-a-quarter-liter bottle. Be warned. After you open a bottle of Coke, driving on washboarded roads ruins it. Whatever zip my Coke had, it had no longer.

By this time, it was dark out. I was feeling a bit restless, but couldn't quite muster the discipline to write in my blog, which had been my plan. So, I read a story from The Best Travel Writing 2006 and then watched an episode of Family Guy on my beloved laptop. I was getting cold, so I crawled half-way into the sleeping bag I had rented from Erratic Rock—they  rent all the gear necessary to hike and camp in the park—and watched a couple more episodes of Family Guy, while sitting up in the small back seat. Even though it was a bit early when I finished with the Griffins, I turned out the lights and crawled all the way into the heavy bag. I had brought a full-blown pillow from the hostel, so my head had a nice place to rest—necessary insulation from the steel wheel well.

A few times during the night, I woke up, feeling rather uncomfortable being forced to sleep in the fetal position for eight hour straight. Rolling over onto my back and lifting my legs forward and up toward the ceiling helped me to stretch them out. This drill happened repeatedly during the long night, but I awakened in one piece when the sun began to illuminate the landscape through the clouds. I started the engine to get some warm air and get rid of the condensation on the inside of all the windows, then fixed another sub, ate an apple, and put the sleeping bag away.

It had rained some during the night, but never rained during the daytime for either of my two days there. I heard many good reports from other travelers during my time in Puerto Natales about favorable weather in the park. I experienced the same thing. Although some people might consider clouds bad for photography, I think they added some nice atmosphere in my shots. The viewer can form his own opinion.

After shooting for a while near where I slept at the lake—both up on the small cliff overlooking the lake and down by the shoreline—I climbed into the car and headed down the road which had brought me along the shore the night before. Within about a hundred meters, I saw a really cool tree and stopped to take more photos. This kind of thing can make for really slow going. Unfortunately, the sun wasn't quite what I wanted, so I hopped back in the car to keep warm and read another story from my book, waiting for the sun to hit the tree and grass in front of me just so. When the sun peeked through the clouds, I jumped out and got the shot.

On the way back to the park, I stopped at Cascada Paine again and took a few shots, went to another spot along the river that I couldn't resist and snapped the shutter several times there, then proceeded back into the park. After showing my receipt from the day before, the ranger let me back in without a hassle.

At this point, I just drove through the park and stopped where I saw good shots. At one point, I saw a heard of guanacos with the mountains in the background. I hopped out, and shimmied down a hillside to get in a better position, then started shooting.  The problem, again, was that I wasn't getting the light I wanted. I had left my cap and gloves back in the car, so after about ten minutes of waiting for better light, my hands were going numb. High winds were a contributing factor. Eventually, the sun came out and I got a few really nice shots with the animals and mountains. Well worth the brief suffering.

One thing I should mention here is my photo situation. My camera bag got stolen in Buenos Aires, so I'm missing a bunch of photo gear that I used to have with me.

I'm currently missing the focal length range from 24mm to 70mm which is a range that I would be using a lot. It's a royal pain not having it. I'm currently shooting with a Nikon 14-24 f/2.8 and a Nikon 70-200 f/2.8—both great lenses, but not covering the entire range I want and need. Any photographer that just says to use your legs to zoom is just ignorant, possibly from smoking too much crack. In many cases, zooming with your legs is impossible, and besides, it changes the perspective, which is the first thing you establish when getting a shot.

I also lost the quick release plate that attaches the camera to the tripod. The only option I had was to buy a new tripod head in Santiago, Chile. It's the Bogen/Manfrotto 486RC2. I paid about $122 for it in Santiago. In the States, it goes for $68.95. Although it doesn't compare with my Arca Swiss B1, it is sufficing for the D40x. When I mount the 70-200 f/2.8 on the camera, it is marginal.

Also, the Nikon D40x doesn't have a cable release socket, so I'm having to use the timer frequently, which, on the D40x, is a pain. You have to go into the menu to set it for every single shot for which you want to use it. And, in general, the D40x is just a much more difficult camera to use than the D3. The D3 is a very natural, easy to use, responsive camera, with a wonderful user interface. I guess you can't really compare a $500 body with a $5,000 body. Hey! At least I brought the D40x as a backup body! Things could be much worse.

By this time, the car was getting very low on gas. I was told I could make it to the park and back on a tank, but that wasn't going to happen, so I headed out of the park, continuing to stop where I saw a nice view in the rear-view mirror.

I had driven through a town along the way, Cerro Castillo, and hoped I would make it back that far and that they would have a gas station. Running on fumes, I got to the little town. There was some roadwork going on nearby, so I asked the flagger if there was gas in the town. He pointed down the hill leading into the town, so I headed that way.

After driving down what appeared to be the main street—all the streets were dirt—I was wondering if I was going to find gas. This was a seriously small town. Eventually, I saw a sign with a picture of a gas pump on it mounted on the fence next to a house. I pulled through the gate, turned off the car, and knocked on the door. A little girl answered. I asked if I could buy gas here, and she pointed to a couple little shacks about fifty meters away. I pulled over to the first one as the mom walked over to it. She walked around to the back of the shack, opened a little door on the front—about twelve inches square—and poked the nozzle through. She then proceeded back around front and pulled the nozzle out and over to the car, where she pumped me some petrol. I told her I needed enough gas to get to Puerto Natales and she asked if ten liters would be okay. She said it would cost 7,900 pesos and I said that would be fine. I'll do the math for you. It's about $6.65 per gallon. I paid about $17.50 for the ten liters, but that got me back home easily. Not a bad price for peace of mind and for not running out of gas in the middle of nowhere.

Down the road a ways, there was a guy standing on the side of the road with a backpack, sticking his thumb out. I hesitated, then slowed to a stop. As he walked up to the car, I began to transfer my things from the front seat to the back—camera, lens, laptop, food.

Juan grew up in Santiago de Chile but moved to Puerto Natales in the '70s, where he met his wife. They have two kids, 13 and 15, the older of which has heart problems. Every three months, the government flies them to Santiago for treatment. Juan travels out into the boonies each Monday to work with guanacos and sheep, then returns  home on Sunday, only to head back the next day. His employers feed and house him during the week and also give him meat to take home to his wife and kids in town.

During the high season, the buses run more frequently, but this time of year, he resorts to hitchhiking to get home on Sundays. Today, I'm his ride, which works out fine. I'm going that way and desperately need to work on my Spanish. He spits out Spanish though his partially missing teeth at a pace that is difficult for me to keep up with, but we do manage to communicate at a first-grade level.

I dropped Juan off after pulling into town, then felt my way back to Erratic Rock.

It was a good and interesting couple days. I'm happy with my photos, I didn't run out of gas, I had good weather, I didn't get eaten by any wild animals—there are Pumas in the park—and, ultimately, I didn't get lost. Welcome to Patagonia.

A Guy Named John

John was born and raised in Michigan, part of a boating family. From his youth, he was on the water, sailing and racing, involved in all things maritime. So it comes as no surprise that John became a captain—after a stint in the Marines and a trip to Vietnam—on both tugs and other sorts of sea-going vessels. He was on the water for forty years and in all parts of the world.

After spending the past quarter century boating in Alaska, John retired and went to Latin America. He visited Panama, Costa Rica, and Puerto Natales, Chile, the port city where I've been chilling for the past two weeks. After three months in each of these places, he inexplicably returned to work in Alaska. A few years later, he quit work for good, packed his bag, and headed Puerto Natales, Chile, where he's been living for the past two years.

John is a real character. I've never met anyone like him. He punctuates every couple words with the Lord's name, but I don't think he's much of a church-goer. I think it must come from the water. You know what they say about sailors. He talks about how he needs to spend less money, being retired and all. Too much "horin' and drinkin'."

He introduced me to a restaurant here in town where you can get the lunch special for 1,500 pesos, or about $3.30. It  includes soup, rolls, and a main course like rice and vicuno (vicuña is a camelid, like the guanaco, whereas vicuno is a just a cut of beef).

John likes to take full advantage of the "Tramp Trail," which is to say he likes to hang out at local joints and he makes friends with all the locals—including the police, which may be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on the particular circumstance.

Just a few days ago, he left Puerto Natales for Boquete, Panama, to get a new start and hopefully cut down on some of the drinkin' and horin'. Time will tell, but I think he's already making some questionable connections.

John's Español gets him by, but he's not trying to sound like a native. He was happy being known around here as "alaskano." Now that he's gone, we who knew him like to say some of the things he used to say using the same intonation and roughness he used when rattling off his few common expressions. ¿Comprende? When walking down the street, he commonly greeted people he knew with his American-accented "Hola, amigo." People driving by would honk and shout, "Hey, John!"

It's a bit lonely around here without John, but he left a lot of great people behind. At Erratic Rock, you definitely feel at home, like you're part of a family. Tomorrow, I'll be setting off for Ushuaia and moving one step closer to Boquete. Hopefully I'll get another chance to hang with the alaskano a few months down the road.

My New Travel Route Map

Check out the new map of my travel route by clicking on the link on the right called "Jay's Travel Route."

I'm in National Geographic!!!

Well, not quite. Pick up the May/June 2008 issue of National Geographic Traveler magazine to see my picture of Cristo Redentor in Rio de Janeiro being struck by lightning. This is the first time I've been published, so I'm pretty happy. I'm getting paid enough to cover about a week's worth of travel—not quite the cover of National Geographic, but maybe someday!

Puerto Natales

After arriving in Puerto Natales on the Navimag ship, a few of us grabbed a taxi to a hostel named Erratic Rock. I had e-mailed them before the cruise but hadn't heard back before departing, so I didn't know if I actually had a room or not. As it turns out, they were booked. A lot of travelers—including many from the ship—had to find other places. I and the two guys I was with ended up going to a related hostel just a couple blocks away called  Erratic Rock .5. There is also an Erratic Rock 2, which is a little more upscale, and an Erratic Rock in Punta Arenas.

Erratic Rock was hopping and it was packed full of backpackers to hear the daily afternoon presentation on the main local attraction here, the National Park Torres del Paine. Most of those in attendance left the presentation when it was finished and went directly to the supermarket to buy food for the next five days during which they would be hiking "The W," which is a popular hike in the park, so named because of the shape of the trail when viewed on a map. Many of them also rented gear they were lacking.

Erratic Rock is a great place to hang out. There's a sofa in the entry area where there's commonly a movie playing (out of a selection of maybe a few hundred VHS tapes), people on laptops, and others just relaxing next to the heater.

Later in the evening, I retired to my room. When I entered the house—a common use of someone's house is to turn it into a hostel or hotel, typically called a hospedaje in these here parts—it was completely dark inside. I groped my way upstairs and into the bedroom, trying not to wake my room mate, John, of Alaska. When I woke up in the morning, the house was absolutely freezing. I lit the tankless water heater in the kitchen with a nearby match and hopped in the shower. Apparently I didn't know the trick to getting the water to come out hot, so it was only warm. You've got to fiddle with the knobs just so.

Not wanting to live in a dark and freezing hostel, I moved to another place that day, which also costs less. I've been here for two nights and will stay one more, moving to Erratic Rock in a private room tomorrow, Monday.

Puerto Natales is a town of less than 20,000 consisting largely of hostels, hotels, and hospedajes. It's a place to stay en route to Torres del Paine, Ushuaia, Punta Arenas, and Tierra del Fuego. There are places to stay on every block. You've also got your basic infrastructure, such as small restaurants, markets and various and sundry stores.

This morning after I woke up and took a nice, hot shower, I lumbered into the restaurant—this hospedaje has a small restaurant on the front of it—to eat the breakfast that's included in the per-night price of 5,000 pesos. That's around $12. As I waited for the bread to be brought out, I heard the hushed sound of the TV in the kitchen:

Santo, santo, santo,
Santo, nuestro Señor.
Santo, santo, santo,
Santo, nuestro Dios.

The man of the house was watching a Sunday morning service on his TV. He soon brought out three small, warm, rolls. This somewhat luxurious, as most bread is cold and not infrequently stale. On the bread, I spread either butter—another nicety—or the ubiquitous dulce de leche. After yesterday's breakfast, he thoughtfully asked me if I wanted cold milk. Not being a coffee or tea drinker, I like—in this order—juice, cold milk, or cold water with my breakfast.

The weather here is very inconsistent. Within a day, it regularly changes between rain, wind, cloudy, and clear, with combinations being the usual. Last night, it was very rainy, windy, and cold. This morning, it was cold, windy, and semi-clear. I've been warned that the weather cannot be forecast here, so you really just need to make a plan and stick to it, even if that means getting wet while out in the park.

Having time on my side, I hope I can avoid getting stuck out in some miserable conditions. If the day looks nasty, I'll just wait for tomorrow. At least that's the plan. So far it seems to be working, as I have been able to see some of the town without suffering too much.

I may stay here as much as a couple weeks, as I bide my time waiting for a package in the mail. I have been working with MetLife, my home insurance company and the company with which I have insured my camera gear, to get reimbursed for my stolen property. MetLife has come through with flying colors. They've already cut a check for the theft. I can't recommend them highly enough. I've reordered what got stolen and will hopefully have it shipped to Punta Arenas. Meantime, I'll do some writing, reading, relaxing, and photography in Puerto Natales and the surrounding areas. I hope to receive the package sometime around May 7th. We shall see.

On the Agua, Day IV

We all woke up a bit later today. I got up around 8:30, headed down for a late breakfast, then grabbed my camera gear and went up on deck. Today, we were navigating through some tight spots and witnessing some gorgeous landscapes, as we drew within a couple hours of Puerto Natales.

Pretty much the entire roster of passengers was up on deck enjoying the last day's route and capturing the photons on both silicon and silver halide. We were up there for some time, and I figured there wouldn't be a daily briefing today because 9:30 had come and gone. We did end up having a briefing, albeit a bit later than usual. The crew probably just knows that there's a lot of interest outside at this time and plans for a late briefing on this last day at sea.

After the briefing, I went back to my cabin and packed up all my stuff in preparation for disembarking before too long. We had been told that there might not be lunch on the last day, depending on what time we arrived in Puerto Natales. When the trip starts, they can't say precisely at what hour we'll arrive at the destination, because it is weather dependent, to a degree, and can vary by a few hours. We did, however, end up having a final lunch. What a great way to end the trip.

Again, most of the passengers were up on deck to watch the process of pulling into port and docking. All kinds of things are involved, from small boats to tow the ropes to shore, to anchors, to the captain, driving the ship closer to the dock from a control station on the outside of the bridge, from where he can get a good view of the dock and the relative position of the ship to its surroundings.

Even after we were secured to the dock, we had to wait a while to disembark, as the crew had to offload some of the cargo first, so as to clear a path for the passengers to take through the cargo hold to get to the ramp at the rear of the ship, and thus onto dry land.

In summary, this was a great trip. I met loads of nice and interesting people from around the world, I saw some scenery I wouldn't otherwise have seen, I had loads of good meals, and I got a few days to relax in a comfortable environment—except for the night in unprotected waters. Overall, a great voyage!

 

On the Agua, Day III

By 8:00 in the morning, we had headed back inland and things had calmed down again—what a relief. Breakfast was the same as yesterday—which is to say, just fine.

I took a refreshing nap later in the morning (after the usual briefing) and then got up, put my shell (i.e., windbreaker) on over the top of my fleece, and went outside to take pictures of Cotopaxi, a Greek ship whose captain first sold off its cargo of sugar in Argentina, then grounded and tried to sink his ship here to collect the insurance money. Unfortunately, when he brought the authorities back to the scene of the crime, the found his ship still sitting there, but with no sugar on board. He was thrown in jail.

The weather outside was downright tough, between the crisp temperatures, the light rain, and the blowing wind. I have to admit that it made me think ahead about a month, or so. Actually, with these conditions, maybe it won't be quite a month! The warmer latitudes are sounding mighty good right about now!

Another good lunch, a relaxing afternoon of reading and studying a little Spanish, a good dinner, and the movie Happy Feet made for another relaxing and enjoyable day. I must admit that at least part of the reason this particular post is so short and detail-starved is that I'm finishing it a couple days after the fact. The specifics are all blurring together.

On the Agua, Day II

Doug and Lydia—newlyweds who are spending almost the entire first year of their marriage traveling through Latin America—are my roomies. They're really nice. Easygoing, too. He's an Aussie and she's a Canook. Since there are two bunk beds in this cabin, but only three of us, we have a free bunk and an extra locker—plenty of space for all our junk.

Doug got up around quarter to eight this morning, took a quick shower, and Lydia followed. After they headed down to breakfast, I followed suit, arriving to a line-free buffet. Just my style. I hate standing in line when I could just relax and walk right up to the business end of the whatever-it-may-be after everyone else is done with the whatever-it-is.

For breakfast, we had scrambled eggs, a slice of cheese, a slice of ham, cold cereal, yogurt, juice, bread with butter and jam, a banana, and coffee for those who are so inclined. It was a good and filling way to start the day.

Each day, we're given a morning briefing at 9:30, just to give us some details about where we're headed and what we might see that day. Later in the morning, we saw dolphins and seals jumping out of the water. It was pretty neat, and I got a few mediocre photos. It's cloudy today with a bit of mist in the air on occasion, but it's not as cold as last night, when it was clear.

Just before lunch, Andrea, the cruise director—my term for her—gave a little schpeel about Patagonia and the native people of that area—first in Spanish, then English, the routine for all communication on the trip.

For lunch, we were fed chicken, rice, bread, juice, fruit, and soup—another excellent meal. I sat with Don and Julie and met Martin, a native French speaker, originally from Quebec, but living in Yukon Territory. He works out in the boonies—does that go without saying?—sampling soil and searching for minerals and other desirables for mining companies. When you first see him, you definitely think "mountain man." It was very interesting learning about what he does in the field of geology. Not your typical office job.

In the afternoon, they showed a documentary about some scientists studying glaciers in Patagonia. The scientists flew over the land in helicopters and the film contained some amazing shots of the beautiful and rugged landscape.

About 5:00 P.M., I took my first seasickness pill in anticipation of heading out of the protected channels into the open sea. Walking and even standing on board was difficult, but I think we came through the rough part of the trip without anyone falling and breaking anything. I grabbed my tripod and stumbled to the bridge to take some long exposures out the front windows.

Dinner was at 7:30 and it was an excellent meal of spaghetti, salad, bread, fruit, and juice. Unfortunately, after I was about 10% done with the meal, I was pretty sure I was about to add some more colors to my meal. I excused myself from the table and went outside to get some fresh air—that and find a better place to barf than at the dinner table.

After just a minute or two, I began to feel better. I then proceeded up to my room to take my second pill and lie down—we had been instructed that lying on your side—think fetal position—helps with seasickness as your inner ear functions better in this orientation. I did begin to feel better after the fresh air and lying down. Long story short, I never left my bed until the next morning. It did, however, take me hours to go to sleep.

During the night, things got pretty dicey. I hadn't imagined that a ship could be tossed around so much. At about 3:00 in the morning, the ship took a particularly violent shove from the fluid dynamics beneath. It seemed like the entire front half of the ship came clear out of the water before slamming down into the next wave. You could hear things crashing all over the ship—including my books and other items on the shelf between the beds.

I slept a restless sleep, but came through the night in one piece and with all my stomach contents in tact.

On the Agua, Day I

Not long after having my camera bag stolen a few weeks ago, I decided that I would abandon my idea of traveling throughout Patagonia with my own car. Between the expense and potential complexity of buying a car and now that I don't have a driver's license anymore, I decided to go the traditional route of taking buses and whatever other means I had at my disposal.

A few other travelers in Santiago told me about a ship that goes from Puerto Montt to Puerto Natales, and I thought that sounded like a lot of fun. So, I e-mailed the ship company—Navimag—reserved myself a spot, and gave them my VISA information.

The beauty of flexibility—I just saw a beautiful sunset with Puerto Montt in the foreground, and a couple stunning volcanoes of the Andes Mountains topping off the scene, with seagulls soaring on the winds in the middle of it all. I'm sitting on my bunk bed writing this post as I steam toward the depths of Patagonia on a Navimag ferry.

This morning, I got up at a lazy 9:00 A.M., showered, and had breakfast at the hotel in Puerto Montt. They served a glass of juice, coffee—for those who drink it—two slices of toast, one slice of cheese, one slice of ham, butter, and a couple types of spread for the toast. The e-mail I had received from Navimag said I needed to check in at 10:00 A.M., so that's what I did. I wish it had told me boarding time and departure time, but I went with what I had.

There were several other people checking in at the same time, all with backpacks, apparently on the same kind of trip through Latin America as I am. After checking in and receiving my ticket, I walked about a hundred meters to a different building where I could check in my backpack. That left me with just my shoulder bag so I could walk around town for a couple hours until reporting back to get on the ship at around 2:30.

While checking in my pack, I met Julie and Don from McMinnville, Oregon. They're a retired couple traveling for a few months through South America. They're somewhere between the typical older couple traveling in luxury and the younger traveler backpacking and roughing it. We left the baggage check in area together and began walking along the street to see some sights, but with my photo-snapping, we didn't stay together long.

I peeled off the main street that runs along the waterfront and took a side street that leads into a residential area. I walked uphill along this street for a block or two, then hung a left along an even steeper hill that led up to a ridge line. To get to the ridge, I walked up a set of stairs at the end of the steep street. The stairs let to another street that ran along the ridge. From there, I had an extraordinary view over Puerto Montt, the harbor, and the Andes in the background.

After heading back down, I found a peluqueria (barber shop/beauty salon) and went in to get a shave, as my whiskers had grown longer than I wanted to deal with, figuring they would just clog up my razor. I think the lady dealt more with women than men. After finally communicating to her that I wanted a shave, she went into the back and fiddled around for a few minutes. Beginning to worry, I asked her if she had shaving cream. She showed me her can of shaving cream which was clogged, then went back to fiddling, as though concocting her own shaving potion. Under my breath, I spoke the words to myself, "I'm scared," which I was. She said she was going to put hot water on my face, which she did with blobs of cotton. I guess she somehow figured hot water would be a good lubricant with which to slide the new razor blade across the skin on my face. Long story short, she was pretty careful and I got a halfway decent shave, but the skin on my face is a little irritated right now. It could've turned out much worse.

From there, I headed toward the supermarket to pick up some snack food for the voyage. On the way, I ran into three other travelers I had seen when checking in earlier. After getting my junk food, I met them for lunch. We each had a big bowl of soup and a bit of bread—a decent meal for around $3.

After checking back at the baggage check-in room at the port at around 2:30, we received a little speech about safety on the ship. Shortly thereafter, we all shuffled out to the ship. We stood on a large steel platform which rose to the next level of the ship—kind of like the aircraft elevators on aircraft carriers.

Shortly after settling into our rooms, we all gathered in the cafeteria to watch a safety video, first in Spanish, then English. Then the "cruise coordinator," Andrea, discussed the route we'd be taking and told us what we could expect to see along the way. She also told us when meals would be served. Breakfast will be from 8:00 to 9:00, lunch from 12:30 to 1:30, and dinner from 7:30 to 8:30.

The price I paid was $380, for a room with four beds and a private bathroom, and all meals—and, of course, moving me from Puerto Montt to Puerto Natales. This kind of room is a relatively small premium over rooms without a private bathroom.

After being dismissed from this meeting, I scrambled back to my room, grabbed my camera and a few lenses, and headed out onto the deck to get the light of the setting sun on the city and the mountains. Unfortunately, the ship departed a little bit late, so the sun didn't last long after we were let out of the safety briefing. Most of the seventy passengers were out on the multiple decks taking photos and enjoying the scenery. After about an hour-and-a-half out in the freezing winds, my hands were numb, but I had captured some amazing sights.

Now my hands are thawed and I'm typing at full speed. To close out this portion of this post, I will simply announce that it is 7:30 and I'm going to go eat!

Ciao!

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Dinner consisted of salmon, mashed potatoes, juice, soup, a dinner roll, and fresh fruit (pear/peach), It was a surprisingly good meal, as I had read not to expect too much from the meals on this trip.

A while after dinner, they projected a movie onto a large screen located in the cafeteria/lounge area—Motorcycle Diaries—about Ernesto "Che" Guevera's road trip through South America. For a Commie, he seemed like a pretty nice guy.

It got very cold and windy outside after dinner, but the ship was quite cozy inside, and each room has a small heater for fine tuning your comfort. I'm a bit surprised how much the entire ship constantly vibrates. I guess it's not a cruise ship! I paid bottom dollar, so I shouldn't expect too much. Having said that, the bed was pretty comfortable and I slept well. One of my roommates did wake up at three in the morning when the ship began rocking and rolling a bit. She got up to take a seasickness pill. Overall, a good night.

Signing off for now. Stay tuned for the rest of the three-day tour.

End of the Pavement, Beginning of the Water

The bus ride from Santiago to Temuco was around eight hours and cost $20, and the trip from Temuco to Puerto Montt was around six hours and cost $12. Along that route, I saw lots of cows, some sheep, and some clear-cut with some lumber yards nearby. I've seen lots of ads for Husky and Stihl chainsaws, along with a few actual shops selling the chainsaws, so apparently, logging is a big industry in these here parts.

I arrived here in Puerto Montt around 5:00 P.M., and as the bus pulled into the city, I though to myself that I should've just hightailed it straight here from Santiago. If you've got plenty of time, hit some spots in between. I'm on a deadline, however. My ship sails tomorrow, so my time is limited. I wish I'd spent yesterday here.

With limited light left after the bus arrived, I just threw on my pack and my shoulder bag and began walking around near the bus station to get a few shots of the city, not knowing if I'd have any time in the morning to take some snaps. To get some of the shots I wanted, I really needed my long lens, but it was buried deep inside my backpack, so I called it quits for the time being.

At that point, I began walking around looking for a place to stay. Within a stone's throw of the bus terminal, I found three hotels, all between 12,000 and 15,000 pesos per room. Only one had WiFi—Hotel Miramar—so that sealed the deal. Although 15,000 pesos is more than I like to pay, I didn't have to take a taxi, so it's probably a reasonable trade off.

After dropping my stuff off in my room and digging my long lens out of my backpack, I headed back out to shoot some more while there was still a bit of light. I chatted for a few minutes with three guys hanging out by the water. They told me a bit about some of the volcanoes in the area and seemed to think I'd be seeing some beautiful scenery on my trip through Patagonia. I'm sure they were right. One of them was very difficult to understand. He may have been drunk, but all of them seemed to know the local native language, so some of that may have been mixed in.

There was a skate park nearby, so I shot that for a few minutes. What a great setting for a skate park! Right on the water, with the Andes in the distance.

I'm far enough South now that it's getting chilly. The people hear are bundled up a bit—except for the skaters, who were wearing jeans and t-shirts. My hands were definitely feeling the chill. I should probably pick up a pair of gloves.

Having eaten only a small breakfast—served by my kind host back in Temuco—I was pretty hungry by now. I employed the same tactic I had used to find the hotel—I wandered around. As luck would have it, there was a little restaurant right next door to the hotel. I ordered Bistec a lo Pobre—vacuna meat, a couple eggs sunny side up, and a huge pile of fries. All that for under five bucks. A couple exorbitantly-priced Cokes brought the total to eight bucks. These Cokes were in glass bottles and so were pretty small. In typical fashion, I ate the whole pile of fries first, then moved on to the eggs, and finally the vacuna meat. It was a truly excellent meal.