Southern Exposure

Sunday, March 29 – Slacker Day # 1

After 140 days, 16,895 miles and 13 countries we had finally reached the end of the world, or to be correct, the southernmost city in the world accessible by road. It’s hard to believe that only 750 miles separate us from Antarctica.

After reaching Ushuaia there was nothing more we wanted to do but sleep, rest, eat and be off the motorcycles for a few days. And we did exactly that.

On Sunday we only slept in until 10 am (yes only!), in order to make the hostel’s breakfast before 10:30, which the lady owner the night before said was “super”. Well, “super” surely means something more than the predictable bread, jam and coffee we thought, dragging ourselves out of bed in hopes of may be finding a fried egg and a piece of cheese on our plates for a change. Wouldn’t that be super?! No such luck. Bread, jam and a super addition of dulce de leche (caramel milk creme popular in Chile and Argentina) was all we were served, and hurried back to the room for more rest.

We watched TV, took naps and lounged until 4 pm, when we were finally able to put on some clothes and walk in freezing cold to the grocery store to get some food for tonight’s dinner which we decided to cook at the hostel.

Ross came over for dinner and we had a nice feast with two bottles of wine. Happy and full we retired to bed early looking forward to another day of slacking tomorrow.

Monday, March 30 – Slacker Day #2

We were looking forward to having a solid home cooked breakfast, so we slept through the hostel’s breakfast enjoying every minute/hour of extra sleep, and made it into the kitchen around 11:30. I cooked one of our breakfast favourites, a cheese and vegetable omellette, and with full and happy stomachs we hurried back to the room to rest some after a tiresome morning.

In the afternoon we walked around downtown browsing the stores for “the end of the world” chachkis. I saw a funny collection of large Easter chocolate eggs that were called “Mamushka,” not “Babushka” (grandma) or “Matreshka” (a Russian wooden doll), but Mamushka, an Ushuaia cross-breed word that does not really exist in Russian.

As always, most of the stores were closed for their 4 hour siesta. We walked down to the water, froze our butts off, and hurried to a chocolateria for a piece of black forest cake and hot chocolate as we waited for the stores to open.

This part of the world is known for its larger than life centolla (king crab), which can be one meter long from claw to claw. Matt is not a fan of seafood, but he graciously agreed to accompany me to a recommended seafood restaurant Freddy’s known for their fresh seafood dishes and particularly the king crab. They even had a tank in the window filled with four huge crabs.

I had two options for the crab, either purchase a whole live crab from the tank (about $60 per kilo) cooked and served with a simple sauce or order “crab natural”, just the meat cooked in a sauce of choice. In as much as I wanted to select my own crab from the aquarium, it was meant for two people and was too much for me to handle on my own. So I went for the crab meat in provencal sauce. The dish was very good, and I actually enjoyed just being able to chow down on the beefy succulent crab meat without having to work hard at it. We also got to watch the waiter fish out three crabs from the tank for a group of Chinese tourists.

After dinner we went back to the hotel planning to get up really early the next morning in order to join Ross for a sunrise hike to the glacier. Unfortunately, some part of the consumed crab must not have agreed with me, and I woke up nauseous in the middle on the night, feeling the need to let the crab loose. Thus there was no early rising for us the next day.

Tuesday, March 31 – Slacker Day #3

After a late but hefty breakfast I felt guilty for wasting away another day, but all I wanted to do was curl up in a warm bed and snooze to the sounds of American sitcoms, the only TV programming we had in English. I am known for my food and sleep trooper abilities, but third day in a row of slackerdom was even a new high for me. Matt was nice enough to allow me this pleasure, and we only made it out on the town by 3 pm.

We visited the Yamana Museum, which had a few sorry display rooms “interpreting” the history of Ushuaia and the native peoples of Tierra del Fuego. As might be expected Europeans wiped out most of the Indians when they discovered the “land of fire,” and today only a tiny indigenous tribe of barely a 100 people resides in Port Williams, Chile across the Beagle Channel from Ushuaia. What surprised us the most was the fact that when the Indians were populating this land prior to 1700’s, they walked around naked, covering themselves only in whale blubber to keep warm. “Clothes” or animal skins were pointless because they got wet in the rain and served a contrary purpose. They only had fur cloaks. Its really hard to imagine going around naked in such brutal conditions. Ushuaia is by far the coldest place we had visited. During the day its been in the high 30s – low 40’s, and we were constantly cold or freezing.

For dinner we decided to take advantage of the hostel kitchen one more time and treated ourselves to another home cooked meal of salad and mac-n-cheese. We finished the night by watching the “Slumdog Millioneer” on the computer. We liked the movie, but thought it was a bit of a stretch that it received eight Oscars, including one for movie of the year. It must have been a slow year for movies.

Wednesday, April 1 – A Special End of the World Park Visit

Today I finally felt completely rested, and willing to get on the bike to see more of Ushuaia. We decided to ride to Ushuaia National Park to the very end of Ruta 3. You really can’t go any further south by road than this.

The ride in the park was pretty. The southern beech forest was outfitted with autumnal colors, covering a wide spectrum of hues from deep browns to reds to yellows. The jagged mountains were looming in the distance as we were passing the swampy bog and the sub-antarctic tundra terrain mixed with dead forest and tiny lakes along the way.

We reached the end of Ruta 3 and walked to the vista point overlooking Bahia Lapataia and the adjacent islands.

We then rode to Lago Roca and sat on the pebble beach enjoying a pristine mountain lake view.

We had a reason to celebrate, so we treated ourselves to a fancy dinner at Kaupe, a “hands down the best restaurant in Ushuaia” according to our Rough Guide, located in a family home with a good view of the harbor.

My crab incident didn’t stop me from ordering a crab and spinach soup as a starter, and sea bass baked in parchment paper for the second course.

The food was good, though I found it to be a bit overpriced for its simplicity. I never understood why some high end restaurants serve $30 entrees without a side dish. When i decide to splurge on a nice meal, I look for a complete culinary experience and think that the chef should be able to pair my fish with a suiting side dish.

I helped myself to a piece of roasted potato from Matt’s peppered stake dish. We shared a bottle of tasty Rutini Sauvignon Blanc during dinner and finished off our meal with a glass of dessert white wine. The bill was quite hefty, but since it was our “we made it” celebration dinner, we quickly got over it, and fell asleep as soon as we hit the bed.

Thursday, April 2 – Farewells

We were determined to be more productive for our last day in Ushuaia. The weather didn’t cooperate and today was the gloomiest and rainiest day since our arrival here. We thought about visiting Harberton, a famous estancia 85 km east of the town, where the descendants of one of Ushuaia’s founding families still live, and offer tours of the estancia museum. However, riding in the rain did not seem like a worthy expedition on our last day, so we opted instead for a 2.5 hour boat tour along the Beagle Channel, which departed at 3:30 pm. We thought we’d finish up our shopping before the tour, but discovered that all stores were closed until 5 pm due to a Malvinas/Faulkan Islands War memorial day.

Disappointed, we headed towards a chocolateria only, predictably, found its doors tightly locked. We saw a badly damaged BMW 1200 with Texas plates parked outside of a hotel. The front tire was flat, all the controls were bent or cracked, but miraculously the windshield was in perfect condition. We felt compelled to meet the owner, thinking he might appreciate sharing his story with fellow riders. We walked into the hotel and saw his tank bag and helmet in the lobby, but no sight of the rider. We left our card with the receptionist asking her to tell him we would be across the street at the only cafe open that afternoon.

When Paul walked in 20 minutes later in his riding gear, he was looking for something or someone else and hadn’t actually gotten our message yet, but we spotted him right away and invited to join us at the table eager to hear about his ordeal. He refused lunch, which as we later agreed was awful and overpriced, but Paul’s story was worth every penny. Like Matt, Paul was originally from Houston and started his trip in January. Like us, he did the toughest rides in Bolivia and made it all the way to Tierra del Fuego only to crash 20 km outside of Ushuaia, when his front tire blew up as he was traveling at 70 miles an hour. The bike was toast, but thankfully Paul escaped without a single scratch. We shared more road stories and wished we could meet up for drinks later, but it wasn’t meant to be.

It was time for our boat tour, and the minute I stepped onto the large catamaran I felt dizzy as it was swinging hard left to right in the stormy waters.

Our voyage itinerary on the Beagle Channel consisted of a visit to two tiny islands inhabited by a variety of seabirds and sea lions. They seemed to occupy every inch of the rocks with clear divisions and understanding of each others’ territory. From afar, I mistook the birds, with their striking black an white coats, for penguins. I was so sad to learn that we were a month late to be able to see huge colonies of Magellanic and Gentoo penguins that this part of the world is home to. Unfortunately, they leave to travel south in March, and the few ones we saw in Chiloe from the boat were a big teaser that made me imagine how much fun it must be to walk amongst hundreds of these adorable darlings and watch their comical antics. I don’t share the same enthusiasm for the sea lions however. We have seen so many of them in the Gallapagos that they hardly amuse or bring a smile to my face anymore.

The boat tour concluded at Faro Les Eclaireurs, a lighthouse that is erroneously called the Lighthouse at the End of the World (there is another light house that is further south than this one) and is one of Ushuaia’s iconic images.

On the way back we were passing close to the shores and were fascinated by funky trees covered partly in grey moss and leaning heavily one way in the direction on the constantly blowing wind.

When we were pulling up to the town we were greeted by Ushuaia’s crafty slogan: “The End of the World, The Beginning of Everything.”

Being on the boat in the Beagle Channel was the perfect way to finish our stay in Ushuaia. I was glad we went with the shortest tour though, as after 2.5 hours I was eager to get off the rocking boat onto a steady ground.

Later that evening we met Ross for our farewell dinner at Pizza & Pasta restaurant with less than memorable food and terrible service. Ross is going to stay here for a few weeks before heading north to Chile to continue shooting South American cowboys for his portfolio. We said our goodbyes, and realizing that after all this time (we first met Ross at Lake Atitlan in Guatemala) we had not a single picture together, we agreed to stop by his hostel in the morning to get a photo with Ross and his travel companion Jerry, a 38 year Volkswagen beetle.

Back at the hostel, we did some packing, paid the bill receiving hardly a discount we were so counting on for our 6 night stay, and went to bed much later that we were hoping. We had plenty of rest in Ushuaia and were finally eager to be back on the bikes to head south towards Buenos Aires.