¡No quiero morir!

"¡No quiero morir! - I don't want to die!" shouted the young Mexican as the waves around our little boat got higher and higher. We raised our glasses filled with warm beer and toasted him back, trying not to spill a single drop.

So far, the trip on the Beagle Channel had been nice but uneventful. We had visited a rocky island and watched sea lions, then we circled the small lighthouse alongside another five boats. Later we stopped off at Bridges Island and had a quick wander around looking at the Patagonian and Fueginian (we were in Tierra de Fuego after all) fauna. The mighty south-westerly wind was tearing at our windproofs and our guide crouched down to show us how the indigenous people had sheltered from it between the bushes. If it hadn't looked incredibly stupid, we would have given it a shot. They didn't have five layers of Gore Tex and fleece to keep them warm, in fact, they were just covered top to bottom in sea lion grease. Only when the early missionaries forced civilisation upon them, their health began to deteriorate. Once their clothes got wet, they became ill - oh, and the obligatory viruses they hadn't been used to, didn't help either. Interesting fact was, that only the women would swim in the Beagle Channel and the entirely naked men didn't ...


Our nutshell, the Ché Guevara, was still bobbing up and down as we handed our glasses over for a refill when the unimaginable happened: the engine stalled. Quick glances where exchanged as the captain climbed into the hull. The engine was not going to come back on. This time it was my turn to shout ¡No quiero morir! - and it was not well received. Eleven pairs of eyes told me to keep stumm. After some frantic phone calls, help was on its way. A yacht on the way to Ushuaia towed us back home but it was a rocky ride. The waves battered the boat and the beer we had just had, made itself felt. And in the harbour, we had to change into Ché's sister ship, the Tango. Oh, you know when you're been tangoed. ;-)

This is the "End of the World"

Okay, not really. The world is round, I'm told, so there is no beginning and there is no end. BUT, in terms of having reached the end of the road, the end of a country, the end of a continent, it definitely holds true. Ushuaia is the southernmost town in the world. Going south from here means a few Chilean islands that Argentina would like to call her own and Antarctica - quite a few people actually set sail from here. The close distance to the South Pole is felt and there are suitable souvenirs to bring home: thick fleece jackets, T-shirts and penguins in every shape, size and colour.

Sitting in a small café in the main street, I notice a large map on the wall. There is just one tiny thing wrong with it: Antarctica is actually missing. The map is old and by then it probably still needed discovering.

When we had crossed the Magellan Strait a few days earlier, some black and white dolphins swam in our bow wave accompanying us for a while. We were glad to be in Tierra del Fuego (Land of the Fire) as the monotonous Patagonian steppe was due to come to an end giving way to trees, lakes and snow-capped mountains. This made a welcome change. Unfortunately, there are lots of dead trees caused by beaver damage. Many years ago some clever clogs had the idea of introducing a couple of beavers to Tierra del Fuego in order to make it attractive for fur hunting. However, the beavers' fur changed for the worse and they started to breed uncontrollably. A single beaver fur now brings only 50 Pesos, which is little more than ten bucks. The population explosion of the beavers is only rivalled by the growth of Ushuaia itself. Some 20 years ago there were just about 10,000 inhabitants and nowadays it is pushing 100,000.

The weather is not too bad either. A little windy, though. I might just have another look at those fleece jackets.*

*I have been bad. I bought some penguins in the end ...