On the Road (from Ushuaia to Puerto Natales)

* this entry from 2/24 *
The Freedom of the Lambs, Bus Ride
A sleepy part of town is visible under the orange glow of street lamps. The beagle channel is invisible under the dark sky. Upbeat music is playing, it sounds like merengue. Monkey is in my pocket. From my seat only a few feet of road is illuminated at a time.

A connection at Rio Grande, an espresso, and new bus later, I'm back by a window. A green uniformed man inspects customs forms. This bus will cross the border into Chile, ending at Punta Arenas.

The gentleman next to me underlines words in his book by Yrigoyen. The bus attendant serves passengers coffee and pastries. As I eat and write, a seemingly endless scene of honey colored grass, grazing sheep, and electric poles is shown out the window. A lone creature appears in the scene. It looks like a cross between a llama and a gazelle.

(Later it's confirmed to be a Guanaco, a camelid animal that is native to South America, below is a photo from wikipedia.org)

A stop at a border crossing. The strong wind makes the sign post vibrate, makes flags on poles look like they are deperately trying to rip away. The bus rocks back and forth.

Passengers disembark and walk towards a small building surrounded by vast plains.

On the way a black puppy is spotted. All I'd like to do is pet this puppy, but all she wants to do is eat. Between biting jackets, hands, shoes, and bags, it's decided with the help of two little girls, that we shall name her Hambre-ito.


Through another Boundary Station at San Sebastian where bags are checked and passports stamped -- welcome to Chile.

From out the window the sweeping plains continue to pass by.

I wake up. The ride is bumpy and slow. Ribbed metal barns and pens of sheep with red stripes down their backs. A mama guanaco and her baby.

At the Straight of Magellan, the bus drives up a ramp onto a ferry boat. A truck pulls up next to the bus; it's full of sheep, cramped sheep.


At the upper deck of the ferry, I picture a scene in my head -- The cages of the sheep pens are flung open. Baas and the clatter of hooves. Sheep scatter between the bus and trucks. One, with speed and determination, hauls up the ramp and spreads his four legs in air before belly flopping into the water. Following his lead, a herd of fellow sheep dive off the ferry, some somersaulting and cannon bombing. The Magellan Strait is littered with bobbing sheep heads, all making their way to shore where they'll skip to freedom and eat grass.

Crossing the strait and back on land, the scenery changes slightly, as ostriches and rusted boats deserted on the roadside are seen. More estancias pass by as well as grazing sheep, though I'd like to think these are the ones from off the ferry.



* this entry from 2/25 *
At the Table, Hostel La Estancia (Punta Arenas)

Rather than arriving in Puerto Natales in the dark hours, I decide to spend a night in Punta Arenas, a city which in the mid-nineteenth century was once a penal colony. From the Pechueco bus stop, I walk a couple blocks to Hostel La Estancia.

*

Morning -- tall wallpapered walls and wooden beams. My arms are cold, my body, beneath the thick wool cover, warm.

At breakfast, a woman with rounded features accented by circular glasses serves cafe with milk.

A white-haired gentleman asks if he can join me. He's been travelling on a motorbike with his son. From Nebraska. He's on his way to Ushuaia. When asked what inspired his trip, he said, "it happened over a conversation at the table - we should ride motorbikes in Chile. And from there, the idea transformed to - we should ride from here to Chile."




Small Town Charm, Puerto Natales

On the bus again. I meet a German girl and Monkey meets a Duck.


Dolphins diving in the Strait of Magellan, wildflowers, horses, and windbeaten trees, their postures leaned to one side.



Alas arrival to Puerto Natales, with it's pleasant small town charm and warm people.

After comparing neighboring hostels, Patagonia Adventure is the chosen hub for the next few days.




...at the moment, Restaurant in Puerto Natales
Catching a bus for El Calafate in thiry minutes. Spilled a bowl of pumpkin soup in my lap and blogged during lunch.