It was feeling just about right, by the time I eventually ditched my mates back in the drab & dreary desolate south lands of
Tierra del Fuego and began the long & tiresome journey north. It had taken me ten wild months and seventeen extra-ordinary days to get to this point thus far (to be precise), and I wasn't about to let the cogs become dwindled with rust all so soon. I was acting a little jaded. Something had to change.
New Years Eve came and went for another year, in typically rowdy fashion. Could
2013 hold up strong against its grand extravagant predecessor?? Sitting by the computer one day; smashing out another shit weather induced coma-rised session, a friendly
Dutch guy (aren't they all?!!) asked me about all the cool things there were to do with ones self down here in
Ushuaia. It was pretty embarrassing when I literally responded with
"ummm...to be completely honest bud, I've done nothing at all." This was my third night in town by this point, and I'd barely left the hostel - no wait, we did
change hostels...that took up the better part of a day of course. I forced myself to take a walk, to scale the steep streets and wander the busy wharf. There was a big sign down near the waters edge,
"El Fin del Mundo!!" (the end of the world); and with this, I gave myself a slight pat on the back for the achievement. Once that was done, I had no further desire to continue any further south. I had nothing else to prove to myself (or to
anyone else for that matter). From here on in I did what I wanted to do; I go where I wanted to go. And for me, that meant getting the fuck out of this cold diabolic.
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| The water front of Ushuaia |
To begin with, I guess I better skim over the antics of
New Years for good measure. As always, I'd got myself a bit overly revved up with anticipation. It's my second favourite day of the year after all (a slither better than an
AFL Grand Final showdown, but nothing in comparison to an
Australia Day Hottest 100 cracker!!), and I'm sure I let everyone around me know it. I'd already become unpopular with the hostel owners; I don't really know why to be honest. One day the crazy bitch was sweeping the floors of the dining area & I hadn't yet noticed - she screamed something illegible at me and I spun around wildly in confusion, only to land a foot square in her pile of trash & dust. I thought she was gonna beat me to death with that broom of hers. There were balls of fire raging in her eyes. I thought she looked like a rat. Anyway, all things aside, we for some reason weren't invited to join the 'family's' exclusive asado that night. They made us revellers feel as if we were invading their private religious underground function. We squeezed into a corner & scammed chunks of bread off the more friendly folk. It was still daylight outside till well after 11 o'clock, and this took a bit of the jizz out of the hose. My alcoholism more than made up the difference, and when
DCTalk called the countdown by his watch I well wanted to jump up on the tables & run down the street with excitement!!
Haha...we fucked that one up hey
Hayes?? The hostel chums didn't take lightly to all this, since
their countdown was to be a few minutes later on the fucking television.
BooHoo'd...we'd apparently wasted the limelight on ourselves; screw 'em!! I'll take two good countdowns any day!! We gave it a second go (with the hostels approval this time), and got plenty joyous.
Now why would the coolest pub in town shut up shop for the first & biggest party of the new year?? And an
Irish pub called
'Dublin'??? Well, as my
Irish friend rightly put it,
"it obviously isn't an Irish pub." Too true!! I'd bought some wristband pass to a festival in the forest somewhere out of town near the
National Park, which was apparently meant to go all night; but since the hostel guys didn't follow through with their promise to hook up my pals with some extra tickets, we decided to all bail to this strange dive not to far down the street. From here things get a little more than hazy. I lost my wallet somewhere (which had in it more cash than normal, stashed away for a bus ticket which I never bought), and then I spent a large part of the night searching high & low for it to no avail.
Shit. Then I fell asleep in the corner, and accidentally smashed a glass.
Whoops. Then
Goldilocks started manging some fat shit. Again,
whoops. He was pleasant & kind enough to take his prize into the reclusiveness of the TV room, along with his camping mat questionably tucked under his arm. Poor boy. He'll be chewing that arm off tomorrow morning. You win bruz. Hands down,
haha.
So it was time to leave the so called 'end of the world,' in search of greener pastures. I'd spent sparingly minimal time alone in the past two months, and I'd become adjusted to
Goldilocks doing much of the overall planning. It was nice for a while, but it makes one lazy; it makes ones
Spanish significantly worse, and being part of a group can tendingly lead to less random interaction with other travellers. It's been fun lads.
Tata for now. I hopped into a
colectivo (as there were no more buses out of town), and pushed on to the sprawling mess of
Rio Grande. I'm pretty sure this place used to be an old oil operation, I could be wrong, but I can't for the life of me figure out why any one would live here for any other reason. The scenery around & out of
Ushuaia was illustrious; my final foothold in the great
Andes for some time I believe - but the soaring mountains soon deminished to parched wastelands; endless flat pampas plains that stretched as far as the eye could see, only broken & made interesting by the odd glimpse of a grazing
guanaco. When I reached
Rio Grande, everything was shut, including the bus terminal.
O' goodie. A plump grandpa out front explained that the offices would be open again within the hour, after siesta of course. I toddled off to find something to munch on; as it turned out - cold empanadas. I still had some time to kill, so I browsed the deserted streets for a place to crash if need be.
Please let this not eventuate!! I was starting to wish I'd simply stayed on a bit longer in
Ushuaia. My trusty travel book had few options listed, but I was sure I would find somewhere.
Never have I not been able to find at least
something to suit in the past. However, this time it looked like I was out of luck. The hostel I was betting on had shut down, and the only other I could find was a smelly expensive rip off. I returned to the bus terminal in a gruff. It was open, but there were no tickets for tonight. Not from all three bloody companies. The only thing they had was an early afternoon bus to
Punta Arenas for the following day.
Great..."ok I'll book that then I guess." Turns out they couldn't sell me a ticket until 5 'clock!!
What the fuck??!! Here is my money!! Take it! I want to buy a ticket from you now, from this office!! Why are you open if you can't sell any tickets?? I'd lost it. I stormed out back into the street and made for the highway at the end of town.
It took much longer than I anticipated to reach a half decent spot to hitch. I still had cuts on the backs of my heels from the final day in
Torres del Paine, and now they'd become re-opened & were rubbing ferociously against my two sizes too small second hand
connie's which I'd found in a bathroom back in
Bariloche. Wind was violently raging across the open sea, slapping me in the face. Things weren't looking promising. After about two hours more or less, standing in the miserable cold with my thumb out, the only car which had stopped had been a young kid who was only travelling about 20 minutes or so down road, and would probably have just beaten the shit out of me with a couple of his mates had I jumped in. This was demoralising. Now it was getting quite late.
Shit!! Maybe now I'd lost that chance at buying the bus ticket!! I cursed my impatience & powered back to the terminal.
Wow...vacation can be
so much fun. Thankfully the devil of a witch had a few tickets remaining; I'm not sure what I would have done otherwise. Still, I had no where to crash tonight, and it had just started pissing with rain. Looks like I was in for a long one.
I hung out in the service station until about 10 o'clock playing solitaire & reading my
Spanish phrasebook. I must have had myself five or six coffees by the time I was made to leave. I came up with a grand master plan to camp somewhere out of town; to wait till just before dark when I could set up my tent and wait the night out. It sounded good in theory, but everything 'out of town' so to speak was miles away, and even when I'd reached these spots I'd most likely be blown away across the windy plains. Change of plans - I find myself a soccer field, park, or a nook on the beach. Dogs went nuts when I'd walk on by their treasured golden gates; every runner in town was out & about for a midnight run - what the fuck was this?? Does anything here ever get to sleep during normal hours?? Just off the beach I found myself a small park with a few swings & a seesaw. It looked like the kind of places we used to hang out 'back in the day' when we wanted to get pissed, away from the prowling eyes of our parents or the fun wrecking cops. So in truth, it probably wasn't the wisest place to pitch. However, there was a restaurant over the fence to where I gathered I could retreat if shit got real. And there the night passed me - in & out of my tent like a paranoid schizophrenic not dosed up enough on tranquilisers. I can't say I got much sleep. At one point a pug came running over to investigate the intrusion after escaping the clutches of its human. I wanted to throw rocks. But then I guessed the owner might because of this choose to call the cops. He buggered off after a while, and in time the sun began to poke over the horizon. I packed up the tent and lay in my sleeping bag along the pebbly beach, relaxing to the sounds of the waves. What a messed up scenario, I could only laugh. It's a good life lesson I guess - things always seem to work themselves out. Tomorrow can only be a better day.
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| Sleepy sunrise at Rio Grande |
And in some ways it was!! The only shop which seemed open for business early in the morning confused the shit out of me when she refused to let me pay.
Ok?? Unfortunately my breakfast consisted of little more than dry bread, fanta & some kind of lumpy yogurt. Maybe that's why. Once on the bus I passed out well good. These two
Swiss guys I'd met somewhere else earlier, chuckled & commented on how shit I looked. Thanks guys. I didn't care by that point. I could have slept anywhere. Another border crossing - another stamp into
Chile. I was losing track of how many times I'd had to do this, and even which country I was in at any given moment.
Woohooo!! Two minute noodles were back!! I stocked up on those babies, then fed the cat my left over sausage. How generous of me. A quick skim over the town proved without a doubt that I wouldn't last here for more than 24 hours; so once again I booked another long bus, and after a night of again doing
nada, got the hell out of there quick-smart. Where o' where was my
Swedish-sweetheart?? Zing-zing, to zig town!!
I had nightmares of missing the bus that morning. That got me out of bed pretty sharp. At the all you can eat buffet breakfast, I managed to eat so much it squeezed the shit right out of me...literally. I couldn't believe it. Had I actually eaten so much bread that I'd shit my self?? Well that was embarrassing. Luckily there was practically no one else in the hostel to witness this misfortune. By the time I'd freshened up, it was time to leave. I quickly paid the supermarket a visit, stocking up on more noodles and bits & pieces for the journey, then sat on the cement footpath chopping up cucumber to put in my ham, cheese & salami sandwiches. Everyone was staring at me. I think I have lost the plot. Well used to it by now - I've long stopped caring. On the bus we were all handed immigration forms for
Argentina (a normal procedure), but for the first time ever I was given a customs form as well?? This was common for entering
Chile, but not
Argentina. Had the new year changed everything?? Was
DCTalk correct in saying we'd now have to pay a massive entry fee for all overland border crossings??
Shit. I didn't want to have to declare my perfectly prepared sandwiches, so I gobbled them all up when I wasn't hungry in the slightest.
Oh no!! What if more shit got squeezed out of my fucked up bowels while stuck on the bloody bus!! This was all too much. As it turned out, I never even got asked to present my customs form, or to have my luggage inspected. What a joke. Now I was a bloated blueberry for no reason other than the bemusement of my bus companions.
Crunching quickly through all that chow meant I didn't have to eat for most of the remainder of the day. Such a shame. Once again I found myself staring out across a busy highway with no idea where the fuck I was.
'Bienvenidos a Rio Gallegos!!' Ahhh, of course. Do you also feel that all these towns are beginning to sound the same?? What now was I to do?? Book another bus outta there I guess!! It seems to be the way of life around these parts. I found a nice place to camp, and set about preparing for a venture into town. Then for some dambed reason my combo lock decided to malfunction once I'd secured it between the zips of my tent. Cheap piece of shit!! More dollars wasted. I hacked the chords apart & restructured the carnage with a little improvisation. And that pretty much summarises my day. How depressing. I did make it into the plaza for a bit, witnessing some kind of teenage mutant ninja turtle break dancing competition. Why was I here?? I had to stumble upon something cool soon surely. Well, in fact I did. Gratefully, cause I may have shortly began to slowly knife myself to death. I guess it is true incredible things tend to happen when you least expect it, and from
whom you least expect it.
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| 5 sandwiches for 18 hours, yiiewww!! |
Now I haven't had the best track record to date with
Argentinians, there even seems to be a large portion of the travelling gringo community who have fared much in the same manner. It's nice when something breaks through those progressively developed barriers, and directs things full circle. After eighteen hours, five salami & cheese sandwiches, and a whole one litre carton of pear juice, I arrived in the bustling sea side town of
Puerto Madryn. I had no idea what to expect from the place, only that it would significantly break up my journey from the south to
Buenos Aires, and that there might be some possibilities for some interesting scuba diving out in the gulf. Instantly I noticed the warmer weather - that was a plus. Hailing from the most southern land of 'the great southern land' itself, you'd expect me to be adjusted to the cold. Well I am. But it sucks. I now realise that. I wanna be surrounded by people wearing nothing but beaters, bikinis & short shorts. The hostels here were expensive, yet ridiculously elaborate. I guess it wouldn't hurt to stick around for a few days & spend a bit of hard earned cash. And who would have thought; before to long I was conversing quite freely in
español (quite terribly still in retrospect), sharing wine & sipping maté with a jolly bunch of
Argentines on vacation. If only
Goldilocks &
DCTalk could see me now. I would have never lived it down. It turns out a lot of these folk aren't so bad after all, if you grab them in the right context I presume. We strolled the busy beach, skimmed along the pier, and chilled in all the holidaying tranquillity - before at least I thought I'd lost another wallet and stressed the fuck out all the way back to the hostel, where they had it waiting for me behind the desk.
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| Is this seriously me sipping on maté?? WTF?? |
The following day was pretty chilled. I took great favour in a lengthy sleep in, and not needing to rush around in a frantic flabbergast. I'd bit the bullet & was planning to fork out for some diving; it'd been about nine months between drinks & I'd been re-dreaming about the splendour of the
Caribbean night after night. This wasn't exactly bath water, but it would have to suffice for now - plus it's not every day you get a chance to swim with
sea lions!! After a quiet night off the booze train, filled in by long games of pool with a hefty looking
Czech IT wizz, the days flipped over & it was time to roll...backwards roll
¡SPLASH! into the icy waters of the temperate world.
Fuck me, this was something different. I was enwrapped in a straitjacket, or so it seemed. A thick primary suit covered my vitals, while the outer doubled-up then fanned out over the rest of my exposed skin. I was even made to don a pair of booties & a restricting head cap - and I soon realised why!! The water was freezing in comparison to my last underwater encounters, and to begin with it kind of took the wind out of me. The gear-up had been quick, and I hadn't tested anything yet such as my mask or fins; then they chucked a 12 kilo belt around my waist.
'For the two wetsuits' they said...shit, I get that but I don't need
this much!! Then I couldn't reach my air gauge...
errr - not the best start or professionalism, but I was under way and happy to be so.
 |
| Down into the depths |
The first dive of the day was down to an old ship wreck (of what year exactly I have no clue), and as we descended it was evident this was to be a completely new experience for me. The visibility was noticeably terrible; not due so much to the water itself, but from all the sediment collected around and on top of the wreck, floating around like air born fragments of newspaper which had been thrown into a blazing campfire. We had to stick close to one another; it would be all too easy to become disorientated. I spent the first 10 minutes or so re-adjusting to life under the sea. All the small things that become unnoticeable habits after numerous repetitive dives were long gone. To be completely honest, I was a little bit anxious & uncomfortable for a short while, but this momentarily passed as the dive progressed. Below the wreck there were huge hiding salmon (at least that's what we were told), and clam like critters clung to the old frame work & chains of the ship. It was an eerie place. At one point we came to a cabin hole in the decking, and our guide disappeared inside for a few seconds, returning righteously covered in some kind of orange rust like debris - possibilities for the future?? I hoped so.
We resurfaced after half an hour or so; I was feeling much more confident by then. I was glad to be back out there. We motored back to the beach, where we picked up half a dozen or so more passengers (some diving others snorkeling), and made for the marine reserve for the days main attraction. Now, back at the dive shop they'd shown me a short video of what you could expect from the outing;
sea lions (lobo marenos, focas) were everywhere to be seen, ducking & weaving between the divers, playing much like puppies. I was slightly sceptical on what we would actually see, but I was surprisingly dumbfounded & utterly stoked with the real-time reality. What an experience!! It was worth all the money within the first few minutes. They were so fast!! They came right up to us with big black curious (almost sad) eyes, chewing on our arms & fins in a playful manner. When we sat on the sea bed, packs of them would circle above us like swarms of giant gnats. Swimming about exploring, we came across many pairs feuding with one another, cartwheeling & gnawing for supremacy; or maybe again it was all just fun & games...so much like a boisterous pooch.
Pug really does = seal. They're one in the same!!
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| Wassup pal!!?? |
At the end of the dive I was bursting at the seams with adrenaline & excitement!! It's quite difficult to put properly into words...so instead, I'm not about to try. Let's just leave it at that hey?? Hours of bus, cold nights with no where to crash, expensive everything, crap weather, crap people & unpredictable bowel movements; it all pays off on pay day.
Thank fuck for that ay?!! Ciao amigoes.
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| The magical underwater world |
A Wonderful World of Tears & Joy, you never know what it's gonna bring ya'...
Best wishes to everyone back in Taz right now dealing with the aftermath of the recent bush fires...Devastating to hear about. Thinking of you all. Take care of the place for me...miss it a mil...
Also a big fuck yea to all the cool Argentines I got to hang out with in Puerto Madryn,
maybe you lot aren't so bad after all, haha.
Nicko. xxx
