Shipping Out for the Land of Fire - Day 1

Morning - 43° sunny - time to meet Luciano at the Wake Up Cafe on Ferrázuriz St. — his suggestion. We see him sauntering toward us, dapper as ever with his panama hat tilted jauntily on his head, heavy leather jacket, confident gait. In the cafe we talk about how his embryonic business is going. He’s eager to get our feedback on the kayaking trip, the horseback riding excursion, the hotels, our experiences generally in Patagonia. Has he done a good job prepping us, making arrangements? We tell him we’ve been very pleased, but fill him in on the small details (showers, food, guests) that might be useful to him as he labors to become the best guide in Patagonia. He asks what we thought about Torres Del Paine, the great peaks themselves, and we assure him we have never seen anything like it, and that was a fact. We did all of this over excellent coffee and hot chocolate, smashed avocado on toasted, fresh grain bread with a perfect poached egg on top. For once, no potatoes.

Later in the day we would meet again with Luciano before departure. Because he had worked for Austraulis in a previous life he wanted to take us right in. Post breakfast we explored more of Punta Arenas, picked up a shirt, wandered into the big town square (all Spanish speaking countries have these) and visited Sacred Heart Cathedral across the boulevard (see pics). The town is neither sleepy nor vibrant, simply inviting.

We hoped to reunite with Perrine and Gaetan, they who had saved us when the Renault clattered free of its battery near Torres del Paine. They were heading back through Punta Arenas from Ushuaia and eventually home to Lyon, France. As they headed north and we made our way south, we hoped to cross paths. Using text and GPS we did find them, but not before bouncing our bags and ourselves down Jorge Montt St., past the monstrous and ugly Dreams Casino to drop our bags on the ship.

Just outside we found our French couple and returned promptly to the Wake Up Cafe where Gaetan sipped an espresso and I gulped another hot chocolate. Perrine, slim as bird, enjoyed a nice chunk of chocolate cake, and Cyn drank water, her favorite beverage. They had driven across the few roads (and ferries) in Tierra del Fuego to the tip of South America just so they could say they had done it. It was wild and beautiful, they said, and I couldn't wait to see where the Austraulis's Ventus took us as it circled and stopped at the fabled outcrop of Cape Horn. Finally, though, it was time to say goodbye, so we hiked over to the docks and bid Perrine and Gaetan à bientôt because we planned to see them again as soon as we crossed the Atlantic and made our way from Lisbon into France.

At the ship, we said a final good-bye to Luciano. We had become good friends by now, what with all of the backing and forthing we had done to arrange getting around Patagonia. I found it difficult to believe we had met him way back in Belize when sailing on Hurtigruten‘s Roald Amundsen where he was working as ship historian. That was a good 8000 miles south where we stood now. We waved good-bye, saying we’d meet again because, with Luciano’s love of travel, that was a certainty. Meanwhile 122 people were boarding the Ventus, nearly all of them looking to us like baby boomers and all from the United States. But we would quickly learn that wasn’t precisely the case.

The ship provided several daily excursions deep into places so close to Charles Darwin’s heart when he sailed the Beagle and began to work out his insights into evolution. We boarded quickly, settled into our berth, and at 8 PM sharp the Ventus pulled out of Punta Arenas harbor. We were, after all of these months, no longer connected to the landmass known as South America. The next morning we would be standing on the enormous island of Tierra del Fuego – the Land of Fire. I watched as we departed. The sky was caped beneath a thin blue curtain, but at the horizon it was clear and delivered a fine sunset, the color of peach. The sea was calm. Dinner was served.