Author: peregrine

Yesterday, having arrived very late in pitch darkness at the campgrounds at Capitol Reef, I made haste to boil some water with a mini camp stove for a quick meal before curling into the the car to brave the night’s deep chill of these high canyon country. For a while, unable to sleep due to the cold, I marveled at the starlight shimmering through the barren branches of late-winter. The stars were shining beautifully, weaving their line through the lattice-like branches; though sleep was uneasy due to the severe cold, I lodged no complaint on this rare occasion to be at one with the natural order of things.

Before first light, I’d already awoken. No birds chirped, and all was quiet save for my calm breaths filling the lungs with brisk air. For some moments, I remained in almost solemn meditation to await dawn. Slowly, the passing minutes saw the break of day brighten with a subtle rise in temperature; and before 7:30am I revved the engines to warm myself and started the drive to explore the russet cliffs of Capitol Reef.

The park itself is not vast, and the cliffs are neither too imposing, nor too bold; and yet, there was a unique beauty in the play of light and shadow of these red cliffs’ reflection of the winter sun. For some while, I meandered along the pave road, stopping every so often to capture a few photos of the picturesque environs. Every cliff and angle had their own story to tell…of the many years they had witnessed of the passing of sun and moon; through flood and storm, and elemental erosion by the attrition of time. In time, the road transitioned to a wash road, and my wheels slowly rumbled over the uneven terrain, wharving around rocks and depressions.

The fickle weather continuous to startle and impress: it literally is sunny one moment, cloudy the next, and sudden snow drifts even at the peak of summer. This morning I arose to chilly climes and thick cloud cover; however as a few travelers had settled the night before to venture to Tierra del Fuego national park! it remained but formality to brave the cold? a short bus ride later and we arrived at the trailhead after obligatory entrance fees. An official postal outpost situated at the end of a small pier on the shore of the Beagle Bay marked the southern most post station. Inside, a jovial elderly man with mutton chops was more than happy to charge 10 Pesos to official stamp the multitudes of passing tourists with “Fin del Mundo” on their passports, complete with a photo of himself.

After an extended bus journey of about 11 hours from Punta Arenas, I find myself at “the End of the World”. Much of the journey was uneventful, with the landscape varying very little for the first half of the trip. The arid steppes of Patagonia stretch either side into the vast distances, the engine whirs, occasionally accompanied by a palpable gust of wind. Even the ferry crossing at the much-famed Strait of Magellan was rather uneventful. Half the time I was lulled to a soft doze by the sheer monotony and cold weather. In due course, heading further south hugging the shoreline of Magellan, the vegetation grew more lush, sparse abandoned post or two sprinkle the landscape until we crossed back into Argentina. The soft folds of plains lifts into more rugged terrain, deciduous vegetation, and snow capped peaks. By 7pm, the tedious journey makes its final descent into Ushuaia, with almost 5 hours of day light remaining.

The wind seeps through the window pane attend by the drone of sparse traffic of the abandoned streets of Ushuaia on this Christmas Night. It’s another night at a dive hostel– replete with interesting characters;and though others are in a celebratory mood in the common room, I along with a Czech couple are too tired from long journeys to partake in the festive mood. Dinner was a sparse serving of instant noodles and canned tuna (as all services were closed for the holiday). In the distance can be heard the chords of a guitar strumming a merry tune.

After six days of strenuous trekking in Patagonia, the legs are much fatigued. However, to cap off the trifecta of regional national parks, tommmorw I shall hike Tierra del Fuego national park along the Beagle Bay. Although the weather in this region is notoriously capricious, with any luck, there should be some time for a liesurely stroll to appreciate the fauna.

Without fanfare, one chapter necesarily leads to another; and this journey continues on. For three years plus, I moored to steady employment. The familiarity and sparse comfort of my erstwhile drifting abode will now be religated to mere memory. I am much fatigued. The lombard injury constantly gnaws at my spirits, and each muscle feels attenuated from disuse; my mind is noticeably blunted for lack of intellectual persuit and challenges; but financial security that I’d oft times been remissed on is closer at hand. Time will tell if the sacrifice was worthwhile.

After 14 hr delay in Santiago (unable to leave the airport, but just the same, too fatigued to venture forth) I am now enroute to Buenos Aires to connect to El Calafate. At sunset, the flight path crossed over the Andes and one can almost feel the Attacamas desocating the peaks below from the slight turbulance. The moon escorts our journey with each passing mile… come tomorrow, the adventures in the pristine remote southern landscape begins.