TravelStream™ news feed for member rachel_john on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/rachel_john en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Tue, 27 Jan 2009 00:01:30 -0500 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/roundtheworld/1150107660/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/roundtheworld/1150107660/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/roundtheworld/1150107660/tpod.html Tue, 27 Jan 2009 00:01:30 -0500 Planet Circumnavigation. Destination: Asia, Australasia, South America. Drs Rachel and John McGarva tell the amazing story.

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London, United Kingdom

It's quite a culture shock arriving back in our home country, Britain. At first everything seems foreign and luxurious. The first things that we notice are the carpeted hallways (which don't smell very clean), lots of traffic on the roads (with fast cars), and high prices (especially for food). After the waste paper bins in South America, John says that the best thing for him were the "toilets" with their powerful jets of water. Apart from seeing family and friends, the best thing for me is being able to communicate freely with people in English.We plan to stay 2 weeks with Rachel's parents in Crawley, then 2 weeks in Scotland with John's family (and the West Highland Way) before having 3 weeks back to settle in our home in St Neots (near Cambridge). Rachel will begin work on the 1st August whilst John will need to look for a new job. After 2 days in Crawley some Canadian relatives arrive. Christina Wu is related to me through our great grandfather on my mother's side of the family. Having just graduated she is taking a 2 week cruise around Europe. England is their last stop and she has just two days to "see" London. This is quite a difficult task for the capital but John and I will enjoy being a tourist in our own country. It will be interesting to see how the West compares to our travels.Day 1: We start the day by buying a super fast train from Crawley to London. We get off to a good start as there is a summer special ticket whereby a group of 4 can travel for half price. Our One Day Travelcard which includes a return train journey and unlimited use of the underground and buses) costs only 7 GBP/person. The journey takes only 40 minutes and it makes me wonder how long a 50 mile journey in South America would take?There is a heat wave in the UK this summer. When we arrive at London Victoria station there are blue skies. From here we walk around the usual sights: the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, 10 Downing Street, Horse Guards Parade and Buckingham Palace. I feel a strong sense of historical pride as many of the buildings are centuries old and have been maintained in look in good order. Christina studied Design and Art so we visit a number of museums. One of the great things about London is that most of the museums are free. I like the many guides in the National Art Gallery, Trafagar Square who talk enthusiasticaly to the children. One guide asks of the 1000's of paintings in the gallery, how many are painted by female artists. It's suprising for me to learn that there are only around 6. I have always liked the British Museum. Open to the public since 1759 after the death of Sir Hans Sloane for 'all studious and curious Persons'. The renovated Great Foyer is an impressive entrance which comprises a two acre square covered by thousands of panes of glass. In the centre is the old library reading room where Marx and Lenin once studied. John and I eagerly hunt around for the stone Moai statue which was "stolen" from the Easter Islands by British archeologists. This was the most beautiful carved stone Moai which was located in the Orogna ceremonial site. Sadly we find it in a disorganised section called "living and dying" alongside a giant cabinet displaying the average person's lifetimes supply of drugs. Its hard to see the connection unless you concentrate very hard. The 1000's of drug boxes are mesmerizing and most people ignore the magnificent Moai.Our final museum is the Tate Modern, situated along the South Bank of the River Thames. Christina finds this her favourite museum, but for us everything is a little too abstract to appreciate. We end the day by catching a London Bus to the Tower of London, and then squeezing onto the London Underground at rush hour to get to China Town. Nothing much has changed here although the main street in China Town, Gerard Street, does look a little unfamiliar with the multitude of St George's flags to support England at the World Cup. After a delicious meal at the Mayflower cantonese restaurant we head back home on the 10.30pm train. John chats to an Indian lady who has just finished a days work at the office. She looks tired and worn out after working long hours and scorns John as he donates 50p to a young man who begs for some change. We're not used to countries where people are not living in desperate poverty and where there are social security systems to help the needy.Day 2: On our second day my parents take us to some of the royal homes of London. We visit Windsor Castle and Hampton Court. At Windsor a large crowd gathers to watch the changing of the guards. The guards are dressed up in their thick red uniforms and march along the roads looking hot and bothered. Some soldiers play instruments and the military music reminds me of the flag raising ceremonies in South America. Hampton Court was built in the 16th Century and since King Henry VIII it has been used by many of the monachy as their residence. The palace (GBP 12.40/person) houses many regal rooms which have tall ceilings, antique furniture and giant tapestries. The gardens are the highlight of our visit. There are magnificent manicured gardens with trees, roses, ancient grape vines and fountains. The gardens now have a seperate entrance charge (GBP4.00) and subsequently there are few local people enjoying the serenity of the surrounds. To us, life in London seems the same as before. I really do notice that it is a country full of history and tradition. It is a little shocking to see how expensive some of the sights are but it is reassuring to know that you can still visit the museums for free. There is a buzz around the city. It is busy and most people look tired and worn out. One of the most amazing sights is to see how Cosmopolitan Britain is. I am most suprised by the increase in Polish workers who seem to be everywhere. They are young, hard working, efficient and usually very beautiful. It doesn't seem so suprising that they all have jobs.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1193841120/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1193841120/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1193841120/tpod.html Fri, 20 Jun 2008 11:13:00 -0400 Welcome to the return of our travelblog and adventure. We take a break of 7 weeks to complete a trip to Argentina.

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Ushuaia, Argentina

7 weeks into the Argentina trip. And now, writing this, it's practically 7 weeks since we have returned to home. At the time, I wrote an entry for our experiences snow camping in the mountains of Ushuaia, but unfortunately due to the shortcomings of internet cafes, I lost the entry.  That's a pity because now as I sit recovering from a Russian interrogation at customs, on an aeroplane bound from St Petersburg to London, I have to rely on my longer-term memories. We begin our adventure on Wednesday morning. We walk from Hostel Lupinos through the snowy streets of Ushuia to the mountain guide's shop. We meet again our handsome guide, Daniel, along with two other clients, a young French couple, and take a short drive to the valley behind the jaw-droppingly beautiful mountains which backdrop the city.Our plan is to trek up Oveja Valley behind Ushuaia, climb Mount Tonelli Falso, sneak through Paso Oveja , and return via Valley of Andorra. Day 1:The three day trek begins by following along an old horse track and after the first three miles, we are all caked in wet and slimy mud. We see a few farmers paddocks and plenty of horses, but it is difficult to see any mountains because of the cloud. Daniel tells us that this is his first trek of the season. He is actually the chief guide, so we feel that we are in safe hands. He is bounding with energy and keeps pushing us on to reach our camp before the weather becomes any worse. 6 hours later we are still trekking at a fast pace. We have now entered the woods. The path has become narrower with less mud, however trees cross our way and there's plenty of scrambling. As we start ascending to the snow line, the sun pops out. It's beginning to become really hard work carrying our heavy backpacks containing tent and food supplies but the view of the surrounding mountains are beautiful. It gets a little more scary as we cling to a skinny path which circles around one of the mountains. There's plenty of long grass, trampled by the snow and I feel that the risk of slipping is getting a higher with each step.  On the far side of the mountain we excitedly wait to see the first view of Laguna Caminante where we will camp for the night. John and I are really tired. First we notice that a lake is not there and second, there has been a huge avalanche along the path which is supposed to descend to the so-called lake.  Daniel informs us that although this is the 1st trek of the season, he did not expect any avalanches. The lake is also totally frozen over. A strange occurance for this time of spring. We have 2 choices. Either to return along our narrow path and camp in the woods, or to descend down the avalanche (via a waterfall) and camp in the snow.  I prefer to return, but everyone else wants to camp in the snow. It is actually a lot easier to get down to the lake. We see some wild geese drinking at a small water hole. Everything is white and we are still surrounded by mountains. We set up camp in the snow under some antarctic beech trees.  During the night, we squeeze into Daniels tent for dinner, huddling together for warmth. Dinner is not very good as we have pre-packaged pasta with sauce. To my disappointment, I find that I have been carrying in my food bag about 1kg of sugar. This is typically so Argentinian. Day 2: Snow campNo one sleeps well during the night. It begins to snow heavily. At first it's quite romantic but as the night temperature drops, so does our mood. I spend the whole of the next day feeling tired and miserable. The weather has become so bad that we can't even go for a walk up any of the mountains. About a metre of snow has fallen.We tentatively try walking across the frozen lake, but there's no where to go and it's so cold.  Daniel holds an emergency meeting. If the weather improves during the day, then we will attempt to return to Ushuaia along our original route.  The weather doesn't improve. Instead, it seems to get worse. We leave footprints several feet deep in the snow and it's scarey to see them disappear after a couple of hours. It's almost as though we do not exist anymore. Day 3: Return to UshuaiaOvernight I seem to adapt to the cold and actually sleep quite well. This is suprising considering that I slept most of the day aswell.  We have a quick breakfast of biscuits and then wrap up our icy tents. It's still snowing and I wonder whether I can still feel my fingertips.  The hike back to Ushuia is easier than I imagined. We do not return along the avalanche route, but trek across the lake and then down back into the woods. Sometimes when crossing the lake, I feel water breaking through the ice but we keep moving at a fast and steady pace. Some of my steps sinkover a meter into the soft snow.  Soon we begin to relax a little. The snow is actually fun. When in the woods, the slightest vibrations send the precariously perched soft powder which is nestling on the tree branches onto someone. It does not hurt, but it looks really funny.  As we descend the proportion of white decreases. After the snow line I feel really hot and start trekking in my t-shirt. We push through the small branches as though returning from the world of Narnia. Gradually we begin to see signs of life - green buds on the trees and then leaves. We finally reach the road where we were dropped off 3 days ago. It feels as though we have been away for a week. It feels nice to return to the town for a hot shower and the warmth of a bed. It was a cold and harsh experience of survival, but nonetheless, I still have fond memories. 
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1193523120/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1193523120/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1193523120/tpod.html Sun, 23 Dec 2007 16:44:35 -0500 Welcome to the return of our travelblog and adventure. We take a break of 7 weeks to complete a trip to Argentina.

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Rio Gallegos, Argentina

Rachel: Most people don´t stop in the coastal town of Rio Gallegos unless they miss a connecting bus. Our friend, Gaelle, got stuck and told us that it was one of the ugliest towns of her trip around Argentina. Despite this, we make a conscious effort to stay at least one night as we have read about the Pioneers museum which describes some of the early Scottish immigrants who moved from the Falkland islands to start a new life in Patagonia. Another reason to stay is to break up our long journey to Ushuaia. After 12 hours on an overnight journey in a very cold bus we say goodbye to Phill as he hops onto another 12 hour leg to take him to the deep south of Tierra del Fuego.We find a list of the towns hotels from the tourist information office in the bus terminal. There are no hostels so we chose the 3 star Hotel Croatia. Its not too cheap at 140 Pesos/night (22 GBP) but we find it a meticulously managed with a huge spotlessly clean, king sized room.    We spend the first half of the day along with what seems like the rest of the town in the Chinese Restaurant. There is an 'eat all you can' buffet for 35 Pesos (5GBP) and although there are plenty of chinese stir fries, vegetables and noodles, we find ourselves enjoying the Parilla (or BBQ). We stock up on 3 plates of main courses and 2 desserts, making up for all the rubbish food we have eaten over the past days. The second half of the day is spent wandering around the town, trying to walk off some of our lunch. The town has a neglected feel with lots of derelict buildings beside the river and vandalised and scruffy war memorials. John: It´s now 25 years since the Falklands war. Rio Gallegos was used as a military base and during the war it was often on high alert . The people had curfews and blackouts, and suffered greatly from a vacuum of information during that terrible period. The propaganda machine informed them they were winning until it became clear that they had lost. And proportionaly, this town lost more than any other in Argentina. It now feels like a lost and forgotten place, with a few shabby war memorials. Argentina has still not come to terms with the war. Nowhere can you find the facts written down clearly. The state puts up big signs saying 'Las Malvinas son Argentinas'. But the Argentinian people seem ambivalent. The state claims its right to Las Malvinas but I don't understand the logic. The Falklands was populated with Brits from the earliest days of its discovery. Firstly it was a whaling and sealing station until that resource was depleted. It was then Scots who were first to succesfully introduce sheep farming there and make the place viable once more. The people there don't want to be part of Argentina, and have a British way of life. The future of the island should always be in the hands of the islanders. And they, for economic and cultural reasons, want to remain part of the UK. One museum in Rio Gallegos, explaining why the Malvinas belong to Argentina, is closed for restoration. It has been 3 years since it was last open. It looks like I'm going to have to wait a while to find an Argentinian who can explain the logic of the claim.The same Falkland Island Scots along with some Croatians and Italians came over to Patagonia and were the first to collonise the wilderness where the Ona tribe were hunters and gatherers. They founded sheep farms in the harsh and remote wilderness, and despite the hardships were succesful. It was only after they arrived that Buenos Aires sent reluctant officials down to stick an Argentinian flag in the ground. All this just 100 years ago or so. And so this part of Patagonia became to belong to Argentina. It could just as easily have become British or Chilean. Rachel: It takes three attempts until we finally find the door of the Pioneers Museum open. The museum is located in the oldest house in the town. The house was built in England and then shipped to Punta Arenas before it was transported by horse to its current position. The rooms have been tastefully decorated bearing some of the original furniture and photos of the Scottish families that bravely moved over to start a new life. Upstairs there is a photo of a young lady called Catherine. In the 1950's she rode on horseback from Buenos Aires to Rio Gallegos. Later, she cycled from Rio Gallegos to Punta Arenas and up to Mendoza. Her marathon events were unusually extreme at the time. We have an interesting discussion with the guide, Roberto. An atypical Argentinian with long hair and dressed in black. He is a heavy metal fan who loves speaking English and playing the bagpipes. He tells us that this land was once inhabited by the Scottish who came over to farm Sheep in Patagonia. It was only when it started to look like they might profit from the land that both Argentina and Chile became interested themselves in owning these inhospitable places.    In the evening we are still too full we eat. We buy some cakes from a local bakery and chill out in the warmth of our hotel.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1194622740/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1194622740/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1194622740/tpod.html Tue, 20 Nov 2007 03:38:33 -0500 Welcome to the return of our travelblog and adventure. We take a break of 7 weeks to complete a trip to Argentina.

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Cape Horn, Chile

Rachel's bold request to get more time off from her employer in order to go last-minute to Antarctica is turned down. So we decide to do something else memorable to round off our trip to Argentina. What could be more fun than sailing round Cape Horn in a yacht?Cape Horn is a graveyard for ships. There is a map on Los Lupinos hostel wall that indicates with little red symbols each of the shipwrecks in the area. There are too many to fit neatly on to the map and the whole area around Cape horn appears asa bright crimson splodge.Never having been on a sail boat before (except tooling around on surf cats in Western Australia), 5 days on some of the roughest seas on the world seems quite daunting. But we find a few companies offering the trip and I reason to myself that it therefore cannot be that difficult. Most of these companies are small outfits; yachting enthusiasts who make some money from taking paying crew onboard for a few days. Clearly quite easy then...Before leaving for our epic snow camp in the mountains behind Ushuaia, we contact one&nbsp;yacht operator, a German called Wolf Klosse, who runs these trips in his 13 metre yacht Santa Maria. http://www.simltd.com When we get back to Ushuaia we hear the good news that he can fit in a trip round Cape Horn in our last 5 days.&nbsp;We walk the 15 minutes down to the tourist pier where Santa Maria is docked. The weather suddenly changes and we spend 10 minutes trudging through horizontal snow. We are used to this punishment in southern Patagonia.At the boat we meet Wolf, the enthusiastic and friendly owner. For most of the trip we will be in the hands of Jochen, a 24 year-old dreadlocked German, who is 2nd mate.&nbsp;Jochen's dark eyes and the maritime setting make me think of Johnny Depp. The captain is George, a 58-year-old Chilean who's classic mustachiod looks remind me of General Pinochet. Wolf explains that a recent change in the law means that you have to have a Chilean captain on board when sailing in Chilean waters. Wolf managed to prise George from his precious king crab fishing boat in order to undertake these tours. Wolf is also annoyed at this change in the law since he's been sailing here for 15 years and knows the place like the back of his hand.&nbsp;He is dealing with the problem by applying&nbsp;for Chilean citizenship.After a lot of waiting around, Argentinian immigration officials board to stamp our passports. Most of the sailing will be done in Chilean waters. It is strange to go through this procedure in the cozy atmosphere of the boat cabin. Everyone shakes hands and the officials disembark after Wolf pays the fees. We set off into Ushuaia harbour. Theres not much to see due to clouds, but as we get out into the Beagle Channel the wind and waves increase and the views start to open up. Ahead of us is Isla Navarino where we will carry out the Chilean entry.After an hour or two Rachel and I are glad that we took loads of motion-sickness pills: the Beagle Channel is really choppy. We soon&nbsp;arrive in Puerto Navarino which is a bit of a one-horse-town. Apparently three Chilean officials have to drive&nbsp;2 hours from Puerto Williams to greet us here: one immigration official; one customs official; and the coastguard. By the time we anchor in the bay, its clear&nbsp;from the one car in town that&nbsp;the officials have arrived, so&nbsp;we lower the tiny dingy and chug over to the pier. We duly hand over our passports and there's lots of stamping activity&nbsp;as all red tape is completed. Another round of handshakes (and kisses for Rachel) and we're back on the boat. Wolf returns with the officials to Puerto Williams leaving us in the capable hands of Johnny Depp and General Pinochet.In the afternoon we sail around the Eastern side of Isla Navarino in the Murray Channel that seperates&nbsp;Navarino from Isla Hoste. Hoste is an enigma. Stark white topped mountains rise up from the ocean and strands of dark green antarctic beach cling to the steep rocks closer to shore. No one ever goes there. Hoste is as big as Wales, and according to George has a population of less than 20. One of those inhabitants is his nephew, who is a sheep farmer. George explains that the mountainous terrain, wild weather, and lack of fertile land make survival there very&nbsp;difficult.&nbsp;Due to the proximity of the land as we go through the channel, we do not put up sail, and instead chug along at 5 knots powered by the twin 55hp inboard Mercedes Benz diesel engines. This steel hulled yacht was built in Germany during&nbsp;the early 1980's and is a fascinating place to learn about boats. Rachel makes some notes about the peculiarities of this yacht by comparing it to the cosy interior&nbsp;of a caravan, her only point of reference. She likes the vacuum operated toilet, the diesel powered stove that runs 24 hours a day and keeps the cabin warm, the swivelling cooker that stays level when the boat rolls. It's easy to see how the Chilean poet, Pablo Neruda loved&nbsp;the artistic quirkiness of boats.&nbsp;It is&nbsp;both stylish and functional.&nbsp;In the afternoon I spend a couple of hours at the rudder. Its absolutely freezing on deck and I put on every layer of clothing I have including hat and gloves. Despite the cold I am fascinated by the stunning landscapes that we gaze at on Hoste and Navarino. At Puerto Corriente, where there is a lonely Chilean coastguard, the boat yaws uncontrollably at the tide surges through&nbsp;the narrow channel. Jochen laughs at the expression on my face as I try in vain to control&nbsp;the direction.&nbsp;In the evening we anchor at&nbsp;Canal Canacus on Isla Hoste, where there is a sudden flurry of stressed activity to secure Santa Maria. We set the anchor and chain from the bow and carry two lines from the stern to shore using the dingy. It seems like a pretty secure set-up to me but 10 minutes later when we are enjoying a nice cup of tea theres a loud crash as we scrape some rocks on the shore. Jochen moves like lightening to start the engines and move us out from harms way. Jochen explains that there really wasn't enough anchor chain down given the depth of the water. George thought it would be sufficient. It seems, like the grinding of the hull on the rocks, there's occasionally a little bit of friction between Pinochet and Depp.&nbsp;Rachel and I take the dinghy and (since its little outboard is knackered) row to shore and walk around a bit. The ebb tide has revealed rocks thick with giant mussels which look like the perfect dinner. It's a calm evening and the peaks of Hoste are reflected in the still waters. It feels like we are a million miles from anywhere on this primeval shore. A thickly furred fox spies on us from its vantage point in the forest. Its so peaceful here.Back on the boat, we help Jochen prepare the dinner of beef stroganoff and rice. Its really tasty and we enjoy the banter of the evening with a few drinks. I ask Jochen about the mussels and he says they are poisonous because they concentrate certain toxins in the seawater. I'm not sure if this is true or if he says it because he doesn't like eating them. But anyway, since Jochen's cooking is so good and we have plenty of food on board, I decide not to interrogate further.&nbsp;In the morning the weather is still fine but the wind has picked up. There's another bout of frantic activity as we all work together to&nbsp;untie and raise the anchor. Soon we are off through some narrow channels that George's intimate knowledge of the area allows him to pick out. Even Jochen is impressed.&nbsp;After a morning of sailing we leave Hoste's white peaks behind and move into a larger open area of water called Paso Mantellero. A pod of&nbsp;Southern White Sided&nbsp;dolphins come alongside and Rachel watches then playing underneath and in front of the boat. The wind is good for sailing and Jochen carries out all the manoeuvres which add 3 knots to our speed. The boat keels over at about 30 degrees and occasionally moves to 45 degrees. On the increasing swell this starts to make me feel alarmed. But it is exhilarating. Albratrosses whirl and spin a few centimetres from the surface of the waves. They epitomise freedom.&nbsp;In the evening we set anchor at Puerto Maxwell, in a small uninhabited cove on Isla Hermite. The nearer we get to Cape Horn the more stark and treeless the landscape becomes. High winds that blow for much of the year means that the trees stick to valleys and become increasingly stunted at the edges of the valleys. Much of the ground is covered in thick springy moss and heather-like shrubs. It is very like the islands on the west coast of Scotland.&nbsp;Rachel and I take the dingy again and tie her up on a tree on&nbsp;Hermit Island. I try to use the knot that Jochen has just explained but it doesn't seem quite right. I resort to a good old-fashioned granny knot, repeated several times. Inelegant but effective.&nbsp;We climb the nearest hill which I guess is about 300m high. The views over the surrounding islands under the darkening sky are wonderful. We hurry back down the slope, bouncing like zebedees on the moss. We spend another very pleasant evening eating and drinking on the yacht. That night the gentle rocking of the boat makes us sleep like babies in our bunks.&nbsp;In the morning the wind has gone up a notch again and George says we have to wait before leaving to sail around Cape Horn. At about 10am we lift the anchor and prepare to set off. Two minutes later the hailstorm from hell strikes and we return to the shelter of the bay. Ten minutes after that George gives Jochen the all-clear to set off on the toughest part of the trip - Cape Horn.&nbsp;We put up sail and the boat is pitching and rolling heavily. We are now subject to the prevailing winds and waves of the Southern Ocean. No more hiding in channels or in the lee of protective islands. Jochen explains that due to the heavy keel on this boat, the mast has to be 30 degrees <i>under the water before the boat will completely capsize. This reassures me greatly concerning the stability of the craft and I start to enjoy our fairground-ride-in-slow-motion&nbsp;treatment, at the hands of the wind and waves.&nbsp;We approach the rocky outcrop of Cape Horn from the West. It's a full time job just holding on to the boat, but George suggests we break out a bottle of champagne to celebrate reaching our landmark of Capehorn. The bottle is passed between Rachel and me to George as no-one can get the cork out with our cold hands. Eventually George &nbsp;pops it open and we share a celebratory drink together. I limit it to two tumblers full, afraid that I could be violently sick in these stormy conditions.&nbsp;Jochen radios the coastguard stationed at Cape Horn and we receive an&nbsp;invitation to come on shore and say hello. There isn't a very good harbour, so George stays in the boat just offshore while Jochen, Rachel, and I don the most waterproof clothes we can lay our hands on and set off in the little dinghy to the rocky beach. Fortunately Jochen has got the outboard working for the short trip. We scramble ashore and climb some wooden steps up to the lighthouse. &nbsp;In this remote area of the world, there is a small chapel&nbsp;called Stella Maris&nbsp;where Michael Palin said a prayer before commencing his pole-to-pole trip. The wooden construction is really no larger than a garden shed and pretty bare inside. The pages of the bible on the alter have warped in the damp southern air. But this, the southernmost chapel in the world, does somehow feel like a holy place.&nbsp;We cross into the coastguards house which is connected to the lighthouse and we are almost bowed over by the heat inside. Three days outside in windy conditions near zero degrees make it feel like a sauna. We meet the coastguard and his family staying here in isolation. They are surprisingly young and the coastgaurd's voluptuous wife is particularly beautiful. They stay here for a 15 month assignment and every 2 months they get a shipment from a Naval supply boat. Apparently they receive no perishable goods such as fruit and veg. The fresh oranges and pineapple that Jochen brings along are very warmly received. They stamp our passports with a touristic Cape Horn stamp and we buy some post cards which cost 10 times the normal price. The young lady smiles a big Chilean grin at me as I misinterpret the price, but her good looks and confidence prevent me from saying loudly: 'you want how much for these?'. Perhaps this couple were selected by the Chilean Navy because they knew they would have no problem keeping entertained on dark winter nights.&nbsp;Outside the house the wind is howling and it has started to sleet. Rachel and I walk over to a monument on the headland. Jochen warns us not to walk too far because much of the island is covered in land-mines. These are a nice souvenir from the Chile/Argentina territorial conflicts in the 1970's. It was the Chilean's who planted them to blow up any potential Argie invaders, so they've only got themselves to blame.&nbsp;Santa Maria sets off with a tail wind to find another safe anchorage for the night. It only takes us a couple of hours to reach Martial Beach. As we are anchoring a couple of friendly great skua's fly past and eat bread from our hands. This bay has a large sandy beach, so we anchor far from shore and Jochen drops us off so we can explore for a bit. He agrees to look out for us every hour to see if we are ready to return. After about 5 minutes of sunshine it starts to sleet heavily so Rachel and I abandon our walk and return to the beach. We inscribe the word 'listo' (ready) in 10 metre tall characters in the sand so that if Jochen looks up he will come and rescue us from the deluge. He does look up but sees 'usto', thinks we're having fun playing in the sand, and doesn't come to get us for 1hr. We are pretty wet when we get back on the boat.&nbsp;Next day we continue back towards Navarino island, and, due to the wind direction, we sail around its eastern side. As we pass some of the small snow-covered islands of the archipelago George points out the odd abandoned cottage. These belonged to watchers, who kept their eyes open for Argentine invaders in the territorial conflicts that I mentioned earlier. George knows this place like his own back yard. He has been fishing for King Crab here since the 1970's when the industry was first started from Puerto Williams. Infact he was the first man to get a boat and fish here commercially. &nbsp;Good progress that day means that we get all the way to Puerto Williams yacht club. Its really a surprise for Rachel and me to be back in Puerto Williams. We last came here 18 months ago to trek the Dientes de Navarino, and we didn't expect to be back. We tie up alongside Micalvi , a&nbsp;sunken naval&nbsp;supply ship last used in the 1950's, which now hosts the yacht club facilities and most-importantly Club de Yates Micalvi, where hardcore sailing types, returning from Antarctica and the like, hang out and drink. We didn't make it in here the last time we visited (due to falling asleep after 5 days trekking) and so we resolve to have at least one drink in this famous southern bar. &nbsp;Wolf greets us once we arrive. His house is in Puerto Williams and he invites us up for dinner (albeit that Jochen has to cook it on the boat - but hey, he is Wolf's employee).&nbsp; We meet Janet, Wolf's super-friendly Venezuelan wife who chats to us non-stop all evening. They seem like a nomadic family; their two kids rapidly switch between Spanish, German, and English. Wolf is concerned that the Chilean education system is failing his kids and he now uses home-schooling. He wonders where they should live in the world. &nbsp;Wolf drives us back down to Club de Yates where I buy a round of its famous pisco sours. There's a few hardcore sailors in here tonight, and having been round Cape Horn, Rachel and feel qualified to join them. &nbsp;Next morning we take a wander around Puerto Williams again. Its strange to be back in this, the most southerly town of the world. I find a shop selling nautical charts and buy one of the area for USD24. It has a stamp on it to say its approved by the Chilean Navy. We go to the museum again and find Rachel's comments from February 2006 in the visitors book, where she complained about a lack of English subtitles to the exhibits. Everything now has English subtitles much to her delight. &nbsp;I enjoy looking at the display about the indigenous Yagan people who lived here for centuries before being wiped out 100 years ago, largely from Western Diseases. Despite the cold, these people wore no clothes, instead smearing their bodies in seal fat to keep off the rain. They always carried fire with then, even in their canoes, so that they could rapidly warm up. It was Magellan's sighting of these fires that led to this land being called Tierra del Fuego. &nbsp;We have to wait around in the boat for the triple Chilean official delegation to stamp us out of the country. The last section of the boat trip in the afternoon is back to Ushuaia, and we arrive in the harbour about 9pm just as the sun is coming down and lighting up the peaks behind Ushuaia, on distant Hoste, and Navarino. The view from Ushuaia is simply stunning. A miserable looking immigration officer arrives at the boat and carries out the entry formalities. We say our farewells to the crew of Santa Maria and hike back into town. The trip has been a new and exciting experience for us.&nbsp;Back in town we enjoy long warm showers at Los Lupinos and find a restaurant with King Crab on the menu for dinner. We order a whole King Crab to share. As the waiter takes it out of the tank, the customers from 3 or 4 more tables come over to take a photo. It tastes as good as it looks.&nbsp;The next day after a quick scoot around Ushuaia's old penal colony we leave by plane bound for Buenos Aires and home. The flight from Ushuaia to Buenos Aires is horrendously delayed and we arrive in Buenos Aires at 2am in the morning. We are too late to go into town and so we sleep on a window ledge in the airport. It is more comfortable and quieter than some hostels I've stayed in. Next day we have an Alitalia flight to London via Milan. The service is probably some of the worst I've ever experienced on a plane. But we get back home OK. &nbsp;England in November feels positively balmy compared to Patagonia.&nbsp;Even though we've been off the boat&nbsp;for days I still&nbsp;have an occasional feeling&nbsp;in the pit of my stomach that we are rolling on the seas.&nbsp;The sensation&nbsp;brings back happy memories.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1193424720/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1193424720/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1193424720/tpod.html Fri, 02 Nov 2007 19:37:28 -0400 Welcome to the return of our travelblog and adventure. We take a break of 7 weeks to complete a trip to Argentina.

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Puerto Deseado, Argentina

It takes a full day of travelling by bus from Trelew to Puerto Deseado. We briefly stop in the dusty god-forsaken town of Coleta Oliva&nbsp;and feel happy to make a reasonably rapid&nbsp;connection to&nbsp;our destination.&nbsp;The landscape from the bus window doesnt seem to change much. Apart from the coastline, there is the same flat expanse of Patagonian dry land&nbsp;bearing&nbsp;few shrubs.&nbsp;&nbsp;John tells me that there is much sealife around Puerto Deseado, and as it takes a lot of patience to get here, we hope that the boat tours will be more in touch with nature. The town has a busy fishing port and still remains largely undiscovered to the world of tourism that we have experienced in our last stops. Arriving around midnight, we try to stay in one of the two recommendations in the Footprints guide. We become slightly concerned when we discover there is an election campaign commencing with many politicians staying in town. We manage to find the last available room in the luxurious Hotel Chaffer. Rooms here cost 160Ps per night, over double the price of the last place we stayed at. Still, its very clean and the 3&nbsp;week old merino&nbsp;lamb that wanders around the reception trying to graze on the carpet makes the place somewhere a little different.At breakfast the next morning, we meet Phill,&nbsp;a Welsh traveller. He tells us that&nbsp;there is a boat tour&nbsp;available&nbsp;and the weather conditions are perfect.&nbsp;We rush&nbsp;down the street to the&nbsp;Darwin Expeditions office, fork out a hefty 230 Pesos&nbsp;each (38 GBP).&nbsp;Its not totally clear what&nbsp;we are going to be doing&nbsp;but as we have spent a whole day to get here and this is the only tour running there really isnt much choice. As the day unfolds we realise that it was one of the best experiences of the trip.We find ourselves sitting&nbsp;on a inflatable dingy along with around 15 Argentinian journalists. The journalists are all travel writers and&nbsp;hurridly scribble&nbsp;notes as we speed along the bay. Within the first 5 minutes we find&nbsp;ourselves surrounded by a pod of Commerson´s Dolphins. These dolphins are common along the east coast but it is&nbsp;the first time I&nbsp;have seen them.&nbsp;They&nbsp;look a little like mini Killer Whales&nbsp;with a blowhole&nbsp;and&nbsp;black and white&nbsp;shiny bodies, but they are only around 1 meter in length and of course, they are not&nbsp;dangerous. The dolphins&nbsp;love playing with the us, jumping up out of the water and swimming&nbsp;alongside us blowing water into our faces. Its a really special moment.&nbsp;As we pass further out of the port, the dolphins leave us.&nbsp;We pass some shipwreck boats and&nbsp;a small island full&nbsp;of South American terns which have white bodies, black wings&nbsp;and red legs. &nbsp;Next we reach a smelly island which has around 1000 sealions.&nbsp;The&nbsp;huge males&nbsp;growl and shake their heads whilst the smaller gray females bask in the&nbsp;sun. As we approach a huge crowd of the sealions&nbsp;flop into the water, raising their&nbsp;necks and heads curiously at the boat.Finally we reach&nbsp;Penguin Island. The island houses a disused lighthouse that it&nbsp;now&nbsp;inhabited by hundreds of nesting magellenic penguins. The scenery on the 1000 meter long&nbsp;island is beautiful.&nbsp;Orange lichen spreads over&nbsp;the rocks against a background of a rich and calm&nbsp;blue sea. Huge brown skua birds&nbsp;swoop across our heads&nbsp;looking for any unattended Magalenic Penguin eggs. The whole scene is much more peaceful than&nbsp;the man made structures and masses of tourists that we experienced&nbsp;at Punta Tombo.The highlight of the day is seeing the rock hopper penguins.&nbsp;As we cross to the other side of the island its a great surprise to see them.&nbsp;Its been a&nbsp;very cold winter and there have not been any&nbsp;sighting this year.&nbsp;Along a narrow rocky inlet groups&nbsp;of penguins emerge from the sea. Their bodies are black and white&nbsp;and they have pink feet and beaks. Their most elegant feature is their red eyes and spikey yellow eyebrows. The penguins walk with a waddle and as they hop around onto the rocks its&nbsp;easy to see how they get their name.&nbsp; On the rocky ledges, pairs of Rock Hopper Penguins stand, gently preening oneanothers feathers. Single penguins look for their&nbsp;mate, occaisioally having swabbles with other penguins. Often they raise they&nbsp;heads and call out loudly. The penguins are incredibly beautiful and seem&nbsp;to almost&nbsp;pose for the cameras. The journalists go mad snapping pictures with telescopic lenses. We stay for a few hours and I just enjoy sitting a few feet from the penguins and watching them against&nbsp;the incredible background&nbsp;of the island. I´m not sure whether it was the&nbsp;long&nbsp;bus journey, the&nbsp;not knowing where&nbsp;the tour&nbsp;was going,&nbsp;or the sheer beauty of the nature that makes the moment so special.&nbsp;We eat dinner with Phil, visiting the only recommended restaurant in town, aptly called&nbsp;the Penguin although it is more of the penguins diet than Penguins that&nbsp;is on the menu. We eat some&nbsp;fresh langoustines and&nbsp;fresh fish. Next day we jump onto the&nbsp;Darwin Expeditions boat again. This time we have&nbsp;a shorter half day tour. We spend some time playing with&nbsp;the Commorant Dolphins in the&nbsp;bay again. We travel up the estuary to see nesting Red Legged Cormorants with their bright blue eyes and Rock Cormorants. We stop on another deserted island&nbsp;and wander around more nesting Magellenic penguins. Some penguins&nbsp;waddle&nbsp;around the beach&nbsp;and&nbsp;plonk themselves into&nbsp;the sea for&nbsp;a swim. They bob up and down&nbsp;like&nbsp;ducks and&nbsp;dive for meters under the water,&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Back on the mainland we wander around the&nbsp;town for an afternoon. The people are not so friendly&nbsp;as other places we have visited, but this is&nbsp;probably the most undeveloped tourist town we have been to. We take a short visit to the maritime museum where we see possessions&nbsp;of a British ship that sank 50 meters from the shore in 1770.&nbsp;In the evening we hop back on a bus to take us&nbsp;down to the very-southerly town of&nbsp;Rio Gallegos.The poor road connections do&nbsp;make Puerto Deseado an off the beaten place to visit. The town has a&nbsp; depressed feel with gangs of hooded youths loitering at the street corners with nothing to do and some locals charging extortionate rates for the tourists. The boat tours have been running for 15 years and&nbsp;although they monopolise the market,&nbsp;they still take you somewhere very special and a&nbsp;world away from the more touristy destinations of Peninsular Valdes.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1193230440/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1193230440/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1193230440/tpod.html Tue, 30 Oct 2007 14:33:35 -0400 Welcome to the return of our travelblog and adventure. We take a break of 7 weeks to complete a trip to Argentina.

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Trelew, Argentina

Trelew is the largest town in the Chubut valley and has some 90,000 inhabitants. Its only a 1 hour&nbsp;from Puerto Madryn but stepping off the bus feels like entering a new area. Unlike the dry and arrid landscapes of Puerto Madryn, Trelew is irrigated by the Rio Chubut. Its warm and sunny and I can&nbsp;understand how after the Welsh arrived in Puerto Madryn they soon moved down to the lush and green valley to make this place home.&nbsp; There is still lots of evidence of the Welsh here.&nbsp;The people are tall with&nbsp;dark hair and piercing blue eyes.&nbsp;We have heard that the Welsh teas served in the nearby town of Gaiman are legendary.&nbsp;I instantly&nbsp;like the town becaues the people are very friendly. Although many tourists pass through on day tours from Puerto Madryn, there are relatively few hotels and so there is still a relaxed and warm atmosphere.&nbsp;Red brick buildings bear the Welsh flag and we pop into the Hotel Touring Club for a morning coffee. This&nbsp;1920s hotel has a huge wooden bar which houses a&nbsp;giant&nbsp;collection of ancient bottles. There&nbsp;are large&nbsp;mirrors and there are old postcards and pictures decorating the walls.&nbsp;Gentle music plays in the background which we soon realise are church hymns. The hotel has an oldy&nbsp;wordly feeling and it feels as though we&nbsp;are stepping back 30 years in time.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;We visit the Paleontological musuem. Here there is an outstanding&nbsp; collection of skeletons of mammals and dinosaurs, which are probably more diverse&nbsp;than the&nbsp;Natural History Musuem, London. We&nbsp;watch a BBC Horizon presentation of&nbsp;an important find some 300km from Trelew which has produced some unique fossils from the mid-Jurrasic Period. A time when not many fossils have been found.107km south of Trelew is the home of the largest Magellenic penguin colony in Patagonia. Unfortuately it seems that the only way for us to reach the penguins is to join a tour.&nbsp;Our minibus&nbsp;trundes along a rough road for 2 hours until we reach a small hut at Punta Tombo. From here its just a short&nbsp;walk to see the penguins&nbsp;lying on their nests. Most of the nests consists of just a burrow, or small ditch in the dry soil, sometimes protected by a few twigs.&nbsp;A&nbsp;pair of penguins mate&nbsp;for life and&nbsp;every year they swim from Uruguay and Brazil down&nbsp;to the peninsular,&nbsp;always returning to the same burrow.&nbsp;The whole area feels quite touristy with man made bridges crossing over the penguin paths to the&nbsp;sea. &nbsp;I feel a little sorry for the penguins that are beside the pedestrian path&nbsp;where all the tourists are walking. They seem&nbsp;relaxed and almost unaware that humans are any different from a penguin though. We watch them waddle down to the sea for a wash and dive. Under the water they become expert divers, moving at great speeds. Spurred on by the Paleontological musueum in Trelew we take a short taxi ride from Gaiman to the middle of nowehere and the&nbsp;Bryn Gwyn Paleontological park. The taxi drops us off and as it drives off leaving us&nbsp;standing beside a small hut, I wonder whether the museum is open and how we are going to find our way back.. We meet the caretaker who tells us that the last&nbsp;visitors were&nbsp;3 days ago. Its easy to see why not many tourists&nbsp;visit as our education involves a 1.5 hour hike up a cliff face.&nbsp;I somehow assumed that we&nbsp;were going to&nbsp;an indoor museum and its quite hard work walking in the&nbsp;afternoon heat. However the landscape of rocks looks prehistoric and it is an interesting way to present fossils from different eras amongst the layers of rocks. There are armadillos and dolphin bones displayed in glass&nbsp;pyramids. I am most impressed by the 1 meter thick layer of giant oyster shells. The shells weigh more than 1 kg and are larger than my hand. &nbsp;We are exhausted by the time we get back to&nbsp;Gaiman. There are a few old buildings in town and some&nbsp;chapel buildings but we are really here for our&nbsp;long awaited Welsh tea.&nbsp; We opt for Ty Nain on the main plaza. The house is a museum of Welsh artifacts. There are several clocks on the walls, photos from the 1900s, gramaphone recorders and even a pair of china&nbsp;dogs that were taken on&nbsp;La Mimosa (the first boat to arrive with Welsh settlers in 1865).&nbsp;The whole tea house veers slightly towards&nbsp;tacky; nonetheless&nbsp;it feels somewhat homey with the&nbsp;antique relics and the fact that it is actually a real&nbsp;family home.&nbsp;We sit&nbsp;beside dark wooden coffee tables with doily table cloths. Tea is served with a huge teapot covered with a crochet tea cosy. Not something very usual for South America. We tuck into bread, butter, scones and then a plate of 7 different tea cakes. Not sure whether the Dulce de Leche cakes are 100% Welsh but they certainly tasted&nbsp;pretty good.Later we meet a Welsh guy: Phill, a teacher travelling through South&nbsp;America. He finds the whole Trelew and Gaiman Welsh&nbsp;experience tacky, distasteful and outdated. Its a bit&nbsp;like the image problems Scotland suffered from 50 years ago: all tartan and shortbread. Scotland and Wales are not like that anymore.&nbsp;The tea rooms of Gaiman are theme-parks celebrating life in Wales in a time long gone.&nbsp;Well worth visiting as long as you´re not Welsh.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1192896840/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1192896840/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1192896840/tpod.html Mon, 29 Oct 2007 19:13:41 -0400 Welcome to the return of our travelblog and adventure. We take a break of 7 weeks to complete a trip to Argentina.

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Bariloche, Argentina

Bariloche is a tourist town in the northernmost end of Patagonia in what's known as The Lake District. Like most tourist towns there are good reasons why it has flourished. Its natural setting amongst a scattering of pristine lakes and mountains&nbsp;is the the main one.&nbsp;The&nbsp;Andesmar bus&nbsp;wends&nbsp;its way past a fat blue river with snowcapped mountains getting ever closer. Strange cloud formations in the sky signal that we are back in Patagonia. Since we woke up this morning, the last few hours of&nbsp;the&nbsp;long bus journey from&nbsp; Mendoza have been a real pleasure. We arrive early afternoon in Bariloche to a stiff breeze; a bit like&nbsp;Edinburgh in March.&nbsp;A tout accompanies on the local bus into town and shows us a place on the 4th floor of an ill-conceived&nbsp;giant box&nbsp;in the&nbsp;town centre. Cheap with a nice view but smelly and&nbsp;dirty. We move on in a wild goosechase around town to find a place for the night. Although its theoretically low season here, Bariloche seems to enjoy a bouyant tourist trade. We settle for a place at the Tango Inn Hostel. Everything is faultless except that the minimalist design and painting of each floor in different garish shades gives the place an impersonal and unfriendly&nbsp;feel. Next day&nbsp;I feel a strong compulsion to&nbsp;move on to Hostel 41 Below which has much better Feng Shui.We eat out the first night: delicious fresh locally farmed trout. For the next three nights Rachel&nbsp;enjoys cooking&nbsp;up some fantastic grub in the hostel. We meet lots of friendly travellers who are all much younger than I am. I am starting to feel like I am getting old.Next day the weather is not looking too promising but we head out to Llao Llao for a spot of&nbsp;rambling around the peninsula. It starts to get really cold and very wet and the walk becomes a chore. We cheer ourselves up by visiting Hotel Llao Llao for soup and a cup of tea. At reception I spot that the presidential suite is available for USD$2500 per night. Inside the hotel&nbsp;is like a lush royal palace with Swiss chocolate-box views over the surrounding countryside. We are quickly ushered to a quiet cafeteria where we rapidly cheer up as the staff&nbsp;buzz around efficiently and bring us just what we want. We forego spending the night.Next day we take a trip up to Refugio Neumeyer in the mountains. All the rain from the last few days down in Bariloche has been falling as snow up in the mountains. The landrover transporting us slips and slides all over the place. We get out and admire the setting of the refugio in a quiet forest where heavy&nbsp;snowfall decorates every branch and twig.Along with a couple of Spaniards and our guide Marco, we don snow shoes (for the first time) and&nbsp;take a hike up the mountain behind the hut. All is well as we pass through the forest, but once we are above the tree line on the barren snow covered slopes of the mountain it becomes&nbsp;hard work.&nbsp;Vicious squals rip down the mountain blowing up snow in our faces. We have to stop and turn our backs to the onslaught regularly as we progress higher. Eventually Marco gives up on us and tells us its time to head back down. We will not make the summit of Cerro Blanco.&nbsp;With resignation I admit&nbsp;it may be better to be safe and not get lost like we did in Mendoza.On our way back down through the forest we spot a couple of Megallanic woodpeckers. They are quite big birds, the&nbsp;male is easily identified from his&nbsp;bold crested&nbsp;red head. Our camera is not good enough to get a clear shot due to the distance and the low light.On Thursday we try a spot of horsetrekking from a spot 15km along the lakeshore from Bariloche. Its the first time I get given a ´proper´ horse. This nag is bigger than a policehorse and prances like a Lipizzaner. Despite his size he walks with the pace of a tortoise and trotting is more painful on my backside than a good kick-up-the-arse.&nbsp;Rachel´s horse doesn´t look quite as cool as&nbsp;mine, but&nbsp;puts in a much better performance. Pedro, who accompanies us, looks like a real gaucho with his black beret and enormous sideburns.Rather than take the cable car, we&nbsp;climb Cerro Campanerio in the afternoon and get the best view we´ve seen of the whole lake-district. It is only marred slightly by the vast throngs of students who seem to have arrived on the cable car; the noisiest bunch are some Israeli´s who seem to be having a competition to see who can talk the loudest. I walk back down with a bit of a headache coming on.So is Bariloche worth a visit? Definitely. But make sure you don´t spend too much time in the chocolate shops or having your photo taken with St Bernard´s dogs in the main square. Its the lakes and the mountains outside the town that make this place what it is. Judging from the vast number of people milling around the town I suspect most don´t wander too far from their fancy hotels and tour buses.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1193086620/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1193086620/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1193086620/tpod.html Mon, 29 Oct 2007 19:05:11 -0400 Welcome to the return of our travelblog and adventure. We take a break of 7 weeks to complete a trip to Argentina.

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Puerto Madryn, Argentina

Puerto Madryn is one of a group of Patagonian towns settled by the Welsh 140 years ago. Its also an access town to get into Peninsula Valdes, a marine wildlife hotspot where we hope to see some whales and elephant seals.On the map, Peninsula Valdes is shaped a bit like an embryo attached to the mother-continent of South America. This coastal disruption creates huge sheltered bays where the southern right whales come to give birth and raise their young.The town&nbsp;itself is a dusty grid of streets that doesn't really inspire much affection. The largest aluminum smelter in Argentina is also sited here, enhancing the town's overall charm factor hugely. The landscape around here is one of endless flat dry plains covered in tough grasses and low vegetation which terminates abruptly at the seathing blue atlantic coastline. Offshore winds which&nbsp;lose all their moisture in the Andes blow constantly and cover everything in a layer of dust.Despite the arid nature of the land, the settlers worked out that Merino sheep from Australia could tolerate the dry climate and could drink salty water pumped out of the ground by windmills. This ultimately led to a big sheep raising community in this part of Patagonia. Certainly it was too dry to grow crops around Puerto Madryn, and most of the Welsh moved off to the Chubut river valley, where they created irrigation channels and succesfully grew crops. Before they got all this in place there were some very lean times, and the local Teluheuche Indians helped the early settlers to survive.We pass our first morning In Puerto Madryn sorting out a place to stay (Residencial J'Os) and working out how to cover the vast distances on the peninsula without having to hire a car. In the end we opt for a one-day tour with which promises to take us to all the wildlife hot spots in one action-packed day. In the afternoon we visit the Eco-centre at the edge of town where there is a dark room with pebbles on the the floor and whale sounds piped out through 7 huge speakers. Its one of those moments in life where I feel incredibly insignificant.The tour turns out to be reasonable, but I can´t help but feel that sightseeing a-la-group dulls the experience perceptibly. Our guide Marcia does a great job of preventing me from feeling depressed about the whole experience with her continual banter and charm.We get on a whale sightseeing boat at Puerto Pyramides and chase a mother and calf around the bay for an hour or so. The boat is rather too small for the number of people on it and theres a lot of jostling for position&nbsp; to take photos. If you ever come here, I recommend making your own way to Pyramides and find a small boat or hire a kayak. Despite this, seeing a Southern Right and the bay at such close quarters is mind-boggling.We travel further on the long dusty road to Punta Cantor, where longshore drift has created a large-scale antipodean Chesil Beach. From the bus I see the froth of whale spouts entering the channel adjacent to the narrow isthmus. We park up and find out that the spume is from a pack of Orcas (or killer whales). It seems that there are 9 or 10 of them. One of the dorsal fins is about 2.5m long. The Orcas move like a pack of murderous wolves through the channel surfacing regularly with confident blasts. They look like they own this plot. Pity help any seal pups nearby.Walking further south from the car park there is a steep pebble beach with the only continental colony of elephant seals. This species exhibits strongest sexual dimorphism of any mammal. The females are about 800kg and less than 2 metres long whilst the dominant males are 5000kg and 5m long. These males are absolutely colossal and have a huge blubbery protuperances on their noses (hence the name elephant seal). We watch closely the females and newborn pups coming and going. A rival male gets a bit to close to the harem. The dominant male rises up on his flippers and barks a deep roar from his blood stained mouth. He is god here. The other male shuffles off quickly. This is a place where you could spend days watching the live show.But we´re on a tour and its time to go after an hour.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1192212000/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1192212000/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1192212000/tpod.html Sat, 27 Oct 2007 14:47:32 -0400 Welcome to the return of our travelblog and adventure. We take a break of 7 weeks to complete a trip to Argentina.

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San Antonio, Mendoza, Argentina

The wind has picked up, the temperature has dropped, the sun has disappeared, and we´re in a white-out. At 3500m on a saddle between Arenales and Lomo Blancas on the Argetinian pre-cordilla, a pleasant afternoon´s hike&nbsp;on the mountains has become a dash off the mountains for survival. Our guide Humberto nods quickly as we suggest abondoning the summit of Arenales and heading back to the refugio at San Antonio. The two British lads with us, Tom and Hasan, in jeans and trainers, are poorly equiped for the&nbsp;vicious turn in the weather. Humberto leads us on a shortcut that will get us down the mountain as quickly as possible. Within about 10 minutes its depressingly obvious that we are lost. We decide to go trekking in the Andes after spending too much time in buses and gazing at well preserved inca mummies in museums. A bit of adventure is what we´re after. We book up with a travel agent in Mendoza for 3 days trekking from a rufugio called San Antonio at 2500m altitide, and just a couple of hours west of Mendoza. For A$ 495 each&nbsp; fully inclusive (about GBP 80) it sounds like a bargain.Our first day´s trek is a gentle&nbsp;walk up from the refugio to the valley of Las Vergitas at 3200m&nbsp;where we are surrounded by 4000m to 5000m peaks. Except that we can´t see them because the clouds are&nbsp;shifting and the snow is falling gently. We don´t really mind though because there´s something magical about walking during light snowfall. Our guide Silvia sets a really slow pace that helps us acclimatise to the thin air up here. The fourth person in our group, Nacho, is an experienced moutain guide and has climbed Aconcagua (6950m) over 90 times. This trek is like a walk to the corner shop for him. I can´t understand his presence&nbsp;on this tame trek until&nbsp;it becomes clear that he and Silvia are dating.The first night in the refugio is cozy as Christmas. Carolina, our host, has just&nbsp;me and Rachel to look after. We eat a tasty dinner by the roaring log fire with snow falling steadily outside.In the morning we expect the weather to be cold and grey, but the skies are completely blue and the 15cm of snow that has fallen makes the mountains look sharp and tall and close enough to touch. What better day for a 5hr hike to the summit of Arenales at 3600m? After a late breakfast we are joined by Tom and Hassan who have popped out from Mendoza just for the day. With Humberto the Brazilian mountain guide leading, we set off with an optimistic pace to climb Arenales. We enjoy taking photos in the snowy landscape and Hasan excitedly comments that he expected to be walking on dry dusty tracks, not snow.As&nbsp;the weather turns suddenly nasty just a few metres from our destination, the ebullient mood in the group rapidly turns sour. A bit like receiving bad news at a great party.&nbsp;As it becomes clear that we are lost, everyone´s survival instinct kicks in and a rush of adrenaline prepares us for action. Humberto´s plan to take further shortcuts to&nbsp;recover our location&nbsp;leads to us getting more lost. He complains that his compass is not giving good readings due to the iron in the rock. I suggest we retrace our footprints in the snow, but&nbsp;with&nbsp;a combination of pride and bravado Humberto is sure we can walk out without having to walk back.For miles and miles we walk down steep snow covered valleys. Never&nbsp;can we see more than about 50 metres ahead. The fog is like a depression hanging on us.&nbsp;The boys feet are completely frozen in their soaked&nbsp;trainers, but fortunately its only their feet that are cold. Rachel and I put on every last layer we have with us, and we feel warm, but scared at the prospect of spending a night&nbsp;outside in the mountains.&nbsp;I am torn between backtracking and following Humberto. I decide its a better bet to follow Humberto even though his experience is in serious doubt.Humberto assures us again that he can get us out. At about 5pm we calculate that we have 2.5hrs daylight left. We finally get below the snow line and walk amongst some thorny scrub down a river valley. At 6pm we find an&nbsp;empty&nbsp;shepherds hut, which consists of three sides, one formed by a giant boulder, and a corrugated iron roof. Our mood lifts as we realise we could stop here, albeit in some discomfort, for the night. We eat an extremely late lunch to celebrate. Humberto is so upset at his guiding cock-up that he can´t eat at all. He also knows that his job is on the line if the emergency services are called in to locate missing trekkers. He apologises and&nbsp;tells us its the first time in over 47 treks up the mountain that anything like this has happened. He tells us that even on Aconcagua, where he has guided several expeditions, he&nbsp;has never, ever, got lost.&nbsp;After eating, we decide to press on down the valley to see if we can reach a road or gain an insight into where we are. Progress is impeded by streams that have gouged out steep sided gorges in the glacial moraine. Frustrated, but full of adrenaline-fuelled energy, we have to back-track several times to find a way through.Nature has a perverse sense of humour, and as we tramp down the valley, the skies clear and stunning views of the otherwordly Andes open up. Humberto is convinced that we will arrive in a small village shortly. We start to follow a discernable horse track. Our fears start to lift and Rachel allows herself to take a photo of the mountains ahead. At dusk we finally see the rooftops of a village called El Salto. Its a relief that we are not going to be spending the night outside.Humberto´s phone now has a signal and he calls Eduardo, the boss at San Antonio to come and collect us. We fool around and laugh about the situation that we just escaped from. We are relieved and we feel lucky to have avoided an extremely unpleasant night out in the mountains. We are also completely knackered after 9 hours of flat-out, full speed&nbsp;hiking with no stops. We haven´t been drinking enough liquids so we´re really dehydrated. Next morning we´re bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready for more adventure. With Humberto (no Tom and Hasan today) we retrace our steps and find out where it all went wrong. We branch off to the summit of Lomo Blanca at 3850m and take some lovely photos from the summit. Such a contrast today. Humberto has regained his confidence and thanks us for&nbsp;going with him. We are safely back in the refugio at 4pm.But really, it was getting lost that was the real adventure. I sort of hope it happens again sometime.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1192388880/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1192388880/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rachel_john/7_weeks_in_2007/1192388880/tpod.html Sat, 20 Oct 2007 12:41:25 -0400 Welcome to the return of our travelblog and adventure. We take a break of 7 weeks to complete a trip to Argentina.

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Mendoza, Argentina

On our 1st day, we spend most of the day finding somewhere to stay (Hostel Sav, just opposite the Bus station) and booking up our trip to the mountains. On first impressions, the city has an impoverished appearance where the people look rather glum. It´s pretty cold compared to the rest of our trip,&nbsp;the food we eat is pretty dire, we are tired and for the first time during our trip,&nbsp;we experience heavy&nbsp;rain. Fortunately things do brighten up.&nbsp;After our trekking, we spend a day of recovery in the city. Actually it´s not too bad. I like Mendoza because unlike some of the other places we have visited,&nbsp;I&nbsp;feel that this city has not been designed for the tourist industry. . Mendoza is Argentina´s 4th largest city, but it is still comfortable exploring the city by foot. There are a series of&nbsp;irrigation channels along side the roads which are&nbsp;fillled with melted snow from the&nbsp;mountains. By our hostel, the irrigation channels are pretty deep and grotty -probably quite&nbsp;easy to fall into if you&nbsp;don´t pay attention. However on the other side of town, there are&nbsp;cobbled streets and some beautiful colonial buildings&nbsp;- here,&nbsp;the city takes on a more upmarket&nbsp;outlook&nbsp; On&nbsp;a Sunday morning, we visit&nbsp;Parque General San Martin. It´s a nice place to relax and to watch all the fitness-mad locals taking on various forms of fitness. Everyone is dressed in their Sunday best and exercise takes form from&nbsp;a gentle stroll to several laps around the lake in a row boat. Not sure that the roads running through the park helped with the tranquility, but the&nbsp;trees and mountains in the distance&nbsp;make a compromise.Mendoza is famous for its vineyards which produce some world class, and largely undiscovered wines.&nbsp;However we are both pretty physically&nbsp;and mentally exhuasted after our experience of getting lost in the mountains. Johns lips have swollen up three fold and I´m not feeling too well either. We spend a day, just chilling out before taking another overnight bus.&nbsp; 3 weeks into our travels. It´s reassuring to know that after recharging our batteries, there is still more time for exploration. Next we head south to Bariloche, the lake district region.
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