Wednesday, December 1st, Punta Arenas

We had been warned that it might be windy and cold in Punta Arenas, so we donned extra layers in preparation for our shore excursion. A dock was available at the commercial port area of Punta Arenas, so the Veendam was nestled right up against it rather than being anchored off shore. Thus we could walk right down the gangplank to the waiting bus when the number was called for our tour.

The bus ride from the port into downtown Punta Arenas was, as it later turned out, deceptively short, probably because I was so busy watching the homes and shops pass by and partly because I was trying to understand our guide, who was full of facts and figures but spoke with a fairly heavy accent. One of the curious facts was that the homes of Punta Arenas are all heated with natural gas that comes from wells drilled right in the area.

Another tip from our guide was that the weather changed rapidly and unpredictably in Punta Arenas. Sure enough, as we drove through town and up into the nearby foothills of the Andes, the sunny weather turned overcast and then we experienced in rapid succession rain, sleet, and snow. It was still snowing when we arrived at the base station for a small ski area a couple kilometers up the hill.

Still, we bundled up and followed our guide to the chair lift that in winter is used to get skiers to the top of the mountain. It felt like winter to me as we were pelted with sleet and snow for most of the 10 minute trip up the mountainside, but taking the lift up meant we didn't have to slog our way up hill to the top and for that I was profoundly grateful.

Once at the top we could dimly see the town of Punta Arenas, the Straight of Magellan, and even our ship in the far distance through the intermittent snow squalls. Our hiking path back down the mountain led through the forests on the slopes and fortunately the trees cut the roaring winds down to a minimum. As a result, the forest was surprisingly quiet and quite lovely in its fresh coat of newly-fallen snow, but the snow made our footing rather treacherous as we began our trek down.

In some places the trees were covered with an epiphytic moss, giving the bare branches a lovely soft and gentle look. Parts of the trail were also quite muddy, and our group of 20-30 folks walking through it churned it up even more, of course. I had a lot of trouble with my footing, skidding rather frequently, but I managed to stay upright mostly by hanging on to the tree trunks and branches arching across the path. That's when it helps to have long arms! Monika, not being so fortunate, had more problems and slipped into the mud twice but fortunately didn't injure anything.

We heard birds singing their cheerful spring songs in the trees around us, but couldn't spot them. Along the way down we ran across some old coal-mine ventilation shafts, but the seam was thin and those mines had already played out by around 1910, according to our guide. Certainly those ventilation shafts were completely clogged with dirt and debris and overgrown with vegetation a century later. Where the trail crossed the ski slope, the terrain was really muddy, but we had nice views of Punta Arenas on the coastal plain below.

As we descended, the snow abated and we had intermittent flashes of sunshine. It became noticeably warmer, also, and the terrain turned into more of a level grassy path rather than a steep, slippery meander down the forested hillside. On one of the grassy areas we even saw some species of South American hawk foraging about. By that time walking the trail was so pleasant that I was disappointed when we finally returned to the base of the chairlift and the end of our walk.

The bus returned most of the group to the ship but paused in the main town square to let some of us off. Monika and I disembarked there to wander around the city of Punta Arenas a bit. One order of business was that I wanted to purchase a warmer hat as the baseball cap I had brought along was essentially useless on board ship because the winds blew it off and also useless on shore in Punta Arenas because the prevailing 30-50 mph winds still blew it right off! We wandered among the market stalls set up around the main square, examining all their wares, before I settled on a knit cap with a nice black-and-white design, an additional interior lining, and ear flaps complete with a tie so that you can tie the flaps down underneath your chin and keep the whole contraption on your head. It is not common attire for Virginia, of course, but when in Patagonia do as the Patagonians do, I always say!

While we were shopping, a group of folks bearing placards and distributing leaflets came marching down the street to some official-looking building with two green-garbed policemen in front of it. I recognized the strains of "The people, united, shall never be defeated!" even if it was being chanted in Spanish and since it all ended peacefully I enjoyed watching the spectacle unfold. I could not understand much, of course, but reading the slogans printed on the pamphlets I inferred that the protest was against the austerity measures of the Chilean government, especially cutting the old-folks' pension rights and similar entitlements, something the U.S. will also have to do in the future.

Continuing our perambulation, we found that the information center at the square was closed. A little sign in the window informed us that the people were on strike. So we circled around and finally located the internet cafe our tour guide had told us about. The rate was 700 pesos per hour (about $1.40 US) and we thought that was quite fair, so we asked for an hour's worth of time and settled in to catch up on our email. That only took a half an hour, so we had time to Google the addresses and zip codes of the folks we had written cards to, which was necessary because I had once again forgotten to take my address book. We even had time to take a peek into facebook at the end. We finally quit after about 55 minutes and I was surprised that the proprietor refused to take 700 pesos and instead insisted on us paying him only 600 pesos, apparently because we had not used the full hour. It's always nice to encounter an honest man.

From the main square we wandered down to a brand-new seaside promenade. One block from the shore we found The Ritz Hotel, which looked decidedly run-down-at-the-heels to me! Once on the promenade we walked along just above a beach of black sand and small pebbles, and I shot some nice pictures of ships riding at anchor a short distance offshore. But the wind had once again kicked up and was blowing so hard that we were being pelted with pieces of fine grit and sand that stung a bit when they hit our faces, so we turned back inland.

Since we thought the ship was only a couple kilometers from downtown, we decided to walk back, stopping at a mercado (American: grocery store) along the way to search for pretzels (unsuccessfully) and Chilean wine (successfully). The distance back to the ship turned out to be more like 7 or 8 kilometers, however, because even with a full tailwind it took us from 3:00 to 4:30 p.m. to get back on board. We walked past some nice sculptures in the middle of the avenue and that kept the walk interesting despite our ever-increasing fatigue.

Although we had bright sunlight for most of our walk, we had ten minutes of sleet in the middle and a rain squall chased us on board just as we crossed over to the Veendam's dock. By the time we re-embarked, we were both really footsore and weary as we had walked one and a half hours down the mountain in the morning, then ambled around Punta Arenas for an hour, and finally hiked back to the ship for another hour and a half. I drew a hot bath--one of the amenities found only on older ships like the Veendam in my experience--and tried to soak the aches out of my legs.

We were almost too exhausted to go down to dinner, but in the end we did manage to dress (slowly) and stagger down for the evening meal. Gregory, Nellie, Doug and Nancy all had fun talking about the things they had done during the day, and the interesting flow of conversation kept me awake until the end of the meal. But after we returned to the quiet of our stateroom I just flopped into bed for the night.