The End Of the World

I am now in Ushuaia, the southern-most city in the world. In Tierra de Fuego, land of fires, named by Magellan as he sailed through 500 years ago. Wow. Snow drifts remain on the peaks above, despite it being the height of summer. It's cold and windy and wet, like an unpleasant Newcastle winter's day.

The plane trip had the woman behind me babbling as we went through gale-force turbulence. I teared up earlier but that was from reading "All quiet on the western front". But now that I am in a major Argentinian naval area, from which they did NOT take the Falklands 30 years ago, I best take advice from John Cleese, and not mention the war. The hotel is even named after these islands claimed by Argentina and know as Malvinas.

After arriving I walked down to the dock for a quick tour of the boat, and met the crew. It all seems so peaceful and still in port! My first impressions are that the yacht doesn't seem that small, compared to the few boats I've been on so far - in Lake Macquarie and Port Stephens! The crew are lovely but busy loading 3.5 tonnes of diesel.

I got to meet a few more of the team, including one of the leaders, Stephen Venables, David and also Rodriguez, a Chilean. Rodriguez led a large Chilean team up Everest in May last year. I have read much about the long conga line of climbers following the fixed rope up Everest - Rodriguez was a day ahead, putting in much of the rope, and observing the caterpillar of bright puffy jackets ascending slowly.

So we have one more day before departure.