My Journey to the Ends of the Earth - Part 1: The Straights of Magellan to Ushuaia, Argentina

It is currently 5:00 pm on Saturday, January 13, 2023, and the ship is preparing to depart from Ushuaia, Argentina, a place often referred to as “The City at the End of the World”.  It has taken six days to get here from Buenos Aires. To be fair, it wasn’t exactly a straight shot, we obviously made some extensive stops along the way and were treated to some scenic cruising through the Beagle Channel (more on that later).  And now here we are, a few short hours away from entering the famous Drake passage.

The first few days of the cruise were warm and sunny with passengers congregating by the pool, sundeck and other outdoor areas.  Things began to change as we headed south from Puerto Madryn and by the time we entered the Straights of Magellan around 11:00 pm on day 5, everything was different.  The temperatures had dropped, wind speeds increased and the low clouds drastically decreased visibility.

Despite the dreary weather, the views from the ship were eerily beautiful.  The winds had settled a bit and while I was standing on deck, looking at the landscape through the haze I felt so very small. 

I took a walk along the deck and ran into some fellow passengers that I had met earlier. They were on their way to go dancing and invited me to come along.  I was tired but also somewhat flattered to be included with such a young and energetic group so I followed along for awhile and had a surprisingly good time listing to 80’s dance music and getting caught up in the late night festivities. 

On the morning of day 6, The ship dropped anchor off the shores of Punta Arenas, Chili. The weather was cool but not too cold, the skies were mostly clear and the sea seemed relatively calm.  Punta Arenas is a tender port, meaning the ship doesn’t dock but instead ferries passengers to shore on smaller boats.  Visiting tender ports takes patience and as passengers waited in line for tender tickets or fidgeted in the theatre waiting for their excursions to be called I could begin to see hints of restlessness.  Eventually the captain made an announcement that the sea was too rough and conditions were expected to deteriorate throughout the day and it wasn’t safe to use the tender boats.  The major concern was not so much getting passengers to shore, but the real risk in getting people back to the ship in the afternoon. 

The announcement was met with a collective groan of disappointment.  Of course, people wanted to see southern Chili, venture into the Patagonian wilderness of snow-capped mountains, shuttle to the penguin rookery, or simply explore the city.  Disappointment was to be expected.  What I didn’t expect however, was the number of grown adults who engaged in full blown tantrums or total toddler meltdowns.  There were some who were convinced that their expertise in evaluating weather and analyzing risks to passenger safety far exceeded the knowledge and experience of the captain and crew.  Seriously, some seemed to think that if they threw a big enough fit the captain would reconsider his assessment of the conditions. 

So, I didn’t get to visit Punta Arenas.  But, because we now had more time, we were able slowly cruise through the fjords of southern Chili and reach the Beagle Channel much earlier with time to sail all the way through and back while it was still daylight.  For hours we sailed by steep mountains and tiny islands.  At one point I managed to find a little spot tucked away next to window and I sat there for over an hour marveling at the scenery.  Then, just when I was feeling totally satisfied with the day an announcement came over the speakers that we were entering the Beagle Channel. 

The nearly two hours spent in the Channel (also referred to as Glacier Alley) was nothing short of astounding.  I mingled on deck 12 with some of my newly acquired cruise friends and together we marveled at the glaciers tumbling from between the mountains.  The Antarctic team provided a running commentary over the ships intercom system and as a group we traipsed along the ship moving from port to starboard, forward to aft looking for the best locations to view the scenery.  

The sun didn’t go down until almost 10:00 pm and as it made it's decent and weather became noticeably colder, my enthusiastic and jovial group decided that it was time to head indoors.  We paused for a few more minutes as the shoreline dissolved into the darkness.  While my younger companions headed off to once again go dancing, I instead filled my water bottle and made my way back to my cabin intent on getting a good night’s sleep before a long day in Ushuaia.  It was blissfully comfortable being rocked into dreamland by the steady waves gently rolling the ship back and forth throughout the night.

This morning we docked in Ushuaia.  I was excited because I had booked an excursion to travel via catamaran across the channel to visit a penguin rookery.  This was one of the reason that I wanted to take this trip, to see penguins up close. 

Unfortunately, when I returned from breakfast there was a note on my cabin door informing me that the excursion had been canceled due to the weather.  My heart sank and I was beginning to empathize with the tantrum throwers from the day before.  It took almost a full five minutes before I was able to adjust my attitude.  I had done my homework; I was well aware that I was traveling to a part of the world where the weather was unforgiving, uncooperative, and often treterous. Last-minute cancelations and adjustments were to be expected.  I took a moment to remind myself how lucky I was to even be here and I would have another opportunity to play with penguins when we visited the Falkland Islands. Dealing with disappointment is never fun, but the only positive course of action is to move to plan B and make the best of the things.

My back up plan was a mid-day stroll around the town.  Ushuaia is not a typical tourist spot. The Norwegian Star was the only cruise ship in port, towering above the smaller expedition ships that were preparing to transport hard core adventure travelers to the seventh continent.  Those ships are better equipped to deal with weather issues, but then again, the price tag for a true Antarctic expedition is upwards of $10,000.  Much more than my bank account can handle. 

So now let’s add a little envy to my disappointment.  I sighed and once again forced myself to focus on the positive and continued my stroll down the pier toward town.

It ended up being an interesting few hours.  There wasn’t a lot to see but the town itself, built into a hillside against the mountains of Tierra del Fuego was visually impressive.  The small airport by the edge of the ocean looked like a simple waystation.  A jumping off point, a place where people pass through on their way to a hard to reach, exotic locale.  Ushuaia is where adventurers begin their journey to the Antarctic Peninsula, Mt Vinson, the South Pole.  It’s not a major port-of-call for the cruise lines.  There are only a few souvenir shops with minimal inventory and even fewer tour companies focused on day trips. 

It isn’t an exciting place but it’s fascinating in its uniqueness.  I walked along the shore, up steep hills, around small parks, and in and out of a few shops.  I walked until the wind picked up and sleet started to fall and then I made my way back to the ship.  While walking along, the wind became so fierce that being blown off the pier seemed a real possibility.   Once safely back on board, I found a seat at the café, ordered a mocha and scrolled through my photos from the day.  I no longer had to force feelings of gratitude; I was feeling it for real.

And that brings us back to where I started. The ship is approaching the Drake Passage, known for some of the roughest seas on earth.  It should be an interesting 36-40 hours as the journey continues south to the end of the earth.