A week in Ushuaia, el Fin del Mundo.
The weather in Patagonia is unpredictable, no less so in Ushuaia, a hilly town overlooking the Beagle Channel, the jumping off point for Antarctica.
It was raining when I arrived, the plane dropping through the clouds to give us our first view of our surroundings, Argentina on our right; Chile to our left. The airport is small, framed like a chalet, with only one baggage carousel. It didn’t take long for my bags to appear.
Outside, I welcomed the cooler temperatures. Buenos Aires was warm, the humidity driving up the preceived warmth past what I had felt in Lima. I called an Uber and caught my first views of the town as we made the short trip to the Air Bnb.
Ines met me and walked me through the cute apartment. A small terrace opens out from the bedroom offering views of the mountains to the west. The living and dining rooms are fronted by a huge terrace that overlooks the port and the channel.
After unpacking I walked down the hill to explore Ushuaia. I had spent some time on the terrace to get my bearings. The town is laid out in a grid with long avenues running parallel to the channel across the town, and smaller roads running perpendicular to the channel climbing up into the hills. One avenue could be considered the main street, filled with shops, cafes, restaurants, and chocolate shops aimed directly at the tourists who come to hike the mountains and board cruises for Antarctica (in addition to the tourists who come by ship cruising the fjords).
I walked down to the water, past murals and a bright yellow church before turning back inland to walk the length of the main street, peering into shops and scoping out places to eat.
Monday night I treated myself to dinner at Kaupé Restaurant, which offers a tasting menu of the sea and sweeping views of the channel. Wine was included: two glasses with the starters and main, one with the dessert (which contained champagne already), and a glass of sparkling wine with coffee or tea. It’s a lovely place and a satisfying experience; it marked my first taste of the king crab for which the region is famous.
The restaurant was full, the waiters turned people away at the door who arrived, hoping for a table. Some made reservations for the next day, some went away empty-handed.
The day had been a mix of sun and clouds, changing by the hour. At one point the skies were blue, then overcast. I thought it might rain but the weather held.
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On Tuesday, a Carnival celebration took over a few blocks of the avenue that runs along the water.
A few groups danced and paraded before the amassed. It was the largest number of people I had seen at one time in the town.
I had initially walked out to look for ginger candies at the Carrefour off to the west. Along the way I stopped by the Ushuaia sign and the Plaza Malvinas Argentinas, where an eternal flame burns in memory of those who fought in the war for the Falkland Islands before walking west through a park and along a flowering painted path. A small collection of people danced tango in a tiny gazebo.
Back in town I joined the crowds to watch the dancers. In the Plaza Don Bosco I climbed the roof of the Casa de la Mujer to gaze upon the profile of Evita before descending once again to join the masses lining the street.
I ate at a gin bar near the water, the sounds of the carnival drowned out by the sound system inside. I couldn’t decide between the curry and a ceviche and asked the bartender her recommendation. They’re polar opposites; she held out her hands away from each other to illustrate. I asked her what her favorite was. The ceviche, she said. Done.
That night, the sunset was breathtaking: the skies rosy and pink. As the sun ducked behind the mountains it set the clouds aflame.
The next day proved hazy and overcast. Clouds obscured the mountain peaks and the hills in the distance through which the channel passed were blocked by the haze from my view. It was Valentine’s Day and I treated myself to a box of chocolates from a shop near my apartment. The main strip is dotted with chocolate shops, but I passed them by to visit this one in a more residential area of town. The man who rung me up offered me an extra piece as I was leaving. I asked him to recommend me a piece and he gave me one of their signature chocolates: an Edelweiss, the namesake of the shop.
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Thursday morning I woke to clear skies. the sun was in full force, the skies blue. Clouds crowned the far peaks, seeming to keep themselves to the mountains. Sunlight streamed into the living room, warming the apartment. I kept the door ajar.
That night I ate at Kalma Resto, which proved my favorite meal of the week. The waitstaff were friendly and the chef came out to greet all the diners and thank them for coming. The food showcased the bounty of the Beagle Channel, from the mussels to the salmon to the sea bass to the krill flavoring one of the dishes to the salt sprinkled over the butter.
The walk home was was beautiful as the sun set the skies purple. Taking advantage of the sparse traffic I positioned myself in the middle of the street to capture the scene.
Friday I wrapped up work before going radio silent for two weeks. The weather was fine but the forecast was for rain on Saturday. There are a few hikes I want to do in the area and decided to add another night’s stay on my return to Ushuaia to give myself time to do them. I rebooked my flight, added a night to my hotel reservation, and debated which hike to do first.
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Saturday afternoon I took a walk through town to the pier. Nearby a number of kiosks sold an assortment of cruises and trips through the channel to see penguins, sea lions, the lighthouse. I was partially on a reconnaissance mission to determine where I’m to meet the bus that will take me to the ship tomorrow. While the pier is right next door and not long, it doesn’t allow passengers to walk the length of it. Tomorrow, after dropping off my luggage I’ll be assigned a time slot where I am to meet my group at the ‘end of the world’ sign. We’ll board the bus and embark together.
Near the pier stand monuments to the pioneers and first settlers of Ushuaia and a small park which boasts a bust of Evita next to her husband. Signs near the tourist office give distances to points within Argentina and major cities of the world. New York City is a little over 10,000 km away.
Graffiti lines a concrete wall that runs along the road by the channel vowing that the Falkland Islands will be Argentina.
I ducked into the museums at the end of the world, casting my gaze over the displays documenting the original inhabitants and the history of the area, set in the former bank, and then the seat of the government where rooms had been preserved as they were back in the day.
Walking home I stopped by a chocolate shop to pick up some treats for the cruise. I asked for a quarter kilo box and stop after making my selections to ask if that’s enough. The salesperson weighs the result and it comes to around 260 grams. She looks at me, impressed. I laugh and accompany her to the register.
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Throughout the week I’ve been watching ships came in and out of the harbor, never quite catching the boarding or disembarking processes. I’ve tried to guess where they were going; where they’re from. Now and again I would see them cruise the channel, bypassing Ushuaia on their routes.
I ran last minute errands, stopping by the main grocery stores to see if they sold ginger candy. None did. Ultimately, I found them at a natural food store, sold out of one of the glass jars that lined the walls. A woman came out from behind the counter and asked how many I wanted. I told her 200 grams. She gave me one to try. Caliente, she said, and chuckled when it hit me.
Algo más? 100 grams of peanuts, unsalted. At the counter I looked at the bag of ginger candies she had neatly packaged and asked for another 200 grams. Just in case.
Finally, one of the many things that endear me to this town is the art that adorns the squares and the street art that adorns the walls. My favorite may be a whale that floats just below the mountains on an otherwise unassuming side street a few blocks up from the harbor. Nearer to my house a mosaic depicts the channel and the town itself.
Tomorrow, I board the Ocean Albatros, where I’ll be spending the next 11 nights. It’s the culmination of a conversation I had with a woman in a Chilean vineyard a little over a year ago. She had stopped in Santiago to break up her trip south; soon she’d be joining her husband in Argentina and flying to Antarctica where they’d board a ship for a one-week cruise.
Before then, the thought of going to Antarctica was a vague notion in my head. That night I started researching Antarctic cruises. A month later, I had put down a deposit on a cruise. And now, just under a year later, I am on the eve of embarkation. My heart is full to bursting in anticipation. 🇦🇶
