The End of the World

Three days to spare after our backpacking trip before taking the 4 day ferry ride up North, we decided to nab the next tickets to Punta Arenas and camp on the Magellan Straight. It's not actually the end of the world, but the Magellan Straight does mark the southernmost point of the continental Americas. The idea had come to Will while we were on the trail, and it came to fruition by way of quick thinking, open ended planning, lucky breaks, and kind people offering timely assistance.




We didn't actually know where we were going to go, how long it takes to get there, or how long the multi-day trek is, but we did know that it followed the coastline and that you can camp for free and build fires wherever you so choose. That was enough information to convince us how to spend our last weekend in southern Chile. Upon our return to Puerto Natales, while telling a kind Israeli hostel-mate about our plans, he gifted us his map from the very trek we were hoping to do. Turns out, the trek takes 4 days and we only had 2 full days, so we decided instead to just hit the beaches for some camping and hike a leisurely 4-6 miles a day instead. We would do the trip in style: Austral beer, avocados, tomato and mozzarella salad, dried pears, paella mix with canned mussels, ravioli with real tomato sauce, and lots of cookies....



Scruffy!

Will had read on WikiTravel that there is a 6 pm bus that leaves Punta Arenas for the San Juan fishing community, where the beach trek begins. Yet when we asked where to find the bus, the attendants at the bus station insisted that there is no such bus because San Juan is so small (feasibly true) and told us to go to a guiding agency so we can visit the Magellanic penguin colony instead. Undeterred by their false insistence, we wandered outside with 10 minutes to spare before catching the phantom bus. Meandering down the sidewalk, we must have looked confused and desperate because a local Chilean man approached us and asked what we needed. When we told him, he chuckled and pointed for us to cross the street. Ten feet later, a row of combis (tiny local buses) came into view. An hour later, The combi dropped us off at its last stop at the end of a dirt road and the friendly driver gestured for us to follow the road for about 11 kilometers to find the trailhead.



Chilling our local beer in the Magellan Straight!

Donning our light packs, we followed the road which traced the edge of the high tide line. A small furry dog looking like a ragamuffin version of Kristin's dog, Widget, resolutely joined us, leading us down the road as the sky grew dusky. Dolphins frolicked in the distance and gulls snacked for tidbits amongst the rocky shore at low tide. As blue faded to pink, we selected a campsite and I took photographs while Will and Scruffy (the name he aptly selected for the sweet dog) set up the tent and cooked ravioli. We were sparing with our water since there was no fresh source within sight, so we drank hot pasta water for tea to warm ourselves in the cold night air and used the remaining water to soak our dried beans overnight.




Sleeping till ten, breakfast in bed, reading till 2, lunch sometime that afternoon.... We packed up camp eventually, and strolled a few miles further until we stumbled across a campsite just inside the woods with a freshwater river flowing next to it. We set up the stove on the nearly deserted beach, leaning against a whitened drift-wood tree, watching whales spout arcs of water and flick their tails, and drinking local beer that I chilled in the receding tide of the Magellan Straight. Life is pretty great to me.

We were told that you know if someone is from Punta Arenas because they always walk as if against the wind, even when there is no wind.