On Monday, February 23 we arrived in Punta Arenas, Chile. Thus Chile, after Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay is the latest new country for me to visit. We had to pass through Chilean security and put our bags and backpacks through an X-ray. They were taking all fruit off passengers. Mark was stopped and had to surrender an apple, but the X-ray didn’t detect that he still was carrying another one, so he was able to bring it into the country.
The memorial to Ferdinand Magellan at Plaza de Armas:
Note “Tierra del Fuego” is on the side of the statue facing me:
We saw a monkey puzzle tree, which is native to this part of Chile. We first saw such a tree while cycling in Orkney in 2024, and it was indeed a curious sight to see one growing there, in someone’s front yard. This was the only one we saw in Punta Arenas:
Liceo María Auxiliador:
The conical Italian cypress trees in the cemetery:
From the English section of the cemetery. Mr. MacDonald was born in Rossshire:
It had started to rain but we kept on walking, crossing the Rio de las Minas. This is a river that runs through the city but it is bordered by concrete embankments. We were en route to the high point on our map, which was designated as a lookout:
We ate our lunch under a tree to keep out of the rain. As we headed back to the ship we stopped into several souvenir stores and I looked at the books. I didn’t want to buy from the first store I went into so we went into a few more and the prices were more expensive, so I returned to Roca Souvenirs where I got three books on Patagonia and the indigenous peoples of Tierra del Fuego.
Attractive yellow art deco building and a car breakdown in the same shot!
We didn’t have the entire day in Punta Arenas, as we had to get back to the ship by 3 p.m. We aimed to get to the harbour half an hour early to ensure we wouldn’t miss a tender. One of the problems with taking a tender is that the sea might be so rough that going to shore would not be possible. We were fortunate in that the odds were in our favour and we were able to visit Stanley, Falkland Islands, even though the captain said there was only a 40% chance we would be able to do so.
However, what if the sea was so rough that it made it impossible to take a tender back? Such was the case in Punta Arenas. When we walked back to the harbour we were met with an insanely long line. Why was it taking so long to board the tenders? Turns out there were two reasons. Late this morning a problem arose at the docks, meaning only one tender could be in service at a time. The faulty docking apparatus was fixed and two tenders were back in service by the time we got to the front of the line. Yet the more precarious reason for the slow-moving line was that the water was so choppy. The waves were crashing into the dock and the empty tenders were bobbing about like corks in a tsunami. The dock workers had trouble stabilizing the boats to tie them to shore. How could anyone board these small boats? And those that were already on their way back to the ship looked as if they were going to capsize. I am not kidding. Our ship had to be at least 1 km offshore. What a trip we had in store.
The tender in front of us was being loaded and although there was a large group ahead of us, a dock worker yelled out “Room for two more!”. I suppose the group wanted to board the tender together so Mark and I bypassed them and got on. As we were the last two to board, Mark, who got on first, managed to find an empty seat among the passengers while I had to take a smaller fold-down seat next to the embarkation side at port. The only things separating me from the open sea were two thin chains with a big enough gap between them to allow me a clear passage to death by drowning. If the tender tipped to the left, I’d be in the water. A member of the crew asked, seriously, if any passengers required seasickness bags. I felt for sure some people would take him up on his offer. There was no doubt in my mind that I was in the most dangerous seat of all but I was Mr. Cool as I concentrated on the positive end result of making it to the ship safely.
As we neared the ship we had to wait, bobbing about, as prior tenders offloaded. Waves suddenly rose and splashed inside, drenching some passengers and one poor man in particular. Just as we were getting ready to disembark we were told not to stand up all at once. Only one person should stand up at a time, and that meant the person who was next to disembark. People don’t listen or their survival instinct impelled several of them to stand up at once, and they were jolted about by the rocking waves. Fortunately for me, I was the last one on and sitting nearest the exit, so I got off first. Although I felt able enough to walk off the tender unassisted, nevertheless two dockhands grabbed each side of me to help me off. I did not wait for Mark as the offloading process was going to take some time and I wanted to return to our cabin.
In spite of my cool attitude during the trip back, I did have a morbid premonition of doom. It would be perfect for a horror movie–here I was sitting in the tender thinking this, marketing the story of my own death to Hollywood–but I was preoccupied by the portent of us taking the last two places on the tender. What if our tender capsized? And here Mark and I took the last two spots and then the boat sinks! Or…what if the tender that left after us sank? Did we escape disaster because we were able to take the last two seats of the earlier tender? On the one hand, I could visualize a safe arrival. I rode with this confidence. Yet…on the other hand, in the back of my mind, I foresaw the doom where either our tender or the one behind us would sink.
The tendering took hours, and we were four hours late in our departure, not setting off till 7 p.m. We had a day at sea ahead then a beautiful day at Puerto Madryn, Argentina after that.