Patagonia and Iguazu Falls

Introduction

I am once again about to set off on another tour; this time the destination is Patagonia, a desolate land very far from Italy.

The itinerary involves crossing Argentina until we reach Tierra del Fuego, the so-called end of the World, disembarking (time and authorities permitting) at Cape Horn, the southernmost point of the globe, heading back up through Chilean Patagonia, stopping to observe the Perito Moreno, the enormous and imposing glacier, and finally visiting the majestic and immense Iguazú Falls on the border with Brazil. A very demanding route in terms of travel, climate variations and humidity. The clothing I am preparing ranges from heavy to light, and looking at the weather forecast, even though it is late spring in Argentina, cold and snow are expected in some places.

Following my traveller's checklist, I prepare the indispensible "accessories" for the tour; my digital SLR (Nikon DX40) with three spare cards, my inseparable Moleskine® (the notebook), some pens, my passport, the travel programme, the guidebooks and not least the indispensible airline tickets.

For the trip I have chosen the guidebooks: • Argentina published by Lonely Planet-EDT – 4th Italian edition – November 2008; • Chile and Easter Island published by Lonely Planet-EDT; 6th Italian edition – June 2009.

I consider both guidebooks interesting for their lists of places to visit, as well as providing much "useful information" for the trip. In the diary I will refer to the places I visit by indicating the page of the guidebook, preceded by the country to make them easier to find. Example: Argentina (A-LP p.), Chile (C-LP p.), so that anyone wishing to go deeper can find the necessary references.

The programme calls for meeting at Milan Linate airport at 13:00. We set off from Rovello by car; Lorenzo comes to pick up Ambrogina, me and Luigia: in the car the jigsaw of people and suitcases requires contortionist moves, but the desire to visit Patagonia overcomes any logistical difficulty. Arriving at the airport we find part of the group; I gladly meet Giorgio and Rossella, with whom I have shared other trips; the introductions are quick: over the coming days I will get to know the other members of the group better. The last to arrive, but punctual, is Salvatore, the group leader; we are all here, so we check in our suitcases for Rome, where we will collect them again to send them on to Buenos Aires.

Many friends, before departure, "urged" me to take notes for the now customary travel diary, but above all to take good photographs both to publish on my website and for the multimedia version of my stories. On board an Alitalia MD80 we depart on time; since I haven't yet studied the tour in depth, I concentrate on reading the Argentina guidebook and look up the places we will visit. I read that on some occasions lunch is not provided; someone worries about what to eat, but this difficulty doesn't arise: Argentina is the kingdom of grilled meat, we will surely find some eatery that will satisfy our palate. We arrive in Rome on time at 15:20, collect our luggage and head to check-in for Argentina; we are at counter 409, where we find a long queue of people all heading to Buenos Aires.

Fearing a low temperature on arrival, we left home wearing heavy clothes, but we hadn't considered the hot Roman climate; some change, others peel off their sweaters. At check-in they inform us that we cannot check our luggage through to Trelew, the city where our tour begins; we will have to collect it in Buenos Aires to check it in again. We board the Airbus 340 of Argentinas Aerlines; the last goodbye texts and then I switch off my mobile, thinking about when I will get back my usual ways of communicating; I am on holiday and it is right that work calls remain in Italy. The only calls I want to make are to my loved ones.

The plane is partially full; I am seated near the window; it is 19:50 when the route we will follow appears on the on-board monitor; the route involves flying over Africa and then crossing the Atlantic Ocean; indeed, shortly afterwards the lights of Tunisian cities appear; looking into the darkness I make out the coastline, the port, the sea that appears black but dotted with the bright lights of fishing boats. We are flying at an altitude of 9,330 metres when the city lights give way to the immense African desert and the darkness of the night. The flight will last 14 hours and 30 minutes and arrival is expected in Buenos Aires at 5:50 local time. After the heat of Rome I think about the temperature we will find during the trip; the forecast says cold, rain, snow and a few sunny days: what to wear is quite a dilemma.

Seated next to me is a priest; Father Tommaso of the "Sons of Mary" Order, he is Italian, from Lazio, and has lived for years in southern India where he runs a mission with a seminary and some schools; with two fellow brothers he is travelling to Chile for an international conference on the formation of seminarians. During the flight we have dinner and then sleep; at a certain point we are told to fasten our seatbelts: encountering an Atlantic weather front we hit turbulence. The first light of day arrives, the dawn illuminates the sea of clouds beneath us; we are descending towards Buenos Aires, and passing through the clouds I catch a glimpse of a stretch of coastline; it is 5:30 local time and in a few minutes we will land.

First part

The city of Buenos Aires (A-LP 73) offers a unique panorama from above; straight streets that continually intersect creating a regular geometric pattern. The city, partially lit by street lamps, is about to be irradiated by sunlight; skyscrapers tower towards the sky and numerous green parks can be seen; the rising sun welcomes us. We disembark, go through customs, collect our suitcases, then on coming out we find our guide: Silvia, a distinguished lady who will accompany us through the day until the afternoon boarding for Trelew. On board a coach we head towards the city. Near the airport there is a neighbourhood of villas; they are well kept and harmonious; it is one of the most exclusive neighbourhoods in the city; Maradona also lives here. Not far away are the training grounds of the national football team, which, as in Italy, is the most popular sport.

We proceed slowly, we are in the thick of the traffic heading towards the capital; an immense and cosmopolitan city of over 16 million inhabitants out of a national population of about 40 million. Once we arrive in the metropolis, the first stop will be for breakfast; we drive along immense avenues, pass in front of the parliament, cross 9 July Avenue and then stop at the "Caffè de los Angelitos" (A-LP 122), a historic establishment; during the day it is a renowned bar and in the evening it is one of the great attractions where people dance tango. The atmosphere is warm and welcoming, the decor dates from the early 1900s, and on the walls hang photos of famous Argentines, among whom I recognise Fangio and Che Guevara. We sit down and an abundant breakfast arrives; coffee, orange juice, sweet cakes, savoury pastries; enough for a complete meal, excellent and delicious.

We leave the establishment and by coach we set about the city tour. We start from 9 July 1816 Avenue (A-LP 92); that is the date of the union of the Argentine provinces, practically the birth of present-day Argentina. The avenue is enormous, over three kilometres long, 149 metres wide, and its roadway has no fewer than 16 lanes. The streets we drive along are all adorned with plants that are in bloom at this time of year; there are numerous jacarandas showing their beautiful purple flowers, and more sporadically plants with red flowers: the Seibo, the flower symbol of Argentina. We arrive at Plaza de Mayo (A-LP 89), in the centre of which stands an obelisk, the Pirámide de Mayo (A-LP 90), bearing the date 25 May 1810, the day the Spanish viceroy was removed and Argentina declared independence from Spain.

On one side of the square stands a beautiful white colonial building, the Cabildo (A-LP 90), now used as a museum; beside it a fine French-style building, while on one side we find the Metropolitan Cathedral (A-LP 90); built in colonial Baroque style, fronted by a colonnade. The church, whose interior is enriched by a mosaic floor, has a large central nave flanked by two side naves where chapels stand; the altar, also Baroque, is silver. In the side chapels there are funerary monuments, the main one being the mausoleum of San Martín, the historic Argentine leader; not far away is the chapel with the statue of the Madonna, protector of Argentina.

Leaving the church we walk around the square, heading towards the marble obelisk, where I notice that around it, on the brown pavement, white handkerchiefs tied at the neck are painted; this place is rich in meaning: during the sad period of the dictatorship, the mothers of the disappeared gathered for 1,500 Thursdays, that is for thirty years, to perform a silent circle around the obelisk. At the sides of the square are the entrance stairs to the city's old underground railway dating from the early 1900s and still operating with a limited number of stations. On the side opposite the Cabildo museum stands the "Casa Rosada" (A-LP 90), the palace of the President of the Argentine Republic; the name comes from the colouring of this colonial-style palace.

Walking through the streets and the square I notice a fair number of people sleeping on the street: wherever you go, unfortunately, you find poverty. Resuming the tour, we drive along streets with flowing traffic where I spot an INAS CISL office (an Italian welfare agency); being able to regularise and align one's pension contributions with Italy is truly useful work, genuinely a valuable service to our compatriots residing in this country. In the Palermo district (A-LP 97) we can see beautiful parks frequented by people engaged in sports, the zoo, the botanical garden, and not far away we see the Italian embassy. Then we stop near a park where a metal sculpture is placed, the "Floralis Generica" (A-LP 96), a flower whose stamens are illuminated in the evening; its petals open and close following the course of the sun, like a real flower.

Arriving in the Gomero district, we stop at a flowerbed where a majestic Ficus Macrofilas stands, an enormous plant over 200 years old; it's impossible not to have your photo taken under this giant. Arriving at "la Recoleta", we visit the Iglesia Nuestra Señora del Pilar (pillar), built in colonial style in 1732, with a Baroque-style interior. We then visit the monumental Recoleta cemetery; among many imposing tombs, very few plants grow; in this place that appears like a sad city of the dead, we can see the tomb of Evita Perón. Not far away, I am struck by a tomb with a life-size statue of a girl and a plaque written in Italian: the dedication of her father who, a sculptor and poet, created it all for his daughter.

We return to the coach but the vehicle has broken down, and while waiting for it to be repaired we take the opportunity to browse some shops, change some money, and with Argentine pesos drink a good coffee, an excellent way to fight off the latent drowsiness. The driver manages to fix the fault, so we resume the tour and, passing through the Telmo district, we reach "La Boca" (A-LP 94), a characteristic and colourful neighbourhood on the banks of the Río de la Plata. Originally this was the place where the Genoese who arrived in Argentina disembarked; later it became the residence of the workers who painted ships at the port; they used the leftover paint to colour the metal sheets placed to protect the wooden houses, and over time this colourfulness became the characteristic of the neighbourhood.

We walk along the Caminito, a street where you can see the colourful houses, full of tourist attractions such as tango dancers, musicians, painters whose paintings are sometimes truly valuable. In the shops you find both cheap and fine objects. I enjoy photographing and observing this slice of the immense metropolis. Lunchtime has come, and as we head to the restaurant, while we drive alongside the Río de la Plata, I notice that billboards with paintings and their captions have been placed along the riverfront: they are reproductions of some works held at the Louvre in Paris; a lovely idea to reproduce these masterpieces in order to spread knowledge of them. We arrive in the area of the old English warehouses which, renovated, have become public venues and residences; the red-brick structures are pleasant to look at.

The lunch stop lets us taste good Argentine cuisine: meat-filled pastries "empanadas", grilled beef, ice cream or fruit in syrup.

Second part

We set off again driving alongside the Río de la Plata, this immense river the colour of hazelnut brown that carries towards the sea the red earth collected along its 240 km course; at its mouth, with its 50 km width, it takes on the dimensions of a veritable sea. The opposite bank visible in the distance is Uruguay, and there is a regular boat service between the two nations. At times the colour of the water, due to pollution, turns from brown to black and oily. We reach Jorge Newbery airport, located near the river coast, where we will take off for Trelew; it is hot, and after almost two days of travelling, drowsiness makes its appearance; to fight it, at the bar I have a strong black coffee.

During the flight some chat, some try to rest; I consult the guidebook to learn about the places we will visit in the coming days; I try to update the diary but it proves impossible due to the turbulence encountered. We all express a longing for a nice, refreshing shower, then we speculate about the weather we will encounter from tomorrow: will it still be hot, or will the temperature be milder? While in flight I deepen my knowledge of Patagonia; I discover that Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (A-LP 493), the author of "The Little Prince", was in Patagonia as director of Aeropostal Argentina from 1929 to 1931.

Part of the descriptions and images in his book come from this territory; the boa constrictor is similar to an island near the Valdés Peninsula; the perfectly conical volcanoes are found in southern Patagonia, the mountains, all depicted in Asteroid B612 of the beautiful book, which brings to mind someone dear to me. Looking out of the window, my thoughts vanish at the appearance of Patagonia (A-LP 476): a boundless land stretching as far as the eye can see and offering a fascinating spectacle; from above the steppe appears dotted with bushes and very few plants. The contrast with the green pampas surrounding Buenos Aires, which I was flying over just a few hours ago, is remarkable. Trelew airport has a basic structure; we collect our luggage and on going out we meet our guide: Andrea.

We board the coach assigned to us and at 19:15 we begin the journey towards Puerto Madryn; during the trip I enjoy the steppe, a wild, desolate landscape, a succession of carefully fenced pastures. Andrea tells us something about the place; we are travelling along Route National No. 3, the Pan-American Highway that starts in Alaska and after 17,848 km ends in Tierra del Fuego (a place we will later visit). Patagonia is a mostly flat land and is rich in natural wonders. Anyone can buy plots of land and turn them into pasture. Here the only problem is water; in fact landowners dig wells in search of the precious liquid, but drilling is not without surprises, because if while drilling they find oil or gold, it becomes state property, whereas if they find precious stones, they remain the owner's.

Andrea, of Welsh origin, tells us that his ancestors in the 1700s, to escape religious persecution and to preserve their culture and traditions, moved to Patagonia; once settled permanently they lived alongside the aborigines, learning customs, knowledge and traditions. We arrive at Puerto Madryn (A-LP 483) while it is still light; here the sun sets around 21:00; at the hotel they quickly assign us our rooms; I share the room with Chen, of Chinese origin but resident in Italy for decades. A shower and then, for dinner, we go to a restaurant on the seafront; vegetable and egg timbale, parrilla, fruit. I return to the hotel and, due to accumulated tiredness, I collapse; sleeping in a good bed is truly regenerating.

First part

I am up before the alarm goes off; the sun is already high and I enjoy the spectacle of the bay facing the hotel. I prepare my clothes and photographic equipment for the day ahead; breakfast and at 8:00 we set off for the Valdés Peninsula: the anticipation of seeing the whales is truly great. Leaving Puerto Madryn we pass through its industrial outskirts where we drive alongside aluminium foundries, sheds of artisans dedicated to working porphyry, fishing industry buildings surrounded by countless seagulls; the birds are concentrated in the place where processing waste is piled up; the presence of so much food attracting hundreds of birds has become a problem due to the disruption of the natural balance.

Travelling through the steppe I note how water is truly a problem for livestock and farmers; Andrea explains that to partially overcome this difficulty, purification plants for grey water have recently been built so that the purified water can be used to irrigate gardens and fields. We approach the wildlife reserve of the Valdés Peninsula and, as we drive along the narrow isthmus connecting the peninsula to the mainland, we see the first guanacos, a cute mammal of the camelid family, resembling the more famous Andean llama. For hours we have been driving alongside the fences of agricultural estates without interruption, and Andrea explains that in Patagonia farms have enormous extents, from 20,000 to 300,000 hectares of land. The area is divided into fenced plots so that cattle and sheep can graze without straying.

The herds are tended by gauchos, the legendary horsemen of the pampas and Patagonia who, living practically on horseback, carry out valuable work dedicated to raising livestock and maintaining the fences. In this area sheep are raised, whose prized wool is exported to Asia and Europe. Mutton is the main food, and to increase productivity the animals are castrated, an operation bloody both for the animals and for the handlers, requiring skill on the part of the gauchos. We quickly see the various methods of castration used: • the gauchos tie the animals' testicles for a month until they fall off, but this is a very painful method for the animals; • they cut the scrotum, but this causes severe bleeding; • with a very sharp blade, they cut the scrotum and the gaucho grabs the animal's testicles with his teeth, detaching them.

This last method seems to be the technique favoured by the handlers who, moreover, at the end of the day, after castrating and tailing the lambs, collect all the cut-off parts and cook them over the fire. According to Andrea, this seems to be a tasty dish; personally I remain very sceptical. We reach the entrance of the Valdés Peninsula nature reserve (A-LP 490); a barrier blocks the way; adjacent to the road a building houses the headquarters of the nature reserve and a small museum. Andrea gets off, collects the entrance tickets, then we set off again bound for Puerto Pirámides, where we will check the sea conditions and the possibility of boarding to go and observe the southern right whales that breed here.

If this is not possible, the day's programme will change; here it is nature that sets the conditions; I feel it is right to note that we are simple human beings passing through this enchanting place. Leaving the isthmus, Andrea explains that there are two gulfs; to the north the San José Gulf and to the south, where we are heading, the Nuevo Gulf; the two gulfs share a characteristic: when one gulf has high tide the other has low tide, and vice versa. I notice that in the San José Gulf the tide is low and birds are resting on the water's edge; they are migratory birds travelling from Canada to Antarctica. We reach the small village of Puerto Pirámides (A-LP 490), a port whose modern development stems from hunting whales and seals to obtain oil for lamps; but its origin is remote, in fact an ancient Indian cemetery has been found in the locality.

We stop at an agency where they organise sea excursions to spot whales; this morning the sea conditions allow the boat trip and the vessels are already offshore, so we have to wait for one to return: what better opportunity to wander around the village and, having spotted an advertising sign, drink an Italian coffee? Walking along streets lined with single-storey multicoloured wooden houses, I observe the church, recently rebuilt since the old one was blown down by the wind. Seeing the boat returning to port, we prepare for the excursion: we put on life jackets, a group photo and then we board the boat moored on the beach. How? On the beach? Of course, here everything is original, and even the boats, when they reach the shore, are caged in metal structures and towed by tractors onto the shore, where people on the water's edge get on and off the boat.

We take our places on the vessel, which is taken back out to sea; once out of the metal cage, the navigation begins, and although the sea is fairly calm, the pitching, especially at the bow, is considerable. With Ambrogina and Luigia I settle at the stern and, comfortably seated, we contemplate the landscape. In the distance the first whales appear, their tails rising towards the sky before disappearing into the blue water; we approach the area and then nothing … for long minutes the mammals seem to have vanished, nothing moves above the sea surface … the boat moves on, the skipper looks for other places to spot the cetaceans; the jolting motion produced by the waves creates some problems and a few passengers begin to show symptoms of seasickness.

Suddenly, almost as if by magic, the sea fills with southern right whales: they appear at the surface to breathe, you can see the spout, you can admire them swimming just below the water's surface, turning, playing, courting and then diving; seeing their tail rise and then disappear is always a great emotion. On the boat some are filming with video cameras; I, "armed" with my camera, am busy framing and shooting; the operation requires a good mix of luck and skill; moreover I have to calculate the movement of the boat and of the people who are also taking photos. After two hours of navigation we return to port, while the people struck by seasickness have turned the stern into a veritable first-aid station. Quickly crossing the Nuevo Gulf we leave behind the cetaceans swimming freely in the sea.

On reaching the shore, the boat considerably increases its speed, almost as if wanting to leap out of the sea; what's happening? We are about to enter the metal cage hooked to the tractor that will take us ashore. A ladder and we step onto dry land, we take off our life jackets; those who were struck by seasickness quickly improve. We regroup and quickly reach the coach to set off towards the south-eastern part of this wonderful natural area. We proceed along a dirt road crossing the steppe when we notice that the dust raised by the coach's wheels enters the vents of the air-conditioning system, making part of the cabin truly unbearable. During this stretch we can observe guanacos and ostriches grazing freely, while salt flats appear in the landscape, whose level is 42 metres below sea level.

Second part

Here the dwellings are very far apart; for this reason, where the largest estates stand, there are service structures rather like a small village. Every house, though built of wood, has all modern comforts; you must absolutely not think of these as desolate, inhospitable and wild places: the people are friendly, live with a good standard of living and it is not hard to find descendants of Italians. We arrive at "Il Faro" (The Lighthouse), a place named after the structure of the same name; there are some buildings including a restaurant, a bar and a craft shop; here we will stop for lunch. In the dining room, large enough to hold medium-sized groups, lunch is served; empanadas, ravioli filled with meat and ostrich eggs, grilled lamb with salad, crème caramel.

The food is good; the meat, perfectly cooked, does not have the typical gamey flavour our lamb has; it's really true that Argentines are specialists in preparing and cooking meat on the grill. While we have lunch, between one course and another the souvenir shop fills with people; I take the opportunity to observe the place carefully; furnished in a simple style, it is well organised and clean. On the walls hang small framed pictures containing, in orderly fashion, Neolithic flint artefacts, I note arrowheads, blades, various tools. Once lunch is over, going outside, I enjoy the immense plain dotted with bushes and photograph some flowers and a map of the place where we are; then, back on the coach, we set off for Punta del Faro, where we will be able to observe the sea elephants.

After a few kilometres we stop at a clearing; all together, taking care not to slip, we descend a sandy slope and reach the beach where, following the low tide, dozens of sea elephants are resting; there are adult males, females and many pups. At the end of the beach, where the coast rises, a sea elephant lies on the sand, far from the others; it looks dead, but Andrea warns us not to go near it; the mammal is alive and is moulting; its skin will change from black to grey. It is a process that will last 12 to 20 days and during this period the animal will remain motionless in the sun to allow the skin to dry and come off. Sea elephants are enormous in size, reaching up to 7 metres in length and can exceed three tonnes in weight; on land they move quite slowly but in water they are very agile.

They go to "feed" in the ocean depths and reach a depth of 1,000 metres, where they feed on giant squid and other animals found on the sea bed. At the end of the beach the scene is fantastic; the low tide exposes rocks that are full of octopus, clams and oysters; a real godsend for local fishermen. Sitting on the sand we stop to observe the scene as a whole, the blue of the sea, the grey-green of the rocks, the hazelnut of the sand with the sea elephants. You can see the dominant males positioned away from the other members of the herd; motionless and still, they carefully check that no one comes close. In the group some males try to mate with the females, who promptly run away, and it's a constant chasing. I enjoy watching this enchantment and take photographs.

Departure time approaches; we climb back up the sandy ridge and, once at the top, before leaving, we go to see another bay also populated by sea elephants basking in the sun. We return towards Puerto Madryn; we cross the Valdés Peninsula and, on reaching the checkpoint, we stop to visit the local museum, where thematic rooms are set up: fauna, flora, geology, main places, history; the main room is dedicated to the queen of the place, the southern right whale, present with a skeleton over 15 metres long. In a display case baleen is preserved, the whale's teeth, which were once used by the inhabitants as raw material for making tools for many common uses; some are very unusual, such as umbrellas.

Leaving the museum we are greeted by a cloudy grey sky threatening rain; a blessing for farmers and livestock breeders but a curse for penguins and birds; this is nature and the interplay of parts. We return to the hotel, shower, then

First part

At 5:00 the alarm goes off, breakfast and after loading the suitcases onto the coach we leave for Punta Tombo, where we should see the penguins; given the hour, sleep unites many of us. Leaving the city we go back to travelling along Route National no. 3 and heading south, after 2.30 hours of travel through the steppe, we reach a turn-off where via a dirt road we enter a private farm; we are on a 65,000-hectare estate with over 7,000 sheep grazing and in the part of the territory that touches the sea it hosts the Punta Tombo Nature Reserve (A-LP 503): one of the nesting sites of the Magellanic penguins. The stretch of coast involved in the laying and incubating of the eggs is 15 km long and the penguins push up to 2 km inland to build their nests; the local bird population is estimated at 500,000 animals.

As we make our way into the park I observe with curiosity that sheep and guanaco live harmoniously with the penguins. Magellanic penguins are one of 17 existing species; they are oviparous, up to 45 cm tall, white and black in colour. Like other species, they have scales on their backs that give them excellent waterproofing when they are in the water. To protect themselves from predators, in this area, they build their nests by digging holes in the ground beneath the thorny bushes that grow abundantly. This strategy makes it possible to protect the eggs and the chicks from gulls and other predators that, with their presence, are a constant threat. Usually the penguin lays 2 eggs which are tended in turn by the pair, which alternates in incubating them and then in feeding the chicks.

As we go around the Reserve we are lucky enough to see some nests where the hatching of the eggs has not yet taken place. I notice that many nests are lined with feathers because the eggs are either hatching or the chicks have just been born; I am fortunate enough to admire the birth of a chick that is coming out of the egg. The newly born chicks are black/brown in colour and are protected by the parent that lovingly cares for them. On the ground between the bushes I observe, amused, some penguins that awkwardly and with a waddling step walk towards the beach where they dive into the sea both to wash themselves and to look for food. As I walk among the nests the wind carries the smells of the animals, making the air very pleasant, but as soon as it drops a little, a strong and intense fishy "perfume" reaches my nose.

With Andrea, who explains many details about the penguins to us, we take a beautiful trip through the nature Reserve and, being the first visitors of the day, we can enjoy and savour the spectacle and the magic of the place in peace. As we are about to leave, other groups of tourists arrive and fill the area. We leave the nature Reserve, taking the Rn no. 3 again heading towards Trelew where we will take the plane to Ushuaia, but since we are perfectly on schedule and the programme includes a visit to a Welsh village, we ask Andrea to take us to visit it. At first he is reluctant, but given our insistence he agrees to accompany us even though he doesn't know whether we will find a place for lunch. We therefore head towards Gaiman (A-LP 501): a locality inhabited by Welsh people who moved here.

Along the road the barren landscape turns green and lush, rich in plants with broad cultivated fields; why this radical change? We are near a river and the water, wisely channelled and used, offers the possibility of developing plantations of poplars and weeping willows which, with their tall crowns, create a useful and precious barrier against the constant wind characteristic of Patagonia; this produces a microclimate suitable for the cultivation of fruit, vegetables and greens. We can observe plantations of strawberries, potatoes, alfalfa as well as plants with fruits of cherries, figs, peaches and walnuts; much of this fruit is ripening and we will find it in a few weeks, at Christmas, on our Italian tables. Stopping at Don Julio's farm, Andrea asks whether it is possible to make a stop for a snack; it is possible but we have to wait a little.

In the meantime, while the strong sun warms us, we take the opportunity to stroll among the fields and orchards that surround the farm. After a few minutes we enter the house where we are kindly welcomed by the owner, an elderly lady who quickly, in the large living room, has prepared three tables; in managing an improvised welcome she was really good, precise and tidy. I notice that in an adjoining room, which is being renovated, there is a fireplace and a bar counter, the environment is clean and welcoming; on the walls are hung many family photos and sports trophies that the owners won when in their youth they competed in athletics competitions. They serve us: apple cake, chocolate cake and cream, pastries, bread with lightly salted butter (a true delight for the palate), strawberry and melon jams, salami, warm bread; a little nibble? Not at all! A real, abundant meal rich in sugars.

It is midday and we have to leave the place to head to the airport. Once there, after loading the suitcases, we pay the flight tax; the airport structure is small and crowded with passengers, so we look for a place to stay as a group to wait for the departure of the flight to Ushuaia, in "Tierra del Fuego". The moment of boarding arrives, the plane is full and passing between the seats I hear a familiar dialect inflection, I ask the Italians where they are from and I discover that they live in a town neighbouring mine: the world really is small! On board the MD 80 we take off 30 minutes late; but here time seems to take on a completely different dimension and quite different values compared to the frenzy of Milan.

During the flight we talk about dinner which is not included in the programme, Salvatore has the address of a typical restaurant, but after phoning he found room for 10 people, so it was decided to make two groups in two different restaurants. During the flight I read the programme and the guide, discovering that Tierra del Fuego is a very important area from a naturalistic point of view. Flying over the flat, arid Patagonian expanse, my gaze is lost among the omnipresent shrubs and, observing my travelling companions, I notice how the early wake-up has brought tiredness to all of us. The sky is becoming cloudy and I take advantage of the calm of the flight to sort out my travel notes; my constant note-taking arouses curiosity among the travellers and someone asks me why; I explain that I write travel diaries and I give them the directions on where to find them.

Almost three hours have passed since take-off and we are preparing to land, we are travelling lit by the sun, but below us the sky is cloudy, beyond the clouds lakes appear, snow-covered mountains with slopes covered in woods and not far away the sea jagged with many islands. The pilot warns us that the temperature on the ground is 9°C, the sky is ever more cloudy and grey, the sea looks dark and gloomy, the mountains are dark green; this is one of the many images of Tierra del Fuego, a place where in a single day it is possible to encounter the temperature of all four seasons. The contrast of the Argentine landscape is really strong: in the north there is a verdant landscape, in the centre in Patagonia it is barren, while here in the south it appears green and lush.

Ushuaia appears (A-LP 594), the last city before Antarctica, the city rises on the coast and climbs up the flanks of the mountains, the houses are low and colourful, at the edge of the city the industrial zone appears. We land on the concrete runway, we get off the plane while it is raining: welcome

Second part

We disembark, collect our luggage and get on the coach that will take us to the hotel, here we find a pretty young woman waiting for us, she is our guide, of Italian origin, her name is Karina Bonanno. We cross the city and in a short time we reach the hotel built on the side of the mountain, totally immersed in the woods, it offers an enchanting view over the city, the bay and the islands lying in front. Just above us are the snow-capped peaks of the mountains, Karina tells us that a few dozen metres from the hotel there is the departure point of a chairlift that leads to a glacier coming down from the mountain. When we get off the coach we are greeted by a cold and crisp temperature; will it only be the evening temperature or is it really the local climate? After all, with snow just a short distance away we have to forget about the heat.

Room assignment and then we get ready for dinner; Salvatore leaves with the first group, while we meet shortly afterwards in the hotel lobby heading to the "Kaupe" restaurant where we have booked; once reunited we call three taxis to take us, we go down into the city and in a short time we arrive at the restaurant. The initial idea was to have a little stroll around the town before dinner, but since it is snowing lightly we decide to go straight to dinner. We enter the place where the atmosphere is warm, welcoming, refined and elegant. At the hotel reception they had told us that this restaurant is among the most expensive in the city; we are a little worried about the expense, but we decide to sit at the tables. They bring us the à la carte menu and scanning it we see the price expressed in dollars; we are struck by apoplexy: the figures are exorbitant.

We ask the waiter for the exact price and he explains that although the American dollar symbol is shown, the numerical amount indicates Argentine pesos; since the value is a quarter of the dollar, everything is scaled down. I choose the menu: plain crab, black hake, chocolate dessert; some accompany the food with an excellent Argentine wine. The dishes are refined, with excellent presentation, the food is truly tasty. During dinner, from the windows of the place, we can admire the bay still lit by the sun, as the sun begins to set and the gaze is lost in the lights of the streets and those of the port, in the moored ships, in the planes landing. When dinner is finished the bill arrives; 200 pesos per person (about €40), a truly modest price compared to Italy.

We call taxis to return to the hotel, when in the sky the clouds let through the last rays of the setting sun, making the view of the bay very evocative; we will see whether it will be a good sign for tomorrow, when the excursion in a park awaits us. I am in the hotel lounge and I am updating my Moleskine, when the other group arrives and, on opening up, [they say] that theirs was a so-so evening, they are not very happy with the dinner which they consider poor both in quality and service, the crab was served cold and the place was little more than adequate; a bit of disappointment can be seen on their faces. As I write, my gaze follows the enchantment of the illuminated city and port where the lights are reflected in the sea. The hotel lounge is little frequented and the Italians, gathering to play burraco, bring cheerfulness that spreads through the whole room.

Before going to bed my thoughts turn to the clothing to prepare for tomorrow, but seeing the changing weather conditions I decide that only when I wake up will I decide what to wear.

First part

The alarm goes off at 7:30 but with Chen we have been watching the bay and the movement of the ships for over an hour; there is good light, the sky is grey and cloudy but for now there is no precipitation, I decide to dress in layers with warm clothes and keep the waterproof ones within reach. In the hotel lobby we find the day's guide, his name is Luca and he speaks good Italian. Breakfast, then we prepare the suitcases which we will load in the afternoon and in the meantime we leave them in the care of the hotel; finally with the coach we leave for the visit to the Lapataia nature Park (A-LP 605). After leaving the city we travel along a road heading north-west and in a few km we reach the boundaries of the Park. Entrance fee and then we continue the journey to a clearing where a colonial building stands; it is the railway station of the "Train of the End of the World" (A-LP 608).

Originally this train left from the town and, travelling through the valley, stopped in the woods, it transported the prisoners of the local prison who served as woodcutters; along the slopes of the mountains the felled and abandoned plants are still visible. At the station they tell us that both little trains are full, so rather than wait a long time and find the park crowded with tourists, we decide to continue the journey by coach and get ahead of those travelling by the little train. Making our way into the park we skirt the last remaining virgin peat bogs and travelling along the roadway that winds among beech woods we reach Lake Roca. Here we get off and begin an excursion on the shore of the lake; as we walk we can admire plants, flowers and animals.

Among the plants the local beech stands out, enormous expanses of these beautiful plants, a beech-like tree called Lenga (Nothofagus pumilio), that is an austral beech curiously called by the locals "not authentic". Among the flowering shrubs the Cafante stands out, a native plant from whose fruits jams and liqueurs are made; as we walk we can admire rabbits, hares and ducks. A curious fact: the rabbits and hares are truly undisturbed because, besides being protected animals of the park, here they are not the basis of delicious dishes as in Italy: we are the biggest consumers in the world of these meats. Argentines do not appreciate these animals "with little meat and many bones". We arrive near an equipped campsite where, despite the harsh climate, there are some campers.

In the area there is a shelter; we enter and in a large room we find a fireplace where we can warm ourselves by the heat of the crackling fire. When I go out to take photographs, it begins to rain; after all the grey sky certainly did not promise sun. This too is a characteristic of Tierra del Fuego, but the cool climate and the natural scenery before me amply repay me for a little rain. We resume the journey among the beech-like woods and as soon as it stops raining, we stop to walk along a path that, running along the base of snow-covered mountains, winds among woods, little hills and lakes. We see rabbits, geese and ducks, while in the river some hikers paddle gently in canoes. We arrive at a panoramic point where, in the lake below, we can admire a dam built by beavers, animals that, imported in the last century, have now become a real scourge and for this reason are hunted.

A souvenir photo, then Luca asks whether we want to continue walking further; the answer is yes. Walking through the woods we skirt a peat bog, we climb up the side of a mountain where we can observe a colourful flora until we reach a viewpoint; the view over the bay below is truly stupendous, the colours and shadows create a scene of unparalleled beauty. Leaving the viewpoint we go down towards the bay and find a dirt road with a small roundabout: it is the end of Route National no. 3 "the Panamericana", the road we travelled when we were in Trelew: a sign indicates that we are 3,079 km from Buenos Aires and 17,848 km from Alaska. We set off into the protected area where, in order not to ruin the delicate ground, comfortable walkways have been laid and this allows access to places otherwise unreachable because of the marshland characteristic of the peat bog.

We see a catamaran of the local navigation line that enters the bay, crosses it and docks at the pier, unloading the passengers, a fairy-tale sight; I am immersed in a dimension different from the consumerist world, an enchanted and pleasant place where it is nature that determines the times and the events that follow one another and I feel not like a visitor but like a privileged guest who can admire this magnificence. During the return to the city we ask Luca where he learned Italian so well; Luca, born and raised in Buenos Aires, by choice moved here to live in contact with the uncontaminated nature of these places, he likes to travel around, take excursions, spend nights camping and in winter go on ski trips; in 2002 he attended the University of Perugia and travelled around Italy and Switzerland.

He recounts in a fascinating and engaging way the history and characteristics of the park, while shortly before arriving in the city he shows us some photos of animals that live here and the map of Tierra del Fuego and the Strait of Magellan. He promotes some books, printed in English and Italian, about local flora and fauna, written by a friend of his. Some of us take the opportunity and buy them; an excellent choice because afterwards we will find only prints in other languages. For lunch we return to the hotel where from the dining room we can enjoy the sublime view over the bay and the islands that surround it, all lit by the sun. Lunch arrives: crab meatballs with salad, cordero (baked rolled lamb) with vegetables, sbrisolona with chocolate accompanied by a banana and coconut ice cream; a refined and tasty lunch.

The room is very warm, we ask for the heating to be turned down, but they open the windows, I wonder why such behaviour. Luca explains to us that since the region has methane deposits, here heating has negligible costs and the custom for regulating the temperature is to keep the window open. During lunch we chat and observe the panorama. Returning to the city, we check in for boarding on the ship, we hand over the luggage and the passport which we will only get back on disembarking in Chile. Strolling around the town we devote ourselves to shopping; some buy books, some clothes, some souvenirs and some phone home. I look at some items of clothing, I notice that they are well finished and well made, and the prices are reasonable. While we wander around the town, we find the tourist office, I have the stamps of Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world, put on my moleskine.

Second part

The temperature is pleasant and the sun shines in the blue sky, with Chen, Salvatore and Luigia we decide to go and visit the local museum created in the old prison. We cross the city quickly and reach our destination; the five-spoke prison building is today the seat of the prison museum and the naval museum, or rather the naval one has been created in one spoke of the prison and the two museums complement each other.

After paying the ticket we begin the visit and the first rooms are those of the naval museum where we can see models of the ships that plied this stretch of sea and that made local history; then we enter a spoke of the former penitentiary and, walking along it, we notice that in the cells on our left the prison environment has been reconstructed; where we can observe mannequins depicting some detainees and a short description of their story; there are murderers, thieves, in short, the worst criminals of the era had been "channelled" into this extreme prison. The prisoners were employed in the construction of the building, in cutting wood for heating and for the common services of both the prison and the city. Escaping from this place was practically impossible because of the cold and hostile environment.

The few escapes that took place proved futile since the escapees were always found dead from the cold. In the cells on the right side of the building, equipment, figures, uniforms and nautical maps of the maritime museum are visible. Having finished the spoke, we arrive at the central rotunda, we see that spoke no. 3 is in its original condition; the walls are grey, the cells were closed by doors with metal grilles and then by wooden doors, in the centre of the corridor there are two spartan stoves that served for heating. One understands the rigour that reigned in this structure built at the end of the world. At the end of the corridor there are the toilets; washbasins, latrines and showers, all very spartan and made with concrete fixtures.

Having finished the visit to the museum, we return towards the city and, while waiting for boarding, I look curiously at the shop windows where I observe "Made in Italy" products, a sign that quality exists and is recognised. I look at mountain shoes, I look at my feet, I am wearing the same brand: Italian pride emerges. Meeting other members of the group, we decide to board; we go through customs checks and walk along the pier where the ship with which we will make the cruise is moored; once on board the "Mare Australis" we are well received by the crew. The ship is not large, the cabins are comfortable, the common areas are large, spacious and welcoming.

Chen and I have our cabin on the first deck, that is, just above the waterline, and this will not allow us to photograph from inside the cabin because the glass of the porthole is constantly wet from the spray of the waves; to photograph we will have to go up to the upper decks, but this will not prove to be a problem. We visit the ship, once up on the upper deck we take a few photos of the bay before setting sail, then, having gone down to the bar room, we take part in the meeting on safety and rules of conduct: on this occasion we get to know the captain, the officers and the staff who will accompany us on the excursions; finally the welcome toast. The officers explain the route we will follow, the list, the timetable of the excursions and the clothing to wear.

The cruise is defined as a "hiking cruise" because the programme, in the event of adverse weather conditions, could change significantly and in any case the excursions always require a lot of attention and suitable clothing. During navigation, lectures are scheduled on various topics such as fauna, flora, geography, glaciology, history (Magellan, Cape Horn, Antarctica and Chile). The ship's engines are started, a slight rolling and slowly the vessel moves away from the pier; we have set sail and the cruise begins, our adventure in the southernmost part of the globe. In the roadstead, the vessel, turning around, points straight towards the Beagle Channel and navigation begins; the sun illuminating the snow-capped peaks seems to give us a goodbye greeting.

While the ship slowly and silently glides over the water skirting the coast and the mountains, in the room on the fourth deck the first lecture takes place on the theme "the history of Cape Horn", called Capo de Hornos in Spanish, and in the bar lounge a film about the place that tomorrow morning, weather conditions permitting, we will reach, is shown. The time for dinner arrives; crab meat, pea soup with salmon, then a choice between fish and a trio of beef fillet with different sauces. I savour the Chilean wine, dark red in colour, barrel-aged flavour, particular taste and quite different from Italian wines. Navigation continues in the Beagle Channel but before entering the open sea the ship stops, the Chilean maritime police come on board to check the documents; in the darkness of the evening the bay with the lights of Ushuaia can be seen.

After dinner we are gathered at the bar where we play cards and chat, then I go to the cabin for the night and fall asleep lulled by the pitching of the ship.

First part

It is the middle of the night, the ship lurches, the waves bang noisily against the metal of the hull, sometimes they crash against the glass of the porthole; everything wobbles. At 5:00 my alarm goes off, I had set it because the evening before we had been warned that at that time we would be passing through an enchanting area, worth photographing; I get up, look out of the window and see only fog and high waves; visibility is terrible; I don't even consider the question of how to dress to go out and photograph: I go back under the covers. The programme schedules the alarm at 6:00 and at 7:00 the meeting to disembark at Cape Horn. At 6:00 sharp the alarm goes off, on deck there is hot coffee ready for anyone who wants it, but seeing the tossing of the ship, I decide not to take in anything liquid to avoid the problems of seasickness.

At 7:00 we meet for the possible landing on the southernmost land of the planet. With difficulty we sit on the little armchairs in the bar, we are completely bundled up and wearing our life jackets tightly fastened, we move awkwardly; we look like fluorescent penguins. The crew members who will accompany us give us the information for getting onto the dinghies, how to sit, how to get off; then, gradually making our way to the stern of the ship, we begin to board the dinghies that will take us to land. The outside temperature is 2.5°C, there is a strong wind, the sky is cloudy and grey. From the ship I notice that some of the crew are already in the bay to secure the place where we will disembark. Onto the "zodiac" dinghies, you get on one at a time, you sit down and then another person gets on, in total we are 10 passengers plus the person handling the navigation.

We detach from the ship and set off towards the rocky shore. The sea is as dark as the sky, white waves create beautiful ripples in the dark water, on the dinghy we bounce, while some waves wet our backs, from the sky something begins to fall: water and snow welcome us to Cape Horn (C-LP 460 C). We land and to disembark without problems we must follow exactly the instructions that the ship's staff give, a sure and rapid movement avoids being sucked in by the waves as well as taking an unplanned dip in the icy waters.

As soon as we disembark a long wooden staircase awaits us which, walking along it, will allow us to reach the top of the black cliff; we begin to climb, the wooden steps are made slippery by the water and the snow, we must walk cautiously, but in a short time we reach the top of the sea stacks where the station of the funicular that goes down to the sea stands; an indispensable means for transporting things and food for those who stay in this place. Here a Chilean navy soldier awaits us and controls access to Chilean land; not far away stands the lighthouse and a military base with a helicopter stationary on the landing pad. We are on Cape Horn island, the southernmost land in the world, here the ground is covered only by short grass of a green/brown colour, the strong wind is a constant presence.

For tourists and for those staying in this place a wooden walkway has been built, a way to preserve nature, but also to make walking easier; with difficulty and fighting against the biting wind and the persistent, icy rain, we walk along it entirely until we reach the Cape Horn monument; a metal structure placed in 1991, depicting an albatross in flight. Hampered by the strong wind, I take souvenir photos with difficulty; it is cold and it keeps raining. We stay a few minutes on the top and then head towards another promontory where a little house with the lighthouse stands. All around, the sea covered by clouds is grey and the water continues to be rippled by the wind. Observing this scene, I understand the difficulty encountered by the sailors who navigate these waters and I understand why it is so feared.

In a short time we reach the lighthouse and find a surprise; a small wooden church: it is the southernmost religious building in the world, inside a photo of Pope John Paul II, a portrait of Saint Rita of Cascia and a Savarian priest (whom I do not know). I go into the lighthouse and, climbing to the top, I would like to take some photos, but the windows are all wet so it is impossible to get good shots. In the little house there is a small souvenir shop; I have the Cape Horn stamps put on my moleskine and then I sign the visitors' book of the lighthouse; a tangible sign of my passing through. The high tide is about to end and we must quickly head towards the dinghies, on the way down the wet stairs I notice that in a niche carved into the rock there are flowers and a statue of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, the patroness of Rovello Porro, my little town; here a souvenir photo is essential.

We board the dinghy taking care to make good use of the wave of the sea, to avoid ending up in the cold waters, we cross the bay again and reach the ship, the dinghies dock at the stern, where we can disembark; I take off the life jacket and get ready to go to breakfast: after the excursion to Cape Horn I am very hungry. Having finished boarding the people and hoisted the dinghies, navigation resumes and the high waves of the open sea are soon felt. The day will be spent navigating until mid-afternoon when we will disembark for another excursion. I take the opportunity to do the laundry, to sort out notes and photos, then in the cultural appointment I listen to the historical and anthropological explanation of Tierra del Fuego and Antarctica.

It is 11 o'clock and navigation proceeds close to the islands to avoid the rough open sea, we are heading North North West at a speed of 10.9 knots; the sky continues to be grey, it rains, the wind blows and the sea keeps its dark and gloomy colour. Only in the distance can you see clear sky, I hope the sun appears in the next hours when we disembark; we are heading towards Navarino island (C-LP 456) south of Ushuaia. At 12 the lecture on Patagonia and its glaciers, flora, fauna begins; although Maurizio (a member of the crew) presents in Spanish, the presentation proves interesting and gripping. The time for lunch arrives: Italian cuisine! Truly excellent and we eat abundantly. The sky remains grey but allows us, in the distance, to admire some islands with snow-capped mountains.

The first hours of the afternoon pass quietly while in the common areas some read, some doze, some play cards, I read in the guide the chapter regarding Tierra del Fuego, both the Argentine and the Chilean part. At 16:30 we prepare for the landing on Navarino island, at 17:00 the meeting for information on the behaviour to adopt. The crew members offer us two options: • a quiet walk on the beach; • an excursion among the woods up to a panoramic point. Divided into the two groups, the landing begins aboard the dinghies.

Second part

Landing on the island we take off our life jackets and leave them on the beach; we are the only humans present on the island. Now we are further divided into groups according to the language spoken, there are three groups, Spanish, Italian and English/French. With us is Vittorio, a man of friendly appearance about 55 years old who speaks fluent Italian. We begin the excursion and the first stop is only after a few steps near a building, Vittorio explains that the construction was originally a Chilean navy base while currently it is a museum dedicated to Darwin; the English scientist who for some time lived and studied in these places. We continue for a stretch of road then, another stop where Vittorio describes the history of Tierra del Fuego. This island, like the nearby ones, was inhabited by Jamana aborigines.

These indigenous people, of whom some photos and descriptions are visible in the local museum, lived in huts built with tree branches, they were nomadic and migrated from one island to another. Clothing did not exist and to protect themselves from the cold they used seal fat; the women, being more adipose than the men, were entrusted with the task of using the canoes and diving into the cold waters, while the men were dedicated to hunting and fishing. It was a simple society whose culture was handed down only orally, since they were illiterate. Their religion was based on idols and local traditions of which, over time, all traces have been lost. In the winter period, these populations stayed on the larger islands, while in summer they moved to smaller islands.

A curious fact is the origin of the name "land of fire": the first European navigators who arrived saw the fires of the villages and of the huts always lit and also on the canoes, since the aborigines used to carry lit fire; hence the name that we all know. Now we can observe the reconstruction of a hut made with branches of Lenga beech. Over the centuries these aborigines, as indeed all the local populations, had to give up their lands to the European colonisers who were settling in these territories to cultivate land or raise livestock. As has often happened in history, the impact of the native populations with the colonisers proved dramatic for the locals who, as a result of diseases, violence and abuses, were decimated and the last direct descendant of this race died about 60 years ago.

Currently the island is an ecological park, completely uninhabited where the only animals that live in the wild are those imported by man, especially pigs and beavers. Beginning the excursion Vittorio shows us some mushrooms that grow on the trunks of the beeches; in ancient times they were one of the main forms of sustenance of the populations. I pick one and taste it, the flavour is neutral, in fact they have very little nutritional value and served only to fill the stomach. We walk along a path that climbs up the slopes of the mountain entirely covered with beeches and, continuing in the botanical observation, we can observe a type of mistletoe that grows on the branches as a parasite, this plant grows and develops only where the air is truly clean. The climb is relatively easy, except for some stretches of very muddy ground, where we must be very careful to avoid slipping.

At a certain point we notice that the group ahead of us is stopped and taking photographs, we quickly reach it and find ourselves at the edges of a dam built by beavers. We let the group that is returning towards the boat pass and we stop to take some photos of the lake which is illuminated by the sun that is appearing among the clouds when, from the trunks, a beaver pops out and, swimming calmly, comes to within a few metres of us, lets itself be photographed and then decides to head towards its den. All around the lake there are trees gnawed by the powerful teeth of the rodents and those felled are truly many. We resume the climb and in a short time we arrive at an open space where an enchanting view over the bay below appears. The sun makes the landscape exciting; the gaze is lost in the colours of the plants, the sea, the mountains and the clouds.

It is a great satisfaction to have made this excursion, I can further note how in these places in one day you observe the climates of the four seasons. We return towards the beach, with Salvatore and Ambrogina I close the group, when we reach the beaver lake, the rodent makes its appearance as if to greet us: a beautiful gift from this wonderful land. The descent proceeds quickly along the same route as the climb; we are crossing a wooded stretch when, behind us, from deep in the woods we hear a strange noise: Salvatore and I look each other in the face and simultaneously exclaim: a grunt? Then another comes: they are the wild pigs that populate the wood. Calmly we continue on our way without worrying about how close they might be. Arriving at the beach we realise that we are the last and we have little time left to visit the informative museum about Darwin, so we enter quickly.

Inside there are posters with photos and descriptions, a historical, cultural, anthropological trail that is truly interesting, but unfortunately I do not have time to go deeper into what is exhibited. We set off to collect the life jackets we left on the beach, when at the water's edge I catch sight of a little table, the crew offers drinks; water, Coca-Cola, chocolate and whisky. I drink a bit of Coke to quench my thirst and then by dinghy we quickly return to the ship, where we are welcomed by a "shoe cleaning service"; a water jet quickly removes the mud covering the footwear. I return to the cabin, check the photos taken, then shower and we get ready for dinner: salmon fillets, potato cream with clams, sliced meat with potatoes, dessert. During dinner, the ship's staff distribute, for each table, a sheet with questions: a little competition with surprise prizes.

While we dine we navigate among channels and the sea is calm, then entering the Beagle Channel we find rough sea again. From the portholes of the dining room I observe the beautiful sunset that illuminates the snow-capped mountains; I rush to the cabin to get the camera and take a few shots. The evening is enlivened by a fashion show whose models are passengers wearing clothes from the onboard shop, among the models are Chen and Luigia. The evening continues with bingo where between false wins (those who misunderstand the numbers) and real wins, fun is guaranteed. Back in the cabin I prepare to go to bed, noticing that the ship is stopped.

In the morning the dull light of the cloudy sky enters through the window, the vessel is ploughing the calm waters of the channel, now it is truly a pleasure to sail. At 8:00 the announcement that breakfast is ready. To keep my figure, given the little movement, I eat little; only fruit and dry biscuits to avoid seasickness. During the morning the route proceeds among various channels, all around snow-capped mountains, islands, islets; along the coasts many maritime signals are positioned that facilitate navigation. Observing the panorama I notice how on the islands the grass and plants grow crooked because of the incessant action of the wind; it is 9:30 and the journey proceeds calmly, today the day will be spent on the ship and only in the afternoon is the excursion scheduled to see the Piloto and Nena glaciers which end their course by plunging into the sea.

At 10:00 the historical explanation of the Strait of Magellan begins, I follow the description in Spanish when something outside the window catches my eye: there are albatrosses following the ship. I abandon the lecture and go out on deck to take photos: it is wonderful to see these majestic birds with a wingspan of over

First part

The alarm is set for 6:00, but Chen is already on his feet well before that; seeing the sunrise, he couldn't resist photographing it. I stay in bed until the alarm goes off and get ready for the last outing on the zodiac boats. The meeting point is set for 6:55 on the fourth deck; the destination is Magdalena Island (C-LP 414), where there's a protected nature park inhabited by around 60,000 pairs of Magellanic penguins. In the cloudy sky you can make out a few patches of clear weather, but it isn't raining; disembarking on the island, we observe that it is densely populated by penguins, the ground is completely bare; there isn't a single bush and the penguins build their nests by digging into the arid earth battered by the wind.

One thing intrigues me; besides the penguins, there are countless seagulls walking calmly and peacefully among the penguins' nests, but aren't they their eternal enemies that feed on their eggs? Observing the penguins that are brooding, I notice that unlike at Punta Tombo, here the eggs haven't hatched yet. The brooding animals look dirty and when the pair swaps for brooding, the bird heads toward the sea, where it first washes itself and then plunges into the water in search of food. Vittorio notices strange movements in the water a few dozen meters from the shore and points out to us that there are sea lions hunting penguins; looking carefully I can see the heads of the sea lions that occasionally surface to breathe.

We make a loop up to the lighthouse that stands on the highest point of the island, then we head back to the ship where we change before breakfast, and finally we finish packing our suitcases since in a few hours we'll be disembarking on Chilean soil. We are in the Strait of Magellan and we're approaching Punta Arenas (C-LP 410). Suddenly, unexpectedly, the ship is joined by dolphins that seem to be welcoming us. The disembarkation happens amid administrative delays, the collection of passports, the checking of suitcases; then in small groups we leave the ship. We Italians are on the foredeck and we can see the people slowly disembarking, meanwhile I can observe the colorful hues of the houses of Punta Arenas, the white, the yellow, the green, the pink, the light blue, the brown, tones that give a touch of evocative beauty to the bay.

The houses are built on the hill that gently slopes down toward the sea. In the cloudy sky a few patches of blue appear. Finally it's our turn to go down, we discover that we're the last group, we get on a coach that takes us to the immigration point where we find our suitcases and then the checks. The customs officers are very scrupulous in checking that no one has any vegetables or cured meats, they open all the suitcases, backpacks and fanny packs. Once past the check, on our way out, we find the minibus that will take us to Torres del Paine National Park; the suitcases are loaded onto a cart and we take our seats on the vehicle. We meet Jerdo, our Chilean guide, and he warns us that to reach the park we'll have to cover about 420 km and the expected travel time is 6 hours.

We set off and make a stop to admire the square of Punta Arenas, in the center of which stands the statue of Magellan; in the square there is a local arts and crafts market, a great opportunity to buy lapis lazuli and alpaca wool handicrafts, then another stop to see the city from above; here the spectacle is unique, you can clearly see the low houses built to withstand the fury of the wind and the bay lit by the sun. I notice how the city is of recent construction, stemming from the oil boom, from the processing of seafood and metals. I also think of the beauty and the wild landscape that presented itself to the first explorers.

Finally we take the road that leads to Puerto Natales; the road is concreted and it's a constant jolting because of the expansion joints between the various pours, but after a while you get used to it; the landscape is steppe-like, the immense plain is dotted with farms raising livestock: I see cattle, sheep, ostriches and the ever-present guanaco. In the distance, in the blue sky, the mountains of Torres del Paine National Park rise up, our destination. As we get closer to the mountains the landscape changes, you notice hills covered in plants, the contrast with the steppe is really strong. After about 3 hours of travel we stop for lunch, it's 4 p.m., in the place some people eat a sandwich, others a dish; I order a sandwich filled with steak and cheese, and a beer; the cost is 12 dollars.

We resume the journey and come across a sign indicating 127 km to the Park; we continue along the road until Puerto Natales (C-LP 429), where we stop. The driver unhitches the trailer, moves the suitcases onto the minibus while we take a few photos of an immense lake: the guide informs us that it isn't a lake but a sea fjord. The place was discovered by navigators who were looking for another route beyond the Strait of Magellan and, traveling the entire fjord, they arrived at this location; I imagine how adventurous the voyages aboard sailing ships were a few centuries ago, when the area was unknown and there were no topographical or nautical charts. We resume our journey across this desolate land, the landscape is always green and flat.

At a turnoff the driver takes a dirt road, we're approaching the Molodon Park, a prehistoric animal similar to a bear, a plantigrade that lived in the Quaternary era whose bones were found in a cave that we're going to visit. From this Park you get a stunning view of the mountains and of Chilean Patagonia. This is also where the journey of Bruce Chatwin, the English writer famous for his work on Patagonia, came to an end. Once the visit to the Park is over, we resume our journey toward the Torres del Paine. The landscape doesn't change for many km; fenced-in land, pastures for sheep, cows and horses; on the slopes of the hills you can see some plants and in the distance the snow-capped mountains stand out under a beautiful blue sky dotted with white clouds; the sun is warm and the climate windy.

Suddenly in the distance I glimpse the unmistakable outline of the Torres del Paine: our destination is rapidly approaching. Along the road I notice fenced fields with barbed wire that's hard to get past, with clear signs bearing the word "Mines"; we're near the Argentine border and these minefields lining the road are the result of political tensions between the two states. We reach a border town where, making a detour, we take a dirt road and the journey continues amid breathtaking scenery. The group of towers gets closer and closer, at a panoramic viewpoint we stop to take enchanting photographs, then we continue to the edge of the Park where there's a ranger checkpoint.

There we leave our minibus and, transferring the suitcases onto vans, we get on too, now we continue aboard these vehicles, I don't understand why, but after a few hundred meters here comes the answer: we have to cross a metal bridge built in 1914 whose transit is permitted only to limited-size vehicles; the minibuses barely fit and the driver proceeds with extreme caution so as not to damage the side of the vehicles. We continue for 7 km on a dirt road; finally, after passing a campsite, we reach Hotel Les Torres, a very low wooden structure, nice and well integrated into the natural setting of the place.

Second part

Once the suitcases are settled in the rooms, we go to dinner when it's already past 9 p.m.; while we eat, I notice that on the lawn in front of the dining room there are horses: they are wonderful animals and it's a pleasure to admire them as they calmly graze in this evocative landscape. After dinner I want to organize the day's notes, but before doing so I go outside to look at the sky; it's black and dotted with brilliant stars, I observe them trying to find the constellations, but it's hard for me to make out the Southern Cross. I go back into the hotel and while sipping a cold beer I look at the weather forecast; for tomorrow they're predicting rain, but all in all it's fine: I'm at the Torres del Paine, a dream of mine. Sitting in the wooden structure, I organize my travel notes while listening to the music of a local radio station.

The atmosphere of the place is magical, whether it's the exposed beams, or the glass window covering the bar that lets you observe the sky. It's almost midnight and I decide to go to sleep, tomorrow the departure is set for 9:00 and I hope the weather forecast is wrong.

I wake up before 8, Chen, my roommate, is out around the park taking photos, I get dressed and go to breakfast. Then, once the group is gathered, we set off with the vans toward the valley floor, and after crossing the narrow metal bridge they drop us off and, getting back on our minibus, we begin the tour of Paine Park; the first stop is at the point with the best view of the towers, here we observe a small waterfall whose natural setting is very beautiful, we resume the route and stop to admire the guanacos, every now and then we see a solitary animal, Jerdo explains that it's the male who from his position dominates the territory, looking after the females and the young. Then we stop to observe a lake with ducks and flamingos, we continue toward the "Cuernos del Paine," steep mountains that stand out against the sky, another stop at Salto Grande (C-LP 436), a 50-meter waterfall.

At this point the wind channeled between the mountains takes on a frightening force, it's impossible to stay on your feet: anyone who wants to take photos is forced to lie down on the ground. We continue and shortly afterward we're at the view of the imposing Cuernos del Paine, here the wind is less impetuous and I can take some stunning photos. A little later we arrive at Lake Pehoé, a basin of intense blue/green color. Stop for lunch, the sky is cloudy and promises rain; promise kept. Since any excursion nearby is impossible, in a shop I buy freeze-dried fruit and water, a nutritious light meal. Jerdo wanders off with his camera, curious I ask what he's photographing, "orchids," he tells me; I remain skeptical at the answer, but I'll have time to understand that he's telling the truth.

The temperature is cool and since the planned stop is 60 minutes, I get on the minibus, update my diary, look at the photos and the map of the Park while I imagine how to put together the presentation of the trip. Shortly afterward the vehicle fills up, we leave earlier than planned, heading for Lake Grey, which we reach after 45 minutes of travel while it's raining heavily. Jerdo announces that we'll see icebergs floating in the water, I think of a sight similar to the Perito Moreno that I'll see in the coming days. Arriving at the parking lot and observing the rain, I think it's very useful to cover up well since a walk of over an hour awaits us.

After leaving the parking lot, the first difficulty we face is a suspension bridge over a river, we have to cross it walking at most 6 people at a time to avoid too much swaying, and indeed proceeding on this bridge where every step creates oscillations is thrilling. Then, crossing a forest, I come in view of the lake where a marvel awaits us: enormous icebergs float on the water. Leaving the wooded area, in a short while we're at a rocky beach, the result of glacial erosion. Visibility is reduced because of the clouds, a few photos and, retracing the road back to the minibus, I have the chance to photograph the orchids of Patagonia.

During the journey I can notice how the Andean-Patagonian forests have been destroyed by fires, Jerno explains that in part the forests had been set on fire to create pasture, but in recent decades, after the birth of the Park, the major fires have been caused by campers; for this reason too, camping is now declared illegal. The last two fires caused enormous destruction, the first burned 5,000 hectares of forest and the second a full 15,000 hectares. Here the vegetation grows slowly and, despite several years having passed, the half-charred plants are still clearly visible, standing out white and shiny against the green pastures.

On the way back to the hotel a torrential rain accompanies us almost until the minibus change to cross the bridge, when, as we're getting off, suddenly a condor appears out of nowhere and begins to circle above our heads; its silent and majestic presence is fleeting and only the luckiest manage to capture it in a photograph. After traveling the dirt road, we arrive at the hotel and, since it has stopped raining, Chen and I decide to walk on the green pastures of the park, we photograph birds, horses and flowers; back at the hotel, shower, settling the bills, dinner and then the evening passes with many activities, from studying the park's scale model to playing cards while the more intrepid take a walk outdoors.

Sitting in front of a lit fireplace where the wood crackles as it burns, I organize the notes of the day that has just passed and through the hotel windows I observe the pastures in front while the last hikers return to the campsite a few meters away. It's past 10 p.m. and in the still-bright sky you can see only a few white clouds that seem painted. Tomorrow the transfer to Argentina awaits us, but the desire to stay here beneath the imposing towers is truly great, I go out to take a look at the spectacular mountains that rise toward the sky, I admire Torre Monzino with its 2,600 m, Torre Central with its 2,800 m, Torre D'Agostini with its 2,850 m and a little farther away Monte Almirante Nieto, which rises to an altitude of 2,640 m.

The landscape is characterized by the verdant and gentle hills that, carved by the rivers, surround the park's lakes, and behind the hills these granite towers that rise upward. Using geological terms, one can say that they are recent with "only" 12 million years, resting on a base of sedimentary conglomerate; the work of wind, water and ice has shaped them this way over the millennia, and it is truly an enchantment to be able to observe them so close up.

The alarm goes off shortly before 7:00 and looking out at the meadows next to the room I can observe horses calmly grazing, birds flying lightly and wild rabbits hopping on the green grass. Today a long transfer journey awaits us on unpaved roads, and given the nice weather I'll observe the panorama with a clear blue sky while the wind blows steadily. It's beautiful to observe these aspects of nature while silence reigns supreme. On the green pasture I take my last steps before departure, I pause to savor the smell of the wood burning in the boiler for producing hot water, the aroma fills my lungs and reminds me that back in Italy the fireplace at home will be going. The good smell of burning wood and the fresh air remind me of some wonderful days spent in the Alps amid peace and serenity.

I pack my suitcase, breakfast, and then, while I watch the gauchos on horseback accompanying the herds to pasture, we prepare for departure; once the suitcases are checked and loaded onto the minibus, we set off for the valley floor, always keeping our gaze on the peaks that rise imposingly toward the blue sky. We reach the valley floor when, for weight reasons, we have to get off the van to cross on foot the old English bridge, whose sign warns that the maximum load is 14 tons; we get back on the minibus and shortly afterward we cross a recent bridge whose sign indicates not to exceed 10 tons; some doubt about the accuracy of the signs arises in me. Back on the coach, we head toward the border with Argentina, traveling across the endless expanses of fenced pastures, where horses and sheep graze; along the way we see solitary gauchos on horseback checking the fences.

While the blue sky jagged with white clouds brightens the journey, we reach the border, where we make a stop. Here we're greeted by the cold, incessant wind and this is the chance to take refuge in a small bazaar where I find all kinds of goods; the place is crowded and heated by a wood stove, some people get a coffee and others rummage among books (some truly interesting), aboriginal masks, fabrics and other handicrafts; but given the high prices we decide to postpone our purchases to another occasion. I'm wandering around the place when I hear Italian being spoken; it's a group from Bergamo that has been visiting Chile for four weeks and is headed to the Torres del Paine. It's always nice to meet fellow countrymen and exchange a few words. We set off again; customs, passport control, visa, then we enter Argentina.

We travel on dirt roads and, when we come across other buses, the two drivers greet each other saying "Have a good trip" or "Good luck," a custom respectful of the traveler. Traveling through Argentine territory I realize how the terrain has gone from verdant to barren and steppe-like: it's the characteristic of the Andean Cordillera. The clouds coming from the Pacific release their water on the mountains, creating the Andean-Patagonian forest, a full 2,000 km long, present in Chile and Argentina in the part bordering between the two countries; then the clouds dissolve and that's why in Argentine Patagonia it rains very little. During the journey, Jerdo shows us a film that he found in the archives of the Saverian Fathers. The feature film tells the life of a Piedmontese missionary, Father De Agostani, his explorations and naturalistic research.

It's useful to learn about the history and studies of one of our fellow countrymen; when I return to Italy I'll read up on this great figure. The film is titled "Finis Terrae," it has an introduction by Cesare Bonatti and is an edition of the CAI of Turin, Duca degli Abruzzi Museum. The screening ends and we arrive at a small village, where we stop to refuel and take a lunch break. We go into a place, perhaps the only one in the village, and we're greeted by an enormous Christmas tree all decorated; I remember that Christmas is near. I choose the menu: steak, french fries, beer, all for 35 Pesos (7 €).

Resuming the journey toward El Calafante (A-LP 552), we listen to CDs of Italian music and after more than two hours of travel across the infinite fenced steppe with pastures and incessantly battered by the wind, suddenly in the distance Lake Argentino appears; we're now near the town, we cross it and reach the hotel that stands on a promontory: from here you command a view of the lake with the bay that at this time of year has an extensive beach, in fact it will be the hot summer sun that melts the glaciers and allows the lake level to rise. A warm sun makes the day pleasant, tempting us to visit the city, so, once the suitcases are settled, we take the hotel shuttle to go into the town center.

Wandering around the town built with single-story houses, I spend a nice afternoon, the group fragments among the countless shops while I devote myself to observing what characteristic things the city offers. I notice some sportswear shops displaying imported items, including Italian brands, while others have "Made in Argentina" products; I'm captivated by the clothing, which is well finished and appears functional. I linger in the bookstores where I deepen my knowledge of Father De Agostini, this morning's video has intrigued me and I understand that he was a great figure in the history of Patagonia. Too bad that the editions for sale are only in English and Spanish; when I return I'll look for documentation in Italian.

The town's restaurants have enormous lit braziers where whole lambs are cooked on the grill; first on one side and then the other, the meats are placed very far from the fire so as to cook slowly and completely render off the fat. El Calafante, the birthplace of the president of Argentina and his wife, appears modern and its development has only happened in the last ten years. It's evening, we leave the town center and head to the hotel where a beautiful sunset over the lake below gives us good wishes for a good dinner; warm cheese, filet with potatoes and dessert. After dinner there's a technical meeting since the group will split in the coming days; some will go to see the lake area and instead others, like me, will go to see Iguazú Falls.

During dinner the weather worsened and it's impossible to go out, both because of the rain and because of the strong wind that has risen; I wonder what the weather will be like tomorrow: will I be able to see the famous Perito Moreno glacier?

I wake up at 6 and outside the window the sky appears cloudy and gray; at 6:45 when the alarm goes off the sky has changed color and is blue with a few white clouds. Breakfast and then we get ready for departure. I have the dilemma of what to wear since I don't know the places we're going to visit, I opt for medium-heavy clothing, always layered and with the windbreaker within reach. The guide for today arrives, his name is Cesare, a young man who at first appears rough, but after just a few minutes I realize that he is kind, likable, well-prepared and during the day I'll notice that he has a big heart. Once the suitcases are loaded onto the coach, we set off toward the Perito Moreno, the enormous glacier of which I've only seen films and photographs; my curiosity grows enormously.

During the journey Cesare gives us confirmation: we can't do the ice trek because it had to be booked the day before, but, not knowing it, we didn't do it. The destination is about 80 km from El Calafante and to reach it we travel along the road that runs alongside Lake Argentino; the largest lake in the nation with an enormous expanse, over 20 km wide and over 100 km long with a maximum depth of 750 meters. The name comes from the color of its waters, which are light blue, and as in all glacial lakes this color is produced by microscopic sediments floating and giving chromatic tones that vary with solar irradiance. Along the way we see condors, we stop to admire their graceful and majestic soaring; these birds, with a wingspan of nearly three meters, are the largest flying birds of the Andes; they feed on dead animals and it's only legend that they snatch lambs and children.

The area takes its name from the Calafante, a fruit known for its jams and for the liqueur made from it; it grows in bushes and produces fruits that turn blue when ripe. We pass farms with average extensions of 50,000/60,000 hectares, within which the dwellings are concentrated, where you find all the services needed to make the community independent, while scattered across the pastures are the small lodging houses of the shepherds who follow the flocks. We arrive at a curve, known as the "Curve of the Sigh," and indeed at the end of it we're left breathless admiring the immensity of the enormous glacier, the Perito Moreno, which appears in front of us; the south face appears, a wall 2 km long and up to 50 meters high.

While we stop to photograph the glacier, Cesare is busy with other guides in the ritual of mate: he pours dried herbs into the container, adds hot water and sips it through a straw that acts as a filter, the container is passed from hand to hand to all the participants in the ritual. It's an ancient custom, it serves to keep company and it's a very widespread habit in Argentina. It seems the herb has a health benefit, it significantly lowers cholesterol and indeed Argentines don't suffer from this ailment. With the group we decide to take a catamaran excursion to get as close as possible to the south face of the glacier. All around, verdant mountains; here the soil is very acidic and allows only a few wild plants to grow, and since it's spring here we can admire some of them in bloom.

Shortly afterward we arrive at the catamaran, 45 $ for the tour, once the ticket is paid we get on board, in a short while the vessel fills up with tourists and we set sail for the navigation on the green waters. We come to about 300 meters from the imposing wall of ice, we stop and only then can we access the upper deck where the glacier appears in all its grandeur: before me is the wall of ice that ends in spires rising toward the sky, defying the laws of gravity; fantastic colors including white, blue and green give unique tones. Slowly we travel the entire immense south front of the glacier and then, back at the starting point, we get back on the coach and head to the peninsula where the glacier ends.

After passing through a forest, before me, like a vision, the Perito Moreno appears, this enormous glacier that is born on the mountains of the Andean Cordillera and after a course of over 30 km ends right here at the foot of this peninsula. From above the view is even more stunning; the view is lost in the distance, the white glacier appears like a long strip that blends with the clouds looming over the mountains. The front of the glacier is about 6 km, divided into three parts of equivalent width, the south side, the central part, where I am now, and the north side. The site is equipped with metal walkways that facilitate the visitors' path and allow the fragile terrain rich in plants and bushes to be preserved; along the walkways there are various observation points from which we can enthusiastically admire the enchanting view of the central front.

Every now and then dull noises break the silence, they are blocks of ice that, breaking off, plunge into the water. We travel the walkways ever more fascinated, stopping to take photos and trying to figure out where the ice will break off; but only in a few cases do we have the luck to see the whole dynamic of the calving and the falling of the ice. Once the excursion is over, we reach the restaurant; I'm taking my last photos when the dull noise returns; I have the luck to see a block of glacier at least 50 meters long fall into the water: a fascinating and unrepeatable spectacle. Lunchtime comes: soup, filet with potatoes, fruit. We return to El Calafante and, while waiting for the afternoon flight, we have time for one last stroll in the town before heading to the airport; the meeting is set for 4:20 p.m.

But at the meeting point two people are missing who had gone to look for a pharmacy. The tension mounts since the flight departure is now close. The frantic search begins, we split into groups and following a well-planned route we start the search, but no trace. Finally Giorgio, Salvatore and Cesare make the last attempt, which proves fruitless: the two people seem to have vanished into thin air; the tension is palpable. A phone call comes in, the two "missing" people, not seeing us at the meeting point, took a taxi and are at the airport. Back on the coach quickly, we arrive at the airport where we find them: they mixed up the meeting place. Fortunately we're in time for the flights. In fact here the group splits, one group with Salvatore will fly at 5:30 p.m.

to Bariloche in the lake region and the other group, at 6:40 p.m., will fly to Buenos Aires to go see Iguazú Falls; at this moment Ambrogina is invested as group leader. Cesare informs us that they've moved the flight to Buenos Aires earlier, so quick check-in and then at 6:00 p.m. we leave; shortly after takeoff we can admire from above the Los Glaciales region and then fly over the boundless Patagonian plain. The flight is calm and as we get closer to Buenos Aires the sky appears cloudy and only at times can we see the pampas below. Around 8:30 p.m. sunset comes and shortly afterward we land in the Argentine capital; here we find Diana, our guide, who accompanies us to the hotel. The temperature is warm, we change and go out for a quick dinner. Being close to the pedestrian area, we head to an immense shopping center; given the hour, a gelato is more than fine.

Back at the hotel and turning on the TV, I can listen to news from Italy; knowing what's happening in my country is always an umbilical cord.

Wake-up at 7:30; from the hotel window I observe the grey sky and the buildings of the city centre, where tall buildings stand alongside low-rise houses, creating a disorderly and bizarre architectural diversity, fun to look at. While we have breakfast we agree with Diana on the route to take and we calibrate the tour also in view of the shopping to be done, asking for "shopping advice". We begin the city tour from the Casa Rosada; since on Saturdays it is open to the public, we would like to visit it; opening is at 10:00, but having arrived before 9:00, we opt to see other places, and the first one we head to is right in Plaza de Mayo: via a Liberty-style staircase we enter the old metro.

Going down into the underground station we can admire the structure dating from 1913, preserved in its original state, as are the trains in service on the line; currently only part of the stations compared to the original route are still in operation. Back on the surface we continue by coach towards Plaza Dorrego (A-LP 93), a short stroll around the square where there is a craft market, then a stop at Café Dorrego, a historic venue of the capital, whose interior retains the structure and wooden furnishings of the early 1900s.

Afterwards we take a tour of La Boca (A-LP 94), where I can change some money and buy jewellery by Rosacrosita, "la piedra National Argentina"; what better Christmas gift for the people dearest to me? The morning is drawing to a close and Diana has finished her work; before leaving us she takes us to see a bookshop created inside a renovated Liberty theatre, where the book shelves are placed on what were once boxes and stalls. Some boxes, still perfectly preserved, serve as a reading room, while in the area of the orchestra pit and the stage a bar has been created with its own reading room; a truly beautiful and engaging atmosphere.

Being a few blocks from the hotel, we decide to walk back so we can look at the city in its many aspects and colours; we reach the pedestrian area and stop at the "Galleria Pacifico" Shopping Centre where, taking advantage of the numerous eateries, we make a quick stop for lunch, enjoying an excellent grilled steak. The afternoon is dedicated to shopping in the city; we wander through the shops located along the commercial avenue Florida, much frequented by tourists and Argentines. The city appears populated by a multitude of people of the most varied ethnicities, the shops are decorated for Christmas, the merchandise sometimes appears expensive, sometimes affordable, the quality of the products varies: from mediocre to fine and finely crafted.

In the evening, when the shops close, along the streets of the centre a craft market materialises, where the goods range from the cheap to valuable artefacts; here the ever-present animation of the tango dancers instils in the city a unique vitality. A reality that, observed closely, brings out its great contrasts as a cosmopolitan city, rich nonetheless in humanity, from the homeless who populate the streets and who are noticed mainly in the evening, to the harp player, to the musicians, to the artisans who create their products on the spot, showcasing their art and skill, to the woman who, sitting on a chair, calmly breastfeeds her baby, to the seller of water and soft drinks in thermos flasks, to those elegantly dressed who are shopping: a little melting pot of society that cannot go unnoticed by an attentive observer.

The dinner hour is approaching; I return to the hotel to change, and then by coach in a few minutes we reach the venue "La Ventana - Barrio de Tango", a tanguería ( where we will have dinner while watching a tango show; the dance that at the end of the 19th century found its origin in this city. Diana warns us that inside the venue it is only possible to take photographs while filming is prohibited, so those with a camcorder leave it on the coach. The venue is Liberty in style, the dining room has exposed red brick walls and the tables are positioned at the foot of the stage.

On the walls are hung photos of historic Argentine figures, among whom stand out Evita Peron, Fangio, Maradona, Che Guevara, Carlos Cardel (singer), Astor Piazzolla (accordionist); on the perimeter walls seven arches support boxes equipped with tables, while the ceiling is embellished with Liberty stained glass; the atmosphere overall appears calm and reserved. Dinner arrives; starters, steak with potatoes, dessert. All accompanied by a Malbec, a red wine from the Mendoza area, ruby red in colour, slightly tart in flavour. The show begins: a tango performance, then Argentine Andean music, the gaucho who spins his bolas whirlwind-like above his head and at the sides of his body, the accordion orchestra with the great and incomparable maestro Juo D'Arienzo, and finally the show closes with a tango.

Leaving the venue we are greeted by the warm evening air; we return to the hotel, and it is past midnight.

First part

When the alarm goes off at 7:00, I am busy preparing the hand luggage to go to the Iguazú Falls; breakfast, then leaving the suitcases in the hotel's custody we set off for the airport. It being Sunday morning, the city is deserted, the sky is grey and the humidity is palpable; I begin to miss the cool, dry climate of Patagonia. As we drive along the imposing Rio de la Plata I notice people fishing and others busy jogging. On the other bank, near Uruguay, the sky appears white and bright, while above us grey clouds threaten rain and indeed shortly afterwards it begins to rain heavily; the fishermen and the sportspeople look for makeshift shelter, under the bridges or the plants.

We arrive at the airport, and my thoughts turn to the weather; given that yesterday it wasn't raining, today who knows what weather we'll find in Iguazú and what weather the others arriving in Buenos Aires will find? Since we are heading towards the tropics and the weather is very changeable, in my hand luggage I have put a jacket and windproof trousers against possible rain. At the airport, while we wait for boarding, a group of elderly people arrives; they are 34 Italians who create an annoying chaos, they disturb a large part of the passengers; I speak with some of them, they come from Piedmont and don't know exactly either where they are going, nor what they are going to see; it seems that for them only travelling comfortably and being in company matters; they show no cultural interest of any kind. When we board it has just stopped raining, now the humidity and the heat can be felt.

We take off and passing beyond the clouds we find ourselves in a blue sky; below us green land stretches as far as the eye can see. Flying north the landscape shows itself different from that seen in the south of the country; instead of the boundless green pampas, waterways and cultivated lands appear; then it changes again, now the perfectly cultivated plain is visible; a succession of woods and well-ordered plots laid out with true mastery. We land at Iguazú (a-LP 250) where we meet our guide, Ary, a character who inspires liking at first sight. Having got on a minibus we head to the falls park, where we will spend the whole day including an optional boat excursion to see the falls up close.

Ary explains that the falls have an average water flow of 1,600 cubic metres per second but currently, after the rains, the flow is 3,200 cubic metres per second; a truly exceptional level that creates an incomparable spectacle. As we travel, Ary tells us something about this part of Argentina, characterised by fertile soil that is red in colour due to the presence of iron; here we are in the province of Misiones, whose name derives from the ancient Jesuit missions, which at the height of their splendour reached a number of 10,000 religious operating in this territory. After a journey of a few tens of minutes, we arrive at the falls park and, leaving what is not needed on the minibus, we begin the tour; taking a little train that goes deep into the forest we make our way into the park, skirting the Iguazú river whose waters are red/brown in colour.

Being in a very humid place, I am struck by the absence of mosquitoes but equally fascinated by the presence of many butterflies that colour the environment, making this place magical, of a unique seduction. Having reached the terminal station we begin a route equipped with walkways that after 1.2 km will lead us to the Garganta del Diablo (C-LP 253), a majestic and impressive drop. As I walk along the walkway, a butterfly lands on the back of my hand and, staying attached to me, my hand becomes the subject of amusing photos; only when I grasp the camera will the insect abandon it.

We reach the vicinity of the Garganta del Diablo; the impression is remarkable, one sees the imposing river disappear into nothingness, as if into a bottomless abyss, and only by leaning out from the walkways can I see the drop where the water, falling into the void, turns into clouds that, carried by the wind, soak us completely. To be able to take photographs I must continually dry the camera; it is a succession of sprays and soakings, but the enchantment of the place is worth it: I observe the water that, throwing itself down the vertical, creates foam several tens of metres high and, reaching the river below, raises a majestic cloud. After a long stop and being soaked through, we decide to head back towards the station, and as we walk the warm sun slowly dries our clothes and warms the skin.

In the river a movement catches our attention; it is a caiman calmly swimming in the shallow waters, while in the adjacent undergrowth we see an iguana and a multitude of colourful butterflies. Having reached the station we take the little train and get off at the intermediate station, where we make a stop for a coffee and a bottle of water, then we set off towards the southern part of the falls; the walkways make the route easy, so we can easily pass over the branches of the river that pour into the imposing cataract. In some sections the platforms are placed close to the falls and this allows, taking great care, leaning out over the vertical of the drop for a truly evocative view. The environment is spectacular, the green of the plants mingles with the red/brown of the water; the blue sky fragmented by white clouds provides the backdrop: a sublime vision.

The imposing waterfall consists of 265 drops, both major and minor; the highest drop is almost 80 metres, the spectacle is created by the mix of the quantity of water and the countless drops. Continuing the tour we reach the twin falls, two waterfalls that appear identical in angle, in flow and in drop: here the sprays of water carried by the wind soak us yet again. Our route winds through the rainforest; at times we are captivated by the incomparable views offered by this marvellous corner of the world: the rainbow appears continually and sometimes intertwines with a second one; the gaze is lost in this enchantment of colours. Approaching the river we reach the bank to begin the navigation under the falls; as we prepare to board the dinghy, I take off my T-shirt and put on a k-way and life jacket.

At boarding we are given a waterproof bag in which I place the camera, bum bag and T-shirt, hoping they won't get wet. Shortly afterwards, having got on the dinghy, we set off and approach the imposing falls; on the boat, photographing proves more difficult than I thought and only amid a thousand difficulties and jolts do I manage to take a few photos of the river and the falls which, seen from below, reveal another aspect of their grandeur. Suddenly the crew warn us to close the bags well; what's happening? The helmsman heads right under the falls; we are flooded with water, it is a total soaking; nothing is spared, except what has been carefully stowed in the waterproof bags.

Second part

We leave the area and, following the river, we skirt the banks covered with rainforest; I admire some birds that, at the noise of the dinghy, take flight; passing over rapids, after a few minutes of navigation, we reach the port where we dock. I disembark from the dinghy and put on the few dry clothes I have left, while most of the boat's passengers undress and wring out their clothes before putting them back on. Few in the group have a change of clothes and the return to dry land turns into suffering; a long and steep path takes us to the clearing where trucks await us. The tiredness, accentuated by the late-afternoon breeze that heightens the cold of the wet clothing, makes itself felt; we ask for a moment's pause to sort ourselves out a little, but the few minutes granted to us pass quickly.

In the car park a truck is parked that will take us to the coach; we climb onto the flatbed where seats are placed and set off, travelling through the forest at dusk. A guide illustrates some details of the local plant and animal species; but frankly our only thought is to take off the soaking and cold clothes that are eating away at the beauty of the day. Finally we reach the minibus, and being in a pitiful state, we ask for the air conditioning not to be turned on; after a few minutes of travel we reach the hotel; a fine structure located near the border with Brazil. When we present ourselves at the lobby we look in a pitiful state; the staff scrutinise us well, consult the guide and understand that we are survivors of the "soaking" of the falls: for the clothing they offer us the drying service that the hotel has available.

A nice hot shower removes the last moisture from the body, but I have to dry the clothes that I haven't sent to the laundry. Fortunately I brought spare trousers and a T-shirt, so at least I can dress dry and presentable for the evening. Dinner is classic; empanadas, grilled meat with vegetables, dessert. After dinner passes quietly in the hotel; we chat, watch TV, listen to music, and finally I go to sleep after checking that the laundry has dried.

After an almost sleepless night, the alarm goes off at 6:00; for some time now an incessant rain has accompanied our rest, the sky gloomy and grey, promising nothing positive. Breakfast and then we set off towards the Brazilian side of the falls; the border between Argentina and Brazil is a few hundred metres from the hotel; we reach it quickly; having passed through customs checks we head towards the park. On the route, which lasts about an hour, I can see how the roads and infrastructures of Brazil are much better kept than the Argentine ones, but surely it will be the influence of the two large Brazilian cities that stand a few km away. Having reached the tourist centre of Iguazú Park (A LP 250), we get off the minibus; having bought the tickets we can enter the protected area.

In the building, besides the souvenir shops, there is a fine museum where the entire area of the falls is reproduced, with photos, scale models and archaeological finds discovered in the area; truly an interesting and instructive moment. Adjacent to the building stands an immense car park with double-decker buses that will take us to the falls; on boarding we try to access the upper part, but we must be careful of the water leaking through the plastic tarpaulins; however we find a place and, despite the incessant rain, the journey through the forest is pleasant. We reach the vicinity of a building that stands on the bank of the falls; we get off the bus and are greeted by the deafening noise of the river's water which, powerful and impetuous, hurls itself into the abyss; seeing the falls from this angle is truly evocative.

With a lift we descend down the vertical wall; we are right in contact with the waterfall: it is astonishing to observe how the water passes just a few centimetres from us; I can admire its brown colour, the white foam; here the din is truly loud and one can communicate only by shouting. From this perspective the view is fascinating, unique and majestic; to hear the noise of millions of cubic metres of water pouring into the abyss is incredible; to be able to admire the dozens of drops that make up the falls is marvellous. While we are taking photographs, the rain lessens but the wind increases, bringing the water of the falls towards us; the result doesn't change much: it is a continuous getting wet. But the water is also a great opportunity for taking photographs; with the continuous change of light, it becomes a unique occasion to capture various shades of colour.

Given the hour and the continuing rain, we decide to return towards our minibus, a stop at the souvenir shops, a hot coffee and then, taking the coach again, we cross the forest, reaching the tourist centre from where we can set off back towards Argentina; now the only question is: how long will it take us to get through customs? Along the road we cross a viaduct over the Iguazú river, the natural border between three states: Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay. Arriving at the border post the transit proves a real dilemma, but all in all we get through fairly quickly, so we can stop for a break at some shops of local crafts and minerals before setting off again for the airport. The subtropical climate is characterised by showers and sunshine, and in these two days I can say I have seen both, managing to capture the thousand facets that the falls offer: truly a beautiful experience.

Having reached the airport facility we say goodbye to Ary and then wait for boarding of the flight that will take us to Buenos Aires; during the flight, besides sorting out the photos of the day, I admire the changing landscape, starting from the subtropical zone, to the crops, to the boundless pampas that ends near the capital. We land and meet Diana who is waiting for us; she accompanies us to the hotel to collect our suitcases, where we change for the return to Italy; in Milan the forecast is rain, so we prepare heavy clothing and abandon the light clothes that served us in these days of subtropical climate. One last look at the capital of Argentina with its avenues decorated for the festivities, and thinking of Christmas that is approaching, I can only observe the strong climatic contrast.

We leave the hotel around 18:30; the flight scheduled for 21:00 has been postponed to 23:15, so we have to face a few hours of waiting at the airport. Here one really has to fill the time; some read, some chat, some walk among the various gates; the four hours of waiting pass slowly. We have dinner; watching the closed-circuit TV I remain enchanted by beautiful photos of Patagonia and I relive the emotions felt seeing the whales, the penguins, the sea elephants, the semi-desert expanses, the magical light of Tierra del Fuego. At departure we are delayed by a further hour; the plane fills up and then, finally, we take off, we fly over the Atlantic and pass through a light disturbance, dinner and then the well-earned rest; the flight hours pass fairly well.

The blue sky welcomes us to Italy; we disembark from the plane when it is almost evening, the sun has already set and only artificial light illuminates the airport and the square in front of it. We collect the suitcases, say goodbye to the group with the hope of meeting again on a future trip, and then we wait for Lorenzo to come and pick us up by car. Having loaded the suitcases and, as on the outward journey, only with contortionist-like movements do we manage to get into the cabin invaded by the luggage; finally we set off for Rovello.

During the journey Lorenzo updates us on the latest events in our little town, then, having arrived home, I light the fireplace and while the warmth of the flame heats the room, as I take the clothes out of the suitcase I find the packet of mate that I bought; what better occasion to try it while I download the photos onto the pc? The card is transferring the images to be analysed and sorted, while I placidly sip the mate, this hot drink that tastes of herbs; meanwhile my mind retraces the countless stages of this fantastic journey that will always remain in my heart for the beauty of the landscape, for the simplicity of the places, for the boundless and solitary Patagonia, for the imposing Towers of Paine, for the spectacular Perito Moreno and certainly not least the members of the group with whom I shared and lived this unparalleled experience.

Three reasons to make the trip to Patagonia

• Par excellence it is the fantastic place that offers the possibility of travelling in immense dimensions, vast meadows where animals graze undisturbed and one is "cradled" by the force of the wind. THE place where the sea shows its strength and where the mainland ends, leaving space for the ocean alone before the Antarctic pack ice.

• The people with their beauty, their good manners and the stupendous Spanish language. The cuisine, unparalleled in meat, fish, empanadas; the wine to be savoured and tasted. Art and culture of a people whose charm becomes overwhelming in its highest expression: the tango.

• Being able to observe the flora and fauna as in Patagonia is an opportunity not to be missed. The close encounter with so many animal and plant species is by itself a reason to undertake this fascinating journey.

Acknowledgements

At the end of this work, I feel I should express my personal thanks to all those who made possible the realisation of such a beautiful and fascinating journey; rich in historical, cultural and naturalistic places but also imbued with the humanity, the dignity of the peoples and the people I had the chance to meet. Gratitude also to those who urged me on and to those who assisted me in the realisation of this diary.

A particular thanks to: • Salvatore, manager of the Ciba Recreational Circle, originator of the journey. • Diana, Silvia, Andrea, Fabio; Jerdo and Aryo, the guides who accompanied us, for the high professionalism demonstrated; for having brought us closer with competence, preparation and absolute respect to Argentine and Chilean cultures and traditions. • Foto ottica Balestrini Luca of Rovello Porro (tel. 02.9675.2227) for the advice and the photographic equipment provided to me. • Laura who contributed to the presentation and the proofreading of the diary.

Bibliography

• La rivista – Cai – November December 2009 • Meridiani Patagonia – Terra del fuoco • Trenta anni in Patagonia • Ande patagoniche

The author

An eclectic character, always discovering new things for continuous professional and personal improvement, he has been active in training for over 20 years, initially only for voluntary associations belonging to the "third sector". In his professional career he has been able to broaden and develop his passion for training, designing and managing various courses and training programmes. He has obtained results and appreciation from companies and from the association world where he has collaborated in the research, selection, training and motivation of personnel. He is currently engaged in multiple activities, both for companies and for associations, for which he consolidates existing programmes and develops new ones, always earning broad consensus and high regard from everyone.

For years he has discovered the pleasure of writing and publishing his travel diaries and, in the multimedia version, enriching them with photographs, for which he has always had a passion, so as to make them engaging for those who read them. Pietro Fondrini Lecturer and trainer

He has drawn up the following texts: • La selezione del personale: un percorso da saper gestire • Prontuario per il soccorso sanitario • Manuale per corsi di formazione

Among his successful courses and initiatives we highlight: • Metodo ViVOSA – The way to obtain excellent results through the strategic planning of one's activities • Previdenza pubblica e complementare – The choices to build one's own future • La formazione finanziata (a great opportunity for companies) • Mental coaching, that is how to progress towards ambitious results by knowing how to overcome one's limiting beliefs, difficulties or mental blocks.

He is the co-creator of the first portal for matching supply and demand of products and services for businesses, associations and citizens seeking integrated and qualified solutions.