Billed as “the southernmost city in the world”, Ushuaia is a fascinating place. It sits on the north shore of Beagle Channel, so you know that Charles Darwin sailed right by on January 29, 1833. The crew of his ship, the Beagle, were far from the first to visit the area, though – that distinction clearly belongs to the Selk’nam Indians (also called the Ona). Actually, a southern group of the Selk’nam, known as the Yaghan, were the ones who settled the Ushuaia area about 10,000 years ago – the first European settlers didn’t arrive until 1869. Argentina’s worst prisoners were incarcerated here starting in 1896. I suppose the thinking was that if they tried to escape, there was no place to go, much like the British thinking in Tasmania and the French in Devil’s Island. The prisoners built a railway connecting the prison to the town, known as the Tren del Fin del Mundo or the End of the World Train, the southernmost railway in the world. In fact, most things that you can find in Ushuaia are the southernmost in the world. Sure, Puerto Williams, the small Chilean military outpost across the channel, might be able to claim the title of the southernmost permanent settlement in the world, but it’s no city – its 2,900 inhabitants are no match for the 57,000 boasted by Ushuaia. You’ve got to love their slogan – “Ushuaia, end of the world, beginning of everything”
The first time I ever saw Ushuaia was on Sunday, January 13, 1991. I had flown in from Río Grande on an old Argentine Air Force plane that had been converted to civilian use – twin props, 40 seats, it was noisy and a bit scary. Well, in all fairness, I guess you could say that any landing in Ushuaia could be scary. As you come in from the north, you cross over the Martial Mountains which reach a good 4,300 feet into the sky, then you drop like a stone, in just a few miles losing all that elevation to land at sea level. Experienced pilots say it’s a trick to land safely, and there have been crashes of commercial aircraft there. The airport sits on a 2-mile long spit of land that sticks out into Beagle Channel just south of the city.
One of the first things I noticed upon arrival was the climate. Keeping in mind the fact that I had arrived in the middle of the Austral summer, I was struck by how cool it was. Summer daytime highs average only 57 degrees F., and 68 degrees is very rare – it can even snow in mid-summer. It is rainy and foggy a lot, and because of that the city only gets about 30% of the possible sunshine – this would be considered downright gloomy by many people, but when the sun does shine, it is a beautiful place to be.
Because of its cool climate, Ushuaia has several ski resorts – one of them, Cerro Castor, is the southernmost full-fledged ski resort in the world. You’d expect skiing in a place like this, but here’s something you might not expect – ice hockey. In fact, the city boasts the first Olympic-Size ice hockey rink in South America, a testament to the popularity of the sport here.
I spent a wonderful week in Ushuaia – two days of climbing, and the rest playing tourist. I visited museums, the old prison, a nearby national park and took a couple of day-long tourist excursions by bus and even a boat trip on Beagle Channel. One of my favorite things to do was seek out cozy little restaurants and enjoy a good meal. And walking – I walked everywhere. The narrow streets had a distinctly European feel, helped by the steeply-pitched metal roofs which shed the winter snow.
I had found a room in a family’s home which served as my base of operations for that week. It was upstairs, with a window looking out to Beagle Channel – quiet, private. In the evenings, when I wasn’t out eating, sitting in a bar or just walking around, I’d hole up in my room and read while listening to local FM stations on my little radio. There was a really cool one at 103.1 on the dial which played all manner of rock music – it was mostly album rock, mostly British, and it was a welcome companion during the long evenings (at 55 degrees south latitude, the summer evenings are very long here). When my week was up, I was sad to leave this beautiful place, secretly hoping I’d have a chance to return some day.
They say you should be careful what you wish for – on June 30th, merely 5 1/2 months after leaving, I was winging my way south from Buenos Aires, this time on a Boeing 737 in the company of my friend Susan. By way of Bahía Blanca and Río Gallegos, we made another spectacular landing in Ushuaia, setting foot in Tierra del Fuego in the dead of winter. Acting on a hunch, I had a cab take us directly to the home of the Craboleda family where I had stayed in the summer. When they answered the door, they recognized me right away and were very accommodating. Back then, winter tourists were not common in Ushuaia so they were caught a bit off guard. While we waited, they prepared a room for us, the same one I had used months earlier. All they asked was $16 US total per day, a smokin’ deal. We had 2 soft beds and a nice warm room with a modern bathroom just a few feet away along our upstairs hallway.
We had accumulated a variety of snacks as we traveled, so it was no surprise that in our backpacks we had bread, cheese, cookies….. and to drink? – no less than 5 bottles of wine! In Argentina, the home of so much good wine, it was cheaper than bottled water. After all, who were we, simple tourists, to snub the good Argentine people by not drinking as much of their wine as possible? It was dark by 6:00 PM, so when we ventured out later we found the city streets a slippery challenge for walking. There was snow everywhere which had frozen to an icy mess, and since many of the streets were hilly, we really had to tread carefully. In town, the lights of a bar welcomed us in from the gloom, and we found ourselves cupping a hot submarino to pass the time. This is a typically Argentine drink, and worth trying. It’s a cup of hot, sweetened milk with a bar of thick, dark chocolate on the side – you put the bar into the hot milk, stir it, and it becomes hot chocolate – yum!
After a late start the next day, we headed into town to poke around a bit. There were a number of sights we wanted to see while here, so we visited a car rental agency. Gadzooks! To rent a Fiat 147 (a little 1,300 cc vehicle) would cost us the princely sum of $185 US for one day and 200 miles – they must have seen us coming. No way we were going to spring for that. Disappointed, we walked around the town some more and ended up at a beautiful museum, where we made the acquaintance of a young fellow. We told him we wanted to see some sights in Tierra del Fuego but couldn’t afford a rental car. He said he had an idea and could he get back to us later on? Well, he did, calling at our rooming-house while we ate a casual dinner in our room. As we shared our wine and bread with him, he said he and his father would love to act as our guides. The day after tomorrow, they’d pick us up and drive us around all day in their family car. If we were willing to pay them $50 US and pay for the gas, we had a deal – of course we jumped on it.
The next day, we boarded a tourist catamaran, the Ana B, for an excursion on the Beagle Channel. It was one rough day, and the 2 1/2 hours of extremely choppy waters almost did us in. We visited a sea lion colony and a bird colony, but all of us were green around the gills by the time we docked – dry land never felt so good. Later, we looked to dine at a place I’d grown to like last summer, a restaurant known as No Hay Problema. Sadly, it had gone out of business, so we ended up at the overpriced Restaurante Ideal which proved to be anything but.
Wednesday, July 3rd dawned clear and cold, a perfect day for touring. Gabriel and his father Rubén arrived right on time in their comfy Renault 4-door sedan and we set out, driving on Highway 3 to Garibaldi Pass. The Andes are the longest mountain range in the world, and their southern terminus is in Tierra del Fuego. The range heads out to the far eastern end of the island, skips across a dozen miles of the Atlantic and dies a natural death on Isla de los Estados, or Staten Island in English. A strange quirk of all of this is that Ushuaia is the only town in Argentina that lies west of the Andes.
We passed sawmills along the shore of Lago Escondido, then motored on to the village of Tolhuin. This town sits at the east end of the lake, and here on this cold winter day it was a winter wonderland. Snow lay everywhere, sparkling in the brilliant sunlight. From the shore, we could see way down the 65-mile long lake all the way into Chile at its west end. Only 9 miles of the lake is in Chile, where it goes by the name of Lago Cami. We took a break at the Hostería Kuiken for a bite to eat and to buy a few souvenirs.
Leaving town, we turned back south towards Ushuaia. I should mention here that the highway had many stretches of black ice, and as we were motoring along we hit one of them. One moment we were all chatting merrily, and then in a heartbeat the car went into a violent spin. It didn’t flip over; rather, it spun like a top and skidded off on to the shoulder. The whole thing was over in a few seconds, but I remember all of us shouting while it happened. Once it stopped, we all sat there in shock – holy crap, that was a close call! – thankfully no other traffic was nearby when it happened. When Susan and I had looked into renting a car, worry about driving on these slippery winter roads had been a real concern – after all, as desert dwellers we hadn’t driven on icy roads for …….. well, just about forever. Once we all calmed down, our driver cautiously continued.
Back in town, we ate a quiet dinner in our room and did a little packing. The next day, the 4th of July, was our final one in Ushuaia. One last leisurely walk around the town savoring all the quirky little things about this unique place – so unlike any other in the entire, wonderful country of Argentina – and then, before we knew it, we were winging our way back north. Our 5 days spent there were way too short. As I write this piece, it has been 26 years since my visit. I have often thought back to the fine days I spent there at the bottom of the world and I hope there’ll be one more chance to return.
This crest I bought shows Argentina’s claim to a huge chunk of Antarctica, all the way down to the South Pole.