Back in the windy city

Punta Arenas, CHILE

We’re back in Punta Arenas, Nelson’s hometown. We flew back on Monday, a spectacular flight in an 18-seater that hovered above snow-covered mountains, glaciers, fjords, and the forests of Tierra del Fuego. It was an informal flight to say the least, and an appropriate farewell to Puerto Williams. No security check, no in-flight safety presentation, no identification requested to board the plane. The pilot seemed to know all passengers by name and, in my case, recognized me and remembered my name from when I had bought my ticket a few days beforehand.

There is a theoretical flight schedule, but as everything is subject to the vagaries of the everchanging Patagonian weather, no one is ever quite sure of the actual departure time. The airline representative who sold me my ticket had told me that the flight was leaving at either 11am, 2pm, or 3pm. Sometimes, if the weather’s good, the plane will just take off when it’s ready. Last week there were people at the hotel who had been stranded as their plane—whose official departure time was 7pm—up and left at 4pm instead. I’d been told that the surest way to know if and when the plane was leaving was to head to the airport at the first signs of the plane’s arrival.

At 2:55pm, the familiar whir of the turbo-prop plane overhead was our cue to head to the airport, and we made it in plenty of time for our departure fifteen minutes later. Landing in Punta Arenas an hour later was like arriving in a different world. Instead of the snowy and wet winter climate of Puerto Williams, we were greeted by sharp, crisp autumn days, clear skies and the strong Magellanic winds. We went for a bike ride along the Straits of Magellan our first night back in town and were in awe at how smooth and flat the paved roads were.

Other awe-inspiring things are the abundance of available fresh produce—a welcome change from the rations of canned goods and packaged food we’d been relying on between arrivals of the weekly ferry—and consistent heat sources. Heating everything by wood just doesn’t ever get things quite hot enough, in my opinion. Being back in an oil town means that I get hot showers whenever I want, instead of having to wait all day for the wood in the caldera (wood-stoked furnace) to heat the water sufficiently. It feels so decadent.

I’m wearing my Red Sox t-shirt today, as according to my pocket season schedule we’re playing the Yanks today. I was delighted to hear the results of Monday’s Fenway opener (a proper trouncing of 8-1) and will follow the games from here as I can (via internet). Go Sox!