Ruta 3 finishes in the Tierra del Fuego National Park, and a photo by the sign marking the end of the road is de rigeur.
Out of Ushuaia earlyish - about midday! We were in a bit of a hurry, or at least we had a schedule for the first time in a long time. We needed to catch a ferry from Porvenir to Punta Arenas. So we were into it, back up over the Garibaldi Pass, a 230km stint without stopping, our longest ever to date. A pitstop in Rio Grande, then border formalities to cross back into Chile, this time we were able to write that we planned to stay weeks rather than hours as we had on the way down.
Between the border post at San Sebatian and Porvenir ther is about 150 kms of quite smooth gravel road. Undulating along the coast, the road itself offers lots of great views and few difficulties.
Toss in winds of somehwere around 120 km/h at a guess, and ther level of difficulty rises sharply, and time to enjoy the scenery evaporates (for me, andway, I'm sure Em did a bit of rubber-necking). That's just what you expect down this far on the wedge of South America. When we realised the timezone chage from Argentina to Chile had given us an extra hour, we stopped for a photo shoot on a deserted pebbly beach, then again to watch the guanacos.
Porvenir has the charm of these Chilean seaside villages - brightly painted buildings made from corrugated iron, built low as if hunkered down against the wind. Trimmed lawns and hedges give a homely feel, while the rusted motor vehicles and the pace of these towns recall decades past. At Porvenir, a concrete wall seems to mumble the somwehat murky statement that 'To govern is to educate'. The Chilean flag in front of the sign though not yet faded by sun or salt is stretched and frayed by the wind.
The people around here look weahterbeaten and tough but are kind, helpful and gently spoken. Pulling up at the ferry terminal, we park in the lee of a truck and bolt for the cafe. There's plenty on offer, and we tuck into a hearty seafood casserole with loads of bread to mop up the ample juice, and a beer each - the waiter is up for a conversation, and seems unconcerned that the scheduled sailing time for the fery is fast approcaching. This attitude is shared by the ticket office, and the long queue trickles unhurriedly while departure time slips past.
The vessel, ''Melinka'' is brightly painted in red, green and white, though the ochre if rust also features in the colour scheme.
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