Day 22 - Punta Arenas, Puerto Natales.

Wake up covered in bites. Since they’re lined up in straight lines along my skin and it’s no longer mosquito season, I come to the conclusion that the bedbugs got me. What I don’t understand is how they’ve managed to bite me through my pyjamas.

Spend an hour wandering through the cemetery next door. I’ve always been keen on cemeteries – the mystery and the supernatural occurrences attributed to them – and this one is particularly impressive, with its alleys of sculpted trees and the mix of elaborate tombs and modest ‘lockers’ that represent the ethnic mix of this city. The founding families who made their fortune here – Braun, Nogueira and Menéndez have vast marble creations in which their earthly remains are stored, while the ‘lockers’ belong to the Croatians and others who emigrated here to work in the booming wool and shipping industries before the Panama Canal was created and trade from Europe no longer had to go around Cape Horn to get to the west coast of the United States. There are a lot of British, German, Spanish names as well. Feel a bit melancholy.

Do the rounds in the rain, checking out hostels. Pass by the local eatery I found with Nik last year when he refused to have breakfast at Hostal Calafate; it’s still completely full of locals and deserves to go in the guide as an emergency breakfast spot. Since I don’t eat breakfast myself, it’s quite good that I had to go look for a place that did. Stop by Café Montt for an injection of coffee and sugar; they still do an excellent moccachino with condensed milk. Try to send an Easter Island carving home via DHL only to discover that anything made of wood has to be certified before it can be sent. The woman’s looking at me as if I’m trying to steal some priceless museum article made of extinct toromiro wood. Looks like the carving will be travelling with me to Peru.

Visit one of my favourite spots – the naval museum. The nerd in me loves the scale models of famous military and exploration vessels, with minute painted features. My friend Edd used to be into Games Workshop, where you’d paint tiny little dragons and orcs and things; this is just as cool. There are several blocks of Antarctic ice in a glass display; the history of the War of the Pacific (which Chile won with the help of an illustrious British mercenary, and which Bolivia and Peru are still smarting over); a display on Ernest Shackleton’s exploration of the Antarctic and how his crew was rescued; a map of Tierra del Fuego with a little sunken ship symbol where a famous ship was wrecked – Cape Horn looks like a veritable graveyard – and buttons you can push to light up different shipping routes from Punta Arenas, a ship’s steering wheel to play with. I’m unashamed to say that this is fun.

‘Brocolino’ is open today. Have a chinwag with Chef Hector, a local character and a classically-trained chef who prepares the five-star lunches for the Antarctica flights, as well as cooking up some of the most innovative food in Patagonia. We gossip about the time our friend Mike brought over a tour group (the restaurant is frequented by Journey Latin America packs) and they got drunk late into the night, or the time Hector fell for another guide, Kerry (apparently there was chemistry between them): “Only one problem: I’m married. But wouldn’t mind sleeping with her!” His wife looked in on them, disapproving, and Mike pretended that he was together with Kerry to deflect attention from Hector.

I ask him what he thinks of the other fine dining establishments in Punta Arenas. “La Marmita? Yes, he cooks well, but there’s so much decoration around, you feel like you’re in a museum.” So that’s why Brocolino’s décor is so…average. Hector wants you to focus on the food. “Remezón? Luis, the chef, is excellent – he works with interesting ingredients, like beaver.” What about the established local favourite, Sotito? Hector’s not a huge fan: “There are no surprises there. What he does, he does well, but lamb is only one way – Patagonian style, steak is plain grilled, seafood is with the same sauce.” Hector himself is very creative – sometimes too much so. When curiosity gets the better of me and I want to know what ‘steak in the style of Paris Hilton’ is, he laughs and admits that he hasn’t yet thought of what it’ll consist of, exactly. My lunch? Why, sweetbreads in champagne sauce and a lamb creation of some kind. Then Hector sends me to check out his new hostel, Art Nouveau.

On the bus ride to Puerto Natales, I make serious inroads into “All My Sins Remembered” – it’s turning out to be a really engrossing novel, tracing the history of one aristocratic family through their lives in the early 20th century Britain, Nazi Germany, and beyond. Currently traumatised by the disappearance of a Jewish main character in 1936 Berlin. I fear the worst.

The bus passes through wide open spaces, past isolated farms, sheep grazing grounds, a lake dotted with pink flamingoes, roadside shrines to commemorate those who died in road accidents...Happy to see Puerto Natales. From a distance it looks like a tiny huddle of houses on the banks of Last Hope Sound, dwarfed by leaden skies and the mountains across the sound. The sea is choppy, it’s windy as heck and it feels as if a storm is coming.

I go straight to Erratic Rock, my home base down south. It’s the most popular hostel in town, run by ‘burnt out Oregonian hippies’ as Bill and his brother like to refer to themselves. They won’t be in the guide because Bill specifically asked me not to put them in; they get more business than they can handle and he likes it to be spread between all the hostels in town. They’re still the best place for information on the Torres del Paine National Park, as well as any other onward travel info, and they’ve expanded in terms of tours – multi-day adventures on Isla Navarino, Tierra del Fuego, Cabo Froward – off-the beaten-track, challenging stuff that I’d love to take part in if I had the time and if I were here at the right time of year. They fill me in on what’s new, I admire the three cats who’ve moved in, and then go shopping for food, as I’m leaving for the park tomorrow morning and rent a sleeping bag from the guys.

It’s still not clear whether I can make it to El Chaltén on the 3rd; I’ve been trying to find out about bus connections, and it seems that April 30th is the cutoff point: in May, there are fewer services. Will have to play it by ear.

Do a spot of quality control at La Mesita Grande – the best pizzeria in the south of Chile. It’s still good.

Early night. Have to pack for the park and be ready for 7.30am. Will be away from civilisation until Saturday.