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PENINSULA VALDES
It took more than 2 days on buses to make our way halfway down the coast of Argentina. The land became increasingly barren as all trees disappeared and were replaced by sparce brown grasses. Near any human settlement the scene became even bleaker. Garbage had nowhere to hide and it clustered along the fencelines that extended endlessly in all directions. White plastic grocery bags stuck to the barbed wire, fluttering wildly in the relentless wind. Our hopes were not high for any inspiring natural encounters in this environment. But in this desolate and depressing setting is one of the great meetings of land and sea. Our friends Peter, Nicole and twin sons had driven to the area and we crowded into their Toyota pickup with them to explore the wildlife sanctuary of the Peninsula Valdes, a unique piece of rocky scrubland that juts out like a hammer head into the Atlantic Ocean. Much of the land is privately owned estancias with scraggly looking flocks of sheep scattered throughout the dry brush and sharp grass. But the native fauna has held on better here than in any other area of Argentina. Herds of elegant long-legged guanacos and families of floppy-feathered rheas graze along with the sheep. Odd rodent-like maras scamper in the undergrowth and gray foxes stalk mice in the grass. A begging coarse-haired armadillo provided some entertainment with his boldness. Along the rocky outer shores of the peninsula we visited large elephant seal and sea lion colonies, creeping close enough to their blubbery bodies to hear them bicker and belch at each other in a constant shuffling of their pecking order. Magellanic penguins nested in shallow burrows, seemingly unperturbed by our presence just a few feet away, scrambling awkwardly up the steep slope and back down to the water's edge where they dove in and swam away like bullets. Most incredible of all, we camped in an isolated cove and communed with southern right whales who use the large protected bays of the peninsula as a nursery. We will never again underestimate the richness of the desert and the magic of the ocean. 
Guanaco Rhea Mara Gray Fox Armadillo Elephant Seals & Sea Lions Magellanic Penguins Southern Right Whales 
 
Whale spray drifted through our tent this morning. Once again, the giant creature floated just off the beach and as I hurried down the shore to the point to meet it I looked back towards the campsite. The whale blew a misty spout into the air and I watched as it floated on the blustery breeze over our flapping orange tent where Tremayne was still wrapped in his sleeping bag. How amazing to be kissed by whale mist without even having to crawl out of bed. This is an amazing place all around. Wide arms of brown cliffs reach around to protect this large bay where the whales have been romping. The water is a clear bluish green, cold and almost constantly whipped into choppy waves from the incessant wind. White, chalky rock reaches in tongues towards the rolling surf, a myriad of fossilized seashells embedded in its rough surface. A ledge of layered rock drops off sharply into the water, sometimes just above the tide, sometimes just below it, enabling the whales to glide incredibly close to where we stand on the beach. Last night, after an unhurried visit by a mother whale and calf in front of our camp, we followed the pair along the shore to the rocky point to the west that we had already noticed other whales using as a corridor to the sea beyond. The tide was higher then than it had been when we met the whales out there earlier in the day but we rolled up our pants and kept walking, wading through the clear water flowing over the jagged rocks. We stood on a submerged point of land, knee deep in icy water as the whales glided smoothly through the choppy waves, not more than 10 or 15 feet from our outstretched hands. Their barnacled heads rose and fell, followed by their gleaming gray backs arching out of the water and back down. The nostrils on top of their heads flapped open and closed with rushes of air. They seemed to be moving in slow motion, but the moments still passed too quickly. We scrambled along the uneven and slippery shore to the end of the point, where the pair paused briefly. We watched, awestruck, as they both rolled onto their sides, flippers poised pointing into the air, and lay together in the water. Could it be the mother was nursing her calf? They remained, bellies together, long enough for us to absorb the magic of what we were seeing. At this point they were perhaps 20 or 30 feet off shore. They rolled under the surface and left us trembling from chill and disbelief. We stood gazing out into the sea where they had disappeared, hoping for one more glimpse, unwilling to let go of the connection we had just experienced. Finally, the cold wind drove us behind a small sand dune a little ways back from the point. We sat together, excitedly reliving the experience with each other, our eyes still scanning the wide waters. Soon, we spotted whales heading back into our bay, blowing quite a ways off shore compared to what we had just seen but still bringing us back to the water's edge to watch. We gasped as two whales began breaching, one after the other, then both together, lifting their massive bodies out of the water, twisting, and crashing back to the surface in a spray that dwarfed the largest waves. It seemed to be the mother and calf again, the smaller one never quite made it as far out of the water, and they continued their display for 10 or 12 jumps, each one a little lower as they grew more tired. That felt like the ultimate gift from this mother whale. She had come to fetch us from our campsite, led us along the shore by the pull of her sleek and shining undulating body, then treated us not only to the intimate scene of nursing or nuzzling, but also the joyous lesson in breaching. I cannot express how privileged I felt. As the sun descended in the west, I dipped my hand into the salty waves and whispered my thanks over and over, sending my thoughts out into the vast watery world the whales call home. Be at peace...we share this planet...I promise to do my part to keep your part preserved. 
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Ushuaia - Southernmost city in the world!
As we continued our journey south another 2 days by bus, we did not leave behind the desert until we crossed the range of mountains that anchor the end of the South American continent on the islands of Tierra del Fuego. Here, evergreen beech forests laden with moss and lichens creep up from the lapping waters of the Beagle Channel to the snow fields that cling to the steep ridges above. We slogged up the muddiest path we have ever been on, 6500 feet to the Martial Glacier behind the town of Ushuaia. Snow flurries spit at us out of the gray sky and the wind whipped fiercely down the mountain slope. Wind has been a constant companion throughout this trip. We are told Patagonia could supply all of the energy needs of Argentina if they could just harvest its wind. For now, unfortunately, its oil seems to be the focus. 
 
A hike through town, no matter how beautiful the setting, seems to put everyone in our family in a bad mood. A hike along the coastal forest in the national park lifted all the grumpiness out of our spirits however. We are definitely a forest family and the cool crisp air of this far south land is rejuvenating to us. The desert holds its charm, the ocean holds its mystery, but the forest is the only place that feels like home. Even here, where the seasons are backwards and strange birds sing from only faintly recognizable tree species, we feel a calmness and contentedness that we have not found anywhere else in Argentina. Its springtime mud is reminiscent of the slick springs in the northland, its dark rocky shore could be on Lake Superior except for the salty spray and snow capped mountains. We are grateful to have touched this other end of the continent in our lifetimes 
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