Diary - Salter's travels

Machu Picchu

Up at 4am for a quick breakfast before jumping into a minibus. The breakfast spread was very impressive. Sadly, at such an early hour of the day, my stomach had almost no interest in food. At 3,400 m the effects of altitude are not too severe. Some people might get a headache. Most people will feel a bit breathless and tired. I have been at altitude many times and always found the best way to deal with it was to get plenty of sleep. Hurtigruten had other ideas and we were finding the schedule brutal. Judging from the look of everyone else in the minibus, so were a few other people. The trip to the train station at Ollantaytambo station was almost two hours. Our guide talked without a break for the whole trip.

We queued a while for the train and were then guided to our allocated seats. The train journey to Aguas Calientes was considerably more pleasant than the minibus. Relatively smooth and with some increasingly interesting scenery. We were served coffee and a bread roll. The servers, two of them, then put on national costumes and did a play. I think that is what it was. We were sat at the end of the carriage looking the wrong way. I was mostly aware of them running up and down the gangway behind me.

At Aguas Calientes we were led out of the train station, across the road, and put into another queue for another minibus. The road up to Machu Picchu is a steep track with 14 switchbacks. It is steep, up to 27%, narrow and challenging especially in the rain. The road is listed at dangerousroads.org. It was raining but we made it to the top and the small carpark where a sign announced that we had finally arrived at Machu Picchu.

The Lost City of the Incas is considered one of the wonders of the world. A mountain citadel built in the 15^th century on a mountain ridge at 2,400 m in the Eastern Cordillera of southern Peru. There is some uncertainty about why Machu Picchu was built. The Incas had no written language so records are sparse. The site was abandoned in the 16^th century, possibly because everyone died of smallpox brought by travellers. It remained unvisited by Europeans until the 19^th century. Currently the leading theory is that Machu Picchu was a private city for Incan royalty. A holiday home on a grand scale. Back in the day, there would have been up to 750 people here working the land and supporting royal activities.

Hiram Bingham, a Yale lecturer, could easily have been the original Indiana Jones. Right down to the hat. In 1911, he explored the area looking for the lost capital of the Neo-Inca state. He was led to Machu Picchu by a villager, Melchor Arteaga. Bingham found the name of the Peruvian explorer Agustín Lizárraga and the date 1902 written in charcoal on one of the walls of the Temple of the Three Windows. Despite this disappointment, he led an expedition to Machu Picchu the following year and spent four months clearing the site which was heavily overgrown. The full scale of the citadel started to become apparent and over the next few years was excavated multiple times. Many of the significant artifacts ended up back in Yale and in his final version of the story, Lost City of the Incas (1952), Bingham claimed to have found the site himself.

From the carpark you can see very little. However, after presenting a ticket, you walk a short way round the shoulder of a hill and the entire site becomes revealed. It is very impressive. Terraces and walls and buildings and steps all set in the most amazing steep mountain scenery. The place is a massive tourist attraction, very crowded and highly controlled. Over a million visitors each year. Not only do you need to have a guide but the route around the ruins, one of several, is pre-booked. It was spectacular and interesting. It was also a bit of an ordeal because we were both desperately tired. It was difficult to summon any energy or enthusiasm. If you are planning on visiting, then I strongly suggest you check the proposed schedule and avoid this sort of Hurtigruten ordeal. Frankly, it just spoiled the experience.

The weather was a bit dull but I quite enjoyed watching the clouds swirling round the surrounding mountains. It rained a bit as well. This added suitably to our sense of dejection as we trapsed round after our guide. As my old English literature teacher used to explain “sympathetic use of nature”. We had lunch in the restaurant next to the carpark. It was pretty good and restored a small amount of energy. The bus ride back down the steep, slippery and narrow track gave me an extra jolt of adrenaline to further wake me up. We spent an hour or so in the souvenir shops of Aguas Calientes before the long return trip. Back at the hotel, we ate a minimal supper before collapsing into bed ready for the 6am start.

Two flights later we were in Quito, Ecuador. The Mariott hotel there is lovely but we had very little time to enjoy it. Dinner and bed was all we cared about. In the morning, which seemed to arrive far too early, we were bundled into a coach for a tour of the city. A succession of churches and old buildings went past my rather glazed eyes. There was a bit of a pause while a street parade went past. No idea what it was about but it was very loud and colourful.

Finally, we were then taken to a rather strange monument to equator. A sort of theme park which had a sense of being abandoned several years ago. Diane and I found a quiet bar here were we sneaked a glass of wine. This was not was not only very pleasant but helped me doze off on the coach back. Next day we were up early, again, to fly to the Galapagos Islands.

Cusco

From Buenos Aires we flew to Lima. A couple of days later we joined up with another Hurtigruten trip. This time to the Galapagos Islands. The complete itinerary included a visit to Machu Pichu. The trip began with a silly early morning, before 6am, for a flight. Cusco, the ancient capital of the Inca Empire, is now listed as a UNESCO world heritage site. It took our breath away. Literally. At 3,400 m the altitude was a bit of a shock to the system. It is quite a place in many other ways as well. The centre is a crushed together hotch-potch of buildings. Some very old and others looking like they had been slapped together yesterday. Our hotel proved to be a rather lovely old building right in the heart of the city. Although we did not get much time to appreciate it.

After just enough time to drop our bags, we were off on a walking tour of some of the remains in the city centre. The Inca empire arose sometime in the 13^th century. It covered a vast tract of what is now Peru, Ecuador and Chile and ruled some 12 million people. In 1532 the empire came to a crashing end when the Spanish invaded. Cusco was the Inca capital. Today many remains of Inca buildings can be found. We wandered around a couple of the main sites. As usual, when looking at Inca ruins, I wondered about how they made the big blocks of stone fit together. It is not magic or aliens but it is an awful lot of hard work. The walls all lean in slightly and use rounded corners and trapezoidal doorways. The stone blocks are fitted together without mortar. The facing surfaces often have a hidden protrusion that fits into a corresponding hole. A little like Lego blocks. The result is incredibly earthquake proof. During a small or moderate earthquake, the masonry is stable. During strong earthquakes, stone blocks have been observed “dancing” and settling into their original positions afterwards. This is one reason so many of the ruins remain today. Some of the very best walls have blocks which are perfectly square and horizontal – remarkable.

Next, we were bundled into a coach and taken to a carpet shop. Not really a carpet shop but I was reminded of the way that in Morocco, any tour would inevitably take you to the guide’s brother’s carpet shop – “just for looking”. Here we were in a textile museum which also had a large shop of textile products adjacent to it. There were also some llamas and guinea pigs that I talked to for a while. I was reminded of the fact that in Peru, guinea pigs are not pets.

Another short drive took us to Sacsayhuamán. These are the remains of one or more fortresses on a hill (3,700 m) overlooking Cusco. After the Spanish invasion, much of the rock from these forts was taken to use as building material. Only the largest blocks, too large to move, remain. However, there are still an awful lot of these and entire site is very impressive. It was raining. Heavily at times. This did make for a rather soggy visit although some of the views with cloud and sun were quite dramatic.

Back at the hotel, we did a historic tour of the hotel That was very boring although a presentation of an Inca ceremonial routine was fun to watch. Then came a presentation of how to make Pisco Sour, the Peruvian national drink. Moderately interesting and we got to drink the cocktail when it was finished. Finally, to bed. Very early, breathless and tired knowing that we would be up at 4am.

Iguazu

The Iguazu falls on the border of Argentina and Brazil are the largest waterfalls in the world. The highest part, known as the Devil’s throat, is some 80 m wide and about as deep. The falls have featured in many films including Indian Jones, James Bond and Captain America. Understandably the falls are a bit of a tourist attraction. Controlled access is from both the Brazilian and Argentinian sides.

We arrived at the border city of Puerto Iguazú in the evening. The area is classified as Humid sub-tropical and surrounded by rainforest. Our hotel, the Mercure, was rather pleasingly set in a forested area outside the city. Our room on the second floor had a balcony that looked straight into the jungle. We could sit there and watch parrots, monkeys, lizards and many types of bird. Early evening a few fireflies came out. Brilliant.

Once upon a time, the Iguazu falls were deep in the jungle. Remote and difficult to access. Now they are part of a theme park. In some ways this reminded me of the remarkable Postojna cave in Slovenia. A magnificent natural phenomena that has been harnessed and tamed and turned into an item in a display case. In each case, millions of dollars have been spent to create a tourist attraction that will generate tens of millions of dollars. In each case, it feels to me, like much of the natural aspect has been lost. No doubt the owners will talk about preserving the environment and improving accessibility. They will point out that the tourists will come anyhow and there is a need for control. They will probably be less inclined to mention how much money they have made out of it.

Anyhow, we had no choice in the matter, so we queued to get into the carpark. Then queued to buy our entrance ticket, queued to get a train ticket and finally queued to board the train. Such is the joy of being a tourist. Two train rides later we started the walk along the raised footway to the Devil’s Throat. We had already passed innumerable cafes and souvenir shops. We’d also fought off people wanting to be our guide and those selling additional experiences such as boat rides. The footway was a bit of a pain because it was so crowded with people. Took us about half an hour to get to the viewing platform. Then another good ten minutes to actually get on the platform and to a position where we could see something. It was also very hot and humid. The net effect of all these factors pretty much meant I was ready to leave before we had finished arriving. But I persevered for the sake of a few photos. Fortunately, I am a bit taller than many of the people that were around us. Although I resisted the temptation to rest my telephoto lens on the head of the person pushing in front of me.

The park is arranged into a series of pathways that form loops. Each is an hour or two long. Having achieved the big ticket item, Devil’s Throat, we had a break for over priced coffee and a cheese empanada that turned out to have ham in it. You are encouraged not to feed any of the animals especially the persistent coati and monkeys. Many of the cafes have a caged area outside where you can eat in safety. Empanada in the animal proof bin, we managed to buy a soggy and tasteless mixed veg sandwich and then tackled another loop of raised walkways.

The second loop took us around some other parts of the falls. The walkways were as crowded as ever but some of the views were pretty good. The train back to the car park was especially crowded and required a queue of over half an hour. By the time we got back to the car we were both dragging our feet a bit.

Next day we had a choice. The original plan was to drive to the Brazilian side. This was starting to lose its appeal. A long drive and more queues. Staying with the Argentinian side was a shorter drive and we just had one more loop to walk around. We had started late and still felt tired from the day before, so we decided to stick with the devil we knew. This had the tiny bonus of a reduced entry fee. Not unsurprisingly, the day was much of the same. We kept it shorter and less demanding. The final, lower loop, possibly gave some of the best views of the weekend but the weather remained stubbornly hot and humid.

After our third night in the jungle hotel, we set off back to Buenos Aires. The drive was uneventful. The Argentinian company “Five Senses Travel” organised this trip for us and did an excellent job of it. Very friendly, helpful and knowledgeable. I would recommend them if you are ever out this way. Two hotels later we were at BA airport checking in our bags for the flight to Lima.

Esteros del Iberá

The hire car was a small Toyota. It was adequate and easy to drive. We headed north away from the conurbations of Buenos Aires and out into the countryside. This part of our trip had been organised by a company called “Five Senses Travel” https://fivesensestraveller.com/ . We like to be able to explore on our own a little. Sometimes organised tours are just all about an idea of what tourists want to see. Tourists want to visit tourist attractions. Well, sometimes. Often, we really enjoy seeing the ordinary towns and countryside. Seeing how people live, what they grow, how they go about their daily lives. Getting to know a country rather than just focusing on the spectacular and unusual. Driving can be a wonderful way to do this. We had a couple of weeks. We wanted to drive around Argentina a bit and we wanted to visit the Iguazu waterfalls – which are a tourist attraction. Five Senses put together an itinerary which started with Soledad, our guide in BA and ended back at the airport ready for the next leg of our journey. The first part was just a few hours driving to Concepción del Uruguay – which is not in Uruguay but is on the river that borders Uruguay. We found a nice beach by the river.

Two days later we arrived at a hotel in a swamp. El Transito Hotel Boutique is right in the middle of the National park of Esteros de Ibera. Wikipedia describes this area as a mix of swamps, bogs, stagnant lakes, lagoons, natural slough, and courses of water. We were not too sure what to expect. Getting there involved some off-road navigation. The little Toyota struggled a little but what really grabbed my attention was the large variety of birds sat on the fences and posts by the roadside. We arrived mid-afternoon at the hotel which was set in the middle of an immense and carefully mowed area of grass. Rheas were running around to one side and we also saw a fox.

After a very welcome glass of wine, we were invited to go on a trip with a boat and horse to see the sunset. Sounded fun so they equipped us with rubber boots and off we went in a land cruiser. Ten minutes away we hopped out of the car and our two guides led us past a wooden house and through some muddy bog to a small boat. Here we met a very strong and capable looking man dressed in the style of a gaucho. He got the four of us into the small boat and then pushed it for a few minutes along a water channel. He left us there for a short while and then reappeared on his horse which he tied to the front of the boat.

Off we went. Me, Diane and two guides in a small boat being pulled by a man on a horse. The water got deeper but the horse did not seem to care and plodded on with water sloshing around the saddle. It was a delightful way to travel and felt quite in tune with the surroundings. We pushed through narrow, weed choked channels and through small pond areas. Our gaucho, or at least his horse, knew exactly where to go and where was safe to walk. Half an hour or so of this brought us to a wooden hut with a table, an immense old tree and a lovely view. Our guides magicked up some coffee and cakes while we lazed around and took in the vista. The trip back was similar but with the addition of the perfectly timed and spectacular sunset. Dinner was waiting for us on our return. Excellent home cooked food and a glass of wine. It was starting to look like life in the swamp was not too bad.

9am in the morning we were breakfasted and ready to go. A short drive in a different direction took us to our waiting horses. Neither of us have any equestrian inclinations at all but we had been assured that this was not a problem. They had even brought some steps to help us mount. The horses turned out to be very placid and ideally suited to slightly nervous complete beginners. Two different guides this morning. Neither of whom spoke any English. This did not cause a problem fortunately. The essential message was clear. Get on the horse and follow them. We were in a different part of the wetlands now. Far less of the tall grass that we saw the previous night. It was still swamp though. We set of down a dry track but within a few hundreds of metres our horses were clip, clopping through water. From the higher vantage point of being on horseback we could see more birds and wildlife. Just after we set off there was a Capybara. These are large rodents. The largest of all rodents. A bit like giant, short haired Guinea Pigs but weighing in at 50 kg or more.

We plodded through the swamp for an hour or so. It was lovely. Peaceful and relaxing. At one point the water go deeper. We ended up with water at saddle height. The horses did not seem to mind and stayed gratifyingly sure foot even in a metre or more of water. Eventually, we ended up at a place way out in the middle of the swamp. Almost completely featureless. Flat and wet and swampy in all directions. There was not really any point in getting off here so instead we turned around and headed back. I enjoyed the ride but was also happy to get back. My legs were just starting to tell me I had sat on the horse for long enough.

After a very pleasant and relaxed lunch back at the hotel, I set off to photograph some of the wildlife that was running around outside. A fox was the first thing I found. Apparently, several families live close to the hotel and you need to be careful about leaving things outside. They have a liking for stealing shoes. The hotel swimming pool proved to be ideal twitching country. There were some herons here standing very still. The pool is natural spring water, so I imagine the lack of chlorine makes it more inviting for the birds. I also spotted a couple of small birds that I needed to identify later. I am far from being a proper bird nerd so anything I don’t recognise; I look up with Google Eye later. This almost certainly gets some of the birds wrong. Sorry, I tried. Final birds for the after lunch spot were some Rheas. Immense great ostrich like birds running around on the lawn.

Next trip was on a pontoon boat. Two hulls with a large, circular sofa on top and an engine. Very comfortable for cruising round a swamp. Almost as soon as we set off, we spotted a caiman. A large and rather scary looking alligator type thing. First, we spotted them lying around on the bank but then later we saw them in the water. They can sink low in the water so that just their eyes and nostrils are about the water. I was glad we had not encountered any caiman while we were on horseback. We cruised for about an hour. It was fascinating. There were so many different types of birds that I found it hard to keep up with them. We also spotted a large, male marsh deer and loads more capybara.

Eventually we arrived at a large open area close to a densely forested island. Here we stopped the motor and floated around for a while enjoying the sights and sounds. Once again, our guide brought out some food and coffee. Little cakes and cassava bread with cheese. Everything was orchestrated around the sunset. The sun played its part magnificently and we were treated to colourful orange skies as we headed homeward. We arrived back at the little quay just after the sun had dipped below the horizon. From there it was just a short drive back to the hotel and another excellent home cooked meal. On the way we spotted some very young capybara with their mother.

Next morning I spotted a great big lizard on the way to breakfast. An Argentine black and white tegu I later discovered. A good metre long. He was not particularly disturbed by me and carried on looking for his breakfast while flicking out his long, forked tongue. We did eventually leave and took a leisurely drive back along the track while I tried to photograph some of the birds by the roadside. These included a Caracara bird, an owl, several finches and an egret.Back on to tarmacked roads and we set a course for the Iguazu waterfalls.

Buenos Aires

We were bundled off the Amundsen early on a Thursday morning and by the evening we were settled into our hotel in Buenos Aires. Next day I spent a lot of time uploading files. The internet provision on the Amundsen is a bit limited. My specific problem was that I could not back up my photographs. This was a bit of a concern and I was much more comfortable later on when everything was safely copied away. That done, we went for a stroll. Buenos Aires is a big, modern bustling city. We are not connoisseurs of cities but we quite liked BA. After a bit of pottering around we ended up in a street café. Here we could drink wine while different couples danced tango on the pavement.

Next morning we met up with Soledad, our guide for the day. She took us on a six-hour walking tour of BA. It was not six hours of continuous walking. There were a couple of coffees as well. Even so, it was long and informative day.

We saw an awful lot of BA. There is a great diversity of architecture much of which is inspired by Europe. Some areas are very similar to Paris and Madrid. Elsewhere are some very modern buildings and bridges. We walked through a lot of history. The war of independence from the Spanish, numerous skirmishes with the English, Portuguese and others. More recently came various revolutionary movements, the 1976 coup, the dirty war and the silent marches of the mothers of the 30,000 desaparecidos (people kidnapped and killed by the military during the years of the junta). We steered clear of any mention of the Falklands although we saw many signs proclaiming “Las Malvinas son Argentinas”.

Soledad was remarkably informative. I paid attention as best I could but please don’t ask me questions later. The weather was perfect. Warm without being too hot. We wandered through several parks and everywhere the jacaranda trees were blooming with bright purple flowers. Coffee was taken at a fabulous old building with dark wood panelling, marble floors and gold inlaid plasterwork. We visited a tourist area. Shops selling fridge magnets and scarves, many burger stalls and more street tango. Several churches, city squares and a river later we got to the end of our walk by which time Diane and I were plenty ready for a glass of cold wine.

Next day we collected a hire car and set off for the famous Iguazu waterfalls.

Booth Island

The Lemaire Channel was blocked by icebergs, so we needed to back-track a short distance before turning into French Cove at Booth Island. Next morning I found it had been snowing through the night. The decks were closed for safety reasons. Snow and ice can be slippery. I recklessly sneaked out to get a couple of photos. It was quite nice to see the deck looking like we were actually in the southern oceans. The weather remained stubbornly dull and overcast. The scenery, however, was spectacular. Mountains, glaciers, sea ice, icebergs – I never get tired of this stuff. There was great excitement amongst the expedition team about the possibility of an ice landing. That is, a landing on the sea ice.

The RHIBs were launched and disappeared around a shallow headland. We were near the bottom of the list to go ashore. This meant waiting nearly two hours before we finally got off. Amongst the many strict regulations concerning tourist behaviour in the area is a limit to how many people can go ashore at one time. In this case it was not totally clear what ‘ashore’ meant. We arrived at the landing point and it was indeed onto sea ice. But this was sea ice literally right next to the edge of the land. I mean, you could easily have stepped from the ice onto the snow covered land. We were not allowed to do that. We were hemmed in by a cordon of cones marking and area about the size of a football pitch. This was the limit of our exploration. I have been on sea ice many times and can honestly say this was the most boring. It was nice to get off the ship, get a breath of fresh air and see some more penguins. But that was about it. Nonetheless, the expedition team were doing their best to talk up the first sea ice landing of the year. To some people I guess it was a novelty and something special. For me, it once again underlined the massive difference between living and working in Antarctica and the fleeting touch that tourists are allowed.

We explored the football pitch for an hour. Well, we wandered around, chatted and took a few pictures. That sort of exploring. Then it was back to the ship for coffee and cakes in the Explorer Lounge. Life on the rugged edge of exploration.

Kodak Gap

Back in the day, when men were real men and cameras needed film, the Lemaire Channel was known as Kodak Gap. It has been famous amongst tourists since tourists first discovered its picturesque allure and pointed their Kodak Box Brownies at it. First traversed in 1898 by the Belgiums it was named after Charles Lemaire, a great explorer of the Congo. The Congo is in Africa. Equatorial Africa where it is always hot. The coldest place Charles ever explored was probably Brussels where they have the occasional frosty morning. In the early 20^th century, Charles was accused of abuse towards the native soldiers, and found guilty of mistreatment of the civilian population. He was demoted and retired in disgrace. Sailing up his channel is maybe not such an honour.

A far more worthy geographic naming came to my attention just a few weeks ago. Mike Rose joined the British Antarctic Survey about the same time that I did in the late 80s. We worked together for a few years and wintered at Halley Base. Unlike me, he stayed with BAS and recently, coincident with his retirement, had a mountain named after him. Mount Rose is in the South Shackleton range. Horribly inaccessible but a nice looking mountain and genuine honour. Congratulations Mike.

The weather perked up as we entered the Lemaire Channel. This narrow strait is almost compulsory for Antarctic tourist ships. Not only is it extraordinarily picturesque but also nicely sheltered from the generally agitated southern oceans. The strait is 11 km long, 600 m at the narrowest point and surrounded by steep rocky cliffs and precipitously hanging glaciers. The main navigation issue is that it can become blocked by icebergs. Especially early in the season. And this is exactly what happened. This did not detract from us spending several hours exploring the channel. Nearly everyone was up on deck. Some armed with cameras and binoculars. Other just gawping at the surrounding scenery. It was quite remarkable. In at least a few places, I think, if some of the hanging ice blocks or cornices had come loose then they might have hit the superstructure. Everywhere it was steep, snowy, icy, rocky and spectacular.

Several sea birds were around including the ubiquitous Cape Petrels and Kelp Gulls. A big, fat lazy Fur Seal was spotted draped over a bergy bit. Near the narrowest part of the channel, we came across two Orcas. I always find the Killer Whales amazing to watch. Such power and grace. They seemed completely unimpressed by our presence and made their way steadily along the channel. A couple of cormorants flew past. In the water a handful of Gentoo penguins frolicked. There were a few small penguin colonies. The sides of the channel are all a bit steep, so the colonies tended to consist of a landing place and line of penguins to a flatter area.

Paradise Bay

Brown Station is an Argentine base on the peninsular in a bay known as Paradise Harbour. It is a very pretty place with surrounding peaks and glaciers into the water. The base was established in 1951. It was a permanent base until 1984 when the doctor burned it down. He had been ordered to stay another winter and was not keen on the idea. The USS Hero rescued the base staff and took them to the US Palmer Station. Since then, the base has been used in the summer. This location is very popular with visiting tourist ships as it is one of the very few places they can command a landing on mainland Antarctic.

The weather was a bit dull and snowing when we arrived. Our group got to cruise in a RHIB while the first groups went ashore. Many, many rules apply to visitors in Antarctica. One of them is that only 100 people can be ashore at any one time. So, the first one hundred people desperate to say they had genuinely stood on Antarctica got to it, while we cruised around some icebergs. A snowy sheathbill landed on the front of the boat. It did not seem nervous at all and spent the rest of the trip trying to eat various parts of the RHIB. A few giant petrels were sat on the sea ice along with some cape petrels that got quite agitated when we got close to them.

Back onboard the Amundsen we did not have much time before we were off for the shore landing. Here there were many penguins. I don’t know how much of the summer Brown base is used for but just now, early in the summer, the penguins appear to have taken it over. These w gentoo penguins. Hundreds of them. They are terrific to watch. I keep saying this because it is hard to overstate just how much fun it is watch penguins. Their antics always seem a bit comic. On land they are ungainly little things that waddle around and fall over a lot. There is also sometime about their appearance that lends itself to anthropomorphism. If you see them in the ocean however, it is a very different story. They are like little missiles. Incredibly fast and manoeuvrable. Eventually we had to go back. Not because we had got bored but because we were told we needed to go back. The expedition team had laid out a 300 m trail that we had to stay on, and I don ‘t think I could have walked around it much slower.

That night, a few people wanted to not only get the ‘stepped foot on Antarctica’ t-shirt but also the one about sleeping there. So, they went ashore, with tents, and spent the night there. Did mention rules and tourists? One of them is that you should leave nothing. Really, nothing. So, the participants were all urged to use the toilet before they left the ship and given a pee-bottle each. They were also not allowed to eat. Dinner needed to be completed early, on the ship. And breakfast would also be taken on the ship. With the rules fully understood, the small group went ashore with tents, sleeping bags and water bottles. At 4am they were woken up and taken back to the ship. Somehow this all reminded me of when I used to find it exciting to sleep in a tent in the garden when I was 12. Although I was never charged €500 per person for the privilege.

Video by kind permission of Jessica Daniels

Half Moon Island

We left Puerto Williams in the morning and headed for Cape Horn. For decades, Cape Horn was a major milestone on the clipper route, by which sailing ships carried trade around the world. The waters around Cape Horn are particularly hazardous, owing to strong winds, large waves, strong currents and icebergs. The need for boats and ships to round Cape Horn was greatly reduced by the opening of the Panama Canal in August 1914. Sailing around Cape Horn is still widely regarded as one of the major challenges in yachting. We were scheduled to do a landing here. This could have been interesting but in the event, it was far too windy. The bridge reported gusts up to 80 knots. I have experienced 60 knots – it is enough to make walking almost impossible, you are continually being knocked down. So trying to make a landing in 80 knots would have been ridiculous. This is what Cape Horn is famous for, extreme wind, so I guess it should not have been a big surprise that the shore trip was cancelled. Instead, we headed back to the Beagle Channel and dropped the Chilean pilot off. Turning south again, we passed Cape Horn much further to starboard than before embarking on a night crossing of Drake’s Passage.

The wind dropped and the seas never got too big. There was a bit of rolling but nothing to write home about. So, the next day, with very little drama, we arrived at Half Moon Island. To me, this is misnamed because it is a crescent shape. In fact, it looks just like an old caldera that has become flooded by the ocean. The expedition geologist assured me that this is indeed the case although Wikipedia states otherwise – Despite its shape, there is no evidence Half Moon Island is or ever was a volcanic crater.

Indisputably, there are penguins here. Mostly Chinstrap penguins. We did spot a few Gentoos in the water. It was lovely to reacquaint myself with these lovely creatures. I doubt they ever intend to be fun to watch but they are. Everything about their antics on land seems faintly ridiculous and amusing.

The weather was lousy. Overcast, snowing, dull and grey. We were given a small route of about 1 km to walk around. I stepped off to one side to let some people past and got told off by a small girl who had apparently been appointed “path monitor”. Although she did not have a badge to prove it. I am in Antarctica and someone is complaining that I am standing in the snow. Further along we had a view over a small bay. The slushy ice at the edge of the bay made the water look milky. I was assured by one of the expedition crew that this was because the sea was freezing. They were completely wrong. I did not argue the point but it did underline to me the difference between my serious experience of the Antarctic and spending a few weeks around the sub-Antarctic islands. The other excitement of the afternoon was a cormorant flying past. Once everyone was back on the ship we set off for the next island and the intriguingly named Paradise Bay.

Beagle Channel

Next morning, a little further down the Beagle Channel, we had another landing. The weather was still overcast and raining. Diane was still not interested in going out in it. I went ashore and walked up a short track to a vantage point. From here I could see the snout of the glacier and where it was calving off into the fjord. The ice was moving quite fast. You could not see it move, but I could hear it cracking and groaning every few minutes. There was a large block of ice which looked absolutely ripe for falling off. I found myself a good vantage point and waited for it. Never happened. The ice kept creaking and cracking. A few little bits fell off. After an hour I was getting more than a little cold and damp. Eventually, I was told we had to leave. Just another five minutes and it might have fallen.

With everyone back on the ship, we set off along the Beagle Channel. There are three ways past Cape Horn. To the north are the Magellan Straits where we had been a few days earlier. To the south is the open ocean known as Drakes Passage. This is the preferred route for commercial shipping because although it offers little shelter it is otherwise straightforward to navigate. The Beagle Channel is 240 km long and just 5 km at its most narrow. It is remarkably picturesque with five glaciers emptying directly into the waters. Named after the HMS Beagle that did the first hydrographic surveys of the area. Charles Darwin was introduced to glaciers here on the second voyage of the Beagle and noted “It is scarcely possible to imagine anything more beautiful than the beryl-like blue of these glaciers, and especially as contrasted with the dead white of the upper expanse of snow.”

Darwin probably had a nice sunny day. We were less fortunate but even so the views were spectacular. Many people came out on deck to have a look. I took a few photographs but it was difficult to do justice to the place. Heavy, thick clouds gave a dull grey featureless light to everything.

A little further down the channel we met the Fram. This is the ship we did the Northwest Passage on last year. The two sister ships engaged in some great horn blowing as they passed. The sound of the ship’s horns echoes of the walls of the fjord. On we sailed, past the glaciers to Ushuaia. Known to the Argentinians as the most southerly city in the world. This will be the eventual end of our trip. Where we leave the ship. Fortunately that is still a few days away so we carried on.

Finally, just after dusk, we arrived at Puerto Williams, population 2,800. A very small Chilean city on the south side of the Beagle Channel with the distinction of being the southernmost populated settlement in the world. Stopping here had been on our original itinerary. However, the plan, especially for the coast of Chile, was proving to be very flexible and Puerto Williams had been removed. Nonetheless, here we were. It all proved to be very frustrating. I would have loved to go ashore there if only for an hour or two. The last time I was here, I had just come from the Falklands in a small yacht, via Cape Horn. It would have been great to pop down to the yacht basin and maybe have a beer. Relive a few moments. Instead I had to content myself with scanning the shore for familiar landmarks in the distance. The Amundsen stayed there all night. Lurking a good distance from the quayside. Nobody got on or off the ship. Next day we set off for Cape Horn.

Magellan

South of Punta Arenas, south of the Magellan straits, are the Darwin Mountains and the Parque Nacional Alberto de Anostini. We had skipped Punta Arenas, yet another place I would have like to revisit, but now at least we had a chance to get off the ship. We had the opportunity to do a wet landing in the RHIBs. From the landing site there was a short walk to a viewpoint in front of a glacier.

Diane took one look at the weather and said “No”. She had a point. It was cold, overcast and raining hard. We have done three consecutive sea days to here. The Chilean fjords are interesting but not captivating. It does not help that the weather has been consistently Patagonia normal. That is, overcast and raining. Shipboard there is a general air of frustration over all the landings that have been cancelled. The bar has lost its mojo. For most of the trip there was a really good vibe in the evenings. Warm, friendly and chatty. Since Valparaiso, the introduction of the new menu, and a change of bar staff things have badly gone off the boil. People are worried about unexpected charges with the new menu. There are a bunch of ‘standard’ cocktails but they are awful. Each cocktail is made of a spirit and a pre-made syrup. Two ingredients per drink. Doesn’t work. This is why the margaritas, bloody marys and others have been tasting so strange. Quick and easy to make but pointless, to me, throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Other, more elaborate, cocktails are available but then you are off into high-cost territory – which is not in the spirit of an all-inclusive package. So, the bar staff are shouldering a lot of complaints, the customers are annoyed and the really nice comfortable atmosphere that the bar has maintained for nearly three months is gone. I needed to stop dwelling on this and get out for a bit of fresh air.

It rained and we got soaked. But it was good fun. I put my camera inside a waterproof bag. The type with a roll-down top. Then I put the bag into my rucksack which is similarly waterproof and has a roll-down top. By the time I got to shore in the RHIB the damp was starting to sneak in. My trousers used to be stretchy and waterproof. Now they are still stretchy but only shower proof at best. My jacket, a newly issued Hurtigruten jacket, is moderately waterproof. The walk up to the view point for the glacier was good fun. Here I found a bunch of very damp looking people standing around. I tried to get my camera out while keeping it dry. This is not possible when it is remaining. Best I could do was manage a few quick photographs while hoping it did not get too wet. Back at the RHIB the wind had been picking up. The ride back to the ship involved bouncing through a lot of waves. We got back, beyond soaked, looking like a boat full of little drowned rats.

Castro

Fidel Castro was a Cuban revolutionary. A champion of socialism and anti-imperialism whose revolutionary government advanced economic and social justice while securing Cuba’s independence from American hegemony. He was also a dictator who oversaw human rights abuses, the exodus of many Cubans, and the impoverishment of the country’s economy. Whatever your opinion, Fidel probably never visited the lovely city of Castro, population 41,000, on Chiloé Island in Chile. But we did.

The morning began with being ferried ashore in one of Amundsen’s tenders. Then we had a walking tour. We saw the city centre church which was opened especially for us. We saw the park where Ibis sat in the trees. We saw the palafitos, traditional and colourful wooden stilt houses by the river. It was a pleasant walk and after a couple of hours we were back at the port. We still had time to kill so we wandered off in search of queso empanadas. Fortunately, we did not have to look far. Lovely little restaurant with several types of cheese empanadas. Dale and Debbie, friends from the ship, joined us. We had a very pleasant hour with delicious empanada and wine. Chilean wine. It was lovely. Diane checked the wine with her app. This stuff was rocking a score of 4.0 at a price of around €10 per bottle. Way better than the ship wine. So good that we had a couple of bottles.

Back on the ship we began the long trek south to Puerto Natales, gateway to Patagonia. I did find this a little irksome. From my previous travels I knew we were passing some terrifically interesting places. I also thought that they could at least pick up a few cases of the local wine. The weather was dull and overcast. We were passing through the inner channel and it was all very pleasant if not spectacular enough for photographs. Instead, I amused myself by trying to photograph some of the birds flying around the ship.

We passed through several narrow channels. These were fun from my point of view. Probably a bit more stressful for the bridge crew. Then we got to a particularly tricky passage, know as the White Narrows. It is passable but very tight and needs to be tackled at just the right point on the tide. The weather was against us. The wind had picked to a small gale. The vertical, flat sides of the Amundsen catch a lot of wind. Usually this is not a problem but it can affect how accurately she can be steered. The combination of a gusty strong wind and a narrow channel is asking for trouble. It was announced that we would skip Puerto Natales and continue south. This was particularly annoying. I remember Puerto Natales as a wonderful place and we had booked a long trip round the scenic Torres Del Paine national park. Ah, well.

La Serena and Valparaíso

The first place our tour of La Serena visited was a small marketplace of shops dedicated entirely to selling tourist tat. Cute souvenirs, fridge magnets, t-shirts with amusing captions and a wide variety of impractical kitchen implements that combined the words La Serena with a red heart symbol. To me this was a tricky start to a tour. These things do happen. In Morocco, any tour will include the carpet shop of the tour guide’s brother. In Thailand you will inevitably end up in a tailors shop. Ostensibly, we were here to look at a church. But we had to walk past the market to get to the church. The church was locked up and a bit dilapidated anyhow. We were given a twenty minute break in case we wanted to look at anything in the market.

Then we walked to a park. It was Sunday so all the (non-tourist) shops were shut. Made for a somewhat dull walk. But the park was in full swing with some dancing. We watched the dancing for a while and nearly bought an ice cream. The tour ended up at a lighthouse that was not really a lighthouse, it had just been built for tourists. The lighthouse was on the beach. The beach is the main tourist attraction. There was a stall nearby selling fried queso empanadas. This was truly the highlight of the day although on the way back to ship, we did spot a pirate ship.

La Serena thoroughly explored, we sailed overnight to Valparaíso. Built upon dozens of steep hillsides overlooking the Pacific Ocean, Valparaíso has a labyrinth of streets and cobblestone alleyways, embodying a rich architectural and cultural legacy. Valparaíso was declared a World Heritage Site in 2003. We did not see any of that, except at a distance. A few of us, those doing the pole-to-pole, were sent off on a tour to keep us out of the way. Meanwhile, at the Amundsen, they were preparing for the next leg to Antarctica. This meant taking on lots of supplies and also passengers. A lot of passengers. The ship was going to be just about full. 277 people.

Meanwhile, we were taken to a very nice park and a famous outdoor theatre that was closed. Next came a very tiny museum. Upstairs was a taxidermists display of Chilean fauna and a two headed sheep. Downstairs were several very dark rooms with old things in and a long queue for the toilet. Outside, as a backdrop to the tourist tat stalls, was a stone head. It looked to have been stolen from the Easter Island people. We had a walk along the shoreline promenade and ended up in the city centre square. Late afternoon we were taken back to the ship which was now starting to feel very crowded.

Iquique

South from Arica but still in the Atacama Desert is Iquique, population 200,000. The history of the town is mostly associated with saltpetre mining. This used to be particularly important. Saltpetre, sodium nitrate, is a vital component of gunpowder and fertilisers. It is also used as a food additive. For more than a century, the world supply of the saltpetre was mined almost exclusively from the Atacama Desert. Since the first decade of the 20^th century, nitrogen can be fixed directly from the air (Haber-Bosche process). This directly led to the decline of the mines. Today, Iquique has one of the largest duty-free commercial port centres in South America and this is the main source of income.

We were taken on a bus trip to visit a museum and an old saltpetre mine. This proved to be remarkably boring. As I have mentioned many times before, we are not museum people. This museum represented an all-time low. The most interesting thing I found was a shed with lots of holes in it.

Meanwhile, back on the ship, trouble is brewing. Hx is busy rebranding itself as the expedition side of Hurtigruten. Today Hx introduced a new menu for the bar. Previously, those of us on the Pole-to-Pole trip had an inclusive drinks package that meant we did not have to explicitly pay for any of our drinks. Just about every bottle and cocktail was included. This was pleasant and felt like fair value. Now, Hx has substantiated the existing class divide between those in the more expensive cabins, called suites, and the rest of us. The affluent elite already have their own, exclusive, restaurant. I find this reinstatement of nobility strange. Norway is one of the world’s more egalitarian societies. Hx by contrast, despite being firmly Norwegian, is working hard to solidly reinvigorate the class system. The new cocktails and drinks top out at €50 a shot. Unless you have a suite. Making them essentially inaccessible to the proletariat. But it gets worse. The bar staff are desperately trying to learn and serve the new cocktails to the handful of aristocrats leaving no time to serve the plebians. A wait of up to half an hour for a glass of wine is now common. During one of these periods of class induced boredom, Diane and I started examining, more closely, the wine being served to those of us with a drinks package. Using the Vivino App we discovered that it is particularly cheap and nasty. Typically scoring 3.2 or less and costing and average of well under €5. You will only ever find this stuff on the bottom of a discount supermarket.

The day was rounded off by a short concert from the crew band. The ship’s crew, mostly Filipinos, are not allowed to drink at all and are paid a pittance. Despite this, a few of them have formed a quite reasonable sounding band and we all enjoy the occasions when they play to us.

Arica

The night before we arrived in Arica, Nicky did some songs outside. Nicky is our onboard pianist. She also plays guitar. Twice a day, she plays in the corner of the bar on the top deck. This is very pleasant. Adding an outdoor spot while the weather is still warm was a great idea.

Later that day I spotted a whale. Might have been a sperm whale. Difficult to say but I grabbed a few photographs anyhow.

Arica is in the far north of Chile. It almost never rains here. The Atacama Desert is one of the driest in the world. Back in the day, I was a carefree, solo traveller with a rucksack on my back. I visited Aric as a starting point for seeing some of the Altiplano area that lies eastward towards Bolivia. Here you can find massive, snow covered volcanoes, lakes, llamas, rhea, vicunas and pink flamingos. The tour description, “Desert man” sounded very promising. Sadly, instead of majestic landscapes of the Lauca National Park, we got dancing girls and modern art. I should have read the description more carefully. We were driven up one of the valleys that cut into the desert from Arica. These are irrigated from a subterranean aquifer and are very fertile. Citrus and olives are the main crops. Above the valley are four sculptures that were made about twenty years ago. I do not really have a gene for modern art and often struggle to differentiate meaningfulness from rubbish in contemporary designs. These sculptures were particularly challenging. The flamboyantly dressed youths dancing to loud, distorted music did nothing to improve my sense of artistic appreciation. My disappointment was however, slightly offset by the glasses of a very nice pisco.

Next stop was described in terms of geoglyphs. I would have managed expectations a tad better by mentioning a few rocks laid out on the hillside. Then came the museum. There are some ancient mummies here. Remains of the Chinchorro culture. They are some of the oldest examples of artificially mummified human remains in the world. 5,000 BCE makes them up to 2,000 years older than the Egyptian mummies. Many of them were found at the base of the Morro de Arica – a steep hill that looms above Arica. Our penultimate stop was on top of the Morro. Here we got some lovely views of the surrounding area.

Then it was back to town for a wander round. We found an excellent bar that served empanadas and pisco. Empanadas are a staple part of Chilean cuisine. A pastry turnover containing a filling. Often meat but also made with cheese, mushrooms and onions. The empanadas we found were queso empanadas – small and filled with tasty cheese. Went well with the Mango Sour pisco.

Quite soon after that, the ship was making preparations to leave. We were safely back on board and heading for the bar when we heard the band start up. A 21 piece band had turned up on the quayside and was serenading us as we left. Not just a couple of songs. They played for a good half hour or more as we sailed off into a particularly good sunset. It all felt very satisfying.

Dempster Highway

The Dempster Highway starts just south of Dawson City and runs north-east for 736 km to the Arctic Ocean at Tuktoyaktuk. It is mostly a dirt track and build on permafrost. To stop the permafrost melting there is an insulating layer of gravel up to 2.5 m deep. The first 115 km were built in the early sixties when there was a suspicion of oil to be found. The rest was built in the late seventies in response to the Americans finding oil in Prudhoe Bay. The road is quite well maintained. We saw several graders working. There is also significant traffic including large trucks.

As we set off, it was raining, again. The sky was grey and the road slippery. I was grateful we had 4WD. Muddy spray off the road coated the back of the truck and before long the lights and numberplate were quite indistinguishable. Despite the damp, the driving was quite fun. Just this one, long track winding its way through the wilderness. We passed a vehicle coming the other way every ten minutes or so. The first section is through dense forest. Then you start to climb up into some hills and the terrain becomes more open. Dropping down again we started following a series of river systems. The Blackstone River and then over to the Ogilvie River by way of Engineer Creek. The confluence was marked by the muddy waters of Engineer Creek swirling into the clear, dark waters of the larger Ogilvie River. Some of the tributaries had bright red rocks along the banks. I think this is caused by iron ore that is leaching out of the surrounding hills. We crossed the Arctic Circle as indicated by roadside sign.

The weather started to clear and while I don’t think it actually got as far as sunny, it did get a lot brighter. Drier weather brings its own problems though. First of all, there is the dust. In some ways not as unpleasant as mud spray but it has a remarkable ability to penetrate. Our plastic living unit ended up full of the stuff. We needed to shake the sheets out before we went to bed. The other problem is the mosquitoes. There are several basic campsites along the Dempster and come early evening, we stopped at one of these. Looked lovely until I opened the door and was met by a great cloud of mosquitoes rising up out of the grass. It did not need a second glance for me to shut the door and keep driving. Towards the border between Yukon and North West Territories (NWT), the road cuts through some bare mountains. We stopped on a pass where there was plenty of wind to keep the mosquitoes away and were entertained by a family of ground squirrels. They were running around being terribly busy. I think they were collecting nest material. Not really sure, but great fun to watch.

Next day we arrived at the ferry across the Peel River. By contrast to the previous day, it was sunny and warm. Mid-twenties. Probably as hot as it gets. The mosquitoes were making the best of it. Not just mosquitoes but also a large variety of that bite you in a large variety of ways. I noticed some birds had been building nests underneath the bridge of the ferry. This made sense given that, at these latitudes, there are very few trees and the insects that the birds eat seemed to really enjoy feasting on ferry passengers.

A short while later came the ferry across the Mackenzie River. Same arrangement. Free, government run ferry in the summer and an ice bridge in the winter. There then followed a very long, flat section until we arrived at the town of Inuvik. This is quite a modern, bustling place with gas stations, supermarkets and a shopping centre. We only paused briefly before pushing on to Tuktoyaktuk, a much smaller village on the edge of the Arctic Ocean that marks the northern limit of the Dempster Highway. This last section of the highway loops around numerous lakes that form the Mackenzie River Delta. As we drove into town, we noticed that many people had mosquito nets over their heads. This was a worrying sight. We found the tourist office and were directed to the campsite right at the end of the village overlooking the sea. A dozen or so other vehicles were there. It is not much of a campsite and the toilets are some of the most evil I have encountered in a while. But we were happy to have made it to the Arctic Ocean. A stiff sea breeze kept the flying insects and the smell from the toilets at bay.

Next day began with a puncture. Fortunately, it was only slow. We found a garage to get the tyre pumped up and then headed back to Inuvik in the hope of getting it repaired. Before that, we wanted to check out the Pingo we had spotted when we arrived. We saw one in Svalbard earlier in the year. Pingos are intrapermafrost ice-cored hills, 3–70 m high and 30–1,000 m in diameter. They are typically conical in shape and grow and persist only in permafrost environments. Worldwide there are only about 11,000 pingos of which over 10% are in the Tuktoyaktuk area. There are a couple of mechanisms by which they are created. Both of these involve a core of frozen water which, over time, pushes the hill upwards. The Pingo was a pleasing shape and came with a notice board explaining how it had been formed. We were looking at Ibyuk, the largest pingo in Canada and the second largest in the world.

It was a Saturday and nobody was working. After determining that there were only two possible tyre shops we resigned ourselves to staying for a bit longer. At the small shopping mall, I managed to buy a small electric tyre inflator. This would at least buy us some more time. Fortunately, the campsite at Inuvik is lovely. Probably the best toilets in NWT and hot showers as well.

Sunday afternoon seemed unlikely for tyre repairs but we tried Polar Tyres anyhow. The man was in. He emerged from behind a fishing boat on a trailer. His arms were literally covered in blood up to his shoulders. Momentarily, I wondered if we had just stumbled on some hideous criminal activity. He explained that, with his brother, they had just been out harvesting Beluga whales. Now they were cutting them up for the freezer. Just occasionally when I am travelling something gives me the feeling of being a long way from home. This was one of them. We arranged to get the tyre repaired in the morning.

After three nights at the top of the Dempster we were properly back on the road again. The return trip was a simple unwinding of the trip up. The weather got damper again as we returned to the land of trees. We eventually arrived on the Yukon Highway in just the same sort of downpour as when we had left.

Alaska

The river ferry at Dawson City operates 24 hours a day. In the winter, the river freezes and traffic drives on the ice. The ferry is paid for by the government. There is no booking, no reservations. You just turn up and wait until you can get on. It takes less than ten minutes to cross the river and this brings you to the start of the Top of the World Highway. This is mostly a dirt track and gains its name from the way the road links the top of several hills such that for most of the route you are looking down into valleys. It is 127 km long and only open in the summer.

At about the highest point of the road, 100 km in, you arrive at the USA border. Previously, we had both applied for ETAC (Electronic Travel something or other) but we still needed to be finger printed and photographed before we could be allowed in. In my experience, border guards do not have a sense of humour. Never. Not even a hint. Surgically removed or something. Trying to joke with a border guard is like trying to play tennis with a jelly fish. It just won’t work. This time however, I was standing in front of the camera with my best serious but clearly innocent face when the guard told me I could smile. I was taken aback. Passport photographs are strictly no-smile zones. But, as the guard went on to explain, this was America, land of the free, where you can do anything. He then told us that Independence Day (July 4^th) was the one day of the year that English were not allowed into USA. He then went on to regale us with stories of bear hunting, the bear steak he’d had for breakfast and what to do if a bear came in the door. I suggested running away but no, he was clear that he would stare it down. I pointed out that my apparent lack of bravery was because he was carrying an exceptionally large revolver whereas I was armed with only a smile. Never saw the final ID photograph but I suspect I mostly looked puzzled.

Just round the corner from the border post is an immense “Welcome to Alska” sign and our first view across the Alaskan scenery. A few miles further on the road descends through a valley system and comes out at the gloriously named town of Chicken. They appear enormously proud of the name and just about every signpost has a chicken theme. We also saw a moose. It stepped into the woods and disappeared long before I could get my camera out. They do that. Very frustrating animals to try and photograph. Remarkable how, despite their size, they seem able to completely vanish in just a few steps.

The weather was consistently terrible. Rain and thick grey clouds and fog, several types of mist and more rain. We seemed to spend quite a lot of time driving without seeing very much. Arriving at Fairbanks, we turned south towards Anchorage. I would have liked to go north here, to Prudoe Bay and the Arctic Ocean, but the hire company had put the Dalton Highway out of bounds. Instead, we went through the Denali National Park where we drove past the highest mountain in North America without seeing even a hint of it. At Wasilla, we began heading east back towards Canada and at last the clouds lifted a little so we could see the mountains and glaciers of Chugach National Park.

We completed our soggy circuit of Alaska at Tok quite a few days earlier than planned. We might have taken a leisurely drive back to Vancouver but instead decided to try another route to the Arctic Ocean along the Dempster Highway in Yukon. By late afternoon we were back on the Top of the World Highway and the road to Dawson City.

Dawson City

From Dawson Creek we had been following the Alaska Highway. This was built in the second world war to connect Alaska to the rest of the USA as part of a response to the Japanese threat. Back in the day it was a dirt track and considered to be a long, difficult and, in places, dangerous route. These days it is a fast, easy road supporting a lot of traffic. I reckoned that well over half the vehicles we saw were RVs. Many of these are American so that means an RV based on a full-sized coach towing a family car. The Canadians tend to favour an equally large RV that is towed by a pick-up truck using a fifth wheel bolted into the flat bed. The rest of the traffic is commercial trucks often pulling two full sized trailers.

At Watson Lake we left the Alaska Highway and headed up the far less travelled Robert Campbell Highway. This took us north, roughly following the Pelly River and deep into Yukon. A few short sections of this route are sealed but most of it is a dirt track. Throughout the rest of the afternoon, we only saw two more vehicles. We enjoyed two quiet days on quiet roads with quiet campsites. Rather disappointingly we saw very little wildlife. We had hoped there might be more on a quieter road but obviously this is not always the case. At Carmacks, we joined the Klondike Highway which would take us north to Dawson City. We also followed the Yukon River for a short while. At the height of the Klondike gold rush Dawson City had a population of over 16,000. Much of the food and supplies needed to support so many people came in on paddle steamers that navigated their way up and down the Yukon River. Today Dawson City is a tenth the size and there is a well-made road.

North from Pelly Crossing we passed through a large area of forest fires. The air still smelled smoky and we drove past several miles of blackened trees. A few days earlier the road had been closed. Canada experiences a lot of forest fires in the summer. Most of these have a natural cause and are so far away as to not cause many problems. Occasionally fires are caused by negligence. These are often much more of a problem because they are usually closer to habited areas. There is some suggestion that climate change is exacerbating the situation. In the last few years there have been some quite extreme heatwaves leaving the forests tinder dry.

Dawson City still manages to feel like a bit of a frontier town. Some of the shop fronts and wooden buildings have been deliberately left looking a little like a wild west film set. There is an old paddle steamer by the side of the road and pretty much every sign appears to reference gold. We stocked up on a few essentials and prepared ourselves for the ferry in the morning.

Serre Chevalier

Serre Chevalier is a lovely ski area in the southern part of the French Alps. We had heard rumours of snow earlier. In fact, it was looking like one of the best places in the Alps for a bit of skiing. The month in Chamonix had been a spectacular failure, ski-wise, so we were hoping for some change. Also, we both had a terrible cold over the New Year. Not covid, we tested repeatedly, but irksome all the same and stubborn to leave the chest.

Feeling much healthier and more optimistic, we arrived at Briançon in the rain. Undeterred, I went for a walk round the old part of the city while Diane telephoned some people. An hour later I was soaked and Diane was bored, so we had coffee and pizza at the bakery across the road. The chalet we had rented turned out to be compact but very cosy and well appointed. As darkness fell the rain turned to snow and we settled down with a bottle of local wine in hushed anticipation.

Next day there was snow. A good healthy dump overnight and it was still snowing. A few hardy souls were digging out their driveways and the only cars moving were sporting snow chains. Fortunately, the owner of the chalet had let us park the Jaguar in an underground car park. It is a beautiful car and a joy to drive but completely unsuitable for the Alps in winter. Low profile tyres and rear wheel drive are terrific on dry roads but quite the opposite of what you want on icy roads. We cannot even fit snow chains, there is not enough clearance. We had done what we could to prepare. Proper winter tyres are not only important but also mandatory in some areas. I had bought some snow socks, a sort of fabric equivalent of chains, but hoped we would not need to use them.

Car forgotten, I could finally get some nice skiing done. Everywhere was open. All the lifts were running. There was fresh snow. Happiness.

That was the last fresh snow we saw for the next three weeks. Mostly it was just sunshine. This is rather lovely for being out and about in the mountains. I find, as age encroaches, that I cannot ski all day, every day so I’ll often alternate rest days and go somewhere with Diane. After last year’s broken hip, she is quite adamant about not skiing again. A sentiment I am inclined to encourage. So we go for walks, explore the area and have the odd drive out. For three euros you can buy a day pass for the bus running between Briançon and Le Monêtier-les-Bains. This stops at all the ski areas, shops and the massive thermal spa at Monêtier. Great way to explore the valley an occasionally, Diane would use the bus to come and meet me for lunch.

We also went up some of the cable cars together. After a couple of weeks of sunshine the slopes were starting to get a bit thin and icy again. It was nice to travel without skis and instead take my full sized camera. The camera is a bit too big to comfortably carry while skiing. I enjoyed pottering around a little and being able to concentrate on the view while trying to capture some sense of it with the camera. I was particularly struck by one mountain, called Pelvoux, which I had climbed over forty years ago with Mark and Andy. In the ensuing time it appears to have become much steeper, higher and generally fiercer looking.

Chamonix

Chamonix has long been a focal point for alpine activities. Mountaineering, climbing, walking, running, skiing, snowboarding, cycling, paragliding, hang gliding and all the other games people have dreamt up to play in the Alps. Chamonix is also home to Mont Blanc which, at 4,808m is the highest mountain in Western Europe. This all sounds very promising for a visit and often the area is fantastic for all things alpine. However, sometimes it just rains.

We had hoped for a snowy Christmas with plenty of skiing and amazing views but mostly what we got was rain. I did ski, on my birthday, but it was hard work. A lot of work can go into keeping a ski area open because the consequences of closing can be severe. Ticket refunds, whole holiday refunds, loss of income, loss of reputation and so on. With a combination of shovelling snow around and making artificial snow, they try very hard to stay open. However, to be open, they really only need one run. This was the situation in Chamonix. Each of the four ski areas really just had one run open. Without fresh snow these soon become very icy and they were also crowded. Fewer people will be skiing than in good conditions but everyone is confined to just a single run. Icy and crowded can make for a dangerous combination and frankly, not much fun.

We found some other things to do. Walks in the valley, trips into town and a few drives to explore the area. The weather stayed unremittingly bad, even raining high up on the remains of the ski slopes. Another consequence of the damp and cloudy weather was an almost complete lack of views. We had hired a little apartment on the south side of the valley. On the odd occasion that the ski cleared we had sunshine and some fantastic views of the mountains. Not just Mont Blanc on the right but also the whole of the Midi-Plan ridge across to the Dru on the left. Every once in a while the mountains would reveal themselves to us and I enjoyed myself trying to photograph them.

One day the weather was nice. We took the cable car up to Brévent. A few braves souls were skiing the single slope there. We were happy to take in the views and watch the colourful paragliders floating around. Across the other side of the valley, the Aiguille du Midi was beckoning. The cable car up to the viewing platform, 3,842m, is one of the highest in Europe. We went up there over a decade ago when we skied 20km down the Vallée Blanche to Montenvers. It is a bit of an extreme place and well worth a visit. When the weather is good the views are quite incredible. However, if it clouds over you will not see a thing. Sadly, we did not get another clear day and so, after one of the warmest festive periods on record, we left Chamonix in search of snow elsewhere.

Cruising

We went on a cruise. David, husband of my baby sister Helen, had a cruise on his bucket list. Diane and I are not really cruise people but we thought we might enjoy a short one. So between us, we found a good deal on a short trip around the English Channel on board the MSC Virtuosa. First step was to drive to Southampton. We stayed at the Southampton Harbour hotel. Good hotel. Friendly and accommodating with an excellent breakfast. When we first arrived, we drove right up to the front door, which helped a lot with David and our great pile of luggage. The hotel parked the cars for us while we on the ship and shuttled us to and from the ship. Room was comfortable and we had a nice view over the marina. Top marks.

We had paid a bit extra for some nice cabins. This also meant that when we arrived at the cruise terminal, we were fast tracked through security and the other formalities. I’ll admit that we did quite enjoy this but more seriously it made things a lot more comfortable for David. Once onboard, our first impressions were very positive. The cabin was terrific. Plenty of space and nice little balcony. Helen and Dave had a lovely cabin as well. Also, it had a walk-in shower and a few other adaptations to make life a bit easier for them. Later, we reconvened in the bar where we discovered free champagne and nibbles. Of course, when I say ‘free’, I mean that they were included in the rather substantial ticket price but it felt like free which was good enough. I suspect one of the pleasures of cruising is that it takes you off into a different and, temporarily, better sort of world.

First stop was Brest in France. It rained. It seriously rained. We went into town, walked around for a couple of hours, got very wet then headed back to the ship. In the evening we explored the rest of the ship. The MSC Virtuosa only came into service a year ago. It is brand new. It is big as well, 182,000 tonnes, that means, up to 6,000 passengers being looked after by 1,700 crew. It is equipped with all the modern cruise ship facilities such as bars, restaurants, swimming pools, gym, games, casino, shops and on and on. You can easily lose several hours just wandering round. Fortunately, we had picked a week after the school holidays and before the Christmas markets, when the vessel not so many people were cruising. Our cabins were at the front of the ship in a relatively small area referred to as the ‘Yacht Club’. The area was at well less than half capacity, which made it quiet and peaceful.

Next day was supposed to be Cherbourg but the weather was too bad. Cruise ships tend to avoid bad weather. They are sea-worthy and generally capable of dealing with strong winds and big seas but this is not what the passengers expect. On commercial ships it is not uncommon for the vessel to roll sufficiently to spill your coffee and send your plate sliding across the table. However, cruise passengers are not salty sea-dogs and would worry if their cocktail glass were not finely balanced. So, on passengers ships there are often stabilisers on the hull look like little wings and steady the ship against the ocean swell. These work up to a point. The sides of the ship stop a lot of wind. Again this can be compensated for by the stabilisers and by using ballast water but only to a point. So we skipped Cherbourg and spend two days at sea heading, slowly, towards Hamburg. Up on the top deck is a swimming pool, a hot tub and an open air bar. In fine, sunny weather this would be lovely. However, with cold rain blowing horizontally across the deck it was less pleasant. Helen is a fell runner and is completely unphased by horizontal rain so we gave the hot tub a go. Fortifying ourselves with champagne definitely helped.

A local taxi driver gave us a short tour of Hamburg. It is a big city with two million inhabitants and 2,500 bridges – most bridges of any European city. The port area, third largest in Europe, is massive so it took us a while just to drive away from the cranes, ships and lorries into the centre. Hamburg is popular with tourists and has a large central shopping area. We wandered around for a while and David bought a couple of smart new shirts. Found a lovely little café for a late lunch, with beer and then headed back to the ship.

Bruges was the only place that MSC managed to provide genuinely wheelchair accessible transport. It was advertised for many of the excursions but, we discovered, what they really meant was the wheelchair user needed to get out of the chair and walk up the steps into a coach. Then they would put the wheel chair in the storage. Helen patiently explained to the MSC excursions people that David could not get up to walk and that wheelchair accessible normally meant accessible in a wheelchair. Eventually we got our money back but it was a bit annoying. The coach took us a short way along the coast to Blankenberge. From here we could get a train into the centre of Bruges. All felt like a bit of an adventure. The weather was greatly improved and Bruges was lovely. The main part of the town is a modest size and easily small enough to walk around. There are some lovely old buildings, many chocolate shops, souvenir shops and other tourist essentials. We all remarked on how clean the place is – no litter at all. After a bit of a general wander around we found ourselves in a bar. This was such a surprise that we had a beer. In fact we had several beers, small ones, arranged on a tray as a tasting set. It seemed appropriate to try several local brews as this particular bar had what they called a ‘beer wall’. A glass fronted wall supporting racks and racks of beer bottles. The wall is over 30m long and displays 1,250 different types of Belgian beers. This bar set the mood so when we arrived at the only local brewery actually in Bruges, we were primed to taste a whole bunch more beers along with a selection of cheeses. Doesn’t get much better.

Retracing our steps proved a little more problematic. We arrived back at Blankenberge to discover that the one wheelchair accessible coach had been sent home for the day. We waited patiently for over an hour while apologetic excursion people made many phone calls. Eventually, just as we were starting to get really cold, the coach arrived. The ship sailed on time but we only boarded five minutes beforehand.

Next day we were at Le Havre. This is quite a commercial port. Seems particularly busy with wind generators at the moment. Massive yards filled with turbine blades and other components. Opposite Le Havre, on the other side of the River Seine is the little city of Honfleur. We found a local taxi that would take us round there. The drive was quite interesting. We crossed over the impressive Pont de Normandie bridge. Our driver seemed particularly proud of this. Honfleur is a pretty place. The central area is a large collection of old buildings. Some dating back to the 15^th century. Apparently Monet like to come here to paint. We particularly like the harbour area. When we first arrived, our very helpful taxi driver, pointed out the best place for lunch, ”where the locals eat”. So we booked a table and went for a stroll around. The centre of Honfleur is a very impressive wooden church built in the 15^th century. The famous “Axe masters” of the naval yards of the city created this lovely building without using any saws, just like their Norman ancestors the Vikings before them. Shortly after this we found a shop specialising in truffles, which caught my attention. And then a shop selling just nougat, which caught David’s attention. Lunch was great but then we had to head back to the ship, which was sailing quite early so as to get back to Southampton the next morning.

Another item on David’s bucket list was a casino. So in the evening we got dressed up and headed down there. After a little looking around he settled on Black Jack as his game and invested in some chips. We ordered some vodka martinis and gathered round to watch. Helen needed to actually play the chips under Dave’s instructions. At some point in the proceedings he began calling her ‘Moneypenny’ despite the obvious risk of getting slapped. It took a while but eventually he lost all his money. In my experience this is what always happens at casinos and nobody was surprised. Dave was happy that he had played a casino and so we retired to the champagne to toast the end of good trip.