PATAGONIA, Day 1

PATAGONIA: Day 1, Tuesday 23 February 2010 In which we fly to Patagonia, plane tail wags like a happy dog, visit British Club were Juan Peron first came to attention

BA Aeroparque Newberry: Joined by our companions John and Veronica "Muschy" Hampton to catch Aerolineas 15.55 flight to Rio Gallegos. Row 19, the last on a very dilapidated looking 737-500.

Fly down the eastern coast of Argentina and have fabulous view of coast and seas, inland rivers and coastal cliffs. Fly over Penninsular Valdes, where V says Assaf and Penny visited, perhaps its second most important claim to fame after its whales etc.

The landing was one of the wildest I have ever experienced, seems there are permanent strong winds and the tail of the plane whipped around like a dog delighted to see its master after a long absence. Had to laugh it was so ridiculous. Reminded me of landing on one wheel at Kabul 40-plus years ago.

Rio Gallegos appears to be mainly composed of very run down single-story houses. An atmosphere of a frontier town - wide roads and a long way from the capital. Drive past Penguino Transporte, which confirms we are headed in the right direction, and almost next to it Neuvo Penguino, fierce rivalry in the local transport business it seems! Hotel Sehuen is apparently the best in town. Slightly above a youth hostel it actually has a nice feel of people doing their best to make everything work. The room has a high, wooden, Alpíne ceiling but the double bed is as hard as a Victorian father and just as un-forgiving. A night of waking and sleeping and sweating gets me up early enough to have time to write this entry for a diary.

Before that walked in the biting cold wind to dinner at the British Club. According to John this is the place where Juan Peron first entered the history books when as a young officer he was send at the head of a troop ordered to crush the anarchists, mostly Poles and Litvacks apparently, who wanted freedom, independence or some such..... He is reputed to have gone to the British club and to have drunk a toast "to His Majesty the King" before setting out the next day to wipe out the anarchists.

Next to the wood paneled dining room the members-only bar area hosts a sprinkling of bluff and red-eyed men downing large brandies on ice as well as indulging in the rare luxury of smoking beside the leather-padded bar.

Bitter cold walk back but a treat to be in the dry after a week of torrential downpours in BA.

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