PATAGONIA Day 9

Day 9: Puerta Natale, Patagonian Chile, March 4

In which we ride a converted fishing boat, enter the Fiord of Last Hope, see Glaciers and watch a Condor soar by

The boat we board for the trip into Fiordo Ultimo Esperanza (Fjord of Last Hope) is disappointingly smaller and older looking than the one in the brochure. But when we hit the swell and waves crash over our small converted fishing boat it handles the choppy sea very well. "A good vessel," John pronounces, which is reassuring given that he runs Argentina's leading ship repair business.

The wind drops and the sea calms as we enter the fjord and we can stand on deck enjoying the fabulous scenery of dark green mountains, steel grey water and light blue skies. As we approach the first glacier we are told it has retreated dramatically in the last 30 years. The beautiful white and blue Balmaceda glacier "used to reach down to the water". It now stops some 20-30 metres above the surface of the fjord.

Until 12,000 years ago the whole area was covered in ice, now we are sailing through water where there used to be ice. The Balmaceda glacier is at least 20,000 years old (how do they measure these things?). I am just not sure how worried we are supposed to be. Sure the glacier is melting, retreating, but isn't that part of its nature? (Green friends protest here!)

Soon our little boat glides alongside a wooden jetty where we get off and walk into a forest. As we hike around the side of a mountain we get glimpses of another glacier. The Seranno glacier. No sign of retreat for this sculpted cascade of white and blue which tumbles into the water. There are lots of lumps and slabs of ice in the water, looking for all the world like melting ice-cubes in a drink. Definitely a photo op.

After an asado (bbq) lunch, lots of grilled lamb cutlets for me, potatoes for V, I discover one of the passengers is a priest in Punta Arenas. In my mangled Spanish and his broken English we discuss RC left-wing theology and my late classmate Michael McGlade who I visited when he was ministering in the slums of Santiago de Chile.

Replete, we start the return. The promised sea-lions fail to show, but the famed condors, a bird with a three metre wingspan, soar high above the mountains and we spend quite a while trying to spot and identify the distant black dots. Then suddenly one swoops around the corner of a mountain and majestically glides close by the boat. What a breathtaking and frantic camera-clicking moment.

No wind, calm seas and sunshine all the way back. Vicky says its the best day yet.

Guess the name of the restaurant for dinner, of course, it had to be the Ultima Esperanza! Scampi is a local dish, the portion served to me must be equal to ten servings of Coquille st Jacques offered in a posh London restaurant, and at a fraction of the price.