Since we’ve arrived in Patagonia, we’ve seen literally thousands of sheep.  We pass them driving all the time, grazing in their pastures behind an endless fence that marks off each estancia (ranch).  We’ve passed gauchos (cowboys) on horseback followed by their herd of sheep or cattle herding dogs.  It seems that each gaucho has at least 3 or 4 dogs with him at all times and that’s not to say there aren’t more back at the ranch.  While driving past these estancias, we’ve often wondered about the life of these sheep, how sheep farming works, what the paint spots on the sheep indicate, and how these huge estancias work.

We were fortunate to go to an estancia with an Argentinean friend of ours, Adrian, from Rio Grande.   We met Adrian and his family on Ruta 40 in the small, windy outpost town of Bajo Caracoles.  We were enjoying a beer in the only bar/restaurant/grocery store/bus stop in town along with a few other passing travelers, mostly folks looking for a break from the bone jarring Ruta 40.  It felt a little like an old western movie: us in a saloon drinking beer, when in through the swinging door enters Adrian with his family.  Tame night though, Adrian and his family were just looking for a few sandwiches for dinner.  While they waited for their food to come out, we chatted and hit it off.  They were kind enough to invite us to their house when and if we pass through their town, Rio Grande.  And so it was to be, several months later, we were at Adrian’s house.  Unfortunately, Maria-Elena and kids, Andy and Candelaria were in Cordoba as they are in the process of moving, so it was only Adrian at the house.  We had a very nice time with Adrian and really appreciated his hospitality.  It was also great staying in his warm, comfortable home for a couple days. 

For additional photos with Adrian at his house, including cooking some delicious empanadas, click here: Cooking Empanadas with Adrian.

That is how we ended up with Adrian at Estancia Maria Behety touring the sheep barn.  Estancia Maria Behety was the second estancia to be established in Tierra del Fuego.  First of all, the barn was immense and completely deserted.  I imagine more than a thousand sheep fit in that barn easily.  It had holding pens, then a hallway where the sheep were sheared and on the other side a slide down which the sheep were sent down to another holding area when they were done.  In the central area was a press where the wool is condensed into packaging for shipping.  I think the wool processing, cleaning and treatment is done somewhere else.  We were able to see the sheared wool off the animals and also piles and piles of sheep skins drying out.  This was a little uncomfortable, as many of the skins still had hoofs and legs attached.  A few also had the face of the sheep still attached.

Adrian explained for us the specifics of sheep selection and breeding.  In these areas sheep are used for one of two things, meat or wool.  Depending on the length of the curl in their fleece, young sheep are selected for either wool production or meat.  In reality, my understanding is that they all end up as meat eventually.  The ones selected for meat are usually taken under one year old for lamb meat.  Also at a young age, depending on certain characteristics that are genetically positive some males are selected for reproduction while the others become muttons.  Muttons are castrated males.  This is accomplished by tying a string around the balls, which simply dry out and fall off.  Super isn’t it.  The paint on the sheep we saw out in the fields is applied for identification of which sheep have “coupled”.  The males wear the color on their underside and when they mount a female, the paint marks her fleece.  The other information I remember is that sheep are sheared twice each year.  The first shave is on the face and back side, so the sheep can eat and be relatively clean when they go potty.  The second time, they shave the whole sheep.

So there you have it, that’s pretty much the information I learned on our tour.  Thanks to Adrian for showing us around and explaining everything.  My Spanish understanding is still somewhat limited, so I probably didn’t pick up all the details in the explanations.  Seeing the barn and especially the carcasses definitely made us feel sorry for the sheep.  We might get a nice hat or sweeter from their short, ardous life, but they get shaved a few times and then chopped up in the end.  Doesn’t seem fair.  We feel grateful to have seen firsthand an unsterilized view of where wool actually comes from.

To see all photos inside the sheep-sheering barn, click here: Inside a sheep estancia.

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There are certain places Volkswagen buses shouldn’t be.  Today we discovered two of them.  First, a little background on the day.  There are two official border crossings in Tierra del Fuego where cars and people can cross from Chile to Argentina and vice versa.  The primary, more heavily traveled crossing is on the north end of the island near a small town called San Sebastian.  This is the well-developed crossing where almost all the traffic driving north/south on Ruta 3, the main highway connecting the east coast of Argentina with Tierra del Fuego, crosses.  Even if you arrive in Tierra del Fuego on the ferry at Porvenir, most people continue driving east to cross the border into Argentina at San Sebastian.

The other border, “Paso Bella Vista” exists approximately 100 km further south of San Sebastian, on a network of dirt roads that culminate in a plunge through a river of varying depths.  The plunge occurs because although all the roads are built at the border, and there are customs buildings on both sides, Argentina hasn’t built a bridge to cross the river yet.  It actually makes sense that no bridge is yet built, as this crossing receives very little traffic.  Also, if you live and own a car in this part of Tierra del Fuego, chances are it’s a ranching vehicle with 4 x 4 traction.

Mango isn’t exactly a 4 x4 monster truck, but she’s gotten us through a lot of bad roads in the past.  For the most part, even the dirt roads in Argentina and Chile are considerably better than the really bad roads in countries like Bolivia or Peru.  We originally planned to be near this border when we visited Lago Blanco, and thought we’d give the crossing a try if conditions were favorable.  We brought along enough gas to make it north to the regular San Sebastian border crossing if necessary, but things were looking favorable on our day to cross so we went for it.

At Lago Blanco, we talked with a fisherman who drove across the border that morning with his 4 x 4 car, similar to a Subaru wagon.  He indicated that the river was only about 30 feet across, and as deep as his knees.  We knew there had been no rain the previous 4 days, so the river was probably not going to get any deeper.  We drove to the police outpost near the turnoff for the border, and the policeman indicated that we’d have no problem crossing.  15 km of dirt road later, we arrived at the Chilean border outpost.  The border officials stated that only 1 vehicle passed that day from the other direction.  They were bored, but also wanted to help us out, so they jumped in their Isuzu Trooper 4 x 4 and led us out to the river crossing a mile down the road.  There, they drove across the river to show us the best place to cross and also so we could see how far the river came up on their vehicle.  They then waited on the other side to bring us back for passport stamps if we successfully made it across.

We had a decision to make, I definitely didn’t want to damage Mango by getting her stuck in a river or shorting out her battery or electrics.  But at the same time, I didn’t want to drive half a day and a few hundred kilometers out of the way to get across the border.   The river indeed appeared about knee deep, seemed to have a bottom of relatively hard but smooth river rocks, was only about 30 feet across, and the border guys said they could give us a tow if we got stuck.  In the end, we made a calculated decision to cross the river.  I backed up, got a little momentum, threw Mango into second gear, and plowed across the river.  7 seconds of terror later, we had saved ourselves 200 kilometers of driving on bumpy dirt roads.  I had a smile as big as Tierra del Fuego.

The border guys drove us back across the river to get our passport stamps and turn in our vehicle registration paper.  One of the guys in the car kept practicing his English and stating that he was James Bond.  He wasn’t in uniform and I’m not sure if he was actually a border officer or just a friend that wanted to ride along for lack of nothing better to do.  We outprocessed Mango, drove back across the river in the customs vehicle, said goodbye to our helpful friends, and then repeated the paperwork process on the Argentina side with their customs officials.  When it came time to get Mango’s entry paper stamped, we had to wait about 10 minutes while the customs officer found his supervisor.  Apparently, as we discovered, there isn’t a lot going on at this border crossing.

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With our successful river crossing out of the way, I felt like I could drive Mango to the moon.  We didn’t quite make it.  Darkness was setting in, so we decided to find a camping spot for the night.  About 10 km down the road, we noticed a side road that culminated a few hundred meters later, up a small hill in a peaceful grove of trees.  On the edge of the trees was a level parking spot and a small religious shrine.  It looked like the perfect place to spend the night. We drove a little ways down the road, but then stopped when we noticed an ominous mud puddle. We got out and walked around the mud puddle.  We also checked a little ways after to see if we could make it beyond the puddle. 

Ana stated that she thought we’d get stuck if we tried, but I thought it didn’t look much worse than anything Mango had previously driven through without difficulty.  We’d only been stuck in mud or sand 2 or 3 times on this trip, and those times we were able to free ourselves relatively quickly.   And besides, hadn’t Mango just driven through a river!  This car could do anything!  Against Ana’s better instincts, we jumped back in Mango, backed up a bit, got a little momentum, and off we went.   Less than 7 seconds later, we were stuck.  The mud was stickier than I thought, the hole deeper that I thought, and the corner killed all our momentum.  After trying in the darkness for a half hour to unstick Mango, we opted to sleep and address our problem in the morning.

The next day, I treated my wife to a cardiovascular 5 hour workout in the 42 degree rain.  The workout consisted of jacking Mango, digging out the tires, collecting rocks (Ana), packing them under the tires, and building a runway over the remaining mushy ground (Ana, aka “Mrs. Gulag”) to get Mango somewhere with better traction.  We used all three boards we carry on top of the car.  We even put the tire chains on we’d carried the last 40,000km.  Laying in bed at an awkward angle all night luckily helps you remember why you packed them in the first place.  I thought I tested the chains before we left on the trip, but after putting them on we noticed there was considerable slack.  Nothing a hack-saw and 45 minutes of sawing through chain links in the freezing rain and mud won’t fix!  The shortened chains were good as new, and by mid-afternoon we had de-stuck Mango in a final sputtering blaze of mud and glory.  Mango survived without any damage, and we were back on the road and headed to Rio Grande.

After another hour of dirt roads, we pulled onto the pavement that would take us the remaining 200 kilometers to Ushuaia.  No more dirt roads! (at least until we head back north).  In Rio Grande, we parked Mango downtown at the comfortable Hostal Argentino.  They have electricity, wi-fi, a kitchen, warm showers, and a comfortable common room.  We had everything we needed to cook some “delicious” spaghetti or other common road food.  Ana, however, announced that I needed to take her out for a steak dinner tonight.  This time, I listened.

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As much as we try not to drive at night, lately we seem to arrive at our destinations as the sun is setting or just after.   This day was no different, and we arrived at Lago Blanco just past sunset.  Luckily, there was still enough light to illuminate the road and we saw our first trees and forests we had yet observed on the island of Tierra del Fuego.  We had quite abruptly gone from endless windswept grasslands to lush green forest.  It was a good dirt road that led us down to the lake where at road’s end, in the dark, we had to decide whether to turn left or right.  We decided to turn right towards the lights of what turned out to be a fishing camp.  People from all over the world come here for a few days or sometimes weeks to fish for trout.  We talked with one of the fishing camp caretakers, Catalina, and obtained permission to spend the night on their property.  Off we went to sleep.

In the morning, we woke to a beautiful, sunny Patagonian day.  The lake was still as glass with the trees and clouds reflecting perfectly into the water.  We took a short walk by the lake water enjoying the peacefulness of the moment.  Upon our return to the car, we were greeted by the watchman of the camp who offered us a huge trout he had just caught.  I explained that I really didn’t know how to clean it.  He said no problem and brought it back all ready to cook.  His name was Rene and his wife Catalina were the two (and only) workers at the camp.  Later, we met the only costumers, three people from Santiago, who were some of the last customers expected  for the season.  The camp closes for the winter at the end of April due to the arrival of snow.

We had an interesting time with Rene and Catalina, but mostly Rene.  He guided us on a hike through the woods by the lake.  He also showed us a huge beaver  dam, as well as some of the beaver damage inflicted on the surrounding forest.  Apparently, beavers are not a native species to Patagonia.  They were introduced to the area for the fur trade.  I’m not exactly sure what happened to the fur business, but without predators, the beavers thrived in their new environment and additionally did a lot of damage to the native forests and river systems.  Well, I should say that beavers have no predators, except for Rene, and maybe a few others who hunt them.  Apparently, they are quite tasty and a treat for the tourists. 

Rene was amusing in his storytelling, some of which I’m sure was embellished.  He told us that beavers can reach a size of 120lbs.  Really, wow, that’s a really big beaver and I’d hate to meet it face to face.  However, other than some minor exaggerations, Rene had interesting information, told some great stories, and answered a bunch of our questions.  He also led us to an area where the beavers previously chewed down trees to create a huge beaver dam.  And when I say huge, I mean huge.  I didn’t know the dams could be so big, not even realizing I had been walking on top of it for some time before he stopped to explain.  He seemed to think about 50 beavers lived in that area.  The damage could be seen all around as only the little stubs of wood remained standing where a large (or small) tree once stood.  The river was blocked up so the water no longer reached the lake.  It just spread sideways flooding the surrounding forest, not that much forest remained.

On our hike, Rene also introduced us to Patagonian strawberries.  Or at least that’s what he called them, but to me they looked like tiny raspberries that grew very low to the ground.  We have a sneeking suspicion that “frutilla” (strawberry) is actually the local word for “frambuesa” (rasberry) in this part of Patagonia. Whatever they were, they were delicious but very hard to see.  If you weren’t looking for them, you probably wouldn’t see them.  However, we found a few from our slow, patient search.  Running our hands through the dirt and leaves was rewarded with the occasional, sweet find.  These berries were also hard to find because there were not many left, as we had stiff competition from the foxes and guanacos. For about an hour, we felt like grazing animals; crouched on the ground searching for the elusive berries.

Our quick little hike turned into a two hour guided tour around Lago Blanco. Unfortunately, it ended back at the fishing camp with Rene’s spontaneous attack on a cute and unsuspecting weasel.  Turns out weasels kill trout and therefore are destructive creatures and a threat to the camp.  It was just after I said “Ah, look Chad, a cute ferret or something is over there” that Rene hurled his walking stick at the unsuspecting weasel.   Well, what proceeded next I’m not super clear on, because, I was super not interested since it seemed that Rene’s new objective was to kill the weasel.  He devised a way of catching the weasel by baiting it with a trout and using a snare.  It is my pleasure to say that the weasel “weaseled” his way out of the snare twice over the course of a two hour hunt and as far as I know was alive and well when we left.

So ended our adventures with Rene at the fishing camp.  We really enjoyed our time there and appreciate Rene showing us around.  Aside from wanting to kill pretty much everything  he saw, he was a really nice guy!  We said our goodbyes to everyone including a noteworthy fat, orange and white cat who looked a lot like our cat back home -  Hissy.  We jumped back in Mango and headed for the border.

To see the full Lago Blanco photo gallery, click here: Additional Lago Blanco photos.

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Yesterday at 12:26 PM, my younger sister gave birth to her first baby.  WELCOME TO THE WORLD BABY KENDALL!!!  We enjoyed seeing you over Skype, and look forward to seeing you in person soon.  Baby Kendall weighed 6 lbs 9 ounces, and arrived one day late - not too bad!  Baby, mom, and dad are all doing great.  The hospital is the same one where my sister and I were delivered many years ago.  It’s nice that technology makes it easier for all of us to stay in touch.  Baby Kendall, we can’t wait to meet you!

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We rose early today and drove north across town towards the Punta Arenas ferry terminal.  There we had a date with the Transbordadora Austral Broom “Crux Australis” to sail across the Strait of Magellan to Tierra del Fuego and the town of Porvenir.  We’d been staring at Tierra del Fuego from the shores of Punta Arenas the last few weeks, and today it was finally time to leave mainland South America and make the jump to the island.  Prior to the ferry dock, we stopped for gas at a service station.  The attendant there had been working in Punta Arenas for the last 3 months.  He said he came from Santiago to work here for the summer, but it was way too cold for him.  He plans to head back in a few weeks before summer ends and it really gets cold!

We arrived at the ferry dock about 8 AM.  We didn’t make a reservation since it was the off season, so initially we needed to wait our turn before driving aboard.  After the loading chief verified there was enough room on the boat, Mango along with the other standby vehicles, rolled onto the ferry.  The price was 32300 Chilean pesos for Mango and the driver, and 5100 additional pesos per passenger (about $75 USD total).  Here is the website for anyone taking the ferry in the future.  www.tabsa.cl.  You can only pay in cash.

The ferry crossing took about 2 ½ hours to make the 20 mile journey across the Strait of Magellan to Tierra Del Fuego.  Tierra del Fuego is one of the larger islands below the southern terminus of continental South America.  Both Chile and Argentina share the island, with the border splitting the island roughly in two.  Our destination today was the ranching and gold prospecting town of Porvenir.  During the crossing, we kept warm in the ferry’s nice passenger areas, which had comfortable seats and a small snack bar with many people congregating about to buy coffee and sandwiches.  We kept busy walking around the top deck, talking with the other passengers, and watching the schools of dolphins that would occasionally race along the bow of the ship.  One of the passengers we spoke with, Hugo, was a native Chilean who immigrated to Germany in the 1970s during the time of military dictatorships in Chile.  He has returned since then, but this time was back with his girlfriend, Hildegard.  They were traveling in Chile for 1 month, visiting his family and friends.  They both work in a retirement home in Bremen, Germany.

The ferry arrived in Porvenir (population approx 5000), the biggest Chilean town in Tierra del Fuego.  Mango dutifully chugged off the boat, and we watched a smaller, heavily loaded pickup almost burn out its transmission trying to make it up the not-very steep boat ramp. And I thought Mango was underpowered!  Hugo and Hildegard tagged along with us for the afternoon, and we drove around town, checking out the local sites.

Porvenir originally started as a gold rush town in the late 1800s when many immigrants arrived from Europe.  There are still prospectors working in the streams and rivers outside of town.  The next wave of immigration occurred as a result of the sheep and cattle industry.  This part of Tierra del Fuego mainly consists of wind-swept, rolling grasslands, ideal for sheep and cattle ranching.  All across Tierra del Fuego, (and Patagonia for that matter), large estancias (ranches), some comprising thousands of acres, engage in sheep and cattle ranching.   They are a vital part of the Chilean and Argentinian economies.  One of the most infamous immigrants in Porvenir’s past was Nazi War Criminal Walter Rauff.  As the museum in Porvenir states, he was the originator of the mobile death camp “trucks of extermination.”  He lived here and in other parts of Chile from 1958-1984.  Unfortunately, due to a sympathetic military dictatorship in Chile, he was successful in fighting his extradition for war crimes.

Another result of the influx of immigration into Tierra del Fuego was the unharmonious mixing of old and new cultures.  For thousands of years previously, the Ona, Yaghan, and Alacaluts indigenous tribes all lived and hunted here.  The new immigrants from Europe didn’t mix very well with the indigenous population.  It was a two-way violent clash, with ranchers not wanting the indigenous to kill their cattle, sheep, or themselves, and the indigenous peoples fighting against the new settlers who took their land and hunted their animals.  The clash ended up as it usually does, with the new settlers and their superior weaponry winning. Entire groups of indigenous were rounded up and slaughtered by the settlers.  Some settlers fought against the violence, and in several parts of Tierra del Fuego there are missionaries established by religious and private groups as refuges for the hunted indigenous population.  Today though, a little more than a hundred years after the largest influx of immigrants, indigenous culture in Tierra del Fuego is all but extinct.

We toured the museum, waterfront, an overlook above town, and ate at a restaurant with Hugo and Hildegard.  Later we drove outside of town to the lighthouse and watched the ferry leaving on its afternoon run back to Punta Arenas.  We spent the night on a street in a residential neighborhood.  Some local kids noticed the strange van parked outside on the street and came over to say hi.  They were cute but one of them kept using Mango as a springboard to launch himself and his bicycle into the street.  Easy with the 33 year old car, por favor!

The next day we drove to the peaceful Lago de los Cisnes (Lake of the swans) north of town. We didn’t see any swans, but we did see a ton of guanacos and enjoy the view at the lake.  Guanacos look a lot like Llamas and are related closely to them as well as alpacas, and vicunas.  They have long, shaggy hair and are well built for this cold, windy climate.  They are illegal to hunt, and you can see them grazing everywhere on the island of Tierra del Fuego.  Guanacos also seem a bit smarter than a lot of other large, grazing animals.  Even though they’re bigger and more powerful than Ana or I, in the hundreds of times we’ve approached them, they always move away from us.  Maybe we just smell bad, I don’t know!  In any case, I think guanacos have a better built in self-preservation mechanism than other animals (like deer) that just stand in the middle of the road as you approach.  We ended the day by driving out of town to the east and along the shore of Inutil Bay.  Bahia Inutil, or “Useless Bay” was so named by British Explorers in the 1800s because they felt a useful port could not be built here.  When the sun set, we pulled over and found a peaceful place to camp on the side of the road.

The next day we awoke and continued our drive along Inutil Bay until the very small town/estancia of Onaisin.  In Onaisin, we saw only one person during the hour we were there.  He was on horseback heading off into the grassland, probably to check on some sheep.  We visited the tiny Colonizers’ cemetery, where marble headstones with brightly-colored moss kept watch over a wind-swept prairie.  Continuing our drive around the bay towards the slightly larger town of Cameron, we passed what seemed like hundreds of guanacos and sheep.  We stopped for a few minutes when Ana spotted a fox pouncing on something in the grass near the roadside.

Cameron is a small ranching village that has a few public services such as a health clinic and school.  While enjoying the view above town, a rancher walked his horse to a nearby tie-up spot.  A headless sheep carcass was strapped to the horse’s back.  Apparently the horse did not like this.  While waiting for the rancher to return, the horse somehow managed to undo his tether and walk away.  When the rancher came out a few minutes later and didn’t see the horse nearby, we directed him to the top of the hill where the agitated horse had climbed.  The rancher climbed the hill with his pack of dogs, retrieved the horse, and smiled knowingly as he told us that the horse was mad because of the dead sheep on its back.  Maybe the horse knew the sheep?  We don’t know.  Anyway, it was interesting to see an animal that was aware of what he was carrying, and wasn’t too happy about it.  Animals are pretty smart sometimes.  We ended the day by driving out of town towards Lago Blanco, passing some old gold dredges and what felt like a million guanacos along the way.

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