Floor length oilskin coat. Check.
Down jacket. Check.
Thermals. Check.
Hat, gloves, scarf, neck gator, body warmer, woolly socks. Check.
Assorted wool jumpers with snowflake motif. Check.
Compeed. Check.
Compass. Check
Whistle. Check.
Marmite. Check.
Teabags. Check.
I’m ready! Patagonian weather, do your worst! Bring it on! Yeah!
I survey the mountain of luggage. Arctic explorers have probably set off with less, and I don’t have a team of huskies to lug it around. Re-check smallprint regarding baggage allowance. The luggage mountain weighs considerably more. Oh BOTHER.
Rearrange, repack, reweigh. Ditch girlie Christmas outfit and the marmite and decide to wear woollies and oilskins on the flight, with other clothes stuffed in the pockets. Hang the funny looks I’ll get. And the long queue behind me at security. And the fact that it is likely to be about 30 degrees when I pass through Buenos Aires. My cousin Liam promises to trump me in a few months when he boards his flight over dressed in neoprene chest waders and brandishing a fishing rod.
Here the journey begins! Today London, tomorrow Buenos Aires, then on to El Calafate and my final destination of Puerto Natales, Chile. There I hope to learn the mysterious ways of the gaucho, providing that I can find friendly gauchos who are willing to share their secrets with a blonde, northern lentil-lover, and a girl at that. I’ll be posting here whenever inspiration hits and I find an internet connection. Provided that my fingers are not frozen solid.
