Ushuaia at Bottom of the World

March 10, 2023 by

On our way to and from an Antarctic adventure on the National Geographic Explorer vessel, my husband and I had a little time to spend in Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world. It was an unexpected part of our expedition, but we found it was a city worth visiting in its own right and wished we had budgeted more time to enjoy it. 

Our first taste of the city was from a tour bus between the airport and a waiting catamaran that would be our introduction to the Beagle Channel. As we drove through town and then into Tierra del Fuego National Park, our guide shared with us some of the details that make this part of the world so unusual. Often a rainy climate where winds can blow up to 75 miles per hour, this is the only place in Argentina where the mountains, sea and forest all come together. This makes excellent terrain when rain turns to snow for visitors to ski, dog sled and enjoy music events that celebrate the longest night of the year in snowy June. The Andes make a sharp turn here at the southern tip of the continent and begin to run from west to east and then underwater down to Antarctica. 

A catamaran picks up visitors in Tierra del Fuego National Park for lunch and a sail around the Beagle Channel. Photo courtesy of Lesley Frederikson.

Tree roots grow along the surface of this young land where only a few inches of soil rest on a surface that was covered by a glacier just 20,000 years ago. Beech trees adorned with wild mistletoe make up most of the forest. Sadly, the climate here is inhospitable to trees; it can take up to 300 years for one to fully decompose, and it takes up to 100 years for a new one to grow. A wild plan to increase residency in Ushuaia by introducing 48 beavers for hunters in 1946 went terribly wrong and now up to 100,000 beavers gnaw on those remaining trees without predation. 

Residency in Ushuaia has long been an important goal for Argentina as a way to exercise sovereignty so close to Chile. In fact, the entire territory of Tierra del Fuego is separated from the rest of Argentina by the Strait of Magellan and is only accessible by land on roads that traverse through Chile. Thus, it has been a priority of Argentina’s to entice residents to the territory and establish the country’s position there. The park through which we drove was established in 1960 for that very reason.  

Before that, other efforts had been made toward the same goal. There had been a native population, the Yamana, who had made Tierra del Fuego their home for thousands of years, but missionaries who had discovered them in the 1850s brought diseases that eradicated their population by 1881. Then, the first Argentinian flag flew in 1884. The small settlement the missionaries began didn’t really take hold until Argentina established a penal colony in Ushuaia in 1902 to further promote settlement. The thought was that jailers would bring their families along, and that would motivate schools, stores and businesses to support and grow the small city. 

The prison officially closed in 1947, but now a museum there depicts what life was like for the prisoners who were among the worst in Argentina. Small cells and strict rules were the way of life for up to 600 inmates who inhabited the 386 cells. In the first 20 years of the prison, inmates worked to build up Ushuaia. Not only did they build their own penitentiary, they built the city’s roads, bridges and a 25km train track through town and up to what is now the National Park. Their work groups provided services such as printing, firefighting, electricity and telephones to the rest of the city. It was almost impossible to escape this prison, and very few tried. Their stories are included in exhibits tucked into restored cells there. 

386 individual cells housed up to 600 of Argentina’s most dangerous criminals in Ushuaia between 1902 and 1947. Photo courtesy of Lesley Frederikson. 

In other wings of the prison, art and culture of the area are highlighted. One exhibit expands on the historical information about the first Yamana people. We had become aware of these fishing people at an interpretive center in Tierra del Fuego National Park, but this museum uses more life-sized dioramas to explain different aspects of their story.  

The prison also devotes space to the special bicontinental relationship Argentina has with South America and Antarctica – one of only a handful bicontinental countries in the world. Penguin species from Antarctica are displayed in icy dioramas and explorers from the Heroic Age of Exploration are honored near plaques detailing their expeditions and models of ships that were important to the history of the area. 

Argentina’s efforts at settlement in Ushuaia have been successful. The population of this university town has grown from 4,600 in the 1960s to over 60,000 now. Downtown, shops sell outdoor gear to explorers headed into Patagonia for hiking or south to the White Continent. A Hard Rock Café serves loyal globe-trotting fans, and gift shops peddle marble penguins and mugs from the End of the World. Argentina still tempts settlers by exempting Tierra del Fuego from any federal taxes, but for us the natural beauty, warm welcome and proximity to so much outdoor fun is enough to lure us back. 

Shops, restaurants and hotels beckon travelers to rest awhile in Ushuaia, Argentina, the southernmost city in the world. Photo courtesy of Lesley Frederikson.

WHEN YOU GO

Albatros Hotel: www.albatroshotel.com.ar

Visit the Museums: www.museomaritimo.com

Explore the Park: www.national-parks.org/argentina/tierra-del-fuego

Find out More: www.turismoushuaia.com

Lesley Frederikson is a freelance writer. To read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.COPYRIGHT 2023 CREATORS.COM

Filed Under: Travel Stories Tagged With: , , , ,

Rainy Day in Boulder

January 4, 2023 by

Staring at the four walls of my hotel wasn’t an option on a recent rainy day in Boulder, Colorado. I had to get out. Fortunately, I had a rain jacket and a sense of adventure. That, coupled with internet access and a good map, had me heading out to explore some alternate things to do. 

I was only one block away from the famous Pearl Street Mall, an outdoor pedestrian mall with shops, restaurants, cafes and galleries, so I splashed that direction first. Windows full of interesting pastas, funky bowls, funny napkins, cookbooks and candies lured me into Peppercorn. This two-story shop is a foodie’s dream come true with jars of hard-to-find items like clotted cream and vegetables marinated in spices and oils. Toward the back is an area of gourmet kitchen tools and linens to decorate any host’s table. Candles nestle here and there among other products, and a wander upstairs reveals household décor for any taste. 

  • Turkish lamps in myriad colors spill light onto a rainy day in Boulder, Colo. Photo courtesy of Lesley Sauls Frederikson.

Back outside, I snuggled my bag of treats under my raincoat and kept going. Plenty of shops on the mall sell rain and hiking gear, and I passed several places where I could have tasted one of the many microbrews that call Boulder home. It was a small place called Smithklein Gallery where a life-sized bronze dog waved me into the store. Oil paintings, glass sculptures and a wind-blown dog happily panting out of a real Volkswagen car door are just some of the pieces on display. 

Not far from there was another gallery called Lolo Rugs and Gifts, but this one had handmade Turkish rugs and brightly colored lamps arranged in various explosions of light and color. Some stood alone, others were gathered into multihued bouquets that hung from sizeable chandeliers. Soaps and jewelry are also sold here, but the magical lamps and rugs stood out as cacophonies of color that stopped me in my tracks.  

The rainy mall exhausted, I hopped into my car to go exploring. Years ago, I used to play “get lost” with my brother when we lived in Los Angeles and would do just that – driving into the Hollywood Hills to get lost and find our way out again; we saw amazing things well off the beaten path. This seemed like a good idea for an inclement day in Boulder, too. 

Fortunately, I was in luck. Canyon Boulevard turned into Boulder Canyon Drive and took me up into the Front Range of mountains that make up the westernmost side of Boulder. Steep, rocky inclines flanked me with strong Ponderosa Pines growing straight up their stone slopes and Boulder Creek rushed down alongside the road. Every curve in this windy road was a feast for the eyes. And then, like a gem, Barker Meadow Reservoir opened up in front of me with the little town of Nederland on its far end. 

I later learned that Barker Meadow provides water to the city of Boulder and is a great place to catch trout and salmon from shore, but no boats or swimming are allowed on this shining reservoir that was built in 1910. Those activities would not comply with Boulder’s water regulations. 

Curving around the reservoir I found myself in Nederland itself and decided to stop in for a turmeric tea with honey at the Train Cars Coffee and Yogurt shop. True to its name, the café is literally three train cars put together: a 1905 pullman car, an 1872 circus car that had once been a railway post office car, and a caboose built in 1910. It was off season, so the barista told me I was out of luck for enjoying their signature mini-donuts. But the tea was great, and I was able to drink it in a vintage railroad coach that still had brass window lifts, stained glass windows and patterned red material on the ceiling. I had to wonder how many feet had walked on that hard wood floor. 

Just around the corner on First Street I grabbed a sandwich and some chips at Mountain Peoples Coop after wandering around in a gem and fossil shop and the Rustic Moose where I found Colorado souvenirs for everyone on my list. 

Farther down First Street I found several signs and references to Frozen Dead Guy Days. Evidently, this town made its fame not as the mining town it once was, but because of the frozen man that was discovered in a woman’s back yard in the mid-1990s. She and her son had been carrying her cryogenically frozen father around with them from Norway to California and eventually to Nederland where he was discovered and became somewhat of a celebrity. Now Bredo Morstoe is kept on dry ice delivered bi-monthly by locals and is celebrated in mid-March every year by the entire town of Nederland with their annual Frozen Dead Guy Days festival. 

Historic train cars find new life as a coffee shop in Nederland, Colo. OR—Cryogenically frozen Bredo Morstoe inspires Frozen Dead Guy Days, an annual festival in Nederland, Colo. OR – Nederland, Colo., is a small, welcoming village that has an unusual annual Frozen Dead Guys Day festival. Photo courtesy of Lesley Sauls Frederikson.

Heading back down the mountain pass through the towering pines and rocks, I spotted a sign for Boulder Falls and pulled over with several other cars to explore one of the shortest hiking paths I have ever seen – safe for a drizzly day. Carefully carved rock steps lead up and down into a crag between two stone cliffs where a gushing stream explodes over a cliff and signs warn of imminent death for waders and those who would dare to venture off of the trail. I stood in awe of nature’s sheer strength and permanence. These stones, this creek and even some of the towering trees around me had been there long before I was born and would exist long after my demise. 

Boulder Falls gushes out of a crag in the Front Range of mountains just outside Boulder, Colo. Photo courtesy of G Adventures.

As I drove back to my hotel, the rain gave way to dappled sunshine that peeked down through the parting clouds overhead. Bikers and walkers were taking to the streets again, but my rainy adventure had unearthed things I would never otherwise have seen – through art, humor and the sheer force of nature. 

WHEN YOU GO

            Play on Pearl Street: www.boulderdowntown.com

            Navigate Nederland: www.townofnederland.colorado.gov

            Chill with Grandpa Bredo: www.frozendeadguydays.com

            Feel the Falls: www.dayhikesneardenver.com/boulder-falls/

            Lesley Sauls Frederikson is a freelance writer. To read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

COPYRIGHT 2022 CREATORS.COM

Filed Under: Travel Stories Tagged With: , , ,

Off the Road in Door County

October 2, 2017 by

There is something refreshing about a brilliant, cool sunrise on a clear Wisconsin morning in Door County. I had just pulled up to a local coffee roasting company and was greeted by the cheery owner who was repositioning pots of bright flowers to better showcase her homey shop and eatery.

At the advice of a friend with local ties, I had arranged to take part in a Coffee College mini-lesson to learn more about the origins, production and consumption of my favorite morning brew. My classmates and I carried steaming mugs of various coffee blends along with us to a comfortable conference room where we began our short lesson. My coffee had an essence of cherry in it – a nod to the cherries that put Door County on the map in the late 1800s.

Roasters add flavor to gourmet coffee blends in Door County, Wisc.

As we would learn from Vicki Wilson, the owner of Door County Coffee & Tea Company and our instructor, where a bean is grown and its specific quality are essential to the flavor of any coffee. On a mural of the world, she pointed to the countries from which her beans are procured and showed us a life-sized example of a coffee tree where she demonstrated how beans are picked by hand. Wilson passed around beans of different qualities and a plate of coffee grounds that exhibited three kinds of coarseness for various brewing methods; I use a coffee press and need a coarse grind, but my husband needs a medium grind for his drip coffee maker.

Along with her hands-on samples, Wilson had an information-packed PowerPoint presentation and answers to all of our questions. Who knew there was so much to learn about this historic and global morning potion? At the end of our lesson, she pointed a remote control at the back wall of the room, and curtains rose to reveal coffee roasters at work in her small factory. In plastic drums along one wall, we watched a worker add flavor to beans that tumbled inside them like miniature cement mixers.

Wilson clearly has a passion for her profession, and she delights in having her whole family involved in various parts of the company she began over two decades ago.

Eyes twinkling with pride – and maybe a touch of caffeine – Wilson said of her initial decision to start the company, “I didn’t know a damn thing about coffee roasting, but I took a leap of faith, and 24 years later, here we are.”

After a creative and hearty breakfast called the Kitchen Sink that included eggs, potatoes and French toast in a sinful and delicious mix, I grabbed a steaming cherry decaf to go and headed north on the peninsula to the Ridges Sanctuary. This, too, was at the recommendation of a friend who knew I was taking a weekend to relax in Door County, and it was a spot-on suggestion.

A lovely, modern interpretive center welcomed me with information about why the area is called the Ridges. Historical documents, satellite images and old photos adorn the walls, and an interactive video explains the area’s topography.

The Great Lake Michigan laps up against Door County’s peninsula at Baileys Harbor, WI, but centuries ago, the lake level was much higher. Each time the lake receded from shore, it left a ridge of sand along the bank that grew trees and bushes and became its own small ecosystem. An aerial view of the sanctuary shows nearly 10 such ridges have resulted from the ebb and flow of Lake Michigan. Between each is a swale of marsh lands, a low-lying area that was once beachfront property before the next ridge was formed.

Visitors enjoy a guided walk through the ridges and swales of Baileys Harbor in Door County, Wisc.

The video helped visualize how these ridges and swales were formed, but it was a guided walk through the sanctuary with a well-educated naturalist that brought it to life. We left the interpretive center on a wooden boardwalk through a lush forest and learned about orchid restoration projects and the difference between deciduous and evergreen conifers. The deeper we pushed into the forest, the more rustic the boardwalk became. We navigated bridges over marshes and padded on mossy paths through forests that varied based on each ridge’s age.

One boardwalk was strikingly different than the rest. It was poker-straight and set in a wide-open swath of clear-cut forest. At either end was a restored structure that I learned were range lights from the mid-1800s. Inside the larger building was a docent who explained that we were in a home as well as a navigational beacon. In its cupola was a bright white light that, when aligned with the bright red light from the smaller building, would guide shipping vessels into the rocky harbor.

The range lights were in service from 1869-1969 when the house evolved into being a minister’s home and then a private residence. Fortunately, it is being restored by donations and has already been re-approved by the US Coast Guard as an operational range light. Who knew there was so much to learn in a northern forest?

For a century, this range light helped guide ships through the dangerously rocky Baileys Harbor in Door County, Wisc.

I was able to walk the range lights’ boardwalk down to a sandy beach along Lake Michigan and dip my toes in its cool water. Tucking into my jacket as the breezes tossed my curls, I savored what had turned out to be a delightful day of relaxing education.

Filed Under: Travel Stories Tagged With: , , ,

The Enticing Sounds of Seward

October 2, 2017 by

Drip, drop; the rain echoed on my rubberized hood, and squeak, squish; my boots scuffed across the rough boat deck for better balance. Click, whizzz…I disengaged the bale on my reel and flung my line out into the rich, green water that pattered playfully in the gentle rain and added to the cacophony of sound that is fishing in the arctic summer waters of Resurrection Bay outside Seward, Alaska.

“Fish on!” yelled a fellow fisherman on the other side of our boat, and I heard thumping feet rush to grab a metal framed net that scraped across the floor and shot out into the water where a 15-pound silver salmon splashed and flipped into it. Plop- another bait hit the water, and then click, click, click, it was carefully reeled in to entice another silver. The anticipation was exciting, but who knew fishing would be so noisy?

Fog and rain surround an intrepid fisherman in search of a prize-winning salmon.

I was in Seward for a long weekend and had every intention of landing enough salmon to ship home and enjoy for months to come. Fortunately, I was there in early August when the silver salmon make their appearance in droves as they move toward the streams where they were born in hope of leaving the eggs that will continue their age-old life cycle. I was on a boat with experienced fisher people and had enough enthusiasm for all of us. Fortunately, I was not disappointed, and soon I was the person yelling, “fish on!” as the crew scrambled to net my catch.

The day before had also been spent on the water, but on a much bigger vessel where I was an observer more than a participant. I was out for the day to look at the wildlife that teems in Alaska’s verdant summer waters. In a chilly August breeze I found my perfect perch near the bow of the boat where I could better see breaching killer whales and diving puffins, but I soon realized that the best view was at the back of the vessel out of the wind where the deck was clear of other adventurers.

Our experienced captain shared statistics and details as he guided his tour toward pods of humpback whales previously spotted by other boats in the area. Gently, he steered us into tight coves where cormorants and puffins perched side-by-side, and gulls swooped down to catch abundant fish for lunch with a screech as they soared by. Near the mouth of Aialik Bay, he introduced his passengers to the endangered Steller Sea Lions who make their homes in these abundant waters. We cozied up to a tiny island where a harem of these giant creatures lazed in the sun and were barked at by the even larger male, as we got too close for his comfort.

Leaving these noisy creatures behind, we headed deep into Aialik Bay past Holgate and Pederson Glaciers to the bay’s namesake, Aialik Glacier. Again, the noises surprised me. As we neared the tidewater glacier I could hear the gentle thump of ice cubes against the hull of our vessel and a sound like tinkling glass as the ice chunks clinked against one another in our wake.

The air cooled even more, and ahead of us loomed the glacier whose massive size was more vast and breathtaking than I had imagined it would be. The blue crevasses of pressed snow folded in on one another and calved in chunks that splashed into the bay with clattering echoes that resounded in the silence left by the wise captain who had stilled his engines for the majestic display.

Two otters play in the icy water near Aialik Glacier in Kenai Fjords National Park.

Turning back toward Seward, we were escorted out of Aialik Bay by a playful pod of Dall’s Porpoises that surfed the bow waves of our boat and leapt from the water in graceful arcs. Their bon voyage display was matched by the greeting we received from the small and sleek endangered sea otters who make their home in the Seward harbor with a few harbor seal friends. The antics of these aquatic creatures all inspired the whirs and clicks of dozens of cameras that sought to capture their elusive charm.

For those of us who were too gob smacked by reality to think of training a camera on the quickly moving creatures, the Alaska SeaLife Center in Seward provides up-close encounters with a variety of marine mammals and birds. Built on the site of the former harbor that was lost in a devastating 1964 earthquake, this building is filled with educational hands-on exhibits and is home to injured animals that are being rehabilitated to go back into their natural habitat. I stood transfixed as an enormous Stellar Sea Lion glided past me with only a thick pane of glass between us.

In another exhibit I learned that puffins swim; they actually dive below the water and flap their wings as if they were high in flight as they seek the fish upon which they feast. Still intrigued by the salmon run, I was fascinated by the mounted fish that show the physical changes endured by these prehistoric animals as they move through their life cycle.

Prehistory was recounted for me again as I drove up toward Exit Glacier through the temperate rain forest. Small signs along the road indicate where the glacier’s toe reached hundreds and thousands of years before people ever recorded their visits to this wilderness. As I moved from ancient forests into more recent forests and then new growth, I could see for myself the effects of the receding glacier has on the land beneath and around it.

Moving downhill from the same Harding Ice Field that feeds the tidewater glaciers I had visited two days before, Exit is the only glacier in Kenai Fjords National Park that is easily accessible by road, and it boasts a creative hands-on nature center where the ice fields, glacial movement and archeology of the area is explained through interactive displays. A knowledgeable park ranger is also available to answer questions and lead a daily hike up to the edge of the glacier.

Exit Glacier peeks through the trees behind a nature center that educates hikers about the rapidly-melting glacier before they hit the trail to visit it themselves.

I opted to explore the windy path on my own and feel the gravity of my impermanence as I neared such an awe-inspiring and primeval force of nature. I could hear the gravel crunch beneath my feet and knew it was deposited there by the giant ice flow. It was one more sound to remember from my summer retreat to Seward and the temperate rainforest of the Kenai Fjords.

Filed Under: Travel Stories Tagged With: , , , , ,