Patagonia. Santiago to Ushuaia — the southernmost city on earth. Picking up from Torres del Paine National Park: What the Wind Actually Means. The series starts here: Patagonia: Santiago to Ushuaia — South to the End of the World.
A special treat today — a cruise on Lago Grey to the Grey Glacier aboard the Grey III, a gift from our travel agent. The lake, the glacier, the boat — all named after the same shade of grey. Boring, but it works.
To reach the boat, we first had to walk two kilometres across Grey Beach, a vast sand flat that funnels the wind straight down the lake. Janine solved this by positioning herself firmly in Daryl’s lee. Progress was made.
On deck, lifejackets were mandatory. When Daryl put his on, the bottom strap wouldn’t reach. A crew member offered reassurance: don’t worry about it — it’s not to save your life, just to help with recovery. Nothing lives in Lago Grey — including humans, who last approximately two minutes in that water.
The strap situation was solved with another Pisco Sour.
The glacier was a wall of ancient blue ice stretching across the end of the lake — not as vast as Perito Moreno, but closer, quieter, and in its own way more intimate. Chunks of calved ice drifted past the hull, and the crew fished one out for photos. Daryl held it above his head like a trophy.
A great voyage. All that remained was the walk back across the beach.
The final morning, Torres del Paine saved her best for last. The entire massif turned gold in the sunrise — peaks, snow, and clouds all lit from the same angle, the kind of light that makes you stand at the window longer than planned.
As soon as we cleared the national park boundary, Buzz was out of her box. No rangers this time.
On the road out we passed a gaucho on horseback — unhurried, going nowhere in particular. Three dogs trotted alongside.
It seemed to be the standard configuration.
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