THE FLY GUYS: Set on fire. On Fireland.

Some while ago, we travelled to Chile to visit a friend in Santiago de Chile. Already beeing there, I decided to take my rucksack, tent and sleeping bag with me to go for "a quick excursion" to the south. And while family and friends went to see Patagonia, I rented a car in Punta Arenas to drive to the famous Rio Grande on the chilean side of Tierra del Fuego, this famous river for sea run brown trout, that is every flyfishermans dream, with its peaktime in march. Now it was the 2nd on January. So I knew that there was only little to no chance of catching such an amazing fish ...

I had no idea about the situation, the river, the fishing regulations, the fact that this is the back of beyond and so on. So I searched the internet and met Fernando in a forum. He had visited that place many times and gave me - besides other invaluable tips - the best tip I could get: "If you arrive on Rio Grande, ...
walk down on the rigth bank of the river so you won't get in trouble with the guides from the local lodge". Because although everybody who owns a fishing licence (which you can buy in Punta Arenas) is allowed to fish chilean waters (and to walk on its banks), those guys down there do not like to share the river with you - which is comprehensible, if you take in consideration that their guests from all over the world pay thousands of dollars for their "exclusive" once in a life time fishing trip - just to meet that guy with his tent and that "I-just-saved-6000-bucks"-grin on his face. Mooorning!

From Patagonia to Fireland: the Magellan Strait.

After crossing the Magellan Strait, accompanied by a lot of Magellanic Penguins, it took me some more hours to drive down that gravel road to the end of the world.

One of probably two crossings on Tierra Del Fuegeo.

63 km which means 63 hours on a bumpy gravel road.

It's more sa sort of "Watch out Guanaco, cars crossing!"

The good thing about just one road is that you can't miss Rio Grande. So I parked the car, shouldered my rucksack an walked down the river towards Argentina, leaving some fishermen at the road behind me.
This land is amazing. Millions of sheeps, guanacos, cattle and condors. The wind is blowing constantly but the temperatures where ok, from 15-20 degrees during the day to 5-10 at night.

Voilà, Rio Grande next to the road, with its out of order bridge and some fishermen (prob from the lodge).

Rio Grande meanders through fantastic harsh land, rinsed into the landscape over milleniums.

I asked one of the million sheeps to take this "adventurous" picture of me.

11 pm. About five hours walk from the road I decided to built up my tent at a wind shielded place above the river valley. Just before I went to sleep, a fox trotted towards me. First he didn't seem to be worried by my presence, because he stopped just ten meters in front of me starring at me. But suddenly he seemed to be irritated by something I couldn't figure out yet. After a while he passed me calmly in a semi circle, not without marking his territory at a bush. I looked after him and then understood, what was so disturbing to him: my tent, standing right on his daily patrol route. He simply was upset.

A relaxed welcome by a polar fox at my tentpitch.

The animal highways along the slope.

The first morning.

The next morning was amazing. When I glimpsed out of my tent, the sun hit me with all its southern power. The view was breathtaking over to Argentina. I felt like one of those real adventure guys - if there wouldn't have been this first night. Just imagine a city slicker more than 13.000 km away from his latte macchiato, somewhere close to the end of the world, with no clue and even worse - no mobile connection. I must admit, I first was a bit "sheepish"... But I survived, got up, had a hot mug of packet cappucino and started fishing.

There a just a few animals on fireland - one is the wind.

A lot of big and beautiful brown trouts (look at that blue colour on its cheeks).

To make a long story short: no sea run brown trout turned up. But I had five great days fishing big brownies. I fished, slept, read, drank coffee, watched guanacos and didn't see one human beeing. Five days is not a long time, but think for yourself: have you ever been all on your one for five days? Just talking to yourself and making funny self portraits? It is a loooong time. A fishing rod suddenly becomes a really special friend. And of course all those dead sheep laying around like carpets...

well ...

Not posed!

Breakfast with a view.

Every morning a herd of guanacos welcomed me on the other side of the river.

Don't drink an die.

Fly brake á la Grande.

Day 5 ... odd ideas are evolving.

Notice the rests of a flood hanging high up in the trees

Gold!

So: This trip was amazing. Not only because it was such a fantastic landscape but because it changed something in me (yeah right... blablabla you think, but it is true). Since this trip to Fireland, I miss the wide open loneliness, the far sight, the untouched. It is not so much about danger seeking, it is about breathing.

So after five days I packed my stuff and went back to Punta Arenas to meet the others for our flight back to Santiago de Chile.

On my way back I visited a hamlet, where I thought I'd get a better coffee than the one I had for the last five days. Well, it wasn't, but the man and his wife who invited me to visit their house and have coffee with him where just lovely. They didn't speak english, I don't speak spanish ... but we had a laugh. After experiencing the schnipp schnapp castration of rams, this was definitely more joyful.

Sheepherders Inn

Sheepherder

Play ball!

Some are always lucky.

Some not.

At least he died as a man.

Ask people for a coffee and you'll discover fascinating new worlds.

New world from outer space.

The community center of Cameron. Price question: which car is missing in that municipal fleet?

I was.

I was, too.

I was, three.

Even when everything dies, football lives forever.

Those gauchos are tough.

The man who invited me for coffee.

Sheep is just another product.

This one was probably hit by a car and about to die. And I was probably the only one to pity the sheep.

Bahia Inutil, called after it's useless and frustrating discovery.

Porvenir, a little harbour that connects fireland with Punta Arenas on the other side of Magellan Strait.

When I arrived in Porvenir, I had some hours to the ferry boat, so I checked in to the only little bar at the ferry gate, where I had the best beer in the world. At least it tasted like this, after five days of water. I entered the boat and left Fireland. But I will return for the big sea run brown trout.