A hiker from Wisconsin suggested that I could go to "The Ice" when I told him I was heading to Ushuaia and had plenty of time to kill. It's a possibility I replied, but I don't think my budget will stretch to it. The trouble is though, once you get this far and find yourself rubbing shoulders with people who have been there, it is suddenly very tempting to pull out a credit card and blow the next six months budget on a 12-day cruise across the Drake Passage to the Weddell Sea and beyond.

At only 1000km from The Ice, Ushuaia is the undisputed gateway to Antarctica, and here you find an odd mix of cruise ship passengers, wildlife spotters, trekkers, scientists and people who just want to get that end of the world stamp in their passports from the tourist office. And with about 60,000 residents too, it's a surprisingly big place.

At the end of the day (and almost the world), I came mainly for the trekking. Most of the island of Tierra del Fuego is barren steppe, but dividing Chile and Argentina, the Andes are still ever present as their tail-end snakes its way south into the oceans. I have spent five days hiking through the Fuegan Andes, where virtually no-one else seems to go. The scenery is superb and the wild campsites are idyllic. One night I sat by a campfire feeling like one of the original inhabitants, since this is how the "Land of Fire" acquired its name. It is not that long ago that it was covered from ocean to ocean with nomads huddled around their fires to ward off the effects of the freezing winds, and possibly keep the large Fuegian foxes at bay, of which I have seen a couple.

Fortunately there were no freezing winds for me. The weather has been superb, and in fact Ushuaia has even had a mini heatwave. The locals say this is very unusual. So my only complaint is that every time I tried to climb one of the peaks for better views, the clouds seemed to make their way straight to my selected summit. And since they are all very steep, jagged and covered in loose rocks, I never quite got to any of the tops. Very close, but no cigar.

And so back to what lies south of here. After one more king crab supper, I will in fact be continuing south on the ferry across the Beagle Channel to Isla Navarino in Chile. Sadly my travels south will end there, and my only visit to the frozen continent on this occasion will be in the words of Sir Ernest Shackleton as I immerse myself in his fascinating journal. His wooden-hulled ´Endurance´ sailed from the remote whaling station of South Georgia in December 1914; it's crew on a mission to walk 1800 miles across Antarctica to the Ross Sea. They failed to land at all, and were eventually rescued by the Chilean navy after escaping from the ship which was being slowly crushed by pack-ice. But those were the days when there were still adventures like that to be had. A ship filled with 100 tourists wanting to claim they have been to all seven continents is not quite in the same league. But I'm still very envious of them. It isn't just ice down there, it's a very beautiful and unspoilt place - for the moment!