Getting from Ushuaia to Puerto Madryn, a coastal town on the Atlantic known for its whales, was quite long, but could have been worse. We left Ushuaia at 5am in order to cross the border into Chile, cross the Straight of Magallen again, and cross back into Argentina. We arrived in Rio Gallegos at 6pm, ate a quick dinner in the bus station, and got on another bus at 8pm. We arrived in Puerto Madryn at 1pm the next day.

Orginally we decided to go to Puerto Madryn mainly so we would have to take another long-haul bus immediately up to Buenos Aires. However, it turned out to be a worthy stopover. The whales are not around now, they are down in Antarctica hunting I think, but there was plenty of opportunity to see other marine life, as well as beautiful beaches.

Our first afternoon we went to the EcoCenter, which is beautifully located on a point a few kilometers outside of town, to learn about the local sea life. Did you know that elephant seals are pregnant for their entire adult lives except for 19 days a year?

The next day we rented bicycles and bicycled 15km outside of town to see a colony of sea lions. It was neat to watch them because there were a bunch of babies, probably less than two weeks old, who were just learning how to swim. Also, on the way there we saw an old shipwreck that was mostly exposed because of the low tide. I've never seen a shipwreck still in the water like that. I thought it was very cool.

The next day we went on an off-the-beaten-path adventure. Douglas was very taken with the story of the Welsh moving to Patagonia and being given land by the Argentine government. The Welsh were being persecuted in England and wanted to leave, and the Argentines wanted (non-native) settlers, so the deal worked out nicely. The effect is bizarre- there are Welsh style homes, Welsh speakers, and lovely Welsh tea houses in the middle of the barren land of Argentine Patagonia. So, we decided to venture out to one of those mostly-forgotten towns. We went to Gaiman, and arrived just in time for tea in a traditional Welsh house. We could have been in Wales. We had scones and amazing black tea with cream, and all of the other lovely British/Welsh things. Afterwards we went on a walking tour of the deserted, wind-whipped, sunburned town. We saw several old buildings with the names written in Welsh, and an old railroad tunnel. The walking tour map had us going through the tunnel, but there was no light of any kind inside, and so we would have had to walk about half a kilometer in the pitch blackness, without knowing when (or if) the tunnel opened up on the other side. We decided that that was the definition of a tourist trap (in the very wrong sense of the word) and walked on top of the tunnel instead. It was a quirky and charming day.

Stay tuned for tales on cemetaries, tango lessons, and Argentine cowboy adventures in Buenos Aires when I next get a chance to sit down at the computer.