By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
Highway 9 in Southern Chile runs through the immense, majestic desolation that is Patagonia. The government signs along the roadside announce it as the Ruta del Fin del Mundo - or, End of the World Route. I’m sitting in Asiento #1 on the Bus Sur, as I booked this ticket awhile ago and seating is reserved. This puts me right behind the smartly dressed bus drivers, who work in a team of two given the distances to be covered. Palm tree air fresheners and a red catholic rosary hang from the rear view mirror. Outside, on the broad yellowish plains, endless primitive fencing stretches over the hills, despite few visible signs of life. The highway’s yellow dotted line recedes ruler-straight to the horizon. Around and above lies a surreal sky - so many shades of silver and blue, defying all photographic attempts to capture or contain it. The childlike exuberance of the drivers, as they trade incomprehensible jokes in Spanish and waive feverishly at the oncoming commercial traffic, is a constant source of delight. It is the perfect road, a perfect vista, to contemplate the long-awaited two months ahead. This coming weekend, a three-masted Tall Ship, the Bark Europa, sets sail from the tip of South America on a 51 day voyage. Past Cape Horn to Antarctica, then onward across the ocean to the British territory of South Georgia, the ridiculously remote island of Tristan de Cunha, and finally to Africa’s Cape of Good Hope. This one time, I will be among the happy 39 paying crew members lucky enough to be aboard her, a full 18 months after wiring an initial deposit to the ship’s Rabobank account in the Netherlands to secure my place. Time creeps until it gallops, and then right past you. In the frantic final few weeks before final departure from Canada, I began to experience an uneasy nervousness, even as excitement began to build toward its crescendo. Could the trip live up to its epic billing? Did I have everything suitably arranged to afford a disappearance completely off grid? Would there be a last minute hiccup to derail the planned unpaid leave from the law office and life in its ordinary course. In short: was I ready? Over at a friend’s house in Halifax’s North End, saying the last of the goodbyes in his recently renovated kitchen, I asked if there was anything he wanted me to take to Antarctica and return back to him. “What about this?” Andrew said. Reaching deep into a cluttered drawer, he took out a small black plastic box that fit in the palm of my hand, faded gold lettering still legible on the cover: “For the Well-Dressed Person.” Intrigued, I clicked it open. A gag gift his grandfather owned for decades, apparently. Inside was a tiny piece of dark fur, affixed to a glossy piece of paper and accompanied by the following description: “Genuine Mink Belly Button Warmer (Perfumed)... for Warmth and Comfort.” As simple as that, the last piece of my packing and preparation puzzle fell, reassuringly, into place. “Good luck,” Andrew had said in parting. “Be safe, but take risks. And don’t just watch the sights pass by through a camera lens. Savour everything: the albatross, the icebergs, the scotch at Ernest Shackleton’s grace. Every last penguin’s face.” Our bus has just made the ferry crossing onto the Isla of Tierra del Fuego, as christened by Magellan 500 years ago because of the many bonfires sighted on arrival. Colourful customized stickers from modern day adventurers litter the green Bienvenidos traffic sign. We made it, they echo. The second bus driver has taken over for this next leg to the Argentinian border, and he winks at me as I climb back up into my seat. I think of that absurd belly button warmer, stowed for safe keeping inside one of the new rubber muckboots in my oversized MEC duffel bag down below in the cargo hold, alongside everything else I need and nothing I don’t. The famous port city of Ushuaia is close now. The end of the road, at the end of the world. So. Let’s begin.