PARADISE

USHUAIA: MONDAY, JULY 30
Argentines don’t do mornings and they don’t change the clocks. First light is around 8.45. The sun finally rises between two mountains around 10.15. The cabin glows. I have bathed, made breakfast and am on my second pot of coffee. I sit in bright sunshine at the table in the bow widow and gaze up at the peaks. If you stay at the Casa Galeazzli-Basily, book the new cabin, sit out on the deck in the sun and accept that you are close to Paradise. As to the bathroom, I have it whipped. The water pressure is high. Open the bathroom taps too far and the water races through the geyser without getting hot. Open the taps too little and the gas won’t light. It takes a few minutes of a morning to perfect the flow. The bath fills and I bask, legs vertical, feet resting up the wall. Picture a dead bloated bodily-bald cow and you have the image – though cows don’t have beards. As to the lavatory, having to lift the cistern top when you flush is no big deal. The top is ceramic. Don’t drop it.

SO WHAT?

USHUAIA: MONDAY, JULY 30
Today’s front page headline in LA NACION: only 9% of Argentines have faith in the country’s judiciary.

Did I mention the theatre on the waterfront?

Typical of original Ushuaia architecture - now mostly replaced by totally tasteless concrete.

HONDA WELCOME

Pablo's dog demands affection

USHUAIA: SATURDAY, JULY 28
My bike has been stored at Senor Preto's frigorifico for six months at no charge. Senor Preto is the Ushuaia distributor for Honda. He and his staff at Honda welcome me. The Agency doesn't employ a mechanic. I am dispatched to Paulo's bike shop. The bike shop is the standard bike fanatic's mess of half-assembled and half disassembled trail and endurance bikes. Some are beyond rescue. Ushuaia specialises in rocks.
Paulo lives next door to the workshop. He will be back shortly. I sit on a stool by the stove. A vast black shaggy dog leans against my legs and looks up with soulful eyes. "Please," the eyes beg , "Please, just a little love."
I scratch him behind the ears.
He leans more heavily.
Paulo arrives. He is a pony-tailed trail-biker in his mid forties with grease ingrained hands.
Can he collect my bike from the cold store and prepare it for the ride north?
Sure, why not.
He will ready the bike for Monday morning.

HOT BATH FOR SORE BACK

USHUAIA: FRIDAY, JULY 27
After a 52-hour bus journey I am due a little comfort. I have reserved a room at the Casa Galeazzi-Basily at Gobernador Valdes 323. I am given a cabin for the same price as a room: US$38 including breakfast and use of the internet. Expensive. Ushuaia is expensive.
To reach the cabin, I walk down a wooden walkway. The walkway changes levels frequently, steps up and steps down, patches of ice The young receptionist, Lola, leads the way. I don’t care to tell her that I am terrified of slipping.
The cabin is recently completed. I am the first occupant. Two windows and panes in the upper half of the door form a bay. A table and two chairs fill the bay. There is a double bed and a kitchen counter equipped with mini fridge and two-burner hotplate. The fridge holds all the makings for my breakfast plus a couple of beers. Joy of joy, the bathroom has a bath. True, not a full size bath, but a bath big enough to bask in if I rest my feet up the wall. Fifty-two hours in a bus and my back hurts. My desires are for a hot bath and bed.
Lola leaves and I open the hot tap to the tub. The water runs cold. I open the tap in the kitchen sink. The water runs hot. I try the tap in the bathroom sink and the water runs cold. To flush the lavatory I have to lift the lid on the cistern each time I flush the lavatory. A gas heater produces too much heat. The TV shows a snowstorm on three channels. Yet the polished wood floor is delight, towels are thick, the mattress is firm. Stupid old man, stop complaining. Brush your teeth and get into bed…