Sesenta y dos.

Puerto Natales is a capital of Ultima Esperanza province. I lived near local football base, old champs played bingo game in evenings there. Just imagine - a huge basement, hundred of people are sitting and listening to the only sound - microphone's spelling numbers in the half-dark. Party in the Twin Peaks way. Nothing was happening  more. Good place.

Sesenta y uno.

Can't remember any exсiting except the wind in El Calafate - sometimes it sends your body flying when you just trying to cross the road - a culmination of weather's features in South Patagonia. All excursions were boring and expensive - give us $300 and you could see a piece of Great Iceberg in your whiskey cola - I lived in ice hell of Russia enough time for that bullshit. So, I tried to find different entertainments. Bad luck, the regional natural history museum was the best offer. Shitty famous nature, it brings under control all area and there's no fun except senseless watching at Wonder of a World. Or all towns are getting down where nature's grown to be a big business, I don't remember. Low men come to the mountains and waits. What a nightmare.

Sesenta.

El Chalten doesn't exist - at least I didn't find any trace of real life except service sector of El Chalten. El Chalten is a service sector itself. At the same time, there're some places to go around this village - Mountain Path №1, Mountain Path №2, Mountain Path №3 and Mountain Path №4! Actually, it's the best spot to get Fitz Roy - technically the most difficult mountain for climbing on Earth as says LP - but sure almost nobody arrives in El Chalten for it. Tracking is more popular business. Rent ugly pants and windproof jacket, take sticks and you're free to choose between numbered vars of walking. Facepalm.jpg. Guys, tracking sucks. Let walking in mountains be free of a touristic industry - a number of people can see Fitz Roy without any equipment. For others better to stay home. I fucking tried to say "hi" on the road to, as good as to visit a museum on Sunday.

Cincuenta y nueve.

After Kate left me, there was not much to do. You can live your own life really well long enough with any friends or without, but if you've got a friend and he leaves away good days are over. Until the time, when you will get your friend back. In my case, it was more than one month later. Well, I still was going to the fucked Ends of the world, isn't it? Fuck yeah. Pfff. I decided to make a stopover at Cabo Dos Bahias - camping in a little and little-known national park with birds, alpacas, and penguins. Cabo run by two outsiders - an Argentinian woman from Cordoba (- please, stop call me senora, alright?) and big Marcos from Cuba (- I hate communism, what about you, Russian buddy?). Awesome people. I've been there only two days, but it was Days of Glory Fights. Fucked penguins were puking on my camera, biting my fingers and finally has stolen some sign plates for that photo session. Finally, I've got reasonably good photos, I guess. On the road back to camping I met armadillo - the funniest beast that I ever saw. To catch him after long-running was a perfect pleasure. I took a bus to Perito Moreno by road 40, spent there one night, and bought a ticket to El Calafate - about 1000 km to the south from Cabo Dos Bahias. This adventure was coming to close.