From Santiago we flew to Punta Arenas to board the M/N Forrest on which we’d spend our first night. The colors in the fading daylight were intense, the land bathed in gold and the choppy waters of the strait a steely, glinting gunmetal gray.
This little cove was littered with abandoned houses, boats, and cars. And the ones that were operable were difficult to differentiate from the derelicts.
It’s a hardscrabble life in the uttermost part of the world.