To get from the right hip to the left baby toe, you first must travel through the heart. And so we touched down in Buenos Aires en route to Tierra del Fuego. There was just enough time to have coffee with our favourite grandmother, who ventured to Aeroparque to meet us.

The next stop was in Rio Gallegos, the rough and wild coastal town that is the capital of Santa Cruz. Just before landing, the pilot announced that it would be a difficult one, as it was ’seriously windy’ outside. All on board rolled their eyes - welcome to Patagonia.

We arrived to a cold, wet and blustering evening in Ushuaia, the southern most city in the world. For 48 hours, the weather switched from rain to snow to hail to bursts of pure sunshine lighting up the Cordillera Darwin and offering glimpses of the spectacular Mt Olivia.

And when it was time, at last, to board the ship, we were blessed by a remarkably calm, sunny afternoon. We took the pisco sours to the upper deck to toast our adventure ahead, and to watch Ushuaia slip behind the horizon as our boat headed south towards Cape Horn.

An early morning wakeup called told us that it was, again, ’seriously windy’ outside, and plans to disembark in zodiac boats and put our own two feet on this illustriously dangerous cape at the very bottom of the continent might be put off. We bundled up regardless - a puffy vest topped by a puffy jacket topped by a goretex jacket and then a lifejacket. From the deck, we could watch the wind rip around the end of the world, and imagine the horrors of sailors gone by who were forced to take this cape and brave the horrendous waters of the Drake Sea. Tiny islands dotted the seas to the east, a labyrinth of ways to try to escape the wind and rolling seas.
By 8am, the wind had picked up more than 50 knots, and so the trip to shore was cancelled. A relief, perhaps.� We headed inside for breakfast.

A few days later, after exploring the Beagle, Murray and Magellen channels of the far southern seas, strolling amidst penguin colonies, discovering the wild history of the uttermost ends of the earth, we docked in Punta Arenas.

Yesterday, as I made my way through town, the wind nearly knocked me over. Last night, we watched dark clouds roll into port, and our beloved ship stood still.

This morning, the sun shines and the wind has calmed, relatively. Our ship has set sail for Ushuaia with a new crew, and a new band of modern adventurers chasing dreams of the southern seas.� We head north, with the wind always present.