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The Lost City Chronicle is our latest addition to Polar Bear Alley. Inspired by Churchill's remoteness and strangeness, it tells the stories of other remote destinations on our strange little planet. This December, we hope to launch the Lost City Chronicle as its own newspaper.

The truth and gossip about Churchill's polar bears. Biology of western Hudson Bay bears, climate change stuff and polar bear photo gallery. Includes our famous Polar Bear Attack page!

Tourist's guide to Churchill, Manitoba, Canada includes hotels, tours, trip planning and some survival tips.

Churchill's monthly newspaper published occasionally. Churchill news, history, wildlife, poems and the ever popular BayLine Girl.

Inspired by Churchill, Lost City Chronicle is a collection of remote destinations and travel stories.

Glimpse into the future through the eyes of a gifted Siberian Husky.

Links to polar bear tours, polar bear sites, churchill links and stuff that polar bear alley thinks is neat.

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No Knuts is good Knuts...

Chilean Patagonia: Ulaa-laa

Trip Journal: From Churchill to Chile for the weekend

We had a shaky start to our trip. Our flight from Buenos Aires to San Carlos de Bariloche - Argentina’s version of Canmore, was, ummm..., bumpy, taking off in the last throes of a thunderstorm. It was a flight that we almost missed, nearly losing Kelsey’s passport to an overworked and lacsidaisical agent inadvertently handing it back to a fellow Canadian - a Canadian who was heading to Antarctica that very moment. So, back on solid ground with passport once again in hand, we gladly followed the friendly man named Gustavo. He spoke English and promised us a ride to Lago Puelo, where a boat was waiting to take us to our destination, Ulaa Patagonia.

The winding highway took us through desert, mountains, farms and orchards. We stopped briefly in El Bolsón, a Non-Nuclear Zone and hippie community with a groovy hand-made-village sort of market. Our boat ride took us through the Lago Puelo National Park and ultimately to the Chilean border crossing and Ulaa Patagonia.

We were greeted by friendly staff, and served appetizers, always a sign of good things to come. After settling in to our cabin, we hiked amidst large arrayàn trees, with their orange-brown peeling bark, and ate unripe hazelnuts from avallano trees. Then we lay around in the gardens on the swinging bed waiting for dinner, a definite highlight, prepared using only fresh produce and locally raised dairy products.

The next day we set off on horseback, about four hours, to visit a trditional farm, located in the remote Las Horquedas Valley. We filled our water bottles from a rocky stream and ate from the mora, or blackberry bushes as vultures soared above. We crossed the Puelo River on a barge manned by a local man named Juan, using a pulley system of cables connecting it to the riverbanks.

The ride high up the steep treed bank of the river offered a brilliant view of the glacially fed river. The horses trotted leisurely through the old growth forests and quickened the pace, sometimes to full gallop, on the open plains.

Upon arrival to the farm, we were met by the owners, Ricardo, Norma and Amanda, a jack russel terrier who stood her ground before any of the other, larger dogs. We drank yerba mate, a traditional tea served in a gourd and drunk through a bombilla. I had managed to catch my arm on the barb wire fence entering the yard (having done four hours on a horse without incident), and Norma nursed my wound with salve containing sulfur, nodding and smiling all the while.

We toured the farm, like stepping through time. There were goats and chickens and horses and cows and calves and fruit trees and tall peaks all around. There was a smokehouse smoking and cheese curing in a cherry tree. There were vegetable gardens, and the flower garden in the yard had in it every color of the rainbow, a small alter, and a wooden bench. On the porch there was a spinning wheel and a drop spindle, and a bag of wool that Norma had spun. The blankets we sat on, as well as their horse blankets and ponchos, all hand spun, woven and knit.

We helped a bit with dinner, home made soup and bread, smoked goat, and savory latkes with swiss chard, all made on the woodstove. Later, Ricardo pulled out his guitar and sang traditional Chilean songs and told stories as Diego translated and we sipped sweet maqui berry wine.

Sleeping in the loft, on hand made beds and woven blankets, we awoke to the crowing of roosters. After breakfast we set out into the hills, up to the Argentine/Chilean border. Norma and Amanda came along, and we rode through thorny calafate shrubs, eating the dark blue berries which carry the legend that doing so ensures a return visit to Patagonia. We had a picnic by the river, and a hummingbird buzzed us as we ate our peaches from a jar.

We went back through forests of large cypress and coihué, or southern beech trees, but this time much faster. It was evident that the horses knew their way home and wanted us off their backs. We stopped in Secundo Coral, population: 11, for a cervesa, but the saloon was closed (no one could find the bartender), so we settled for a nice Carmenère with dinner.

The next morning we slept in and they brought breakfast to our cabin-strawberries, raspberries, and cream. We went for a paddle and a hike in the mountains, leaving behind us a trail of branches to find our way back. It rained the whole time, but it was warm and somewhat sheltered in the woods. We stopped to check out an old farmstead before paddling back to fantastic dinner by a warm fire.

One more sleep and it was time to leave. We back tracked our way home, another boat ride, drive, and five flights to Churchill, thinking how lucky we were to have had such a great weekend.

- by Carmen Spiech

For more information about Ulaa Patagonia Eco-Lodge and Mayan Spa, check out their website: www.ulaapatagonia.com