Near the Patagonian coast, in a valley sheltered from the incessant winds that whip in from the Atlantic, there is a village called Gaiman. In Gaiman there are many quaint little teahouses, where one can see love spoons, teatowels adorned with stranglely named castles, and flags emblazoned with bright red dragons. Yes, Gaiman is a Welsh settlement!
We had arrived late afternoon - Tash, myself, Alice and Missy. We had been travelling together since Bariloche. They studied in Wales, so wanted to come here, and Tash and I have a good Welsh friend, so wanted to come here!
Gaiman was a bizarre little place, and nothing like what I expected. Places never are! I had an image of a charming village with sandstone houses, smoke billowing out of chimneypots and well-manicured gardens. The reality was a non-descript village that could be driven through and instantly forgotten. It was only when we looked closer that things took a turn towards the surreal. Welsh dragons above restaurant doors, street names like Juan Evans, and very Welsh teahouses everywhere. These places did have well manicured gardens! The place we went to was run by a portly, friendly lady, but sadly she spoke Spanish. I was half expecting a "hello boyo," when I stepped through the door.
We lowered the average age in the tearoom by a few decades, and ordered the mandatory huge plate of cakes. It was an insane amount of food...scones, flans, Welsh cakes, bread, all washed down with a lovely pot of tea. I think my arteries hated me that day.
After buying a postcard for our friend LLoyd, we shuffled back on the bus with bloated bellies, and headed to Puerto Madryn for the main attraction in this part of the world: Whales!
We were up at 8, as we had to get a bus early to Puerto Piramides, a tiny village on the Valdes Peninsula, from where we took our boat.
Waiting for our boat to depart, we stood on the shore and could see black shapes in the distance; fins poking out from under the waves, surely too big to be real. They seemed very close to the boats, and this got us all excited.
When we boarded, I got on first - by luck more than by planning - and secured us seats at the front of the boat before people started jostling for positions. Then we were off, racing out of the bay, the wind in our hair, eyes peeled for a glimpse of the magnificent Southern Right Whales. We had nearly two hours for our tour. I am no Ahab, and so thought it might take a while to come across a whale. Come to that, maybe we wouldn´t see anything. But, within five minutes we could see a fin the size of a man splashing playfully on the water. The guide told us that some of the whales like playing with the boats, but what this calf (yes, a calf...it looked big enough to be an adult to me, it was at least 6 metres long!) was doing was making noise to call its mother, who was plumbing the depths of the ocean for krill. After watching the fin, mesmerised, for a few minutes, we saw a gleaming ridge of a back break the surface, and then an enormous double pronged tail. It was magnificent to behold.
I would have been more than satisfied with this glimpse of a calf, but soon we could see whales on all sides. See them, and hear them too. They make a thunderous, husky growling noise as they surface and breathe, blowing fountains of spray into the air. One was so close to our boat it sprayed us from its blowhole!
Just watching those creatures was beautiful, even with dozens of people on the boat, all pointing, shrieking and gasping. Despite that, there was more than one moment when everybody fell silent, and tranquility reigned as we all gazed in awe and admiration at those elegant behemoths of the deep. The adults were bigger than our boat, some 16 metres long, and moved almost in slow motion, poetically.
Often seeing wildlife is a tainted experience, as many species are endangered precisely because of our existence. As our cities grow, so their kingdoms shrink. But, the Southern Right Whales of peninsula Valdes are a heartwarming success story. Our guide bombarded us with encouraging facts. The population has grown on average 7% a year for the last 15 years, so now, in the peak breeding month of October, there are over a thousand whales in the bay. So, it was with light, not heavy hearts that we watched calves playing with their mothers, rolling and tumbling over eachother. They are noble, powerful creatures, but peaceful and graceful too.
I was upset when we had to go back to the shore.
We had arrived late afternoon - Tash, myself, Alice and Missy. We had been travelling together since Bariloche. They studied in Wales, so wanted to come here, and Tash and I have a good Welsh friend, so wanted to come here!
Gaiman was a bizarre little place, and nothing like what I expected. Places never are! I had an image of a charming village with sandstone houses, smoke billowing out of chimneypots and well-manicured gardens. The reality was a non-descript village that could be driven through and instantly forgotten. It was only when we looked closer that things took a turn towards the surreal. Welsh dragons above restaurant doors, street names like Juan Evans, and very Welsh teahouses everywhere. These places did have well manicured gardens! The place we went to was run by a portly, friendly lady, but sadly she spoke Spanish. I was half expecting a "hello boyo," when I stepped through the door.
We lowered the average age in the tearoom by a few decades, and ordered the mandatory huge plate of cakes. It was an insane amount of food...scones, flans, Welsh cakes, bread, all washed down with a lovely pot of tea. I think my arteries hated me that day.
After buying a postcard for our friend LLoyd, we shuffled back on the bus with bloated bellies, and headed to Puerto Madryn for the main attraction in this part of the world: Whales!
We were up at 8, as we had to get a bus early to Puerto Piramides, a tiny village on the Valdes Peninsula, from where we took our boat.Waiting for our boat to depart, we stood on the shore and could see black shapes in the distance; fins poking out from under the waves, surely too big to be real. They seemed very close to the boats, and this got us all excited.
When we boarded, I got on first - by luck more than by planning - and secured us seats at the front of the boat before people started jostling for positions. Then we were off, racing out of the bay, the wind in our hair, eyes peeled for a glimpse of the magnificent Southern Right Whales. We had nearly two hours for our tour. I am no Ahab, and so thought it might take a while to come across a whale. Come to that, maybe we wouldn´t see anything. But, within five minutes we could see a fin the size of a man splashing playfully on the water. The guide told us that some of the whales like playing with the boats, but what this calf (yes, a calf...it looked big enough to be an adult to me, it was at least 6 metres long!) was doing was making noise to call its mother, who was plumbing the depths of the ocean for krill. After watching the fin, mesmerised, for a few minutes, we saw a gleaming ridge of a back break the surface, and then an enormous double pronged tail. It was magnificent to behold.
I would have been more than satisfied with this glimpse of a calf, but soon we could see whales on all sides. See them, and hear them too. They make a thunderous, husky growling noise as they surface and breathe, blowing fountains of spray into the air. One was so close to our boat it sprayed us from its blowhole!
Just watching those creatures was beautiful, even with dozens of people on the boat, all pointing, shrieking and gasping. Despite that, there was more than one moment when everybody fell silent, and tranquility reigned as we all gazed in awe and admiration at those elegant behemoths of the deep. The adults were bigger than our boat, some 16 metres long, and moved almost in slow motion, poetically.
Often seeing wildlife is a tainted experience, as many species are endangered precisely because of our existence. As our cities grow, so their kingdoms shrink. But, the Southern Right Whales of peninsula Valdes are a heartwarming success story. Our guide bombarded us with encouraging facts. The population has grown on average 7% a year for the last 15 years, so now, in the peak breeding month of October, there are over a thousand whales in the bay. So, it was with light, not heavy hearts that we watched calves playing with their mothers, rolling and tumbling over eachother. They are noble, powerful creatures, but peaceful and graceful too.
I was upset when we had to go back to the shore.
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