05x03 - Tierra del Fuego

[bunniefuu]

Tierra del Fuego, Argentina.

The barren tale of South America that
stretches out to the South Atlantic Sea,

inhabited by only one solo South American
cowboy, Las Gaucho.

Its rocky shores have claimed
countless lives, pummeled

for centuries by high
winds and stormy seawaters.

European settlers tried to survive here.

They didn't last long.

Wild horses, wild
cattle, and a few derelict

buildings are all that's
left of their early attempts.

This is one of the most extreme places on
Earth.

And I'm here to survive without food,
water, supplies, or safety.

This place is about as desolate as it
gets.

This is the land of shipwrecks.

The skeletons of these ships are scattered
all up and down this coast.

Before the Panama Canal was built,
this is where the explorers came,

around the tip of South America.

This is a place where wild stallions run
free.

There's even wild cow here, about 2,000
head.

If I'm lucky, sh**ting a
wild cow can be part of my

survival here, just as the
Gauchos survived before me.

Well, this shoreline was no place for me.

Wind's just coming straight in on me.

I mean, look at it.

Tides coming in.

Storm.

Fog.

I'm gonna make my way out of here.

Find a spot up on the land.

Some place I can get up.

Camp up there.

It's cold and damp here.

This time I'm not here to survive alone.

Not in Argentina.

No.

I'm gonna need a horse.

It'll be a long journey along this
coastline.

Without a horse, I don't think it would be
survival.

I think it'd be just perishing.

To land up at the top is nothing but peat
bogs.

It's very, very difficult travel.

The bottom.

Going along the beach coastline.

That's my only answer.

But there's some very dangerous capes I
have to get around.

I've gotta time everything with the tide.

And if I get caught in
between the high tide

coming in, I'll be in
serious, serious trouble.

So one horse will be my back horse.

Carry the horse food.

They don't have to go through survival
like I do.

And my camera gear.

Well, it's getting dark.

I wanna get a move on.

Try and find some protected area to spend
the night.

It's gonna be a cold one.

Having a second horse helps with carrying
my gear, but adds a level of difficulty.

Now I have to care for two large animals
instead of just one.

And even more daunting, I have to control
two large animals.

My goal is to find my way to the remnant
gaucho cabins.

To see if I can successfully hunt in the
interior.

All along the way, I have to
sneak past hundreds of wild bulls

with a reputation for aggressive
behavior and even attacks.

At this point, I've been riding for a few
hours before finally coming to the one

protected bit of shoreline where I can
hunker down for the night.

Tomorrow means more riding until I can
find a cabin.

But for now, I need to prepare for the
dark.

That's the downside of
traveling with horses is the

teardown at night and
the set-up in the mornings.

It takes my time, for sure.

But it's a lot easier than traveling in
the peat bog on foot.

All up top is very wet, very tough going.

It would just be brutal trying to get
through on foot.

So let's hope I hold onto these horses for
long enough to get me out of this mess.

Well, the sun's going down.

The days here are really short.

Whatever I've got to
do to effect survival,

I've got to do between
the hours of about 9 A.M.

and 6 P.M.

Otherwise, I'll sit and wait out the cold
night.

Hopefully tonight not too cold.

Of course, the benefit of having horses is
having horse blankets.

Hope to keep the chill off me tonight.

The plan is that there
are gaucho cabins and

shelters and huts all
along the way here.

And other than a night like tonight,
I didn't quite make it to one.

I'll try to find them.

And as I roughly know where they are on
the coastline, make my home there and see

if I can get out on the land and what I
can catch.

That's beautiful.

I've walked a ways down the beach here.

See if I can see some running streams,
but nothing.

So, it's going to be about 24 hours
without water, I guess.

I should be able to find some streams
further ahead.

As rough as it is out here, that's one
beautiful sunset.

A couple of days ago, it snowed here
heavy.

That's something that I don't want.

Temperature's probably right at freezing
right now.

The water still ices over.

That's cold enough.

It doesn't need to get any colder than
snowing.

Actually, this is probably the only little
nook, little cranny I can find on this

entire coastline right now that's
protected from the wind.

Wind is everything.

If I had to stay in the wind right now,
there'd be no sleeping.

A lack of sleep has always been my
greatest Nemesis to survive it.

It's a cold morning, no matter what way
you look at it.

The sunrise is beautiful, but it's a cold
night.

I spent most of it shuffling around a lot.

Getting up to try and get warm.

The tide's way down right now.

Make for easy traveling.

The Gauchos, they had a tough time out
here.

They tried to make
a go of it, and they

couldn't, because it's
very difficult survival.

And my first order of business is to try
to make it to one of their shelters.

Hello.

Gotta remember, these horses don't
actually know me.

Only been about two days with them,
three days, so me getting used to them and

them getting used to me is part of the
process.

The other thing to remember is I'm not
really a horseman.

Ridden horses a few times in my life,
but it's still pretty much a fresh and new

activity for me, so a lot of chances for
me to make mistakes.

It took me a little
while, actually, to get

the black horse to
settle for me this morning.

They're big animals.

If anything goes wrong
out here with an animal

this big, I could be
in serious jeopardy.

I have to admit, for me, it's probably
even a little easier just to walk with the

horses whenever I can walk, just because
I'm an inexperienced rider.

I've got the second horse tied to the back
of the first horse.

That's okay, but if there's any trouble,
it's a little dangerous, because if one

horse starts freaking out, maybe the pack
starts to fall off or something like that,

then, uh, and he's tied to the other
horse, woo-hoo, that can be nasty.

Surviving on the edge of the ocean,
water is almost always in view,

but undrinkable.

Water is always one of the first and most
vital aspects of survival to consider.

That's the best I can do.

That's what I'm doing it from.

Basically, hoof prints, wild cows,
wild horses.

That's why there's cow crap and horse crap
everywhere.

Hoof print water.

It's better than dehydration.

The cows here became wild when they
stopped being cared for years ago,

and they're considered an invasive species
on this land.

I've been riding past hundreds of them,
and they can be very dangerous.

And just as I'm passing a couple of
nasty-looking bulls with high cliffs all

around me, while I look for a way down,
it happened.

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

It got loose on the last hill and fell off
the horse.

He was riding underneath his belly.

He was freaking out.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to find my way down
this cliff.

I'm not sure which way to go down.

And now I'm on the top of the hill in the
wind, and the cold got to deal with this.

That's the problem of surviving with
horses.

It's not easy.

So now I've got nowhere to tie these
horses up.

I've got to hold on to them and pack them
at the same time.

This is going to take a while.

What a mess.

There we go.

Okay.

That's a start.

I've got to hope I didn't lose anything.

I'll do this all very gently.

Ah, some pockets ripped right open.

My harmonica would have fallen out.

Can't have that.

That was a close call.

Horses are powerful animals.

This little yet potentially very
dangerous situation with the

pack slipping down to the
horse's belly has left me shaken.

I have a few more hours
of riding yet, and shaken

confidence is bad news
for a survival situation.

Walking would be endless and extremely
difficult through all the peat bog

sections of my travel, yet I'm now ruling
over two horses without confidence.

So I prefer to walk, but
the distance I have yet

to go is much too far to
give up on the horses now.

So on I ride, hoping to make it to the
nearest gaucho cabins soon.

Tied up the horses and, uh, I've got my
first stream of fresh water.

I'm gonna guzzle as much as I can here.

At the moment, I've got nothing to carry
water in, so I'm just gonna drink and

drink and drink
because, really, one of the

best places to carry
water is in your belly.

It's the first full day without food in my
stomach, so as much water as I can drink,

I will.

It helps me to feel full,
not so hungry, and, uh,

it'll keep away any dehydration
headaches or problems.

It's ice cold water, it's nice.

Doesn't matter where you go, where you
have to survive, it's the key to life.

Especially in the cold weather,
actually.

That's the toughest time to remember to
stay hydrated.

Horses are watching me.

They must think I'm nuts talking to
myself.

Areas this rugged often
show extreme examples

of life and death played
out on the coastline.

This is something I see everywhere around
here.

Oh, wait a minute.

I was going to say it's a dead cow,
but it's not.

It's a dead guanaco.

The guanacos are protected in this area.

They're not really llama family,
but they look a lot like a llama.

But one kind that can't be domesticated.

Every time they, uh, tried to,
they would just, they would die.

They wouldn't live in captivity.

So they remain out here as wild and free
as the stallions and the cows.

There's nothing left there for me to
partake of.

This is what keeps the condors fed.

With the sun hanging low
in the sky and two days'

ride behind me, I finally
made it to a gaucho cabin.

It'll be refuge from the
biting ocean winds and

a place to attempt
survival in Tierra del Fuego.

From here, I can search the interior and
hunt for game.

I can settle the horses and not worry about
packing them up every morning to move on.

This is gonna be home.

Compared to staying out on the land,
it is indeed home.

It's not often, when
faced with survival, that

one can take advantage
of an existing shelter.

Well, I'm just gonna check the place out.

Ah.

Nice.

Wood stove.

Now I've just gotta...

Get some food.

And water.

Food will mean looking inland.

And possibly hunting a wild cow.

And water will have to come from melting
in the pockets of snow.

Or from the roof, should it come on to
rain.

This shelter is likely close to 70 years
old.

But it's a paradise to a lost traveler.

And a rare find in a survival situation.

I don't know if you can...

If you can hear that or not.

It has been pouring for a couple of hours
now.

And the wind is just howling.

And I've been awake for about an hour and
a half, trying not to throw up.

As for the weather, well...

Argentina's one of those
places where they say,

if you don't like the
weather, wait five minutes.

But it's been a lot longer than five
minutes.

And it's coming down.

I hope the horses are okay.

I mean, it's... It's like a...

An intense storm out there right now.

This is gonna be an interesting morning.

The wind is just insane right now.

It's... I don't think I'm in
Kansas anymore, because...

It feels like it could easily blow this
shelter away.

You get what you get in a survival
situation.

Rain, snow, cold, heat...

Wind... In a survival
situation, wind is a lockdown.

When the wind blows strong and hard...

There's not much you can do.

Wait it out.

I have to keep telling myself... This
place has lasted here over 70 years.

That it can withstand this wind storm.

Strongest winds...
I've ever been in.

The whole building is just shuddering.

This is the day that it...

Finally gets blown down.

And I'm here to witness it.

Let's hope not.

You can't see the wind... Like
you can see rain and snow.

You can only feel its effects.

It can wick away your body heat in
seconds... And bring on hypothermia quickly.

It's the one ingredient...

Added to cold, rain, snow, or sand...
That can turn a difficult situation...

Into a deadly one.

And today...

I can't even make
it out... To the coast.

Probably the worst...

Is the wind.

I can use a big
fat cow... To eat.

Right about now.

And I can see them.

And all because of... Wind, I
can't even get out to get them.

And I'm ready to go.

There's no moving out there.

There's no nothing.

Everything's hunkered down.

And I'm trapped.

I hate being trapped.

I've learned something early on in
survival ordeals.

You can't judge unless you were there.

It's rare that I have to stop doing what I
intend to do in a survival situation.

When it happens, it always has a profound
effect on my emotions.

It's been about nine hours since it
started.

It's still blowing.

One.

This is as bad as the endless rains in the
jungles.

Once it starts, you're at its mercy.

Twelve hours.

Still blowing hard.

When trapped in a
survival ordeal, it can be

demoralizing to have to sit
and watch as time goes by.

Fifteen hours.

Still blowing strong.

All through my daylight hours,
the wind blows high.

And just like that, it's over.

But now I'm another day weaker and without
food.

And I'm carrying a few days of
frustration.

None of which is making me feel any more
confident for dealing with the horses.

It may not seem like all that much,
but when you're in a survival situation

and you've got to look after an animal or
another person for that matter,

it's a lot of extra duty.

In this case, I've got the horses to deal
with.

Your brain's got to concentrate on so many
things.

Right now, I'm mostly concerned with what
I've got to do.

And meanwhile, I've got to think,
oh, wait a minute, the horses.

The horses.

Right.

Okay, what do they need at the moment?

Oh.

Round the tree.

Back down.

Back through the hole.

I'm not thinking right here.

What the heck?

Come on, brain work.

What am I messing up here?

This is when I know I need more food than
I think.

The years of doing
the bowline and lack of

food for a few days,
and I forgot how to do it.

Okay.

Being that nauseous last night,
I think took a stripe or two out of me.

And I'm dizzy.

Time to check out...

all the area.

This is obviously where they've hung cows
before, after hunting them out there.

Wild cows.

Okay, check this out.

Oh.

Okay, that's pretty disgusting.

Obviously crawling with maggots,
but if I had to...

If I had to, eh?

I could boil it up.

There's some here too.

Big hunk of cow fat.

I have no idea of knowing
how old it is, but I have

a feeling I'm going to be
calling it dinner tonight.

So this is where I can keep my horse
tackle nice and dry, clean.

Uh, this looks like a treasure trove.

Uh, possibly just junk.

Broken glass and a lot of big hunks of
metal.

Not a lot I can do with.

Keep looking around and see what else I
can find.

Survey of the cabin area done.

I can get back on track with my needs.

And food is making its way to the top of
the list.

All around the cabin are herds of wild
cows, and all I need is one.

Taking one with nothing more than a .22
r*fle is not going to be easy.

I'm just going to do a little harness
making here with some lamp wick.

Well, that should work.

And hopefully sh**t myself some dinner.

And some breakfast.

And some lunch.

It's going to be a lot easier said than
done.

Let's go sight this thing in.

I'm a good shot.

But this is an old g*n.

And it was handed to me just before my
journey.

With the advice that I should try to hunt
a young cow.

Well, let's just go see where that one
hit.

It sounded good.

Hey, hey, hey.

Alright.

It's right on the money.

Check it out.

Nailed it.

Right on.

Dead center.

First initial shots were pretty wide.

Down here.

Then I started getting them closer here.

Then that last one.

I've got to go after the real thing now.

That's a whole other story.

These are the scenes that are a little
hard to sh**t sometimes.

Just for three days without food.

And I just start to feel just general
nausea.

Every once in a while, I've just got to
kind of stop.

And, uh... Oh, sit back.

Oh.

Sit back.

Makes it hard to get anything done.

When you start to get active and,
uh...

You, uh...

You get slowed down by your stomach.

I've got an idea.

Because I've been rummaging around,
I've found a little bit more.

A tiny little bit of flour.

A little bit of salt.

And I've found that big hunk of fat
hanging in the shed.

Who knows how long that's been hanging
there.

Looks like it's been hanging there since
the days of the gauchos.

Whew.

But it'll have to do.

Well, I've got a bit of an idea.

One that might put a little bit of food in
my stomach.

It's a way of getting something
cooking without heating up

that big stove inside and
using up all the good firewood.

I'll need that if it turns cold on me.

The idea here being that I'll make myself
a little bit of an outside stove.

I think that was rat crap.

It's that hunk of fat.

The thing about fat is it actually stays
good.

For a long time.

So what I'm going to do is I'll use some
of this stuff.

A little bit of flour I found.

Mix it with a little bit of water and the
salt that's in there.

And try to make some hard tack.

Put it on top like this.

Never used a chainsaw blade for this
before.

Put it on top.

Just want to make up a bit of dough.

And then fry it in this cow fat.

Basically, it's a survival donut.

Oh, yeah.

And I still need to be careful.

This is hot grease now.

Yeah, that's hot grease all right.

Might actually be working.

Son of a.

Wow.

Okay, this is where it gets a little
dangerous.

Because I'm starting to get a little too
splattered.

And the last thing I want out here is to
get a severe burn.

Now the problem here is that the.

This kind of grease in my stomach can also
be hard on my stomach.

And I'm already experiencing a lot of
bouts of nausea.

So hopefully this won't make it worse.

There's plenty of water, so I'll try and
stay very hydrated.

There you go.

That's hard tack.

Mmm.

Mmm.

My gosh.

That tastes amazing.

Oh, wow.

Mmm.

Mmm.

I may have to do that again.

Because that's fantastic.

This is awesome.

You know, look at this.

This is the little remnants.

Fat that was.

I used.

Mmm.

I should have a very warm night tonight.

This kind of.

Food.

High fat food like this.

Right before bed.

It burns in my stomach all night long.

And hopefully in a good way.

It.

It creates a lot of heat.

And uh.

A real trick.

Is to have fat like this.

And crawl into bed.

Um.

Often times you have to push the covers
off.

Because you're so.

Warmed up.

Well.

When you're sleeping in the cold.

It's a great trick to know.

It's amazing what you'll eat when you're
hungry.

I'll let you know if I start throwing up
in an hour or two.

Hard tack is just flour mixed with water.

No baking powder.

But my focus.

Is still.

On hunting a calf.

Well if everything's to line up tomorrow.

I need.

Perfect shot.

The right weather.

The right sunlight.

The right psychology.

The right emotion.

Everything's gotta line up.

For that one moment.

Of taking the shot.

So I'll play a song of honor.

And maybe that'll help.

Maybe that'll help.

I figure I can use the horses to get out
on the hunt.

But it quickly becomes a lost cause.

Before I can even get them out there.

I'm having trouble.

The black horse has become defiant.

He's fighting me.

And even just getting the bit into his
mouth.

When I try the other horse.

It won't leave the black horse's side.

So I'm forced to give up.

And take the hunt on foot.

Most of the cattle is close by.

Then you start getting fairly close to
them.

They start moving away.

And of course I'm on foot.

So I gotta be careful.

I need a close shot.

I see one small enough.

All I've got is a 22.

I'm gonna find another way to survive out
here.

It's uh... My energy is uh...

It's dropping.

It's dropping fast now.

Peeking over a hilltop
seems like it might be

the ideal way to get
close to the wild cows.

But it's a small calf that I need.

And the shot would have to be a perfect
one.

And at close range.

Since a 22 r*fle is not very powerful.

It's a ball.

sh**t.

Getting this close to a handful of fully
grown bulls with nowhere to run.

And only a small r*fle.

Is dangerous.

And in a survival situation.

The idea is to keep myself out of danger.

Not invited with risky moves.

Oh, I got thorns.

In my bum.

I fell into a Thorn bush.

That'd be the way to do it.

Just sneak up like that.

I was right on them.

But... They're all big ones.

No small.

sh**t.

Here comes the rain.

Yeah.

It's gonna be a night of rain.

Things are simply not going my way.

In the world of survival
luck... I'm not having any.

Or at least what luck I am having is not
good.

Today was not a good day for morale.

And that's... That's
not good for survival.

Everything you do...

Affects whether or not you survive.

And... Whether or not you
eat depends on what you do.

Sure changes everything.

A person's true measure is...

Counted when they're hungry.

Being hungry will make you do strange
things.

Tomorrow's another day.

My struggle in Argentina has been a tough
one.

An internal one.

Bad luck with horses.

Bad luck with finding food.

Bad luck with the weather.

It's all been pretty difficult.

And now... It's getting to me.

Decided to console myself with a fire
tonight.

I need to pick up my spirits.

And a fire usually does the job.

It's a colder night tonight.

You know what?

I'm done with feeling sorry for myself.

Today was a rough day.

But I had a little epiphany.

And I realized what the problem is.

I'm not in control.

And in a survival situation, somebody's
gotta take control.

And when you're all alone, there's only
one choice.

Of who it's gonna be.

It's the feeling of being out of control
that's the hardest to handle.

In fact, it's the darkest essence of
survival itself.

If I don't take control, I have no say on
what comes next.

And creating my own destiny is never more
important than when it comes to survival.

The mornings here are incredibly late.

That is to say, the days are incredibly
short.

It's hard to get a good start on things.

You wake up in the morning
and it's just... You know, it's frigid.

And, uh...

Horses are fine.

Had visitors here last night.

Little foxes.

I think, uh, I'm gonna have some hardtack.

And, uh, take to the water.

I wanna... I wanna
catch some fish.

It's, uh, going on five days without food
now.

And...

I can't eat grass.

If this goes on any longer, I might have
to eat some horses.

I've been doing a bunch of looking inside
here.

Check this out.

Oh, this is gonna be great.

Take the lure.

Whip it around the head.

Out it goes.

Out into the ocean.

And I'll reel it back in around the can.

Found a couple other things.

The ever-useful rope.

There's lots of rope.

So I'll stock up on it.

And make use of it.

This... Actually, I like
getting this thick rope

like this because I
can always take it apart.

It takes a while.

But I can use the thinner strands of it if
I want to.

I'm only a few hundred yards from the
ocean water.

However, this river is
locked inside the land

and offers me a chance
of freshwater fishing.

And for this, I have my hopes up,
finally.

Wish me luck.

The last few days have been challenging
psychologically.

And I do need a boost.

I think maybe I'll give myself a routine.

In any survival situation, routine helps a
lot.

It keeps your mind sharp and feel like
you're being proactive.

So I think I'll do maybe


spot and just keep working
my way along the river.

And hopefully hit into some luck.

Okay.

Water's cold on the hands.

Fishing is one activity I know well.

Hunting down wild cows is not.

It still feels a lot more likely than
creeping up on a wild herd of cows.

Hunting with an old .22 r*fle seemed like
a fool's endeavor right from the start.

At least with fishing, I feel like I have
a real chance.

I'm not ready to give up on Argentina just
yet.

This has been some of the toughest
survival I've endured.

Which is ironic, considering
the fact that I have

an easy and ready-made
shelter to base out of.

I didn't have to build one myself.

But shelter is only one part of survival.

No matter how many years of successful
surviving I have under my belt,

if my luck runs out, it simply runs out.

I've been at this all day.

And not a single hit.

Not gonna stop, though.

Well...

Weather wants to, uh, play a few games
this week.

It's, uh, snowing now.

Oh, I didn't need the snow.

What I need more than snow is a fish.

On the end of this line.

It's been six hours of fishing.

Six hours of throwing this line out there.

Whew.

All right.

I'm gonna get out of this snow.

Before my cameras get drenched.

My fingers are frozen off.

I can't believe it's snowing now.

I can't believe it's snowing now.

That's what it does here.

It goes from nice and sunny to a blizzard.

In a matter of moments.

Poor horses have to stay out in it.

My option is to come in here.

Nearly seven days into
surviving in Argentina, and

the weather has not
stopped giving me surprises.

And just like that...

It goes from a complete blizzard...

to a stunning, beautiful sunset.

And my world's become white.

Since I still have daylight...

It's pretty dark inside the cabin.

I thought I'd still come out and
try one last blast at... fishing.

Wow.

Every fisherman knows what it's like to be
skunked...

and to mutter under your breath
with every cast... Come on and bite.

Just one.

Just one hit.

To be skunked when it's your
very survival... is hard to take.

See that?

I'm probably 900 yards...

from those cows and... they just
barely caught a glimpse of me...

and off they... they took off.

I'm not eating steak tonight.

I guess if it really gets down
to it... I could, uh, trap the fox.

That just doesn't seem right, though.

My stomach might tell me otherwise.

I expected to at least get a shot at
hunting some wild cows.

I expected to have a strong chance of
bringing in a fish...

or even getting out to some reefs during
low tide...

and searching for octopus or shellfish.

But Argentina has other plans.

And it seems to have shut me down at every
turn.

Constantly going from bad to worse.

And now the winter has decided to show up
early.

And with my inadequate clothes for this
kind of weather...

it just doesn't bode well for me.

It's hard on me.

It's hard on the horses.

And once again, I'm trapped.

There are enough stories of men trapped
in cabins... unable to get out to safety.

Unable to hunt for food.

Reduced to dying slowly within four
protective walls.

Sometimes places of refuge... and the
safety they imply... is very misleading...

as they morph from refuge...

into prison.

Well, there you have it.

That's what I woke up to this morning.

What a difference a day makes.

The winter storm... is not content
with just blowing through the night.

It starts up again... and again... and
keeps me locked in a state of anxiousness...

and frustration.

I'm not getting out in this.

I wouldn't even want to put the horses
through that.

Shut down again... first by the
wind... and now by a blizzard.

I'm stuck here... and
I'm not moving anywhere.

The beauty that is indeed the view of a
winter's day...

is betrayed by the lack of ability to
enjoy it.

There is no more firewood in the cabin...

and anything outside is now well hidden by
the snow.

The once warm cabin has become a freezer
box.



still snowing.

I had come here prepared for rolling
green hills... and cool temperatures...

but this I was not ready for.



The horses dig through the snow... continuously
munching on grass... while I wait...

held c*ptive by the greatest force of
all...

nature.

I can't hope to fight
it... only try to endure it.

It's been about... I don't
know... 28, 30 hours now...

and uh... finally some blue sky.

Just in time for sunset.

Locked down again.

And it's frigid now.

I have no warm underwear...
no winter boots or socks.

Only my emergency down
coat... is keeping me from freezing.

And this is really...

how... it happens so easily.

I'm uh...

shut down from a...
day of constant blizzards.

I've gone from... grass to this.

Argentina, in essence...

has beaten me at my own game.

My game of survival.

I came here expecting to experience...
the fall weather... of rain and wind.

Even green hills... while I travel along
the coastline... gathering seafood...

and maybe hunting a cow.

But the weather here... paid no
attention... to my expectations.

It cared not about my survival.

It remains... as it always does.

Completely indifferent... to the
creatures... that live and travel here.

It simply exists...

as a harsh climate...
that only the tough survive.

Over and over again... groups of
humans... have not survived here.

They stay for a while...
but then they leave.

Beaten... and done with the struggle...
that is survival... on Tierra del Fuego.