After almost a year on her world travels, Bermudian Robyn Skinner has left Asia and now finds herself in South America as she edges closer to home. She lands in Chile where she becomes determined to find penguins .......

Next Stop: Santiago, Chile

After a brief and unintended stop in Dallas (thanks to sleeping through my flight at the gate), and therefore a rest in a plush queen-sized bed, I arrived rested in a new time zone, moved into the hostel and decided to wander through the city.

Santiago is hidden below snow-capped Andes, which fight for the sky-line with some of the high-rise office buildings, colonial architecture, grand piazza's and a mountain capped with Mary's statue in the city's national park. With these type of surroundings it was all I could do to visit a grocery store and stock-up on picnic necessities and head for a green spot.

I managed to land on one of the public holidays so it seemed the majority of Santiago had the same idea. Those who were not eating were risking their lives on bike ramps, jumping and twirling their pedal bikes to the cheers of the adoring crowds at a nearby bike festival. Such a random city.

That night in the true football fashion, the streets erupted in chaos of horns, painted faces and immense Chilean flags enveloping drunk fans as their country secured a spot in the World Cup. Me and a few people from the hostel decided we needed to partake and headed for one of the ubiquitous street bars that line the Bella Vista neighbourhood.

This neighbourhood is the graffiti-strewn, boutique and bohemian centre of this capital and largest city in Chile. Founded in 1541 by Pedro de Valdivia, the city threw off the colonial power in the 19th century and had the first democratically elected marxist leader in the Americas, Salvador Allende in 1970.

His reign did not last long as his Commander-in-Chief, Augusto Pinochet staged a coup and a military junta was put in place that led to a dictatorship for almost 20 years. This led to thousands of opposition leaders and their families being tortured or killed until in 1990 a democratic government was again back in place.

Thank goodness this city seems to be getting back on its feet because there is so much to offer here as well as nearby with some of the best wine grown only a few kilometres from the city. So what did I do the second day in South America? What else. With four other girls we toured two wineries including Concha y Toro, indulged in some steak for lunch and then headed for an Arabic restaurant for dinner. After months of beer drenched Asia, Chile was turning out to be a welcome change.

But resting in Santiago was not enough for understanding this country. Taking a gamble (the only way it appears to travel here because it takes so long to get everywhere thanks to the geography) I chose to skip the north and the highest desert in the world, to go south and try to hit Patagonia. Due to lakes, mountains and a closed road the only way to get here was to fly.

It was a good choice. Cruising over glaciers and snow-capped mountains it was the best way I could have travelled to Punta Arenas (the most southern city in Chile).

Created as a trading post in 1848, Punta Arenas still offers the gamut of outdoor supplies for those hoping to head deeper into Patagonia. I came here, well for that reason, but also to find some penguins.

Disembarking from the plane I immediately began wondering what I decided to do. Constant wind threatened to blow the taxi from the airport off the road and my flip flops and shorts were definitely not going to cut it. Apparently summer in this part of the world does not bring so much sun as intense wind. One guy I met in a cafe swore to me that some days it gets so bad they put up ropes on the side-walks so people can still get around. I could almost believe it.

Trying not to be flattened, I wandered through the town to organise a trip to visit the Monument Nacional Los Peguinos, which hosts close to the population of Bermuda in these birds (about 50,000). No luck. It was still too early in the tourist season.

Next stop. Trying to find a bus to Ushuaia in Argentina and the most southern city in the world. Again, no luck. Not enough tourists in this part of the world at this time of the year. I was not going to give up. Well at least on my dreams to see penguins outside of a zoo.

I eventually found one company that was offering excursions to Seno Otway where a smaller population of penguins nest. Not content with a mere drive up to the nest sites, this company offered an 11 kilometre hike, each-way to see the landing site. Catch? We had to wade through four 'streams' to get there. Well why not? I felt the need to put myself through the ringer.

Me, two girls who were teaching English here, and a guide drove the hour outside of the town through the sparse and severe Patagonian countryside. I started getting nervous when the rain started pelting down on the car and our guide tried to put the fear of frostbite into us. Me and the two girls held strong.

It was only about ten minutes into the hike along the balmy beach of Patagonia when we had to ditch shoes and socks and walk knee-deep through an almost frozen, rock-carpeted stream. And that was only the first. What had I gotten myself into? Luckily the rain had stopped so we needed only concern ourselves with the streams and ponds we were supposed to ford to get to these penguins.

It was worth it.

Feeling like a National Geographic escapee and about 50 feet from the landing site we had to drop to hands and knees and crawl to the hiding spot of fallen logs and sea swept twigs. From here we could peep up and catch the female penguins launching themselves onto the beach. Once there, the freezing, blustery beach became a regular beauty parlour with the ladies pruning themselves and chatting.

We watched as group after group traipsed up to the nesting sites and the awaiting males.

I am hardly a penguin and after half an hour I ready to leave these beautiful creatures to head back to the warm car. Luckily on the way back we didn't have to remove our shoes once because the farmers had retired for the day so we hopped over the barbed wire fence that keeps in their cows and navigated pock-marked land to get back to the car. A coffee helped warm us up before we drove back to Punta Arenas.

Feeling fulfilled with my penguin expedition and after coming to terms with being unable to head further south, I boarded a bus for Puerto Natales, the centre of hiking and further north in Chile.

The bus was first class (they even put my bag on the vehicle for me) and so are the people in this country. When I arrived in Puerto Natales there were touts holding hotel cards. I braced myself ready for the onslaught; however, when I told them I already had a place and showed them the name, the woman actually walked with me to the hostel to show me the way!

I was the first visitor of the year for the hostel, which proved good and bad news. Nice to have space. Not good when you want to find people to go hiking with. Luckily she was partners with a nearby hostel run by two guys from Oregon who also rented out all the gear I would need to tackle Torres del Paine the southernmost park in Chile named after the well-known granite towers that jut out of the harsh landscape.

Luckily a Columbian guy was also planning to do the hike by himself and hadn't prepared anything for the hike either. Perfect! We planned to head-out the next morning so we quickly introduced ourselves, studied the map and beelined for the grocery store.

With barely enough time to grab the water-proof pants, unpack my backpack of all things unnecessary, fill it with tent, sleeping bag and food, I crashed before the 7 a.m. bus to the beginning of this arduous trek.

Next Stop: Torres Del Paine