I spent the second half of November in southern Chile, traveling with my partner, Zachary, and two of our friends. We drove up and down the Ruta Panamericana and were based successively in Puerto Varas, Castro (on Chiloe Island), Villarrica, and, for the final two nights, Valdivia.

I loved everything about this part of Chile: the volcanoes, lakes, national parks, and fjords at the gateway to Patagonia; the convivial people; the good seafood and wine. I hope to return someday. Sadly, this trip was marred to some extent by a bad cold passed among the four of us. It didn’t keep us from doing things, but in my case it precluded full energy and enjoyment.

One highlight of the trip was the day I drove us up and up a gorgeous valley, past blue mountain lakes and ever-changing vistas of the line of peaks, to the border with Argentina high in a pass of the Andes. Near there we walked for an hour in the shadow of snowy Volcan Lanin, under a canopy of huge, ancient Araucaria araucana trees. It was glorious. Also, there were penguins on Chiloe–Humboldts and Magellanics. Our first time seeing wild penguins.

I achieved the goal of packing for 16 days of variable weather using carryon luggage: my TLS Motherlode Convertible backpack, with a Rick Steves shoulderbag/daypack as my personal item. Thanks to quick-drying poly knits and performance fabrics, a bit of quick sink laundry every third evening was all it took. As always, though, the binocs and bird guide, chargers and electronics and toiletries, and the spare pair of shoes took up as much space as the clothing.

A couple of months ago Zachary and I had a road trip south on I-5 through California and through the southern Sierras to Death Valley, where we camped and hiked for a few days before returning via smaller highways on the scenic eastern side of the Sierras. We happened to be in the park at an unusual time–there had been a lot of recent rain, so that we saw a rare saline lake in Badwater Basin, the lowest point in North America, with the Panamint Mountains on the basin’s western side reflected in the shallow water.

Zachary had been to Death Valley once or twice before, long ago, but I never had, and I’d been curious about it for a long time. Our visit was brief, but we were able to see and do almost everything that it was possible to see and do. (A number of roads within the park were closed due to washouts and mud, and in any event my 2WD Taurus station wagon would have been unequal to backcountry roads.)

Weather was sunny and mild by day, and not too hot. It was, though, so windy that for the first two nights, which we spent in tiny Emigrant campground up off the valley floor, we could not put up our tent. Fortunately it is possible, though scarcely luxurious, for the two of us to sleep in the back of the Taurus, so we survived. Wildlife sightings were few: a roadrunner at our second campsite, and some endemic pupfish on a glorious gloaming walk along Salt Creek. We saw lots of fascinating geology, including a wilderness of rock formations at Zabriskie Point, where we recalled the Antonioni film but did not blow anything up.

Would I go back to Death Valley? I’d love to do so someday, but only with a vehicle capable of getting me into some of the amazing sites in the park’s vast backcountry, such as the Racetrack and the Eureka Dunes. In the meantime, my curiosity about the place and my road-trip yearnings were satisfied.

Last weekend Z and I returned from two weeks in South America: three and a half days in Buenos Aires, and the rest of the time in Uruguay.

Barra de Valizas, Uruguay

Buenos Aires is a great city–cosmopolitan, exciting, EuroLatin–and it was a magical season there. The city is full of jacaranda trees, and they were in bloom, so that everything was wrapped in a pale purple haze of blossoms. I was glad to experience one of the world’s great cities . . . but I loved Uruguay.

Uruguay is a green, rolling country, gentle of topography and temperament, and we had a terrific time driving around it clockwise. We took the ferry from BA to Colonia del Sacramento and proceeded up the Rio Uruguay, to Artigas in the northern mining district and then to Rivera (where we crossed into Brazil briefly, as the city straddles the border without an official border crossing), and then through the northeastern interior on tiny dirt roads to the beautiful South Atlantic coast. We spent our last night back in Colonia, where we had a Thanksgiving dinner of grilled meat and delicious local wine, then took the ferry back across the Rio de la Plata to BA, wandered around the charming neighborhood of San Telmo for a few hours, then headed to the airport for the long trip home.

Highlights include:

–the wonderful birds of Uruguay, including rheas, which made me squeal with excitement every time we saw them (we saw them pretty often)

–a visit to a native-animal breeding center in Aguas Dulces, Uruguay, where we saw a lot of well-cared-for creatures, including wild mountain cats, coatimundis, caimans, and capybaras with their babies (we also saw a capy in the wild)

–the people we met along the way, who were without fail charming, helpful, and happy to see travelers enjoying Uruguay (a number of them asked if we were moving there to get away from Trump, which, if only)

–seeing the big old Southern Cross hanging in front of us in the sky above the Costanera in Piriapolis, Uruguay

Lighthouse, Jose Ignacio

–the Naval Museum in Montevideo, which we finally managed to find just as it closed for a two-hour lunch break, but which we were able to explore at will while the staff took their break, thanks to their courtesy; it has a great exhibit on the Graf Spee and the Battle of the Plata

–the view of the South Atlantic from atop the lighthouse in Jose Ignacio, Uruguay

–watching the Supermoon rise above Puerto Madera on our last night in BA

–“the world’s second most beautiful bookshop,” Ateneo Grand Splendid in BA, which occupies a stunning former theater

Ateneo Grand Splendid, Buenos Aires

Lowlights include:

–being unable to escape the increasingly awful news about Trump’s coming reich, and the clouds of dread and anxiety about it that descended upon us from time to time

–my 29-hour homebound itinerary with several very long layovers; but, as I’ve said more than once, that’s what Kindles, disposable toothbrushes, and drugs are for

Will we go back? Maybe, but not right away. This was Z’s second trip in two years to BA and Uruguay, and he’s ready for a change. I hear Chile is a good place to visit . . . .