Heavy clouds fill the vast skies over Lapataia Bay, in Parque Nacional Tierra del Fuego. The Monkey entered a deeply contemplative mood upon arriving at this, the terminal point of the American landmass. In the distance, the bay joins the Beagle Channel, which soon flows into the open waters of the treacherous far South Atlantic, with only Antarctica beyond. A lovely, and lonely, place.

This area is full of endings. Here the Monkey clamors (below the “AI” of Lapataia) on a sign marking the end of the Panamerican Highway, an absurdly long roadway (of varying quality) that stretches the length of America, from Alaska in the frozen north to Tierra del Fuego in the extreme south. There is one small hang-up in the Panamerican—the dense jungle of the Darien Gap in Colombia and Panama, impassable save on foot.

The Monkey reclines in windswept grass at the shore of the Lapataia Bay. How many words are there for ‘serene’? Not quite enough.

The Monkey at the end of the earth—and his trip to Argentina. ¡Hasta la proxima, mi Argentina querida!