Thermal shock

Sunday, April 22nd 2012

For the last six months I've been enjoying Santiago's incredibly stable weather. More or less every single day has seen clear blue skies and temperatures in the thirties. And when I haven't been in Santiago I've been in the Atacama. Between early October and last week's incredible downpour, the only rain I'd seen was literally a few drops which fell in January.

So I knew, really, that it was going to be cold in the Falklands, way down south just a few hundred miles from Antarctica. I knew that. But I had forgotten what cold really was. I rediscovered the phenomenon as soon as the plane door opened after we'd landed at Mount Pleasant airport. By the time I got to the terminal I was shivering. I'd seen snow on the high ground from the plane as we descended, but much worse than the snow was the wind, a wild icy blast which sapped my body heat and swept it away over the hills. I suffered on the day that I arrived in Stanley, and I suffered much more the next day, when the snow had come down from the high ground all the way to sea level.

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