Cabo Buen Suceso is the real turning point of this trip for once round it we could consider ourselves to have the Beagle Channel in our grasp. Our first attempt failed in the face of wind, wave and tide, and our second only succeeded because of much push from the engine against a three knot current. Diesel was already low, and there was now very little left. We also noted that water was running out (the water maker not working) and we had eaten the last of the bread and my bread mix had gone stale and the dough would not rise. Bleak. Having finally rounded a desolate headland, Cabo Hall, I decided to stand on for the night and make for the Beagle proper, but it proved troublesome and we ran for shelter in Puerto Espanol, the scene of the tragic death in a cave of a marooned missionary in the 19th century. These things concentrate the mind. Here we sat out a blow where gusts of over 40knots came blasting down the hillside, nearly lifting the boat out of the water. The chain and Manson anchor, bless it, held us fast. As so often down here, the weather changes in five minutes and the next morning was calm - a problem with little diesel. So we motored slowly and grabbed every puff of wind we could. The Beagle lay ahead,we could see it, and the closer we came the more majestic it seemed. A broad avenue of water, fringed by snow-capped mountains, was now ours. There is little sign of humanity here and we needed a good dose of it in the form of food and diesel, and a small inlet 30 miles short of Ushuaia seemed as though it might offer it. We approached in the dark, feeling our way in, dropping the anchor at midnight and waking the next morning to find a settlement quite like no other. Harberton is famous. This was the site of the estancia founded by Bridges, the missionary, who came here in the 1800's to civilise the natives. The book, by his son, The Uttermost Ends of the Earth, is a classic. And it did us fine. We came alongside the pier, sorted the diesel, were offered breakfast in the cafe (this is a major tourist attraction round here) showers and a steak and chips that evening. This was the best welcome to the Beagle Channel we could have wished for from the kindest people. I don't know which went down best; the Argentinian Malbec or the 40 litres of diesel as it sloshed into the dry tank.