We continue our report from Argentina. The going is hard, sometimes, but no exertion is so great, dear reader, that it keeps us from reckoning on your behalf.

"This is the tourist circuit," said our guide. We had been driving for hours on a dusty dirt road. We had passed no more than one or two cars. If this was the tourist route, we wondered how desolate the lesser routes must be. There were no gas stations, no restaurants, no tourist spots that we could see...and hardly a single tourist.

On the other hand, the scenery was spectacular. But by late afternoon, half of our intrepid party was worn out. They had seen enough snow-capped mountains, rows of plain trees, vineyards and cattle ranches for one day. But we had one more property to see: a ranch so remote and desolate even the owner didn't quite seem to know where it was. Was it 250,000 acres or 400,000 acres? Was it to the top of the mountains, or over on the other side? No one seemed sure. Besides, the questions were irrelevant, a bit like asking how drunk we had gotten on Tuesday night; there was no point in being precise about it.

We reached the edge of the property as shadows began creeping out over the valley.

"From here on, everything you see is part of the ranch," said our guide. We looked out the window. As far as we could see, across the broad valley, with its huge cactus trees and sparse grass...all the way over to the peaks on the other side, there was a lot to look at, but nothing much to see.

To get from the entrance of the ranch to the farmhouse, took us about half an hour of furious driving. There, on the side of the mountain, was a little man-made oasis...with rows of what we took to be gum trees (but were something altogether different) set out in broad alleys. The compound was marked out by these trees and by stone fences, called 'pilkas.' There was a reservoir to catch the water tricking down the mountain, and even a fruit orchard.

The house itself would have been Spartan even to the Spartans. It was built of solid granite...a stone as cold and forbidding as the valley itself. On top of the stone was a roof of earth. We gathered that the area must get little rainfall, or else they have to put fresh mud on the roof after each rainy season.

The house was not attractive. Nor was it made more fetching by the woman who greeted us at the door. She had a friendly smile, but we could barely see it. She was not wrapped up like she was expecting a blizzard, but more casually, as if this was the way she dressed everyday, indoors. She wore a large winter coat, a ski cap and a muffler that hid half her face, which turned out to be an act of kindness on her part. Neither she nor the house itself seemed suited to the climate. There was a courtyard at the center of the house; it would have been attractive with plants and garden furniture. But it was as barren inside the house as outside, and almost as cold. An ordinary plant would have withered from the cold.

*** "Before the hurricanes touched down, it seemed logical to see energy stocks as vulnerable to a pronounced consumer spending decline," Justice Litle told us this morning.

"A slowdown in energy consumption, brought about by a tapped-out consumer and slower growth in Asia, could have taken the speculative wind out of energy stocks' sails. I was sympathetic to this argument pre-Katrina and said as much in my warnings to expect a possible liquidity implosion and sharp correction - which would be viewed as a buying opportunity once played out.

"Some are still expecting a sharp correction in the energy space, with the recent inflows of capital building toward a potential speculative blow off. After the combination of Hurricane Katrina, Hurricane Rita and developments in Japan, however, one has to wonder whether such a correction is still due. While not ruling it out, I am no longer sure we will see one anytime soon."

Bill Bonner is the President of Agora Publishing.  For more on Bill Bonner, visit The Daily Reckoning.