Log 32- March 9th - April 15th 2006

Chile: Jay's impression of Cabo de Hornos, and the Ventisqueros of Tierra del Fuego
 

We asked Jay Smith, our friend from INDRA II, who has been aboard for the Cape Horn and Beagle Channel glaciers, to start this log.  M & C.

"We left Ushuaia on March 9, weather cold and bright, and with smooth seas for the short trip to Puerto Williams Chile. I joined BREILA March 4 after a seemingly endless flight from Vancouver to Ushuaia and was welcomed by David and Marcie Lynn of NINE OF CUPS who looked after me and were great hosts - BREILA was still a few miles away. Thanks, David and Marcie.

I had been feeling anxious for some weeks in advance of arrival about our plan for Patagonia travel and rounding the Horn in this very rugged part of the planet. My excitement has continued as each new anchorage or turning in the canals brings new treats. Lots of photo ops. Can we have too many pics of glaciers? Tierra del Fuego is comprised of stunningly beautiful views of snowy mountains, bare rock, stunted trees, moss, and lots of bogs, some clinging to the rocks at extreme angles. Every sheltering rock is host to a micro-climate. Those trees that find a place to survive are usually bent in a dramatic illustration of the winds' power - bent trees are called arboles banderas (flag trees). This is a place of extremes.

My first view of Club de Yates MICALVI in Puerto Williams didn't surprise me - I'd read the boating magazine references to the Southernmost Yacht Club, a few glossy photos. The magazines don't tell you how deteriorated the old freighter is, the incredible state of the showers, and the listing bar-room floor. Also incredible are the bar prices - high. A pisco sour costs 2,000 pesos - a 750ml bottle from the store costs less. A note in my log refers to the "world's ugliest yachtie bar". We left a VRC burgee on the wall to temporarily mark our place in history and have photos to prove it. Puerto Williams is primarily a naval base, with dirt roads, a few stores, and a collection of lesser dwellings located away from Navy housing. The scenery is spectacular, drawing hikers from far away to trek Isla Navarino's trails. We saw many hikers around town including two smiling and very dirty women from Vancouver, or maybe from NWT, information seemed to change as we talked. No matter, everyone has a story they want to tell and human contact is important after a week talking to your partner, yourself, and if you are lucky, a stray dog.

We hiked a bit while in Puerto Williams, bird watched, and then it was time to go TO THE HORN - the weather seemed right. On March 15 we left Puerto Maxwell for our rounding 14 miles away, maybe we could land on Isla de Hornos. We started early, sailed easily until almost abeam the Albatross sculpture and a short distance off, then encountered rachas to 40 knots, building seas, and an uncomfortable ride. No landing today. The next 7 hours was a struggle to make distance upwind towards shelter, finally gaining a lee from Islas Herschel and Hermite before returning gratefully to Puerto Maxwell. We were all excited and tired. "Are we going to try to land again tomorrow?" - "No" said Mike. "The best thing about our rounding is that we don't have to do this again." Dead right.

Cape Horn isn't so big a lump of rock. When I first saw it, with an easy wind behind us, it seemed smaller than I had imagined it would be, but up close it grew to fill our view, fringed with white from waves crashing on detached rocks, and in the lee of the cape, many albatross to keep us company. The armada station seemed inconsequential in contrast to the grey rock. And from our viewpoint, there was nothing to the south of us for hundreds of miles, nothing west, and the South Shetland Islands a long way east. We were looking at the bottom of the Americas. I felt pretty small.

We woke the next day to our post-rounding celebration, champagne and OJ, and we (Mike and I) brought out our ear-rings to consider earlier threats to pierce ourselves. Cath comes "pre-drilled" - her words - so was not in contention for the bloodletting ceremony. In true male fashion we decided to defer the decision until later and have not revisited it since.

The trip back to Puerto Williams was punctuated with a long cold crossing of Bahía Nassau to gain protection at Isla Lennox. A hard day and we barely made shelter before the skies opened and the wind blew hard all that night in Caleta Lennox. We were safe in the company of the fishing fleet. Next day we had Austral dolphins for company, many Megallanic pinguinos, albatross, and a hot shower once back at MICALVI - turning an eager and blind eye to its deficiencies.

March 19 - Mike's birthday: Cath baked a cake and at night we ate at Pedro's B & B. Great view, great room - Mike had pulpo, Cath centolla crab, and I enjoyed a Canadian treat - roasted beaver. Muy rico. I recommend it to you and think it terribly unfair that Canada protects this taste treat. Apparently the Argentines introduced Castor Canadiensis to Patagonia and they are doing well, making a mess of the slow-growing plants of Isla Navarino. I'm told they have become a local nuisance and are on the menu of several cafes in town.

March 21 - boat errands, set out storm sails and the parachute anchor, all the gear we hope never to use but want handy for the open-water trip north towards Buenos Aires. I showered again on MICALVI - can't shake the feeling that I might catch something but plentiful hot water is a fine treat and it's cold here in Puerto Williams. While on our last shopping trip we turned a corner to find a mob of tourists had landed from a cruise ship. The little shops ashore have a few locally made crafts for souvenirs - luckily for me I found some interesting things to buy before the cruise ship landed.

March 25 - off we go to Bahía Virginia, a few miles away. The port has been closed for a few days due to inclement weather so we have entertained ourselves with visits to a very slow internet place, watched the dogfights in the shopping plaza, tripped over smelly backpackers (I wonder what we smell like?), and went for hikes. On the hook in Bahía Virginia I have a closer look at birds, steamer ducks, oystercatchers, and white-chested shags. This is a beautiful place and the wind of past days has dropped away to nothing.

March 26 dawns to crazy skies, black clouds going in a different direction to our wind, with high white clouds above going in yet another direction. I am in awe of this country, so different from anything I have ever seen. The light is usually diffused and from a fairly high angle but from the north, a bit disconcerting for a northern hemisphere dweller. The light and clear air make images seem to pop out, sometimes in a 3-D effect. Colors are muted with lots of greys and browns, some reds and whites. And the scale of this country is staggering, rows of mountains rising above the canal as far as we can see. My excitement is beginning to drop away as anticipation is replaced by the reality of living on the edge of an extreme part of the world. That night we found a safe haven after a long day - Caleta Sonia. Captain Mike let me take the helm as we moved into shore to check depths - "what is the depth?" called Mike. Oops, 2 metres. We need 2.2 metres to float. Quick reverse, slide off the beach,  and all is well.

Next day I saw my first tidewater glacier (Holandia), baby blue in color and massive. For the next week I took photos of more glaciers, all equally massive. Estero Coloane on the south side of Isla Gordon has three glaciers, waterfalls, and as I write this we are tucked safely into a notch behind a little rock nearby with 4 lines out and the anchor set. The weatherman on the radio says rachas are expected to sesenta nudos - "did he say 60 knots?". It's raining now and we rest and read, after several days of travelling along the Beagle Channel in a stunningly beautiful landscape. I need a better vocabulary to fully describe what I see here.

Back to your "old scribes". It is now almost the end of June! Where has the time gone? Having just re-read Jay's recollection of some of his time spent with us, it reminded us of how much we loved and hated the "end of the world". We loved the spectacular scenery. For almost 4 months we were surrounded by natural beauty so dramatic that, like Jay, we need a better vocabulary to describe it. But what about the hate part? Sailing south of 55°S is, as Jay called it "hairy-chested". It is probably the most extreme sailing we will experience in such a short time. From cool sunny windless days to flat out gales (sometimes in the same day), it kept us constantly alert. Even though much of this area is now well charted, many yachts and ships manage to find uncharted rocks, sometimes with disastrous results. Anchoring is a constant struggle. We've written before about the hour or so it takes each evening to get secured, but some days the process has to be repeated 3 or 4 times. It's time to add some photos and get this log downloaded. In the next log we'll give our impressions of our Cape Horn trip.