Log 33- March 12th - April 15th 2006

Chile: Cape Horn, Tierra del Fuego

Distance travelled from Portland: 15,343 nm; 235 nm this log
 

Like most cruisers to South America, rounding Cape Horn had been the focus of our trip for some time and it did not disappoint us! The traditional cruisers' route involves sailing from Puerto Williams Chile (the farthest south port in the Americas), east towards the open Pacific Ocean, making the 25-mile crossing of Bahía Nassau when weather permits, and arriving at one of two approved anchorages in the Wollaston group of islands, each of which are within 14 miles of Cape Horn. Then, once good weather prevails, we'd sail around the cape itself, returning to the anchorage by day's end, then re-trace our steps back to Puerto Williams. Depending on weather, this trip can be made in 3 to 7 days. Actually, by far the safest route from Puerto Williams would be a passage down the west side of Isla Navarino, but the Chilean armada presently prohibits this route to non-Chilean vessels. The Round-the-World Race boats, which do not have the luxury of anchoring in the Wollastons, are out in the southern Pacific Ocean their entire rounding, facing fierce weather and unimaginable seas. The racing yacht MOVISTAR is an example. A few days before we arrived in Ushuaia, she limped into port after almost sinking about 60 miles south of Cape Horn. The seal around one of her canting keels sprung a leek. If not for the courage of one of her crew members, who dived under the 6° C water numerous times to activate high output pumps, they would have been in their life rafts in 50 knot winds and huge seas. In the end, they were forced to drop out of the race, though with no loss of life.

But for us life was a little easier, though with just 3 people aboard (Jay Smith of INDRA was with us), the work load would be greater, even though we are a smaller yacht. And that in itself is another cause for concern. We're convinced that nobody should try to sail these waters in anything less than a 40 foot boat. Even though BREILA is an extremely strong and sea-kindly boat, her comparatively short waterline and small engine mean very rough passages when the wind and seas build in this part of the world. The wind itself is not the problem, as BREILA handles up to 60 knots well. But when it blows here, it always seems to be contrary to the prevailing currents, and with the shallow seas waves form very quickly. Not nice long ocean swell, but waves that look more like big shipping containers, one after another. At times we would be motoring against a 15kn headwind in these seas, when we'd encounter 3 of these waves in a row and be stopped dead in our tracks. Though making headway in these conditions was tough, our lot was certainly easier than for the crew of MOVISTAR.

With a good weather window on March 12th, we advised the Armada de Chile in Puerto Williams that we were leaving the shelter of the Club de Yates MICALVI and heading east, then south, for Cape Horn. It was a little after 6 am, and as usual it was feast or famine; we had to motor in light airs down the channel between Chile and Argentina. We were 35 minutes behind our friend David of CATCH THE WIND, a 13m yacht from England. David reported he was getting a boost from the current in the narrow pass. But as we approached the same pass, we had 2 knots against us! Finally our wind picked up and we could sail through faster than motoring. As we tacked through the pass we heard on the radio that a cruise ship would be entering the other end of the narrows just as we would get there. We dodged the luxury liner and continued on towards Puerto Toro.

As we turned south to Puerto Toro, the wind built. Before long we had a constant 25 knots, gusting to 35, from behind. Good conditions usually, but the seas built to the point were it was becoming uncomfortable. We opted to spend the night in Puerto Toro, leaving the 25-mile crossing of Bahía Nassau for the next day. Our pilot book recommended tying to the old wharf. When we arrived it was 6-deep either side with large fish boats and an ugly swell was making its way into the bay. We searched around for some other shelter. There were some fish boats anchored in the head of the shallow bay, where one skipper called to us to anchor between him and the shore. It didn't look too secure, but realizing there wasn't much choice we dropped the hook just behind him and let out as much scope as we dared. It was a rocky bottom and there were fishermen's crab storage pots all around us. At least we were out of the wind and big seas. We looked out to the channel and saw the big waves rolling down to the south. The wind was still howling out there, but we had less than 10kn in the anchorage. We all sat back and enjoyed an afternoon at anchor watching the fish boats come and go. It had just gotten dark when there was a mighty commotion in the bay. A fish buyer had come into the bay, so all the fish boats rushed around to haul up their storage pots and try and be first to the buyer. Before long the 20m boat was surrounded by dozens of smaller boats trying to get alongside. Just like a feeding frenzy! The buying lasted about 2 hours and then all was quiet again in the anchorage.

We had mixed emotions about staying the night in Puerto Toro. David on CATCH THE WIND had called us about an hour after we'd anchored and reported that the wind had disappeared as soon as he got into Bahía Nassau. In fact, they were motoring across the bay. We calculated that if we left then, we wouldn't get to the closest safe anchorage in the Wollaston group until well after dark. Entering new anchorages at night is against BREILA's safety rules, and particularly in this part of the world with no navigation lights or lights on land to give confirmation of our actual position. Even with radar there are just too many unknown hazards (and wooden boats don't show up on radar.) So we opted to stay where we were and get an early start in the morning, tackling the crossing of notorious Bahía Nassau after a good night's rest.

It's funny how often early starts become late ones. Even with our best intentions we didn't get away until 7. David hailed us on the VHF. He and crew had left their anchorage at 4 am and were just approaching Cape Horn. It was calm there and the two crew members were just about to go ashore at Caleta Leones, Isla Hornos. So we hurried along, dodging the shallows of the channel. When we entered Bahía Nassau, was like a mill pond and we raced to get across before the wind built. About half way across, the prevailing westerly winds started up, though only at 15 knots. But the seas built quickly to 1 m, about a meter apart. Jay was amazed at how fast the seas rose. Finally the wind dropped but the seas remained so we had to use the motor, bouncing around in the slop. We motored through the Wollaston group to get to Puerto Maxwell, our anchorage for the night. We should point out that any safe anchorage is called puerto, even though there is absolutely nothing there, no docks, no buoys and no sign of life. By the time we arrived at Maxwell there was a skippered charter yacht spider-webbed into place, making it impossible to get close to the shelter of the cove. As there are no other anchorages any where close by, we anchored and tied ourselves in, blocking his exit. Maxwell is really not much of a puerto. It's the bottom of a large open bay protected by only a few small islands, connecting reefs and a huge mat of kelp. When the wind blows down into the bay the kelp mat slowed the waves and the wind lifted over the hills before it hit us. That's why the best anchorage is close to the shore in the bay's corner.

Next morning the forecast was for strong winds at Cape Horn, so we decided to stay, but the charter boat wanted to leave. We pulled lines and he slipped by. We re-anchored in a better location, tied ourselves in with 3 lines and waited for the wind. We went ashore and climbed to the top of the hills for a view of Cape Horn, 15 miles to the south. It turned out to be a great day and the forecasted wind never did materialize. What did the charter skipper know that we didn't? Next morning's forecast was for the same strong winds. Cath called the Armada station at Cape Horn, and the officer reported light winds and a forecast of bon tiempo (good weather.) So we left the anchorage, but it was already 9 am. By the time we entered the narrow passage heading south, the north wind was starting. It was compressed through the narrow gap and once through, we took the time to get the dinghy on deck. We had a pleasant downwind sail past Isla Hall, a sheer black rock that looks more like we'd expected Cape Horn to look. We sailed down the west side of Isla Hornos, entering the southern ocean for real. It wasn't until we got close to Isla Hornos that we realized how big the swell was. As we skirted the off-lying rocks, the ocean changed from black to white as the waves crashed against the reefs. Suddenly, we felt very insignificant.

As we came to the southern tip of Isla Hornos we bore off to the east and finally saw the lighthouse on the south coast. Past there we could say we'd officially sailed past Cabo de Hornos. More and more of the south shore came into view and we finally saw the famous Albatross Monument and the Armada station. In a celebratory mood, we took the requisite photos of ourselves with Cape Horn in the background. But it was getting windier and definitely was not a day to go ashore. Heading NW towards Paso Mar del Sur, we sailed past Caleta Leones on Isla Hornos. This is the only spot where it is somewhat safe to go ashore at Cape Horn - though each boat must keep at least one crew member on board to manage the vessel in rapidly changing conditions. In the Caleta, we spotted an Armada cutter tugging at their mooring buoy. It didn't look very comfortable as the wind continued to increase, with waves rolling right down on the Caleta. Quickly the wind was up to 30 knots, blowing straight out of the pass for which we were headed. Though it was only 5 miles to the pass, we were not even making 2 knots against the wind and waves, and every few minutes we'd stop dead. We tried motor sailing, increasing our speed to 3 knots. We were 2 miles across the bay when the Armada cutter headed towards us in clouds of spray. We were not in any trouble, so we thought maybe he was going to show us a safe anchorage, but he blasted past us and headed for the pass. Once there he stopped to assessed the conditions and called the officer at Cabo de Hornos to suspend all zarpes (cruising permits) until further notice. He disappeared through the pass, heading north. After 3 hours of beating across the bay, we made Paso Mar del Sur, but it was solid white water roaring through from the north. The wind was being compressed in the pass and the 35-45 knots we were seeing would be much greater - and on the nose - inside the pass. An impossible passage for us. We were now in the lee of the Isla Hershel, and there was a small cove ahead that looked sheltered. Cath called the Armada and asked if we could go in to anchor. They replied with the official line that there were only 2 approved anchorages in the area - Caleta Marcial, which was through the pass, and Puerto Maxwell which we'd left that morning. Our only choice was to head back to Puerto Maxwell. In the NE wind Marcial would have been untenable.

It had taken 2 hours to cover the 15 miles to Cabo de Hornos, and we spent the next 7 beating back to Maxwell. The wind was now a steady 35 kn, but the lee of Isla Herschel protected us for a few hours, then it was another scream across Bahía San Francisco to Isla Jordan and finally into the narrow pass to Maxwell. We turned into the open bay of Maxwell and sure enough there was another charter boat tied into the most secure spot. We nosed into the kelp, head to wind and dropped the anchor, two lines ashore just 50m behind us. We sat in the cockpit and all decided we were too tired to celebrate our rounding of Cape Horn that night. To make matters worse, the NE wind was trying to push us onto the lee shore, we just didn't feel safe. So Mike jumped in the inflatable and rowed 200 meters through the kelp to one of the tiny islands, tied a chain around it and connected our two long 16mm floating lines to it. They were not long enough, so while Jay searched the lazarette for another line Mike kept rowing towards the boat to keep the lines tight. We only needed 5 or 6 m extra but it may as well have been 20. With another line attached Jay was able to pull the original line back to the boat and tie it off. Finally we all felt safe enough to go below as it was now well past dark. We later heard how difficult this anchorage can be, as two charter boats were anchored here during a big storm, with winds of 135 knot winds recorded at Cape Horn. The boats were well tied ashore, but the winds were so fierce the trees were ripped out by the roots.

We slept well that night as the wind continued to blow. Early the next morning there was a knock on the hull; the charter boat wanted to get out. He went ashore and released our stern lines and then slipped out behind us. A little later we took his place and settled in for our celebratory breakfast of champagne and eggs benedict. The sun was shining so we dined in the cockpit, the memories of yesterday's conditions already fading. We'd made it around Cape Horn! We idly considered going back to attempt going ashore, though this idea was quickly dismissed as not necessary. In a sense we were proud we had some trying conditions after rounding. It felt as if we had earned the right to say we had "Rounded the Horn" - weathering the challenges. It might seem unreal if there was no wind or benign weather at the Cape!

After a couple of days at Maxwell for more hiking, we headed back to Puerto Williams, but the wind hadn't finished with us yet. As we headed into Bahia Nassau the wind built from the north again. Before long we were beating into wind and waves with 2 reefs in the main, the staysail and a little jib hauled in. It was a great sail but we couldn't make our heading for Puerto Toro. Twice we altered our destination, finally heading for Isla Lennox 10 miles east of our original destination. Caleta Lennox is a little open to the north and somewhat sheltered from south winds by a small island and sand spit. The Armada advised that the wind would shift from the north to south and then SW as a front passed overnight. When we got into the large bay it was packed with big fishing boats, mostly tied to mooring blocks which they place at the beginning of each season. We headed as close to the beach as we could, and finally dropped the anchor in 3 m and let out about 20m of chain. The caleta filled with more fish boats, we were surrounded. Within an hour of getting the hook down, the south wind started. We could see over the submerged sand spit. As usual the waves built from no where. It soon blew 25-30 kts and we watched the waves trip themselves up on the submerged sand spit as night fell. It continued all night, and Mike was up many times as the wind clocked from south through to west, but we lay to the anchor perfectly as the big fish boats yawed back and forth in the blow.

Next day was a long one. We motored out of Caleta Lennox, and managed to hit the tides and current right as we headed first north and then west into the Beagle Channel. We decided to push on and tied to the club de yates MICALVI about 3 in the afternoon. David and his crew from CATCH THE WIND were still there so we arranged a celebratory BBQ on the huge aft deck of the MICALVI. We toasted each other and the post-event euphoria set in. The CTW crew had been lucky; they got to go ashore and meet the Armada, but they learned distressing news. A private enterprise is now building a dock at Cape Horn to allow smaller cruise ships to tie up and let their passengers ashore. Soon there'll be charges for any yacht or ship that wishing to send passengers or crew ashore. What's next - McDonald's?!? It looked like we had made it just in time before it became a carnival.

Sailing around Cape Horn had been on Mike's wish list for years. This leg had taken 6 days, and we'd seen some pretty interesting weather conditions. We were very pleased that we had the chance to share our dream with our friend Jay Smith of INDRA II. We'd met Jay at our home club of the Vancouver Rowing Club in Vancouver, BC. And we'd buddy-boated with INDRA in Mexico and through Central America. It seemed fitting to us that he could join us on the adventure. Next we turned our focus to exploring more of the glaciers and famed anchorages along the western portion of the Beagle Channel, with Jay still aboard. That will be our next log.

Mikey's Beer Index:  (The writer is currently too drunk to add any comments!)

Wine Review:  (Same writer!)