Best Experience in Southern Sea Navigation
Cabo de Hornos y los glaciares del Canal Beagle a Vela
Cruise ship to Cape Horn and the Beagle Channel
Cape Horn by sailing yacht
Expeditions to the Antarctic Peninsula, South Georgia,
Cape Horn, Falklands & Tierra Del Fuego
On this virtual tour you may see: Majestic mountains
dipped in snow...
Crystalline waterways... Whales, seals, Soaring Andes condors...
Ice-blue Glaciers that shimmer like jewels...
Click for Hostal Bella Vista in Puerto Williams, 25 miles from Ushuaia
The following is an account by Richard Stanaway of a cruise which
Victory Adventure Travel booked for him aboard the yacht SARAH :
CAPE HORN and the BEAGLE CHANNEL
Sunday 24th December 2000 BEAGLE CHANNEL
Heather and I drove out into the interior of Tierra Del Fuego, stopping
frequently to engorge on the amazing Fuegian Alpine scenery. Vast glacial
U-shaped valleys, flooded with dense mats of colorful, peaty mosses were
fringed by dense beech forests which stopped abruptly, like a template at
the very low winter snow lines.
This grandiose scenery eventually gave way to the rolling grass hills scattered
with sheep of Estancia Harberton and the shore of the Beagle Channel. The
small Chilean naval town of Puerto Williams could be seen across the channel.
The Estancia was founded early in the 19th century by an Englishman, Thomas
Bridges who named the station after the village where is his wife was born
in Devon. A friendly young lass on her vacation from Santiago guided us
around the grounds of the station, the botanical garden, cemetery, shearing
and boat sheds. The tiny arboretum contained all the varieties of the local
beech trees and the ubiquitous 'pan de los
indios' or Indian bread, a small spherical orange
fungus which the Patagonian indigenous tribes ate as a sustenance. Surprisingly,
there seemed to be absolutely no taste to them. Unlike the previous couple
of days, the weather was calm, warm and sunny.
Heather and I parted ways at the main dock of Ushuaia. She boarded a well
fitted Russian research ice-breaker, the Professor Multanovsky for a 2 week
cruise along the Antarctic Peninsula. I couldn't resist the urge to have
a look around the boat. My own vessel was to be considerably smaller, a
53 ft iron yacht, the "Sarah Vorwerk"
a Hamburg built vessel designed specially for Antarctic sailing and with
an itinerary somewhat less ambitious. I bumped into Henk, Sarah's skipper
at the Marina. Henk, from Friesland was a very congenial fellow and got
the feeling we would get on. In fact his appearance and manner was almost
the splitting image of Christian Hamburg. Already aboard were a Dutch couple,
Dyck and Elizabeth sipping Budweiser. I went out with Jacqueline, the efficious
Swiss "first-mate" to pick up some last minute items for the boat
from Henk's cosy chalet amongst the beech trees. Everything in Ushuaia had
shut early for the Christmas carnival and the drizzle set in. The main street
was packed with people, traffic and colorful troupes. Finally, Friedthof,
from Germany somewhat dazed after a mammoth flight from Frankfurt and we
set sail into the calm Beagle Channel.
The layout and comfortable appointment of the yacht was superb. In the saloon
there was an excellent selection of books and music. John Stamps, (another
of Victory Adventure Travel's clients,) a cheerful American accountant appeared
out of his bunk and both of us splashed out our Christmas goodies (mostly
alcoholic or chocoholic). A dormant cruiser, the Viking Bordeaux, registered
unusually in Luxembourg sent out an invitation to their Christmas party.
A Luxembourg cruise ship seemed almost as ludicrous as a Tibetan scuba-diving
club! There was a marvellous, warm atmosphere on board, with most of the
crew coming from Romania. Other crew were from Togo (the Chief Engineer)
and a Faeroese captain. There was one eccentric English passenger, a "hangover"
from an earlier cruise. The ship was still waiting for a profitable intake
of passengers and the holds were full of delights. The hostesses were exceedingly
liberal with the gin in the tonic and I have this dim recollection of being
the last of Sarah's company to return!
Christmas dawned without too much distress, awaking to be greeted by a charming
little hound of Jacquelines called Kidu and a delightfully secluded cove
in Puerto Williams. Kidu had this alarming tendency as pups have, of play
biting. Christmas day in Puerto Williams was very unexciting and drizzly.
There was nobody about, apart from the odd naval sentry post. Peaty smoke
was coming out of nearly all the chimneys indicating that life was indoors
today. Henk's ultra vague directions for finding
Captain Ben's house were sufficiently useful to get near. John jumped
out behind me from this muddy staircase which apparently were the steps
to Ben's house. Ben was glued to the CNN cable station with his young kids
in present opening craze, wrappings and food everywhere. We had a good chat
about many things. Ben originally from California, a keen sailor and diver
had suffered an unfortunate setback some years previously with a diving
accident on Easter Island which made walking very difficult. From the sounds
of it, the stresses of retrieving his yacht from the Chilean Navy, who had
rescued and salvaged it from pirates seemed more telling. Monica, his wife
and their three kids were very charming and welcoming. Their alternate home
was the Victory, berthed near the Sarah, almost a replica of Darwin's Beagle.
The shower in the naval vessel-cum-jetty-cum-yacht club was wickedly efficient
and hot compared to the normally dribbly Chilean affairs. We set sail along
the placid Beagle Channel with numerous albatross,
petrels and skuas cruising and diving nearby, a superb display of aerobatics,
poise and quick action.
In the afternoon we moored at arguably the most southerly permanent habitation
on the globe, the depot of Puerto Toro. we had a good yarn with the harbor
master and a local fisherman, who was very drunk and cheerful. Much back-splapping,
slurping and yakking. I walked around the beech covered headland peppered
with bunkers from the 1979 emergency when Argentina threatened to claim
back "it's" territory. Argentina and Chile almost went to war
over the issue but for the intervention of the Pope. Argentina's invasion
of the Falkland Islands three years later was seen by many pundits as a
dress rehearsal for an invasion here. The tiny chapel near the jetty was
delightful and peaceful. The small settlement was congregated together above
the small headlands. There was a non-functioning phone, a Carabineros depot
next to a helipad and a rude local guy who I could not understand at all.
Somehow he and his three bemused young kids in tow ended up at his house
after which he promptly broached a bottle of this light brown liquid (which
I later found out to be the Chilean Christmas drink, called "cola de
mono", a concoction of pisco, milk, coffee and cinnamon). Down at the
deck, I swapped a bottle of this toxic beverage for some beer and wine,
both of which he drank spontaneously, dribbling most of them through the
boards of the jetty !
My attempt at fishing the next day's breakfast was marginally successful,
just getting several tiny Antarctic cod. We all feasted below on one of
Jacqueline's delicious meals before heading off to a secluded moorage off
Isla Lennox, one of the islands whose sovereignty is in dispute with Argentina!
Tuesday 26th December 2000 NASSAU
BAY
Today, we bashed our way across the Bahia Nassau exposed to a stiff SE gale
forcing us to tack tenaciously. The endless bashing of the vessel combined
with the alarming deviation off the vertical was making many of the passengers
feel very poorly. Icy blue waves crashed over the bow deck portholes, giving
me this queer submarine feeling. There wasn't a great deal to do except
lie down and read, but even that became difficult after a while. Later that
evening Henk offered me some of his prized Brazilian rum, a delicious drop.
Later, John, an experienced sailor himself, who had been as far afield as
Tristan da Cunha navigated to a moorage off Isla Herschel in the Wollaston
Group (near Cape Horn) at 2 a.m.. "One hull of a day" as they
say.
Wednesday 27th December 2000 CAPE HORN
A drizzly cool day. We took the small tender to the slippery, rocky beach
nearby. A fringe of stunted beech formed the only woodland on the island
forming perhaps part of the southern most arboreal flora left on the planet.
We discovered yet another 1979 bunker. The ground was a dense, mossy sponge
of peat covered with an amazing variety of microplants and mosses, many
in flower. Dyck, Elizabeth and I climbed up to a windswept bleak headland
covered in shattered granite blocks. The view was not brilliant, smothered
by an invading haze.
Sarah headed westward into Franklins Channel, the weather became unusually
sunny, save for a horrific black squall which drenched the boat. In the
near distance could be seen the snow capped peaks of Isla Wollaston. We
struck south to Isla Hornos, greeted almost immediately by a gusty 4-5 m
swell, which apparently means a calm day in these parts! It is not unknown
here for 100 knot gusts called "williwaws" to blast out of nowhere,
surprising sails and sailors alike. Before long the distinctive peak of
the Cape headland could be made out, appearing as a flared exclamation mark
for an incredible continent (the inhabited world even) with the full stop
being a pile of rocks caught in a fury of wild surf. It seems almost inconceivable
to think that until the last end of the last glacial maximum (ice-age) one
could walk without interruption of water all the way to the Cape of Good
Hope in Southern Africa. The inspiration behind this whole trip ! Even,
considering that the vastness of the Antarctic lies several hundred km further
south, there is no point further south which can be considered habitable
even if one includes the bleak selection of sub-antarctic islands !
We passed a few dangerous rocks, no doubt the cause of many historical shipwrecks,
almost camouflaged by the chaotic pattern of the wild surf. Being on watch,
steered clear of one of these piles. Then we passed the furthest south I
had yet been at near Latitude 56 degrees South.
The author going around Cape Horn
Ceremoniously, I fed a bottle of champers off into the Drake Passage with
a length of rope and we all toasted the occasion. Henks' and Jacqueline's
stories of the Drake Crossing seemed almost unbelievable, with horizons
of furious surf swamping the boat on bad occasions. Broken masts on inferior
vessels almost sounded like queer periscope stories.
A small lighthouse could be seen lower down on the impressive slope of horn,
now disused. A superbly dramatic outlook. To the south lay 600 miles of
the most continuously violent seas on the planet, the Drake Passage, next
landfall the icy shores of the Graham Land on the Antarctic Peninsula. We
moved into the lee of the horn to a small sheltered cove. A wooden staircase
and funicular rail for freight lead up to the small naval station, manned
by a young Chilean couple (the NCO was only 19 or so !) who had been posted
there only two weeks ago. Their cosy little house was very warm, almost
excessively so. Apparently a re-supply vessel passed by every eight weeks.
We signed the logbook, had our passports stamped and the small group of
us visited a few local attractions. The small log chapel, the southernmost
place of worship outside Antarctica was very peaceful, ended abruptly as
a violent squall passed by. The lighthouse was very dilapidated with the
hinges of the door completely rusted off and wedged in place by the remnants
of a bolt. A boardwalk led across the tussock clumps to the rusting monument.
Areas nearby were sealed off by barbed wire fences, apparently enclosing
land-mines to inhibit an Argentine invasion !
The island's black collie dog and I took off and dived through the 4 foot
tussock scrub down to a shingle isthmus as the southern extent of the island.
The isthmus which separates the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, Latitude
S 55°58'02"
According to the charts this was the boundary between the Pacific and Atlantic
Oceans, barely 10 feet "separating" them. I wish I were not so
much in a hurry as I'm sure the rest of the group were waiting for me !
I walked along the shingle bridge, huge waves from both oceans were crashing
to the left and right, an amazingly ethereal experience, to be located at
such a singular location on the earth. To the west lay New Zealand some
8000 km and to the East (North-East), the Cape of Good Hope 6800 km distant.
Homo-Sapiens our species had to walk 34,000 km or more across four continents
from the Kenyan Rift Valley to settle here, almost a migration speed of
20 km every generation. Yet even these vast distances and times in the human
scale are subsumed in tectonics. 150 million years ago Patagonia, Africa,
Antarctica, Australia and New Zealand joined as one super-continent Gondwanaland
started their inexorable drift apart to where they lie now moving at 5 meters
every century. One species, ubiquitous in Patagonia, the Antarctic
Beech "Nothofagus", still exists in cool-temperate Australia,
New Zealand and Papua New Guinea. Almost indistinguishable from each other
after 150,000,000 years this hardy tree even survived the increasingly extreme
Antarctic conditions until as little as several hundred thousand years ago,
with petrified stumps still to be seen near the South Pole. Even more intriguing,
the conifer of the Araucaria and Agathis families are still found in increasingly
small pockets in all these places. In 1994 an explorer found a stand of
trees in a remote canyon in the Wollemi sandstone wilderness, 200km west
of Sydney, hitherto considered extinct, which once covered most of Gondwanaland.
Only 40 adult trees left in their original state, all genetically identical
to each other.
From this location I started walking North, a journey which will eventually
conclude at the Cape of Good Hope, going overland or by sea all the way,
a journey of almost 40,000 km, retracing man's migration. The 'shortcut'
up through the tussock turned out to be a typical example of Sod's law.
The channels between the tough and wiry scrub deepened into muddy trenches
with only 3 feet to spare. Of course the collie slid up these with ease.
The scrub gave way after much doubling back to thick tussock. I was later
learn of the hazards of doing this, as sea lions often find shelter there
and aren't very friendly when some 90 kg human starts walking on top of
them ! We finally departed the Cape and surprisingly had a very pleasant
and calm crossing through the evening back to Isla Lennox ! Estupendo
Thursday 28th December BEAGLE CHANNEL
A lazy day, read "Cape Horn" by Felix Risenberg, a very good account
of the exploration of Patagonia. Tales of phantom islands and unimaginable
endurance. A pleasant day's sailing back to Puerto Williams, even if on
an alarming tack. Jacqueline managed to cook up some delicious bread in
the gimbal oven at a 15 degree list.
Felt in a really good mood, had roast lamb, cut from the carcass which had
been hanging of the stern. Henk alarmed many passengers on an adjoining
yacht by attacking the carcass with a saw and snapping its spine with a
loud crack. Many people were also annoyingly remarking about my shorts.
A good shower and a wonderful evening in the Yacht
Club, chatting to Moritz (met in Ushuaia), the crew, and a Chilean naval
officer about the rights and wrongs of imperialism and nationalism. The
pisco sours were very potent, expensive and inducive to in depth discussion.
I staggered back to the Sarah in the early morning light.
Friday 29th December BEAGLE CHANNEL
After an acetonic breakfast, we departed Puerto Williams along the Beagle
Channel, heading West. I slept and luckily the weather was exceptionally
dreary today. The channel was like a sheet of glass, absolutely no ripples,
passing Ushuaia without a breath of wind. Suddenly
we entered into a fierce gale, late in the afternoon as the sun started
to regain dominance and we pulled into a lovely cove called Caletta Letier
on Isla Hoste, an intoxicatingly lovely picturesque wooded cove under the
gaze of an unnamed peak. I called this Gable mountain due it's resemblance
to a transept of a church. We took the dinghy to the shore and I climbed
up through a pleasant beech forest with Friedthof to a granite outcrop to
marvel at the superb view of our anchorage, the Beagle Channel full of white
horses, the sun illuminating one of the duck looking islands far to the
east. In the distance Ushuaia and the Fuegian Andes. A bit further on, passing
some brilliant flowering shrubs (copihue) similar to a Waratah to get a
better view of Gable Mountain. A wonderful afternoon. Cattle tracks around,
hence the locations name !
Saturday 30th December CALETTA LETIER (Milkman's Cove)
Today was a spectacular warm day (16 degs.) sunny and we decided to remain
in the cove. I returned to the lookout, went with Jacqueline in the dinghy
further into the cove gathering firewood (driftwood) for the BBQ. We built
a fire on the other side of the cove on the shore of a small sheltered peninsula
in the crack of a large rock. Put some Budweiser (erhh..) into the sea to
keep it cool. I walked around the small hill on the peninsula with Kidu,
Jacqueline's little pup, training it as I went. Kidu seemed to constantly
bite my hands and heels ! A lovely view over the channel, the mooring and
various vantage points, all warm and sunny. The western outlook was very
breezy. Returned to the BBQ, lamb carcass, hunks of Argentine beef, superb
salad, wine, wine, wine. Tried kebabing the Pan de los Indios and melting
bottles in the fire even hammersmithing. Did another wicked climb at sunset.
In fact it was a terrific evening.
Sunday 31st December 2000 to SENO PIA
Last day of the millennium in a sense. Weather, pretty cool today and overcast.
We followed the channel, passing several suspended turquoise glaciers rolling
off the Cordillera Darwin ice-sheet, all with attractive falls of meltwater
emanating from them. The glaciers had some resounding names; Ventisquero
Holanda and Romanche.
Beagle Channel - Ventisquero Romanche
To pass the time in between glaciers, Henk, John and I passed the time sending
email messages by short-wave using PACTOR, great fun ! We pulled into the
East Branch of Seno Pia passing a submerged moraine with only meters to
spare ! A magnificent glacier rolling into the head of the sound, as we
moored in a recurve cove in absolutely still and quiet water. We went in
the dinghy with the others, hearing the growling and cracking of the glacier.
Picked ice for new year whisky and to keep the champagne cool. I rowed out
a couple of hours before midnight in the dim dusk light to savour the immensity
and stillness of the location, almost like the lake of Arthurian legends
or fairy tales. A silence only broken by the creakings of the glacier, echoing
around the sound. Motored back just in time for the fireworks (a flare past
it's use by date). Drinks a plenty. The new millennium firmly in place now
!!
Monday 1st January 2001
SENO PIA
We departed passing many swimming dolphins and steamer ducks to enter the
NW passage of Seno Pia. This was a truly majestic fjord, torrid white streams
plunging through granite canyons lined by beech forests from the white ice
sheet above.
Shortly, the water became turbid blue, with numerous fragments of ice and
growlers indicating the presence of glaciers ahead. We navigated through
a maze of chunky icebergs and growlers, the summit of Cerro Darwin ahead.
One could hear the distinct growling and creaking of the glaciers before
they came into sight and after rounding a bend in the fjord a must stupendous
sight beheld us, an amphitheater of 2500m peaks, nunataks punctuating the
ice sheet between three imposing glaciers ending in cliffs at the head of
the fjord. The stillness of the air and water was astounding. Sarah stopped
a 100 meters from one of the glaciers peppermint colored cliffs of ice,
watching in awe as huge chunks of blue ice calved off into the sound, sending
ripples across. One chunk was particularly large and sent a tsunami towards
us. Jacqueline was in a kayak and rode over it with ease. Kidu went for
an unplanned swim in the 3 degree water (stupid pup). We anchored a safer
distance away, all the time watching in awe the scene before us. We were
joined by a submarine looking yacht the "Seamaster"
of Blake Expeditions, skippered by Peter Blake, the captain of Black magic,
the New Zealand victor of the last America's Cup. My instincts, and previous
experiences with wealthy yachties with big egos I kept my distance from
them, even if they were fellow countrymen. (Sir Peter Blake was killed while defending his yacht from bandits in the Amazon river after leaving Puerto Williams)
Seno Pia and the Cordillera Darwin
I walked up beside the lateral moraine along an incredibly smooth granite
shoulder, polished by thousands of years of thousands of tons of ice and
grit. The tree line was still some distance up, indicating the recently
earlier level of the glacier, a rapid indication of global warming !! The
greyish moraine created a curious stream of oily looking liquid (minute
crystals in suspension). I climbed up with Kidu through the boulders of
a recent landslide to gain a wonderful perspective of the scene.
Our company was joined later, by a local Argentine yachtsman, Alexandro,
aboard MAGO II and two Italian fashion designers (these were also from Victory
Adventure Travel), producers of the famous "Cape Horn" brand.
We moored at a beautiful cove, further down the fjord, a massive torrent
emptying into it through a primeval moss-forest. Kidu was highly frightened
by its deafening row. We had a delightful meal with the Italians, a convivial
discussion, fueled by some good wines.
Tuesday 2nd January 2001 TRES
BRAZOS
We farewelled the Italians, who decided to cruise up Seno Garibaldi
for sentimental reasons ! We crossed the Noroeste to Tres Brazos, to yet
another magnificent natural cove, which was in fact a submerged series of
interconnected cirques. The weather was drizzling now, but Jacqueline and
Kidu, along with Dyck and Elizabeth clambered up through the incredibly
moist and spongy peat slopes and rocks, orange flowering holly, berries,
"waratahs" up to a viewpoint overlooking the cove and the Beagle
Channel across to the Cordillera. This magnificent stroll continued up to
an elevated glacial lake, very reminiscent of those of the Western Arthurs
in South-west Tasmania. Deep, dark and mysterious. Icy streams lovingly
plunging into it from all directions through vertical beech forests. I bridged
the major outflow and in so doing separated from the group, scrambling around
the rocky lip on the other side to a few slightly smaller cirque lakes.
Scrambled down through the canyon passing several green grassy ledges into
a very dense and gloomy moss forest. In fact the similarities to PNG above
3000 m were remarkable, a hark back to Gondwanaland !! feeling very tired,
retired early (for once !!)
Wednesday 3rd January BEAGLE CHANNEL
A somewhat dreary final day. Dick, Friedthoff and myself went ashore for
some final photos before we chugged off taking the whole day to get to Puerto
Williams. A dense haze smothered all the surrounding hills and there was
hardly any wind. Arrived at 11.30, enough time to get a shower and have
a few drinks at the Micalvi Yacht Club. I inadvertently caused some consternation,
stalking the deck of the jetty wearing only a bath-towel (not the preferred
dress here) looking for a gas refill for the water heater. A Naval Officer
promptly arranged an urgent resupply.
Thursday 4th January PUERTO WILLIAMS
Farewelled everybody as they returned to Ushuaia. I paid a visit to Ben
Garrett aboard the VICTORY, It was nice and cosy
inside. Monica offered to do my extensive laundry. Up at the Centro de LLamados
(Center of llamas (calls))and wade through 15 emails on their ultra slow
and expensive connection. The tiny Plaza de Armas was but a collection scruffy looking civic buildings,
saloon bars and rattling cars. I found the Refugio Coiron...
Another client writes:
Impressions from my Antarctica
Expedition on EUROPA, January 2001
Rob Burdock
Sydney, Australia
These impressions were written in my diary whilst crossing the Drakes
Passage on return from Antarctica.
* * *
I close my eyes and think of all the images made on my memory over the last
few weeks. Etched in my mind are peaks and land shapes which exist in places
such as the Himalayas, but here we are at sea level. Jagged black sharp
rock thrusting upward from the sea contrast with white ice and snow. There
is nothing to give proportion, no relativity until one of our zodiacs leaves
the ship to become a speck beneath a glacier which itself is dwarfed by
the mountains behind.
The power of this place is occasionally revealed when a slice of glacier
drops from its ice cliff. A loud "crack", as sharp as an assault
rifle shot at close range, causes heads to turn to see a chunk the size
of a building already falling to the sea. The impact creates a ripple afar
which eventually reaches the shore. Blocks of ice, the size of small cars,
are washed against the rocky shore. Penguins scurrying, then again, all
is quite.
Antarctica's most visible wildlife success is the penguin. I watched these
little creatures for hours. On land they are earnest, caring, careful, curious
and industrious. They walk awkwardly with their arm-like wings out behind
for balance. If you sit perfectly still, they pause to examine, tilt their
heads and peck at clothing. They are gentle and violent. They are noisy.
In the water they are small torpedoes. I think they are gorgeous.
In summer it has been light all the time. On deck, while on anchor watch
at 4 am, snow 3 cm thick lay on the deck and decorated ropes, latches and
door handles. Not a ripple raised itself from the sea's surface. So still,
so quiet, so peaceful.
Antarctica is a hard and unforgiving place. It is desolate. It is stark.
There appears to be little variety. It is beautiful. It is powerful. It
is so cold. I cannot imagine winter.
I have been privileged to see Antarctica, walk on it, hear it and feel its
cold breath. I stand on a freezing deck until land disappears from sight.
I leave in awe and with a sense of respect. The planet deserves a place
like Antarctica where humans are humbled.
Click for Hostal Bella Vista in Puerto Williams, 25 miles from Ushuaia
Monica with a Tierra Del Fuego King Crab for dinner
SOME CHILE FACTS
Information on Puerto Williams
More info
VICTORY ADVENTURE EXPEDITIONS LTD.
Since 1991 Exploring The "Uttermost Parts Of The Earth":
The Arctic, Antarctica and Cape Horn
Your Cruise Specialists at the "ends of the earth"
Phone/Fax (56)61-621092, Phone (56)61-621010,Box 70, Teniente Munoz 118, Puerto Williams,
Tierra Del Fuego, Chile 'The Gateway To Antarctica'
http://cape-horn.net
email: sailing@victory-cruises.com
All rights reserved, Copyright © Victory Yacht Cruises, Victory Adventure Expeditions, Ltd. TM 1996-2008
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