My First Foray into Patagonia

When I sailed out of Puerto Montt, I was expecting to enter a world of cascading waterfalls, narrow fjords, picturesque islands, and frosty volcanic peaks.  But the reality is far from what I was expecting.  After all the hype, I found that Chile is just not that great.

JUST KIDDING!!!  It’s totally and completely gorgeous and awe-inspiring!

The Fjords
I pulled out of Puerto Montt a few hours before dawn and pointed the Rascal south. By the time the sun was setting, we were navigating into the heart of the Andes with thousand foot cliffs on either side and snow capped peaks glimmering in the distance.  A glorious sunset ushered me into a snug anchorage between two islands.  

The next morning was absolutely gorgeous and the Rascal and I began to delve deeper into the mountains.  

I was surrounded by pristine forested mountainsides.  Sharp, craggy peaks could be seen peeking out in the distance.

Every now and then, you could spot a glacier in the depths of the Andes.

On my third morning in the fjords, I woke to clear skies and a dusting of snow up in the high country.  Winter is clearly on its way.

One tough thing about sailing in the fjords is finding a good spot to anchor.  You can imagine how the thousand foot cliffs that you can see above the waterline just continue down into the ocean.  Thus, all of the anchorages are very deep, and anchoring is really only possible in areas where a river or landslide has thrown enough debris into the fjords to fill them up.  Oftentimes you have to get very close to the cliffs to be able to get your anchor to hold at all.  I’ve been in a couple places now where my bow will be in 60 or 70 feet of water and my stern will only be in 20 or 25.  Typically you need to tie lines to shore to keep the boat secure.  It’s definitely a little nerve-wracking to have your rudder ten feet way from a bunch of sharp, point rocks, but its normally the only possibility.  The 15-20 ft tidal range compounds these issues.  

After rainstorms (ie: almost every day) there are hundreds of waterfalls, large and small that come spouting out of the walls of the fjords.  You've got to do some pretty stout bushwhacking, but oftentimes its possible to climb up to the base of them for a closer look.  Some are fed by rainfall, some by glacier melt, and others by springs.  Every single one I've tasted so far has been delicious!

As always, there were plenty of birds cruising around and I've also seen a few colonies of sea lions on rocky outcroppings.  

Some errant penguins!

The Hot Springs
Chile’s predominately volcanic geology means that there are lots of hot springs bubbling up out of the ground.  One such place is at the very end of a beautiful isolated fjord, with the nearest town dozens of miles away.  It was one of the first places I visited and I immediately fell in love.

A dozen small tubs and baths had been carved out of the solid rock with tiny little channels to bring the water to each.  Depending on how hot you wanted your soak, you’d add some rocks to the channel to stem the flow, or remove them to get more hot water.  

I spent a few hours (and a few beers) soaking in the tub, relaxing, and listening to birds call from the forest that surrounded me.  

I thought about how incredibly crowded this place would be if it were in the United States... yet I had it all to myself.

I also spent some time anchored beside hot spring that was a little more built up and developed, with a small hotel and a couple of shepherd families living nearby.  It didn’t have quite the same natural charm as the first, but it did have a cute Chilean girl working there and we shared a couple of beers while the sun set.  

The People
After a particularly sketchy night (with bad weather and a mediocre anchorage), I decided to take refuge in a cove that was a few miles away.  There are lots of salmon farms (they are like big net cages that’re floating on the surface, but anchored to the bottom) around this part of Chile and this cove happened to have a big one.  I anchored near the outlet to a river and decided to cook some lunch.  A man in an old leaky wooden boat rowed up to say hello and I got into a good conversation with him.  

We ate lunch together in the Rascal and I learned that he had lived at this same small village his entire life.  He said he was normally a fisherman, but he is currently out of work and most of his family moved to a bigger town a couple dozen miles away.  He was very polite and also quite friendly and I've found these two traits to exist throughout Chile.  Nearly everyone is eager to meet and try to help foreigners like myself.  

I was surprised to find that even without a job, he still had enough money for a cell phone and satellite TV.  It’s interesting to see the amenities and possessions that people choose to spend their money on.  It’s also quite interesting to see just how far American culture spreads throughout the world – when I mentioned I was from Utah, he had the same response that I always got while I was living in China.  "KARL MALONNEEEEE!!!" (From the Utah Jazz).

Later that day, a couple of guys from the salmon farm motored up in a fancy work boat to tell me that I was anchored in a mediocre place (with the current from the river and the variable depth) and they offered for me to tie up to the salmon farm pontoon which was really well secured.  I moved on over and lo and behold, we started drinking beers on the Rascal.  

I spent the next couple of days hanging out with the salmon farmers, going on exploratory hikes during the day, eating dinner together with my new friends at night, and learning a bunch about salmon farming.  They were exceptionally hospitable and it was great to get to know them.  

The salmon farming process was totally fascinating.  They start with a bunch of tiny smelt from a salmon hatchery, pour them into a big cage in the ocean, feed them a blend of grain and dead sea creatures in pelletized form, and a year or two later, they’ve got a bunch of 10lb salmon ready for market.  They have secondary nets over the top and around the outside to keep birds and sea lions away from the fish and they’re very careful about monitoring the health and condition of the salmon.  Special attention is paid to oxygen levels in the salmon pens, which happened to be quite good while I was there.  All of the feeding was automated using computer programs and the entire operation was very clean and well tended.  

Live video from different depths inside the salmon cages

Depending on your perspective, salmon farming in Chile is either an environmental atrocity that is ruining one of the most pristine wild places on earth or an absolute godsend that is employing hundreds of thousands of Chileans that’ve been exploited by foreign businesses for hundreds of years.  I’m still not sure where I fall within that spectrum, but it was definitely interesting to get a more personal, educated perspective on the salmon industry.  

You also see lots of small boats around the islands that are fishing for hake or congrio (or perhaps diving for mussels and clams).  It seems to be very hard work and every fisherman I’ve approached has been super friendly and personable.  Normally they’ll even offer to give you some of their catch, which is super generous considering they make very little profit in the first place.  

I’ve also had a blast meeting and hanging out with other cruisers along the way.  You don’t see many sailboats in Chile, so when you do, it’s always interesting to chat and hear their story.  Most folks are on their way around the world, having come up from the Straights of Magellan or east someplace in the South Pacific.  Everyone has been much more friendly than the cruisers I'd happen across in Mexico, for instance.  

The Islands
There are a couple dozen islands south of Puerto Montt that're protected from ocean swell by the huge island of Chiloe.  These islands are primarily inhabited by fisherman and ranchers / farmers that've lived there for hundreds of years.  Most of the land has been logged out, but there are beautiful pastures, lots of good protected harbors, and some small towns that have a really unique, beautiful character about them.  

I spent a handful of days walking around towns, going for beach walks, and eating huge, cheap, delicious meals with my friends on SV Karma.  

Some of these small towns have ship builders that've been practicing the trade for generations and they work right out on the beach.  The tool of choice is generally the chain saw and they work by sight and select all of the wood by hand.  I spent a few hours watching these guys and never once saw anyone take a measurement.  It was beautiful to watch them work and the finished product looked strong but also somehow graceful.  

While the islands didn't have the same dramtic beauty as the fjords, they do have a really cool history and charm about them that I haven't seen elsewhere.  

one of these things is not like the other...

A water turbine... carved out of wood.

The Fishes
Before I started sailing, I always used to see pictures of dolphins and sailboats and think, “Wow, that must be a once in a lifetime experience!”  Ever since I hit the waters off of California, I’ve found that there are dolphins absolutely everywhere.  Despite their prevalence, I still squeal like a little kid when I see them coming and their beauty and grace is nothing short of astonishing.  I’ve had a couple of really tremendous dolphin experiences lately.

The first came at the end of one long day of sailing.  The wind suddenly dropped off and a really thick fog fell around the Rascal with just a mile or two between me and my anchorage for the night.  It was a place I hadn’t been before, there were rocks around the entrance, and I could hardly see past the bow.  I was pretty damn nervous about it all, but I very slowly motored in, ringing my fog bell, listening for boats, and watching my depth sounder like a hawk.  Silence and whiteness surrounded me like a wool blanket.  All of a sudden, I heard this loud PUFFF right behind me, and I whirled around to see a dolphin appear out of the ether to come and greet me.  

He squirted off in a hurry, but the rest of his family came and did laps around the boat.  

I eventually found a good spot to anchor (though I could only just barely see the coast) and as soon as I got the hook down, the fog lifted off and a lovely sunset replaced it!

My second cool dolphin experience came while I was exploring in the Superhighway, my inflatable dinghy.  It has a 4hp outboard, and I’ve found if I inflate it really full, balance my weight just right, and steer really smoothly, I can get it to plane.  It normally goes about 4-5kts, but when its planing, it’ll go 10-12kts.  That feels really fast compared to the Rascal, and it also allows you to explore places that’d be really tough or time consuming to get to in the sailboat. 

One day, I was headed for a river that was about 10 miles away to see if I could manage some fishing.  As I skittered across a big bay and into the fjord, I heard a big splash off to my right.  A big pod was about a hundred yards away and closing fast.  They seemed really energetic, and they were obviously moving much quicker than they normally do to catch up with the Rascal.  It was like I was at the Running of the Bulls and I was in the middle of the pack.  They were splashing on all sides of me and they were clearly charging for all they were worth!

It was totally surreal to be so close to them, basically sitting down in the water in the Superhighway, and I could’ve easily reached out and touched one they were so close to the dinghy.  We were moving so fast and I was so fired up that I only managed a few blurry cameraphone pictures, but it was a really incredible experience.

I also had some really fantastic whale watching experiences.  I had been waiting out a long storm in an anchorage to the south of Chaiten for four days and I was slowly sailing my way back north on a rare east wind that was blowing down out of the mountains.  It felt tremendous to be sailing again, and I got to enjoy a really spectacular sunrise as I hoisted sail and got the kinks out of my system.  

As I passed Chaiten, I noticed a few odd clouds on the horizon that quickly dissipated.  “Just your standard Native American smoke signals,” I reckoned... until I saw the next one form… and it was clearly coming from the sea, not the land!  “THAR SHE BLOWWWWSSS!!!” I bellowed like a maniac.  

I hadn’t seen whales in months, so I got really fired up about it.  

In all, I would imagine I saw at least two or three dozen whales that day and after chatting with a couple of marine biologist friends and consulting some whale watching guides, I reckon they were from three species.  Thus, I’ve termed that day a Whale Watching Triple Crown, which is, of course, a prestigious event worthy of celebration. 

The first species was the fin whale, which I’ve spotted before up off the Oregon and Washington coasts.  They’re the second biggest whale species and they’re a very long, graceful animal.  

The second species I saw was the orca or “killer” whale.  They’re a a fair bit smaller than the other two species, and they’re actually not a whale at all, they’re really a dolphin.  That's beside the point, however.  

There is an excerpt I really love from a book about Antarctic exploration.

Spotting a seal, the creatures would dive to great depths and then smash through the ice, seizing the seal in it's mouth. The expedition found a hole 25 feet in diameter that had been created by a killer whale. As photographer Frank Hurley took a dog team over the thin ice, he would hear whales blowing behind him. He would quickly dash for solid, thick ice with "No need to shout 'mush' and swing the lash. The whip of terror had cracked over their heads and they flew before it. The whales behind...broke through the thin ice as though it were tissue paper, and, I fancy, were so staggered by the strange sight that met their eyes, that for a moment they hesitated. Had they gone ahead and attacked us in front, our chances of escape would have been slim indeed...Never in my life have I looked upon more loathsome creatures".

I didn't find them to be so loathsome, and I was quite impressed with the size of their ginormous dorsal fins.  

This fin was about the same height as me!

The third species I spotted on that day was the blue whale, which happens to be the largest creature that has ever lived on earth.  They're 100ft long, weigh 150 tons and they're 2.5 times bigger than a T-Rex.  They were hunted almost to extinction, but their population has been slowly rebounding.  Its exceptionally rare to see one and I was lucky enough to see one from about 100 yards away when it snuck up behind the Rascal.  He was so close that I could smell his breath when he exhaled and I can confirm that blue whales suffer from halitosis.  

The other scenery on the day of my Whale Watching Triple Crown didn't exactly suck.

The Park
If you’ve ever seen the movie 180 Degrees South, you might remember the private park that Doug Tompkins (former owner of The North Face) started down here in Patagonia.  It’s called Parque Pumalin and I’ve gotten to explore a couple of different parts of it now.  All of the land is absolutely beautiful and it’s nice to know that it will be protected.  

The park is left mostly wild and natural, but the infrastructure that they have put in is really well done.  You can tell they've really thought things through and designed systems with attention to detail and an eye towards sustainability.  

Most of the park is only accessible by boat and at their visitor center, they have a little organic farm that supplies park employees and visitors.  Its refreshing to contrast this approach with the massive car-based tourism thats prevalent at parks in the US.  

They really are doing something special in these parks and its more than just the conservation of the land.  Its also about educating people and planning for the future.  If you're curious about their philosophy, this is a good spot to learn more.  

While its easy for folks in the states to applaud the efforts of Tompkins as a conservationist, lots of people in Chile have a really negative opinion of him.  His conservation efforts have definitely put a damper on economic development (environmentally ruinous economic development) and lots of people are unhappy about the amount of power he has due to his enormous landholdings.  I've even heard well educated Chileans claim that he is buying all of the land to create a new Israel within the borders of Chile... as we and a few other pretty radical conspiracies.  I'm curious to see how Chilean sentiment evolves as time goes on, but for now, I'm just happy that there aren't any strip mining companies excavating the hot springs. 

The Volcanos
You can hardly look up in this country without seening a volcano.  They're all exceptionally majestic, ringed with snow, and just begging to be skied.  

Unfortunately, they're all quite challenging to access (until I can afford that chopper!) with lots of dense vegetation around their bases.  

You might also recongize this one (Volcan Corcovado) from 180 Degrees South.  It's the one they tried to climb with Yvonne Chouinard.  

The Storms
While the people and scenery have been absolutely awesome, the weather has been exactly the opposite.  This seems to be one of the universal truths of winter in Patagonia.  Cold.  Rainy.  Windy.  The weather in this part of the world is all dictated by an endless procession of low pressure systems that march across the southern ocean from west to east.  At this time of year, the wind is nearly always out of the north (or NW or NE) and occasionally it’ll fall dead calm after the passage of a front.  

The weather changes fast and it’s rarely predictable.  There have been a few occasions where I’ll be motoring along through a calm and I’ll see some dangerous looking clouds approaching.  Within five minutes it will be blowing 25-30 knots with rain and sleet whipping all around.   I've definitely spent a lot of time sailing with just a double reefed main and the jiblet up.  

Depending on the topography around you, the wind will sometimes get rocketed down the face of a mountainside into your anchorage.  Other times, it will all get funneled down a fjord and it is invariably always a headwind.  

In addition to the strong, unpredicatable winds, there are substantial currents.  Most everywhere has at least a knot of current that will change directions depending on the tide.  In tight passes and narrow fjords, the current increases to 2-4kts which is oftentimes a challenge for the Rascal to manage.  You've definitely got to plan carefully if you are trying to cover long distances.  

One of the tide rips

There have been a couple of really nasty storms with predicted winds up to 70kts.  I don’t have a wind speed indicator on the Rascal, but there were definitely some gusts approaching that neighborhood.  Luckily, I was able to find good anchorages (with great company) in time to weather each of them.  The anchoring technique down here often involves tying lines from each corner of the boat to a stout tree or rock on shore.   Thus, narrow, deep anchorages are prized and I've happened into a few gems already.  

Luckily I can keep the wood stove roaring when its really nasty out, and quickly step from the wet, bulstery, freezing cockpit down into a warm, dry, cozy Rascal.  

All-in-all, it was a hell of a trip and I feel like I've finally gotten a swig of the delicious brew that is Patagonia.  It wasn't enough to quench my thirst, though.  I'm gearing back up in Puerto Montt for some more exploration and scouting.