The ferry was still tethered 100 m away from the shore when we woke up. This left us time to pack up our bags and have a quick coffee before disembarking at the port of Puerto Williams, on Isla Navarino (at 54°56'S 67°37'W, the southernmost town in the world). We walked towards the centre of town, where we assumed our hostel (Residencial Pusaki) could be found. A passing car gave us a ride to our hostel, which was very helpful as we did not have a map of the town, and although it only has 2,500 inhabitants wandering around town is not much fun with heavy backpacks.
Although we were sorry to hear that Patty, the owner of our hostel, was on holidays in the Falkland Islands for 2 weeks, we were very well taken care of by the lady who welcomed us. She offered us coffee and toast and gave us useful tips on where to find tourist information. To our great surprise, she also told us that the hostel's doors were always open and thus that we would not need a key. It is a quiet island. I doubt the police that we occasionally saw patrolling around town have much to do.
Our street in Puerto Williams
It was quite early in the morning and the small outdoor shop (Turismo Shila) where we wanted to get some trekking information would only open in an hour or so. We thus went for a walk around the town (which was mostly deserted apart from horses munching on the grass in the main "plaza", to John's great amusement) and arrived at the yacht pier, where we spotted a couple of fancy yachts as well as an intriguing old cargo boat. We understood from the ad on the door that it had been turned into a bar, which opens every night at 9pm (and here was our plan for the evening).
Horses grazing on the main square
More horses further on our way to the pier (with the airfield in the background)
The bar "Club de Yates Micalvi" and private yachts
Church of Puerto Williams in the naval area
The tourist office (a woman behind a small desk inside the town hall) was open and we got some useful information about the town's (rather limited) touristic attractions. She also confirmed that the only way to get to Ushuaia (about 50 km away) was to take a small boat which was rather expensive (the price of the ride had one of our fellow ferry passenger ranting about it for a while). The island, when you are not sailing on your own boat, can only be reached by plane or ferry from Punta Arenas or by boat from Ushuaia, all of which is rather costly and depends on weather conditions. This explains why there were only few of us around town (there may be a few more tourists in high season, but it is never busy). Puerto Williams (and Isla Navarino more generally) thus offers a great retreat away from the crowds, and a chance to enjoy nature through several trekking opportunities, including the famous trek to the Dientes de Navarino (the island's central mountain chain).
Warning about the lack of ozone coverage (with the town hall in the background)
Antarctica, apparently
Our initial plan was to stay a few days on the island, go trekking to a lake (Lago Windhorn) on the other side of the island (less demanding than the Dientes trek, which is covered in snow) and then leave for Ushuaia, on the other side of the Beagle Channel, in Argentina. Luis, at Turismo Shila, informed us however that departures to Ushuaia were only confirmed on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. Departures on the other days of the week would depend on the amount of people (they needed a minimum of 4 people to go). Moreover, we realised that the lake where we wanted to go to was exposed to strong winds, which dealt with the remains of our motivation. We opted for a more relaxed program: we would visit the town, the nearby Omora Ethnobotanical park, and admire the view from the Cerro Bandera. We had inquired about the various options to go to Cape Horn, but unfortunately we did not get any response. The owners of the agency recommended by the Lonely planet were off sailing around Tahiti.
We resumed our walk around town to visit the only museum in town: the Anthropology Museum Martin Gusinde, named after a Austrian priest and anthropologist who lived among the Yaghan and Selknam tribes between 1924 and 1928. Built in 1974 by the Chilean Navy (very present on the island, representing approx. half of the population), the museum held great displays on the Yaghan tribe. We learnt how they built their canoes out of tree bark, how they lived, and how they unfortunately disappeared as a result of colonisation (including the transmission of diseases) and despite the attempts of missions such as the one described by Lucas Bridges in his book Uttermost Part of the Earth (which may be found on Amazon.com).
The museum also became our hotspot for internet connection as they allow visitors to use their access, which was extremely helpful as we did not have many alternatives (the only "internet café" in town offered just a more-than-antique computer at the back of a dark room).
After enjoying a garlicky escalope milanese in one of the two restaurants in town (called "los Dientes de Navarino"), we walked the 500m to the very small village of Villa Ukika, where we thought lived the last descendants of the Yaghan tribe. Our only option amidst this quiet village would have been to knock on people's door to ask for information, so instead we walked to the Omora Ethnobotanical garden. We learnt later that there is only one Yaghan descendant left in Villa Ukika, who is about 70. If she is not in her house in the middle of the village, you can knock on people's door to ask for her (those people are actually part of her family, but they are not only Yaghan). She apparently likes talking to people and sharing her stories, but we were not at ease with pestering her so we did not go back.
Villa Ukika
In the park Omora, we followed a short signposted trail which provided us with interesting facts about the local flora. We were the only ones in the park, which was enjoyably peaceful.
Natural space for ethical reflection
In the evening, we prepared a soup that we shared with Pierre-Yves, a very friendly and singular character who left France (Brittany) 30 years ago on his boat for the Caribbean, and now lives in Chile. Dinner was great fun: we learnt about his life in Chile and his beef with the proliferation of roundabouts in France. To accompany the soup, our proxy-host brought us some delicious freshly-fished king crab.
King Crab
Later, I managed to drag John along to the bar Club de Yates Micalvi; admittedly it involved a 15 min walk in the cold. We were one of very few, which made for a very cosy atmosphere in this bar haunted by the presence of the navigators that had challenged themselves in the stormy waters around Cape Horn. They traditionally stop by the bar and leave a flag with their signature and the date. On the first floor, formerly the bridge, was a great sailors' game. A ring was tied to a rope hung from the middle of the room. On the other side of the room was a peg. The objective was swing the ring, like a pendulum, across the room to land it on the peg. After a couple of tries John succeeded and, as we would say in French, il n'était pas peu fier.
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After a late night, we did not set off very early the next day. Equipped with layers of warm clothing as well as a picnic, we started walking to Cerro Bandera, a hill from which you can enjoy a great view over the Beagle Channel, Puerto Williams and the Dientes range. Cerro Bandera (named after the Chilean flag at the top that reminds the Argentinians across the channel to keep their distance) rises 610m above the Beagle Channel.
The trail started from a square with a shrine dedicated to the Virgin. The horses that we had earlier spotted in the middle of the town were now enjoying the grass on the lawns surrounding the shrine.
More horses by the shrine on the way to Cerro Bandera
The unicorn of Isla Navarino?
It took us about 2 hours to reach the top. The walk was very pleasant as the trail was climbing up the hill slowly. Moreover, the forest provided an efficient shelter from the wind and the sun. The wind eventually caught us, though; at the top of the hill we were being blown sideways. The view over the Beagle Channel was incredible, as we'd been lucky again to have a clear day, and fighting against the wind was worth it. We walked a few metres further to enjoy the view over the Dientes range. The strength of the wind confirmed our decision not to venture out for the 4 day trek. Back at the hostel, we met a German couple who had just got back from the trek and they had clearly had enough cold for a while. Their only desire was to go back to Buenos Aires to enjoy some warmth. They had been preparing for the trek for 2 weeks; we had not.
The trail passes by wind-swept trees, with the Beagle Channel in the distance
The Dientes de Navarino mountain range
The flag, the Beagle Channel and Puerto Williams (while we try not to be swept away)
We went to the museum for a few hours to use their internet. Interestingly, we were joined by the dog who regularly lay outside our hostel. She had followed us all the way to the museum and even managed to get inside, apparently impatient to go back. There were not many people in the museum on this Saturday afternoon and I managed to take the dog out. Sadly she had disappeared by the time we left, but we were glad to see her safely back the next morning.
In the evening, we tried to go to the town's second restaurant, "la Trattoria de Matteo", but it was unfortunately closed (there seemed to be a private party). We thus cooked dinner ourselves and enjoyed a nice bottle of wine by the fire. We had the little hostel to ourselves, which was very enjoyable.
The quietness of the place was suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door. I thought it was a traveller looking for a bed. Instead, the man introduced himself and told us that he was bringing back some beaver skins for Patricia (I made him repeat as he was speaking Spanish quite fast). When I asked whether he wanted to leave a note (after all, we were the only people in the hostel, together with a German girl), he answered that it was not necessary and that, being the director of the college, he could be trusted. I did not enquire further and left the beaver skins in the entrance. The next day, I notified the lady in charge of looking after the hostel; she took a look at them and said that they had not been treated yet. By contrast, she pointed out to the ones on the dining chairs which had been treated and were very soft. She said that it was not possible to buy beaver skin at the moment because nobody is hunting them; they have moved further away from the town into the mountains and are thus harder to find. We also asked if it was possible to eat beaver but she said that no restaurant was selling it at the moment for the same reason. As a little note, beavers were introduced on the island (and throughout Tierra del Fuego) in the 1940s for the commercial exploitation of their fur. The price of fur collapsed soon after and the animal was no longer hunted. The beaver population thus greatly expanded due to the lack of predators and the amenable climate, causing significant environmental damage. Apparently animal rights activists have managed to prevent a full-scale purge so far.
Puerto Williams is a charming little town and I am really glad we spent a couple of days there, if only to see horses roaming around town and enjoy the peace and quiet. The tourist infrastructure is not very developed in comparison with other places we have been to, which is very refreshing. They are definitely working on it though: the museum looks brand new, there are signposts around town informing visitors about historical facts, and there is even a tourist office (albeit small). We heard complaints against the luxury Lakutaia hotel (3km out of town), which organises tours around the island but does not benefit the economy of the town. People who can afford to travel to the island are likely to be able to stay at this luxurious hotel, where they live separated from the rest of town. Few backpackers end up on the island. The region still needs to make some efforts in transport options to make the island and the small town more easily (and affordably) accessible (although from our perspective it would be better if the town stayed peaceful).
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On our third and final day on the island we had a relaxed morning while waiting for our boat to Ushuaia. Ushuaia is the southernmost city in the world, whereas Puerto Williams is further south but is only a town. It was established in the 1950s, and it is the capital of the Cape Horn area (and, technically, the capital of Chilean Antarctica). As we learnt that afternoon, weather conditions are also a reason for the isolation of the island. The waves and wind we faced were probably nothing compared to those which may rise in the winter but rising and falling dramatically on large waves was enough of a thrill for us, especially when smoke started coming out of the motor. The captain eventually gave up trying to fight his way into the teeth of the weather and turned back towards the shore of Isla Navarino. There we could proceed westwards in more sheltered water before cutting directly across to Ushuaia (with rather than against the waves). We finally made it to Ushuaia with only a slight delay.
After stocking up on provisions and picking up several kilograms of freshly washed clothes, we took a taxi over to the port to board our brand new ferry.
In front of the ferry "Yaghan"
View of the old ferry "Bahia Azul" (the blue and red boat in the background)
The passenger quarters were off to the right (starboard), consisting of two bus-like carriages separated by a door: one with semi-reclining seats, the other with fully-relining "cama". We had decided to pay slightly extra to have the latter, although both looked comfortable. Above us was a large LCD screen blaring out a colourful telenovela that I hoped would finish soon.
The "salon" with "cama" (fully-reclining) seats
Each carriage had a couple of showers and toilets, brand new but with the predictably unpleasant whiff of chemicals. We set off just after the scheduled time of 6pm, with several loud blasts of the horn (the first of which had me jumping in the air, as I was then standing on the top deck right by the horn). Below the two carriages was the canteen, where we were served dinner at around 7.30pm. We rather optimistically thought for a minute that the sandwiches and tea we received was only a prelude to something rather more filling, but no such luck.
View of the ferry and its cargo
Dinner in the canteen
Leaving Punta Arenas
We had left Punta Arenas under a fairly clear sky (at least by the region's standards) but by now the clouds had swept in from the south and there wasn't much of a sunset to be seen. We settled down on our flattened-out seats at around 11, under warm blankets, and tried to get to sleep. There were fewer than 10 people in the carriage (capacity for 24), and there was a thankful absence of snoring. Nevertheless the gentle pitch and roll of the ship, plus the rattle and hum of the ferry's engine, meant that it took us both a while to fall asleep.
We'd set our alarm for 5am, since our itinerary told us that this was when we would be emerging from the Magdalena Channel and entering the Cockburn Channel, and we didn't want to miss the scenery. We woke to dark cloud and steady drizzle. The sky gradually lightened from 5 to 5.30, but there was no sign of a sunrise through the rainclouds. The view was, however, quietly beautiful. The ferry passed between dark islands with silver waterfalls and the rocky tendrils of slender promontories. The rain and low-hanging cloud lent a mysterious, other-worldly air to the scene. We bundled up in waterproofs and headed up to the top deck to brave the elements, thankful that we were able to retreat to the warmth of our seat. There was one brief period of exposure, passing from Canal Cockburn to Paso Brecknock, where the sea swelled and the ferry's stern occasionally plunged down into the waves rather more precipitously than we found comfortable. Otherwise the waters in the well-protected channels were relatively calm, and the seasickness bags posted at regular intervals were unnecessary. This video, albeit not hugely exciting, gives some idea of the surroundings.
Passing by Fuegian islands
After breakfast (the slightly odd combo of crepes and yet another ham & cheese sandwich) the rain ceased and the skies brightened. The sun finally peered through the clouds, lighting up the snow-capped peaks that lined the way. By now we were heading southwest through the Paso Brecknock, towards the ominously-named Bahia Desolada. There, so our map suggested, we would be fully exposed to the icy breath of the southernmost part of the Pacific Ocean, before ducking back into the shelter of Canal Ballenero.
The sun peeks through the cloud
A well-deserved nap after a 5 am wake-up
We need not have worried, Bahia Desolada belied its name and was relatively calm. By early afternoon we had reached the northwest branch of the Beagle Channel, and were proceeding under miraculously clear skies. Off to our left was the Cordillera Darwin, the principal mountain range in Tierra del Fuego and the southernmost tip of the Andes. In a spectacular passage of around 90 minutes we passed close by four or five glaciers. At the most impressive (Glacier Holandia, I think) our ferry did a 360 degree spin in celebration of its maiden voyage, for the benefit of the film crew aboard. Again I nearly jumped out of my boots at the sound of the fog-horn.
Cordillera Darwin in the distance
Sea lions resting in the sun
Glacier Romanche (and a waterfall tumbling down into the channel)
In front of Glacier Romanche
Another glacier
Mid-spin in front of Glacier Holandia
After passing by the final glacier we emerged from the north-west branch of the Beagle Channel, joining with the southwest branch at Punta Divide. We entered the main stretch of the Beagle Channel, passing between Isla Navarino to the south and Argentinian Tierra del Fuego to the north.
In the Beagle Channel looking back towards Punta Divide (north-west branch is to the right)
In late afternoon we took a slight detour towards Estancia Yendegaia, where the ferry landed very briefly to be inspected by police/customs. It was no bother to us; we were having dinner in the "salon". We then continued along the Beagle Channel, passing by Ushuaia, before finally having the chance to enjoy a proper sunset over the austral waters. It was truly breath-taking (or perhaps that was just the frigid wind swooping across the deck). We´ll spare you the other 50 photos we took, but here are a couple.
Ushuaia, which we would be visiting shortly
Isla Navarino under a pink sky
Sunset over Isla Navarino
We´d initially been told that we would arrive at Puerto Williams at around 6am the following morning, but in fact arrived just after 10pm that night. Perhaps it was due to the great weather conditions, perhaps the new ship´s extra power had not been taken into consideration when telling us the schedule. We were mildly concerned that we might struggle to find accommodation in a town of a couple of thousand people at night, but thankfully we were allowed to stay on board until 8am the next morning, saving us hassle and expense.
Our principal task upon arriving in Punta Arenas - in fact, the only reason for pitching up 24 hours before our ship set off - was to pay in cash for our tickets. If we didn't pay in cash by 5pm the previous day, our booking would be cancelled. As it turned out the ferry was half-empty anyway, but we weren't to know that then.
After taking a taxi collectivo (a cross between a taxi and a bus, it's a four-passenger car with a number and a fixed route) out towards the port. We managed to find our way to the ferry company's new building, a bright yellow monstrosity overlooking the Magellan Strait. There we handed over our cash (several hundred thousand Chilean pesos) and in return we received tickets, an itinerary (with estimated times), and the news that we would be taking the maiden voyage of their new ferry, the Yaghan. We later read that this had arrived in port only a few days earlier, having made its way down from the Pacific shipyards of Valdivia. After a garlic-laden dinner at a place called, quite appropriately, Sabores, we retreated to our very comfortable hostel to front-load on sleep, since we anticipated it would be in short supply aboard the ferry.
Sunset over Punta Arenas
After a relaxed morning in the hostel, we went for a walk around Punta Arenas (translated directly from the name given by English privateers, Sandy Point). After a stroll along the coast, we stopped by the Braun-Menéndez Regional Museum, housed in an impressive "palacio" just off the main plaza. The sumptous furnishings testified to the wealth that a few early pioneers had managed to discover in this seemingly desolate landscape. The museum also had a presentation on the history of the region, including tales of the raids by the fiendish English.
Former Sara Braun mansion, another palace
View of the Cathedral, under renovation
Lunch was then followed by a very brief trip to the naval museum, an exciting prelude to our grand voyage south-east to Isla Navarino. There were lots of photos and models, plus a full-size reconstruction of a ship's bridge. Most interesting was the grainy yellow footage, narrated by some crazy old sea-dog, of a horrific-looking voyage around Cape Horn on a sailboat. Not for the weak of stomach.
Thus inspired, we decided to find a map of the straits and fjords that our ferry would be navigating. The guy at the entrance to the naval museum directed us to a place selling proper navigational maps, but the only map they had was unwieldy in size and unattractive in price. We eventually found elsewhere a map that would not have done for sailing but would be clear enough for us to follow our progress, or so we hoped. Suitably equipped, we headed over to the port to catch the ferry.
The night was freezing cold, and we did not sleep well. The poor insulation provided by the thin sleeping mats and sleeping bags allowed the cold to penetrate us to the bones. It was thus with great relief that we woke up (or rather stood up, since we were already awake) at 4 am to the sound of the alarm clocks. Our backpacks had been stuffed the previous night with sleeping bags, the stove, the pot and two cups, some water, tea bags, and biscuits.
Without hanging around to get even colder, we set off up the slope. Our headtorches caught the reflectors set along the way, and we made it to the top quite smoothly. The sky was clear and full of stars, which also helped us see. The silence was broken only by the springs coming down fron the glacier. We were the first to arrive at the lookout. I quickly started boiling water, while John was trying to catch a glimpse of the sunrise on camera. The sky was brightening up gradually. At around 5:45 am, the first rays of sun reached the Torres, colouring their tops in a soft pink. By then, some foggy clouds had emerged in front of the Torres, but they didn't linger for too long.
First sign of the sun
The sun starts to disperse the darkness over the Torres
Sunrise across the valley, with the Lago in the distance
Torres starting to catch the pink light through the light fog
Pretty in pink
Meanwhile the light was becoming more intense, and the sun soon gave a stunning orange colour to the Torres and their surroundings. We gazed at the various stages of the sunrise for about 2 hours, at which point the lookout and the lake below were bathed in sun. We left the Torres under a blue sky.
Incredible colour on the Torres
Reflejo
Back at the campsite, we enjoyed our habitual breakfast of soup and pasta, packed the tent and our bags, and started walking down towards the Hosteria Torres (where we could catch a 20-minute shuttle to the entrance of the park, at Laguna Amarga). We paused for a snack 20 minutes after Refugio Chileno, at a spot with a great view over lake Nordenskjöld and the valley (backtracking our itinerary of the previous day). From then on, it was downhill and it only took us an hour to arrive. We had a drink and checked our emails at the comparatively luxurious hotel, while waiting for the shuttle to Laguna Amarga.
Washing line with a view
On the way down to Hotel Torres
Finished!
100m before the shuttle dropped us at the Laguna, the driver asked us to get off the shuttle and walk to the other side of the bridge. A signpost indeed warned visitors of the bridge's old age. We then hopped on the bus to Puerto Natales and quickly fell asleep.
Interesting bridge
Last view of Torres del Paine and of Laguna Amarga from the bus back to Puerto Natales
In Puerto Natales we returned the rental gear (we even had to set up the tent to show it was in working condition), gave some washing, and chose a restaurant to reward ourselves (and savour something other than pasta, dehydrated soup, or potatoe purée). Our choice was set on a traditional steak-house, which served us delicious grilled Patagonian lamb. Well-fed, we slept soundly for the first time in what seemed like weeks.
