Punta Arenas - Puerto Williams - Uhsuaia
The Photo: The unforgettable Beagle Channel
Puerto Williams / Isla Navarino:
During the summer months saw the port pending the announcement and then the arrival of gale force winds and advice for closing the port. Successive periods of calm day the fury of the westerly winds that whiten the Beagle Channel that separates the large island of Tierra del Fuego to the northern Chilean island of Navarino in the south.
Bars From where I write, the radio plugged into channel 16, crachotte Posts boats returning in Chilean territorial waters. This are huge luxury cruise ships or simple and elegant sailing ships, all bound for Cape Horn or the Antarctic. It is 19:30 when the news broke, the maritime prefecture of Ushuaia has announced the closure of the port and at 20:00 he will be the same for Puerto Williams. It is true that you can feel the same inside the pub as well outside the wind blows. Tomorrow the weather looks even worse then the boat will not go. But what matters ultimately to be blocked here by a storm warning, we are so far around the world.
Because here I am, I reaches the end of the world by Puerto Williams in front of Tierra del Fuego. On the island live 2200 people approximately 2000 to Puerto Williams and fully half of the soldiers placed there to monitor the coast and maintain local activity.
From there, I set off for a few days in the cord of Navarino dient that rise abruptly to over 1000 meters above the Beagle. The first night is both fresh and sweet, the sky is clear, I dream to sit and write about my little fire. The next morning the weather is less good but I put myself on the road after a good night. I leave this beautiful place, bathed by a small lake and tranquil. I agree on the path that is more like a stream than a path, but in raising me I just look over the valley which finished in the calm waters of the Beagle. Around 12pm last I perceive the Paso de Los dientes j'atteinds that 30 minutes later after crossing the beautiful snow fields.
... From there it's hard to believe but there it is, it's there! Under my eyes, the archipelago of Cape Horn spreads its islands off by taking care to wrap them in a light mist to keep the legends and mysteries that surround it. My legs are shaking and I sit, I close my eyes and I am then invaded by a flood of images and strange feelings ... 4 months of travel and here I am! But what a trip! So many nights since the last 2 months or humidity are lending their support to the opportunity to refresh cold spicy which was instaled in the tent, those hours of desperate stop when the next village is 70 km away and nothing happens for hours and nobody stops The Argentine sun bores me already at 8 am, the roads too long which does not seem to finish, all these meals too fast, sitting on heels, struggling against the wind and cold, those hours of marches the rain that ended any crossing, waiting under the tent too small, transformed into clothes dryer to listen to the rain and wind which redoubled in fury. These days or loneliness is hard to live, or the morale is bottom of the socks and or missing family, friends, colleagues, and finally the worst days this idea succeeds black reach my brain back in Santiago, change the ticket and take the first plane to Paris!
But four months on a trip so exhilarating, happy to walk into the wind, the house on his back, or walk without really knowing the road leads and what will be done in bed the next night, evening superb night Southern or black sky filled with countless stars. This little gift to turn a corner when I discovered the perfect spot, a green for me and my tent with a wonderful view and hidden the world. Each day will restart, open to new adventures that Providence wants to give me. Happiness simple yet make a small fire in the evening or crouch near a creek to drink its water pure and fresh. Steps of the morning, skies immense, incredible sunsets and above all, these doors that open to invite me, all those people who took care of me, unforgettable encounters, exchange, sharing, meals provided if simply gargantuan barbecue, all these encouragements ... life, simply and fully! No I would not go back to Santiago before the scheduled date, the road of my dreams is still long and I know she has so much to offer.
In the meantime I remain there, his eyes wet, my face Cape Horn!
The next day a strong headwind, cold makes me drool, but the sight of Paso Ventaron Worth, west of the island and surrounded by snow capped an incredible number of lakes. South, beyond the Bahia Nassau, Peninsula Hardy and false Cape Horn. Walking on the Paso I hit the 55th South and travel will not go down, we must now move north. Now I, for obscure reasons, difficult to leave here and sail to the North, something strange to me makes it difficult to join the Beagle voyage Ushuaia! Perhaps I too marched south? And then I feel good here is a relaxing place, away from the tourist bustle prevailing in the sector, people are very welcoming, there are few cars and I like to walk along the channel-changing stop state. Opposite, in Argentina and the beautiful wooded mountain range which now whitens after major snowfalls. There are also good matches to the side of the Club de Yates or sailboats are moored on the southern route: Young families smiling, old sea dog filthy rich Australian, Japanese and lonely fussy or famous browser. All empreintent the wake prestigious Peter Blake and Eric Tabarly who passed through here.
In this small and quiet island there is not much to do but I feel that if I listened to myself I would find enough excuses to stay 1 month. My side
sedentary resume it over? 55th South bottomed?
finally I will leave a few days later with the Patriot, a small fishing boat, almost two weeks after arriving here from Punta Arenas with the Bahia Azul, during a navigation which I can not help you liver some excerpts: To
finally I will leave a few days later with the Patriot, a small fishing boat, almost two weeks after arriving here from Punta Arenas with the Bahia Azul, during a navigation which I can not help you liver some excerpts: To
36 hours of navigation difficult through the channels one would expect a boat worthy of the name but it is ultimately more a tank and not well with that big is about to face the powerful gusts that sweep the legendary Strait of Magellan to Punta Arenas. Despite a time not to put a Breton we go out as scheduled at 18:30 and until 23:30 at night falls to poor boat fight against the wind and all its cracked ribs when he fell into the hollow. The sea is not formed because we are in the strait but the wind! By the time the columns of spray up into the air and I have before me a sea of whiteness incredible. So a little after night has fallen to starboard as we move the southern tip of the peninsula of Brunswick and then we let Detroit Northwest back as we continue south while contemplating a beautiful full moon and red clouds slowly escaping. Here begins the difficult navigation in the channels. The engines slowed and we glide over the waters calmer now guided by the low lights that line the canals. Then the hours between these beautiful islands and countless wild, escorted by dolphins and albatrosses. In what appears to be no way out of the fjords, the captain always leads us confidently to an exit door that opens to a surprisingly another parade ...
We arrive in Puerto Williams in the morning, exhausted but in the eyes with images that will never fade.
15 days later, therefore, passage to Ushuaia has done it in a "sea" (I speak of the Beagle Channel) frankly strong. The little red boat banged hard in the pits and we were mostly wrapped in packages of foggy spring and we did that covered our fragile craft. Looking at the little bridge back from the window I would have thought in the most epic stories of Thalassa on fishermen at sea were taken to Ireland in winter depression of the North Atlantic.
But it's summer here and the land as the Southern Ocean seem to mock the months and seasons.
In conclusion because I do not think I can, for those that I managed to dream a little south, to submit this short list of books that made me dream:
De Luis Sepulveda: "The World of World's End" and "The nephew of America"
De Francisco Coloane: "The Turning of the World's End," "Cape Horn" and "Tierra del Fuego"
Finally for those who dream of channels of Patagonia, the magnificent book of travel:
Gildas Flahault - "I remember the men ... Cape Horn to Valparaiso"
Happy reading ...
From my side, I should go back to Uhsuaia in a few days to go back to Punta Arenas through the Tierra del Fuego. From there I put myself in search of a boat to Puerto Montt. A in 15 days so a little further north!
Be well
Benoit
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