Back at the helm - sailing the Yaghan to Antarctica, Patagonia and the South Pacific

by Martensson, Helene

  When we got to Mar del Plata we were to meet Annika and Björn aboard the Forgus 37 Lindisfarne for the first time. They were circumnavigating the world too. They may go even further since they have no set return date. They left Sweden in 2005, so they have been far ahead of us all the time, until now. On our first night we were invited to dinner at “Casa Lindisfarne”.

  We glided towards the breakwater by the entrance to the harbour at Mar del Plata and realised it was impossible to enter the harbour in a high wind. It was a dangerous entrance with a large shoal that was not marked correctly on the charts. At the far end of the breakwater was a statue of Christ. Perhaps boats that enter this harbour need extra protection. The water was shallow and the waves were breaking, but we slipped in easily enough and headed straight for the entrance to the small marina where we would be staying for at least a couple of weeks. Björn and Annika had spent all morning moving boats around and clearing a space for Yaghan in the cramped and shallow marina. We could hardly make it. During low tide, Yaghan would be lodged in the mud. It was possibly the most inexpensive marina we would be staying in during our entire voyage. It was only five dollars a night. But we did not dare to connect our electricity cables to land, the points looked dangerous.

  We said hello to our new friends and celebrated our arrival in Argentina and Mar del Plata with a glass of rosé wine in our cockpit. It being Saturday we were not sure about when the shops opened or closed, so I brought our passports and other documents to the authorities.

  I was soon back on board again. I had been informed that representatives from the Armada, customs and immigration would be arriving in a couple of hours to clear our documents and inspect the boat. Neither of us believed they would turn up – they did not. I had to go back on Monday morning. This time it worked – after hours of waiting. Naturally without apology or even an explanation as to why they had not turned up when they said they would.

  On Monday November 13 the events that were to turn into “the battle for spare parts” against the Buenos Aires customs began. It would go on until we slipped the lines two weeks later and set off for the Falklands.

  The spare parts we had ordered from Sweden and the Netherlands, which were shipped with reputable couriers, were completely essential for the crossing to Antarctica. Neither of the two parcels had arrived at Mar del Plata as promised. Both were stuck at Buenos Aires customs. It made us extremely anxious. Had our dream of sailing to Antarctica come to an abrupt end here in Mar del Plata?

  The reason why our spare parts were not permitted to leave the customs compound varied from one day to the next. On some days there was a problem with the 24 volt Volvo generator, on others it was our new 220 volt inverter from Mastervolt in the Netherlands. On some days the total value of the parts was simply too high for import. One day when I got back to the boat after a shopping trip Arne told me that the problem was the other contents in the parcel from Sweden, that is to say the tea from Gotland and my moisturizers. When we suggested that the customs send back all items that were causing a problem and hand over the rest of the contents, they changed their strategy again. This could happen several times in one day. The shipyard next to the marina advised us to contact their so-called agent in Buenos Aires. They normally use an agent for all cases. We established that it is impossible to order spare parts for “yachts in transit” in Argentina. This is something that some international safety at sea organisation ought to look into. Obviously both freighters and other craft must be able to obtain the spare parts they need.

  In the end we had to ask the courier services to send the parcels back to Sweden and the Netherlands respectively.

  Mastervolt then sent us a new inverter addressed to the local shipyard. It made it through customs and arrived only a couple of days before we had to set off for the Falklands. The shipyard installed the inverter, and when it was done we were happy and very relieved. At long last we now believed for the first time in ages that we would actually be sailing to Antarctica.

  A few days later the shipyard also managed to repair our 24 volt generator for the main engine. They promised it would be as good as new – this turned out to be not entirely true after a few months. Finally, all our technical problems had been solved, largely due to Mastervolt's creative thinking and all the help we received from the shipyard in Mar del Plata.

  We were frustrated, angry and had lost all desire to explore Argentina. Our planned trip to Buenos Aires, the capital of tango, had come to nothing, partly because the problems with the customs had taken such a long time, but primarily because we no longer felt like going there.

  Apart from dealing with customs, our days in Mar del Plata were also spent doing repairs. There was quite a lot to do on board before we continued south. We would be sailing in strong westerly winds, and the climate would be much colder and harsher than the weather we had experienced so far. We needed to be well prepared for the voyage ahead.

  Björn from Lindisfarne, who is an engineer specialising in material strength, noted that our shackle, which holds the anchor in place, was a weak link aboard Yaghan, and he recommended that it be replaced. The chain can withstand fourteen tonnes and the shackle six. Moreover, there was a leak in the stowage cupboard above the settee in the port corner. The reason was probably a leak around the ring on the freshwater tank. It had to be resealed. Our Sikaflex had dried, so we could not use it. We had to go into town to find some. After walking around the harbour for hours and visiting at least ten chandlers and iron mongers we found a shop in a tiny backstreet that stocked it.

  We also needed to buy supplies. Strangely enough, fillet of beef and other good cuts were not sold in the shops. All you could buy in this meat producing country was stewing meat and mincemeat. In the restaurants, however, we could feast on as much grilled meat as we liked. We washed it down with a wonderful Malbec wine; the best wine this country produces. Food, especially bread, was unbelievably cheap. It cost next to nothing, or thirty cents for a fresh loaf. A country with such a heavily subsidised agriculture, which is their main export sector, can never do well, and Argentina does not. At the beginning of the last century the country's BNP per capita was higher than Germany's and nearly seventy-five per cent of the United States’ BNP. At the end of the 20th century their BNP had fallen to half or less of the BNPs of both Germany and the United States.

  Four Swedish and one Norwegian boat were moored in the marina. All were on their way south, but we were the only ones heading for Antarctica. The Norwegian Empire with Heidi, Eivind and three adventurous boys from Sweden and Norway were going to South Georgia. The other Swedish boats were rounding Cape Horn and would then split up and continue in separate directions.

  We jogged along the lovely coastal path nearly every day, and on some days we cycled around in town. This gave us a good idea of the layout of Mar del Plata, which has over a million inhabitants. After we had completed our repairs we began to enjoy the city. We also enjoyed the company of our new friends from the Scandinavian boats in the marina. This was the first time we encountered other crews that were heading in our direction, which added to the pleasure.

  We dined out together. It was cheap and good and, above all, very pleasant. A three course meal including a starter, grilled fillet of beef, dessert and a bottle of Malbec was only thirty-five dollars for two! The same meal at the best parilla in Mar del Plata was about fifty-five dollars. Towards the end of Empire's stay we were all invited to dine on board. Heidi and Eivind had made delicious, home-made pizzas that we all relished. I insisted on getting the recipe, and in the end I succeeded.

  All of us Scandinavians were a little apprehensive about rounding the Horn and entering the Beagle Channel. First out was the Swedish Cabo De Hornos with Lennart and Bosse. They were sailing down the coast of Argentina, through the Beagle Channel and up to Ushuaia, where they would wait for the weather to allow them to round Cape Horn. The Empire left a few days before us, but we later heard that they had returned to the marina with a broken rudde
r the day after we left. South Georgia would have to wait for the Empire.

  Arne spent a great deal of time analyzing the weather before we set off on the eight hundred nautical mile crossing over to the Falklands. We wanted to wait for the right winds and fine weather to arrive. In the South Atlantic we would be encountering the strong westerly winds that we had only read about in books for the first time. We were crossing the Roaring Forties, and when we arrived at Stanley Harbour in the Falklands we would be entering the Screaming Fifties. I sometimes questioned the reason why we should sail to these godforsaken islands at all. Of all the weather analyses that Arne had done at home over the past few years in order to collect information about the different legs of our voyage, the Falklands–Ushuaia leg had proved to be the most demanding with strong headwinds, high seas and counter currents. We risked being stuck in Stanley Harbour for several days awaiting decent sailing weather. Perhaps the risk of becoming stuck there for a long period was motive enough not to go there at all, we should go straight to Ushuaia, I reasoned. On the other hand, Hasse Nilsson, the old sea captain on the red cruiser Explorer, the first ever cruise liner to visit Antarctica, had praised the islands. He described them as an amazing place, and in his opinion we were making our visit to his favourite islands far too brief. Instead of a few days, we should stay for several weeks and sail around the islands, especially among the western isles. Eventually, I began to look forward to our voyage and also to the Falkland Islands. It was exciting and very unique; not many Swedish boats have made it there.

  My attempt at clearing out of Argentina was an interesting experience. It failed completely since both customs and immigration considered the Falklands to be part of Argentina. When I announced our intention to sail over to the Falklands, part of the Commonwealth since 1833, the gentlemen, to my surprise, declared that we were not leaving Argentina by going to Las Malvinas. “The islands belong to Argentina.” In 1982, Argentina had failed their invasion attempt, and on June 14 the same year they were forced to surrender the war with Britain who had succeeded in liberating the islands after seventy-four days of occupation. And in Argentina they still considered the Falklands to be Argentinean territory!

  We were not allowed to clear out. We did not care about what the British customs at Stanley would say when we arrived without officially having left Argentina. We assumed it would be all right. Surely, communications with British customs would be easier than with Argentinean customs. This was our firm belief!

  The Falklands – Albatrosses and Penguins

  Lindisfarne was first to leave Mar del Plata for the Falklands on November 27. We, on the other hand, had to wait for the tide to come in since Yaghan needs more water under her keel in order to get out of the mud. Lindisfarne originally intended to sail along the coast, but they were tempted by the excellent weather that was forecast by our weather service and also by our descriptions of the wilderness, scenery and birdlife there. Two Swedish boats were now heading for the tiny British island community right in the middle of the notorious South Atlantic. The distance is almost exactly 823 nautical miles, and we estimated it would take us approximately four days to reach Stanley Harbour, the anchorage off Stanley, which is situated on the east side of the Falklands and south of Berkeley Sound.

  The first ten hours passed with insufficient wind, but then the wind picked up speed. In the evening of our second day the wind speed had increased to 20–30 knots, and we did almost 9 knots. It gave us a strong push into the Roaring Forties, which was fantastic! It was getting colder. At night we had to dress warmly in jackets, pants, hats and gloves. We were dressed the same as when we sail in the winter in Sweden. The temperature during the day at Mar del Plata had been around 20ºC, now both the air and water temperature had dropped by almost 10 degrees. The water temperature was getting close to a mere 6ºC, and it would be getting even colder. It felt good to be sailing a boat built for the Swedish climate.

  This voyage is etched in our minds as the most wonderful and beautiful of our lives. The air was clear, the sea almost black with white crests of spray and majestic albatrosses outlined against the bright blue sky. The albatrosses followed us through the Roaring Forties, leaving us speechless. They soared in front, beside and around our boat, and we were enjoying every minute of it. I have never understood birdwatchers, now I do. We were so privileged to be able to study these massive South Atlantic gliders for hours on end. Sometimes they were so close to the boat that we could almost reach out and touch them.

  Yaghan was racing ahead at a speed of 9 to 10 knots in 30–40 knot winds. We were practically flying towards our destination day and night. The night sky was crystal clear and the stars had never seemed closer or more intense. Everything seemed close and still in the clear, cold air. We wanted to stay out there in the middle of the ocean with the albatrosses. The Falklands and the world could wait. It was a wonderful place to be in.

  Nothing lasts forever, and during the final day of this memorable, amazing crossing we entered the Screaming Fifties. The weather had changed. The tailwind had turned foul, and we were approaching the coast fast on a slant tack. The wind was still around 35 knots, but the tail-and headwinds differed greatly in strength. We had set the staysail and tucked a double reef in the main. With the wind screaming in the background we could feel the enormous strain the boat was under. We dressed warmly in full battle gear, which means life jacket, safety harness and antenna necklace. We sheltered behind the sprayhood with a cup of hot coffee, watching as the contours of the islands slowly appeared through the rain and spray. Racing towards a foreign coast was enormously exciting. This was an entirely new and by us as yet unexplored archipelago in the South Atlantic.

  According to Falklands Shores by Ewen Southby-Taylor these islands can be described in two different ways. Either “as inhospitable a place as it is possible to imagine – barren, treeless, windswept islands with nothing to offer” or “as beautiful a collection of islands as I have ever seen with deep anchorages, a climate without extremes (although unpredictable), and with a hospitable welcoming people.”

  We sailed into Port Williams bay, reefed the sails and motored through the Narrows to Stanley Harbour. We were accompanied all the way by a school of playful black and white dolphins. Their head, back and tail fins were black, the rest of the body completely white. They were very active and kept swimming and jumping around the boat during the entire anchoring procedure. Then they disappeared as if they thought, “now that you've arrived safely you're on your own.” We later learned that they were Commerson's, or Skunk, dolphins. These are only found around the coast of Tierra del Fuego and the Falkland Islands. Yaghan was safely at anchor, which was good; the wind was still strong. We were looking forward to a choppy night, but we were pleased to be there. Before we began to prepare our first meal in the Falklands we called Port Stanley customs and immigration via the VHF to book an appointment for the following day. The procedure only took a few minutes at the agreed time, and the reception was pleasant and friendly. The customs official, a young girl, just laughed when she looked at our passports and discovered that we had not formally cleared out of Argentina. Then she swiftly added the Government of the Falkland Islands stamp. Why is it not always like this when you arrive in a new country? Everything would be so simple.

  On our very first day here we walked out of town, heading for Gypsy Cove where we encountered our first Magellan Penguins and a flock of ordinary geese with their young. The brilliant, white sandy beach was breathtaking, more beautiful than anything we had ever seen, and the slopes were covered in bright yellow broom; and then the penguins marching back and forth on the beach, unperturbed by our presence. It was hot, the sun shone from a lovely, blue sky, the waves came rolling in towards the shore, and everything was completely tranquil. It was all unexpected somehow. Not in our wildest dreams did we imagine that these barren, inhospitable islands would offer such astounding scenery. We sat down to enjoy this pastoral and at the same time wild idyll. Blue water as f
ar as you could see, white sand, yellow broom and penguins. Our first visit to Gypsy Cove will always be with us.

  We had lunch at the Victory Pub in the centre of town, and were convinced that we had been transported to a pub that could have been situated anywhere in the British Isles. It felt as though we were back in Europe instead of on an island in the middle of the South Atlantic. The whole pub was covered in Christmas decorations, which reminded us of the fact that it was the first of advent. At the same time last year we dined with our friends at Sandhamn as usual, and went to church on Sunday. Now we found ourselves in a Stanley pub. It was rather a strange feeling. Time had passed quickly. After lunch we took a walk down the main street, past Saint Mary's church and the Town Hall, and up to the obelisk that was erected after the occupation: “In memory of those who liberated us. 14 June 1982.”

  The next day we rented a Landrover and driver together with Annika and Björn, who had arrived early in the morning. We were taken to Volunteer Point where we met our very first King Penguins. It was a three hour off-road drive from Stanley. We travelled across heaths, dried-out riverbeds and up and down ravines. We were very nearly car sick. We thought we would never get there and were beginning to regret the entire project. But when we at last arrived at our destination and saw the amazingly beautiful King Penguins – black and white with orange “scarves” – it was well worth the trouble, even if we had been knocked black and blue. There were hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of them everywhere. You just could not take your eyes off them. The world's second largest penguin species is only found in the sub-Antarctic islands and north of the 60th latitude, while the largest penguins only exist in Antarctica. It was almost human the way they moved. The young looked like brown, furry balls of wool and the slightly older ones were all tousled. As they get older they start to moult, which makes them look like cheeky adolescents. We walked about for hours among our new penguin friends. The wind came right in over Volunteer Point, and we were really cold; we had to start making our way back again too soon. There was no getting away from spending another three hours in the bumpy Landrover before we would be back in Stanley. This was our last day in the Falklands. Our weather software reported decent weather for our crossing to Ushuaia in the morning.