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

by Martensson, Helene

  It later turned out that it was a top shackle that had broken; the bolt had snapped. It must have been an inferior shackle. We immediately decided to replace all uncertified shackles with certified Wichard shackles as soon as possible.

  Fifty nautical miles before we reached the Melchior Islands we began to make out land. The islands are wedged between two large islands, Brabant and Anwers, both nearly 2,000 metres high. Brabant came into view first. Watching the frozen continent emerge was magnificent. It was an incredible feeling. Still no icebergs.

  Spending Christmas Eve in the Melchior Islands

  We arrived in the Melchior Islands at around eleven o’clock at night on December 23, the day before Christmas Eve. It was not until then that we spotted small and large icebergs floating around us. Two of them, as tall as five-storey buildings, were floating in the entrance. We sailed in between these giants with the greatest care. It was scary! Should we really dare to drop anchor?

  Antarctica is larger than Europe in terms of land area. It is difficult to determine its exact size since the ice keeps moving all the time. The highest mountain, Mount Vinson, is nearly 5,000 metres. The Antarctic ice sheet – which contains about ninety per cent of all the ice in the world and seventy-five per cent of the world's fresh water reserves – is up to 4,500 metres thick. Only a couple per cent of the land area is ice free. The average temperature at the centre of the continent is –55°C. The temperature on the coast is –18°C in the winter and just above zero in the summer. The lowest temperature that has ever been measured in the world, –89.2°C, was measured in Antarctica. It is also the driest and windiest continent on earth. In July 1972, a wind speed of 170 knots was recorded! No people live here, but there are around eight research stations, half of which are manned all year. Since no state claims supremacy, there are no authorities and no bureaucracy. That is one good reason for going there.

  We immediately discovered that the anchorages described in the Admiralty guides were impossible to use. There was simply no suitable anchorage for a small vessel anywhere in this vast space, where several anchorages had been marked, because of all the large, drifting icebergs. If we had anchored in any of these places we would have needed to keep a constant look out for icebergs. That is not exactly what you are looking forward to when you are tired after having sailed in difficult conditions for several days.

  It was getting very difficult to navigate. Because of the ice, the islands did not look the same as they did on the chart, and they were not situated in the right places. The radar is more important in these conditions than the charts. It took a while before we had figured out exactly where to enter the natural harbour that Rolf and Deborah had recommended. At first, we could not make out the strait between Eta and Omega at all. Without Rolf's and Deborah's firm recommendation, we would have given up before we made it. We did not see it until we had arrived, and it definitely looked too small for our nineteen metres long and five metres wide boat. Since the actual conditions did not correspond well with the charts, we entered slowly with a look out. We did not want to run aground here all on our own! We know from experience how difficult it is to refloat a forty-tonne boat. At home in the Stockholm archipelago we have been forced to phone Westerberg on Möja several times when we have run aground. He is captain of the rescue boat Handelsbanken Liv. Westerberg was now too far away to be of any use to us.

  Our first anchorage on Antarctica was fantastic and frightening at the same time. It was the day before Christmas Eve, 2006, the sun was shining and enormous curtains of ice were hanging over the water. We kept thinking about what would happen if they broke off and fell. We dropped anchor and secured the boat with two lines to land. We saw some two-hundred-kilo Crabeater Seals that were sound asleep. We were a little cautious, but they did not notice us apart from a tired look now and then.

  Crabeaters are unknown to most people, but they are in fact one of the most numerous species of large animals on earth. Fifteen million Crabeater Seals live on the Antarctic ice sheet. There are also two million Wedell Seals, at least half a million Emperor Penguins and possibly up to four million Adelie Penguins.

  After we had moored and started to unwind, a lot of ice suddenly came drifting in with the tide. The ice hit the hull with a loud noise. The little icebergs were probably travelling at a speed of a couple of knots. We were getting worried. We had been told that there are no safe anchorages in the Antarctic, partly because icebergs can appear in almost any anchorage, but this was a disappointment. We did not think that the icebergs would make it through the meandering, narrow sound, but they can get in anywhere on the tide. We decided to go the fifty nautical miles to Port Lockroy in the morning of the 24th in the hope that it would be less afflicted by ice.

  We slept like babies all night, and in the morning there was no ice in sight. We realised that ice was only a problem for a few hours every day, when the tide came in. We decided to stay over Christmas. We spent three wonderful days in between the islands of Eta and Omega. We had all the traditional Christmas foods on Christmas Eve. Spending Christmas Eve alone in this Antarctic bay was a solemn and magnificent experience. On Christmas Day the weather was so bad, with snowfall, that we did not even want to stick our heads outside. We baked bread, cooked and read. The rest of the time we travelled around in the dinghy, taking in the magnificent landscape. Antarctica was the most impressive place we had ever seen. We felt happy, almost euphoric, about finally making it there.

  Late on Christmas Eve another boat moored in our little bay. It was a fifty foot charter boat, the Northanger. They came past and invited us for dinner. It was the most unexpected dinner invitation we had ever had. We felt it was almost wrong to accept as we were two people in a sixty-two foot boat, and they were eight in a fifty foot boat. The Northanger was run by a Canadian woman called Carrie and her husband. Six Dutch people were their guests. I am often struck by what nice company the Dutch are. We spent a wonderful evening together. But we got the impression that it was no sinecure to run a charter operation in the Antarctic. They tried to make a couple of trips a year. The season is short, however, only two to three months. In that time you need to make enough money to keep you going for a whole year. As it turned out, the Northanger and other charter boats regularly use this sound en route to Antarctica. It is considered the best harbour in the area. None of the charter boats at Ushuaia had mentioned it. No one wants to give away their best secrets.

  Spending New Year's Eve at Port Lockroy and Blocking Ice at 65 Degrees South

  After spending three days in this wonderful anchorage we continued the fifty miles to Port Lockroy. The sun shone from a clear blue sky, and there was hardly any wind at all. We went down to Gerlache Sound and continued via the Neumayer Canal. The light was so strong that you could not go outdoors without a pair of good sunglasses. We saw whales in the distance several times. The journey down the Neumayer Canal was especially beautiful; it was without doubt our most astonishing sailing experience ever. We were in awe and immensely grateful for being able to experience the beauty of this place. There was rather a lot of ice, and we asked ourselves several times whether we would be able to get through.

  We had decided a long time ago that we would spend New Year's Eve at Port Lockroy. They sell t-shirts and other souvenirs at the base there. The money goes to the foundation that runs the station. All cruise liners on the Antarctic route stop off at Port Lockroy, which means that the base is doing a good trade. While we were there, a large cruise liner, the Marco Polo, arrived. Lots of passengers were brought ashore in inflatable dinghies. Several of them drove round the Yaghan to take a look. Suddenly some of them called out to us in Swedish. They were officers from the Marco Polo. They knew who we were and invited us for dinner. It was kind of them, but we were unable to accept at the time. Still, it was nice to have a chat with the Swedes.

  A few days before New Year's Eve we made day trips from Port Lockroy, for example down to the Lemaire Channel. We wanted to see how far south we could ge
t before the ice blocked our way. We were vaguely hoping that we would be able to pass through Lemaire Strait and visit Hovgaard Island where Rolf and Deborah had once spent the winter. But the Lemaire Channel turned out to be blocked by ice, so we did not get further south than sixty-five degrees latitude. The Lemaire Channel is unpredictable. One day you may get through, and the next it is completely blocked. We reached the two conical mountains to the east of the channel that are popularly called June's Tits. Rumour has it that June with the pointed tits was the Falklands governor's secretary. At this point we turned back towards the north. Travelling down to sixty-five degrees south was an incredible feeling. And we kept to our time plan perfectly.

  We had dinner on our own on New Year's Eve, and celebrated the clocks striking midnight in Sweden at 2000 hours local time. At this time of year the sun is up all night in the Antarctic. We were invited to the British base for the Antarctic midnight. Three people work there, and it is the world's southernmost post office. The mail is sent by sea to the Falklands and from there by air to London where it is distributed to the rest of the world. They told us that several of the Swedish cruise ship's passengers had recognised us and Yaghan in Lockroy harbour. One boat owner from our home harbour on Bullandö had been very excited over being able to take a picture of our boat at anchor in Port Lockroy. It is food for thought that we were recognised there too.

  Our toasts were accompanied by the braying of penguins outside. At the party were some crew from two of the charter boats. They asked us what it had been like during the storm on Christmas Day. “What storm?” we asked. It turned out that there had been winds of 50 knots at Port Lockroy, and many penguins had died. We had not noticed a thing up in our nice bay. We then realised how unique it was. There is some kind of natural phenomenon that prevents the wind from entering, even when storms are raging in Drake Passage and Gerlache Strait.

  Turning Back to the Melchior Islands

  On New Year's Day we sailed back to the Melchior Islands. We decided to pass through the lovely Neumayer Channel again. After two hours we encountered blocking ice that was impossible to get past. Further off we could see a large cruise liner coming from the other direction, and for a while we hoped that they would break the ice for us. But they too turned back when they saw the ice. So we had to go back to Port Lockroy and then choose the wider Gerlach Strait. It was a detour of about seventy nautical miles. This is what is so special about the Antarctic; the landscape and the ice keep changing all the time. Something that can be done one day is impossible the next. It is a place where nature rules. We can do nothing but adapt.

  We were surrounded by icebergs all the time in Gerlache Strait. We did all we could to avoid hitting them. While we were down there a charter boat came too close to one, and it pierced the steel hull. It was not so bad that they could not sail back to Ushuaia, but it proved how dangerous the ice can be.

  When we arrived in the Melchior Islands on New Year's Day, we had planned to stay there and wait for a gap in the weather that would take us through Drake Passage and back to Puerto Williams. When you turn back from Antarctica you need to leave immediately after a low in order to benefit from the tailwind. Since the wind in the southern hemisphere rotates clockwise around a low, it is always southerly right after a low pressure. Before the next low the wind starts to blow from the north again. Moreover, you want to avoid strong winds and high seas.

  We soon noted that January 5 or 6 were possible dates for our return. It suited us well. We knew that the people on Lindisfarne were on their way to the Antarctic and that they would probably arrive in the Melchior Islands on the evening of January 3. We wanted to greet them as they arrived in Antarctica and invite them for dinner in our pleasant bay.

  The Lindisfarne arrived on the evening of the third, and we were all happy to see each other again. We had met Annika and Björn for the first time in Mar del Plata, and after that we had followed almost identical routes. We also spent time together in the Falklands. We wined and dined together until late at night, talking about what we had been through.

  On the morning of January 4 something happened that must not happen, our Fleet 77 satellite receiver broke down. It is the most important instrument on board. It allows us to receive excellent weather forecasts from SPOS in the Netherlands. We had often discussed worst case scenarios in the Antarctic, and for a long time we had agreed that one would involve the breakdown of the Fleet 77 or the Westerbeke (our electricity generator). Sometimes worst case scenarios come true.

  Since our Iridium telephone can send and receive voice messages we called in a US weather routing service. The information they supplied indicated that January 5 was still a good day to set off. But we missed our SPOS reports that we had learned to depend on, and we were used to assessing the information they contained. Information was now supplied in ways that were unfamiliar to us, which is always unsatisfactory. Oral information is never as stringent as written information that is automatically generated according to strict criteria.

  Stormy Weather in Drake Passage

  After a final check with our weather routing provider in the US, we set off from Melchior Islands on the morning of January 5 and motored the first thirty nautical miles. Unlike our arrival, there were now plenty of icebergs for the first fifty miles off Melchior Islands. Again, this is the Antarctic. What is true one day is a bad joke the next. After motoring for thirty nautical miles the winds suddenly came on strong from the southwest. We set sail quickly, but had to reef almost immediately. The wind was soon reaching 40 knots gusting 50. We sailed with the staysail and doubled-reefed mainsail set, and we were still doing 10 knots.

  At midday we spoke to the weather routing provider, who realised that they had not seen this coming even the same morning. The wind was much stronger than they had anticipated. All we could do now was to bite the bullet and keep going. We have often had reason to be pleased and happy about our boat, now we were especially happy. The sea was getting increasingly rougher. For the first time a wave came over the cockpit and down into the cabin.

  The wind and the waves were in fact not a problem. What did cross our minds was that if you can be this far off the mark, why should the wind not increase to 80 knots before it was over? Then it is no longer certain that good seamanship and a good boat will keep you safe, but we were lucky, and the wind stopped increasing in strength when it reached 40–50 knots.

  You can empathise with cruise sailors who begin to think of their boat as a living being. It struggles and takes a great deal of punishment, but it seldom complains. One is enormously grateful to one's boat and what it achieves. We will never be able to sell our Hallberg-Rassy 62; it has served us well.

  After about twenty-four hours the wind abated and we proceeded without problem to our destination. We made record time from the Antarctic. The six hundred nautical miles took sixty-seven hours at an average speed of 9 knots. When we arrived at Puerto Williams and were able to access the Internet, we discovered what the SPOS report would have told us about leaving the Antarctic in the morning of January 5. It reported that the weather did in no way meet our criteria either in terms of wind speed or wave height! With access to our normal information channels we would have left a day later. This was the last time ever we will use a weather routing service.

  When we moored at Puerto Williams, many of our Scandinavian friends were already there: Cabo de Hornos, Sawubona and Empire. They had worried about us over Christmas and the New Year, and they were wondering how we were. From our blog they had been able to establish that everything seemed to be under control. We went to bed early on the first night. The second night there was a big party at the Micalvi Yacht Club. By that time Northanger too had returned from Antarctica. An American woman played the guitar and sang. She had arrived the day before, alone, in a twenty-seven foot boat straight from New Zealand. She had spent fifty-eight days at sea! Before that she had completed a non-stop solo voyage from the United States to New Zealand, which had taken her one hundred
and sixty eight days! One tends to meet a lot more interesting people on a sailing cruise than in the boardroom.

  Our voyage to Antarctica was the most magnificent, wonderful experience of our lives. It was alluring and frightening at the same time. Animals and nature rule there. All we can do is adapt.

  ≈

  The Chilean Channels

  (Arne)

  We took some time off in beautiful Puerto Williams. There were now so many boats in the crowded harbour that there was no room for new arrivals. Something clearly needs to be done about it in the future. The number of boats sailing around Patagonia and to Antarctica is likely to increase, and they all have to go to Ushuaia and Puerto Williams. In the long term, an adequate marina needs to be built at Ushuaia, and the harbour at Puerto Williams needs to be enlarged. But this is not easy since it is a natural harbour; man has done no more than sink a ship there.

  After spending six days at Puerto Williams we sailed the twenty-nine nautical miles to Ushuaia on January 14 to stock up on supplies. We met Adèle in the Beagle Channel, she was en route to Antarctica. While we had been down there, they had spent Christmas and the New Year at home. We talked to them via VHF. They were full of the kind of excitement that always seems to characterize people on their way to Antarctica. Northern Light with Rolf and Deborah on board was the first Swedish boat (not counting charter boats) that sailed all the way from Sweden to Antarctica in 1984. Yaghan arrived in second place, but not until 2006, after more than twenty years. In 2007, however, there was a real rush. Then Lindisfarne, Wild Rose and Adèle went there. Wild Rose was a thirty-three foot boat with two young men from Malmö on board. They were out for a year, sailing from Malmö to South America, Antarctica, South Georgia and back. Heléne and I had already started to discuss our plans for a similar one year voyage sometime in the future. South Georgia was not included in our circumnavigation. We think that it must be one of the most interesting places on earth.