After spending a second night at Caleta Brecknock, we set off for Puerto Hope (54°07.4 S and 071°00.6 W). It was our final harbour before entering the Strait of Magellan. There were sixty-six nautical miles to Puerto Hope. There is a popular but unauthorized shortcut, which takes you on a more northerly course and ends up further north in the Strait of Magellan. We decided against it. It is not permitted, and we make good speed motoring, so it does not matter if we have to travel a longer distance.
The mountains were lower now, and the landscape less beautiful. The weather was getting worse too, compared to the sunny days we had spent at Seno Pia. The reading we had done was beginning to sink in. The area around the Strait of Magellan is not beautiful, and it is hard to navigate in. The clouds were low and there was threat of rain.
When I looked in my letterbox I found an e-mail from a professor at the Karolinska Institutet medical university. He visited our site and blog on a regular basis and had received our address from the ocean sailing club of which he was a member. He wrote that it was getting harder to follow our route after we had entered the archipelago off Chile and started to moor in natural harbours. He suggested that we provide the co-ordinates for the natural harbours. We thought it was a good idea, and decided to follow his recommendation. As you can see, we are providing the information here too. We had registered two hundred thousand visits to our website since it was launched, so there was a group of people that was regularly following our voyage.
Puerto Hope is an unusually positive name for a place in the Strait of Magellan. Names like Desolation Island and Port Famine are far more common. En route to a natural harbour such as this one you never know whether you are going to like it or not. Puerto Hope was a disappointment.
It was too cramped to begin with. We would have preferred two hundred metres in all directions so there would be some leeway for dragging if the anchor alarm was set off. The minimum for us is one hundred metres. There was less than a hundred metres in all directions here. It is not impossible, but the risk of drifting on to the shore is greater, and there was no practical way of landing the ropes. You need a “pocket” where you are safely sheltered from all winds. If you are moored with ropes to shore in an open bay, the chances of getting through a violent storm are slimmer. Moreover, the shores were muddy, and it was difficult to get ashore. We also discovered that the place was prone to strong katabatic winds, also known as williwaws or rachas. This is a common problem in Patagonian natural harbours. These winds are created when the strong winds that often prevail in the area hit the mountains. Katabatic winds are extreme gusts, and it is best to avoid high hills or mountains located in the direction the wind is coming from. A dense, protective wall of low hills and trees provide better shelter.
We slept badly that night. The williwaws roared down the rock faces. It sometimes sounded as if a Boeing 747 was taking off nearby.
The Strait of Magellan Lives Up to Its Bad Reputation
Since Puerto Hope was neither beautiful nor particularly suitable for anchoring, we left the very next morning. Moreover, a violent storm was approaching. The next day the wind speed would reach 30–40 knots. We knew that we needed to find a very good natural harbour, but were not yet aware of how bad the storm would get.
In the early morning of January 29, we left Puerto Hope. We had eighty-six miles of strong headwind and counter current in front of us before reaching Caleta Notch (53°22.7 S and 072°48.5 W), which we had estimated would do for our first storm in the Patagonian archipelago. When we left Puerto Hope, there were only a few miles left before we would reach the Strait of Magellan proper.
As soon as we got there the wind speed increased to 30 knots. We soon passed Cabo Forward, the southernmost point of the South American mainland. The counter current was fairly strong, the weather foul, and we skulked underneath the sprayhood while our strong engine did all the work. We were certain, however, that we would reach Caleta Notch even if the wind and counter current increased in strength as forecast. If you keep accelerating, the Yaghan will cope with any kind of weather. This was important, because the Strait of Magellan is large and wide, so the sea gets rough in high winds.
We saw a few large freighters and tankers on their way around the southernmost tip of the continent. Even though it is very wide – two nautical miles at the narrowest point – it cannot be easy to navigate a huge tanker in the strait. The wind is often strong and the current up to 4–5 knots in places. We had good control over the commercial traffic thanks to our AIS system. We can normally spot a ship at a distance of 20–50 nautical miles on our electronic charts. The AIS has the same range as the VHF. How early you spot them depends on how high up their AIS antenna is placed.
Later that morning the wind speed reached 40 knots. We were yet again grateful for our strong engine. Virtually no leisure boat can motor though this kind of weather. But Yaghan's 237 HP motor was up to propelling her forward. The turning torque is as much as 700 Newton metres. At times our speed fell to 5.8 knots. I have noticed a tendency for many leisure boat manufacturers to supply weaker engines that may be good enough for a holiday, but are far too under-dimensioned for circumnavigators.
Pringle Stokes Committed Suicide in Port Famine
The weather was foul, windy, rainy and miserable. We were beginning to realize why this region had such a bad reputation. The HMS Beagle's first captain, Pringle Stokes, got so depressed by the hardships and the scenery in the Strait of Magellan that he locked himself in his cabin for a fortnight after their arrival at Port Famine. He committed suicide on August 2, 1828. The Beagle became one of the most famous ships in world history when Charles Darwin joined the second expedition to Patagonia in 1831–1836, after which he wrote his groundbreaking On the Origin of Species, published in1859. Robert FitzRoy was then captain of the Beagle. He was concerned about Pringle Stokes’ suicide and how lonely a captain can get in these depressing surroundings. That is why he decided he wanted someone to keep him company when he was not working, and Darwin the scientist came to sail on the Beagle. The devout FitzRoy chose Darwin because he had trained as a priest. After he began to realize that Darwin's ideas were not in line with the teachings of the Church, they spent their time on board in endless arguments. Ironically, FitzRoy also took his own life.
We arrived at Caleta Notch at five o’clock in the afternoon. We turned into the bay in 48 knot winds, and Yaghan was heeling badly even without sails. The entrance to Caleta Notch is full of shoals, and our first concern in the strong wind was not to run aground. If we did, there was no one to help, which made us completely focused on the task at hand. Both our electronic chart systems were switched on as well as both radar screens, we were also consulting our printed charts and two cruising guides. We now had to find our way among the shoals in the wind. We tried to have our two cruising guides close at hand at all times. We had already found that some shoals were marked in one but not in the other and vice versa! The reason is of course that comparatively few boats have sailed around these waters. An error may exist for a long time before someone runs aground. Errors on charts covering the Stockholm archipelago are a different matter. But we could not afford to run aground at all, so we had to keep a look out and use all the aids at our disposal.
As soon as we had slipped through the entrance the wind dropped almost completely while it was still blowing more than 40 knots in the Strait. We now had to travel along the sheltered fjord for almost two nautical miles before reaching our chosen anchorage. It looked nice and calm all the way, but, as usual, the place was completely deserted. We got there in the end. If we dropped anchor in the middle we had a two hundred metre leeway in all directions, which was precisely what we wanted. We could not find a suitable place for a “Patagonian mooring”. If you cannot moor all four corners you risk drifting onto the shore when the storm arrives.
We dropped anchor and I used the radar to measure the distance to land. It was perfect. We were two hundred metres off shore in all directions. The water dept
h was fifteen metres and we let go eighty metres of anchor chain to keep Yaghan well secured. We felt good about the anchorage and we were able to relax. The wind out in the Strait was over 40 knots, but inside the bay it was almost dead calm. It was the evening of Monday January 29. We took a shower and prepared a nice dinner. While Heléne was making the food I checked the SPOS weather forecast. We receive nine-day weather forecasts twice a day, so it takes a while to process all the information.
The news was shocking. In three days time – on Thursday February 1 – the average wind speed would be over 50 knots according to SPOS. In our experience you need to add fifty per cent for the gusts. Consequently, we could count on 75 knots in the gusts. The significant wave height at sea was estimated at ten metres. We had never been through anything like it before.
Everything was fine so far, we had a lovely dinner and enjoyed a good Argentinean Malbec before going to bed. We now knew that “the perfect storm” was closing in. We slept well; we did, after all, have a couple of days to prepare before the full force of it would hit us.
The “Perfect” Storm
The next day the wind picked up speed, and we had the occasional katabatic gust. Even if it was a perfectly good anchorage, there was a tendency for katabatic winds to reach us when the surrounding wind picked up speed. We were now receiving weather forecasts via Inmarsat C. The Chilean weather service forecast fifty-knot winds with a hundred-knot gusts for Wednesday! We had never experienced anything like it, and we were not sure if it was at all possible to remain at anchor in such conditions. The forecast was hurricane winds – no more, no less. The “perfect” storm was approaching. The low pressure that brought it was extremely deep – 956 hectopascal. The lowest possible reading on our barometer is only 960 hectopascal – the printer would be writing off the page!
What were our options? Continuing was out of the question. In order to continue we had to cross Paso Tamar – which is considered one of the worst places in the Chilean Channels. At Paso Tamar you are exposed to the Pacific for a while without enjoying the shelter of the islands. Off Paso Tamar are the Evangelistas Islands. The lighthouse keepers there are said to suffer the worst weather of all lighthouse keepers in the world. Even though the light is at eighty metres above sea level, the top gets wet in a storm. Once a ship had to wait for forty days before they were able to go out with supplies for the lighthouse staff. The skerries behind which the navy took shelter are now referred to as Forty Days Islands.
We would not be able to continue before the weather had improved considerably. Joshua Slocum – the first private person to circumnavigate the world in 1895–1898 – spent almost a month in an inlet near us before he was able to cross Paso Tamar. During this time he made six attempts at continuing, but had to give them all up. The Empire attempted to reach Caleta Notch on the same day as we did, but had to give up right before she arrived. She had to tack in the Strait as her motor was not powerful enough, but in the end the sea was so rough and the counter current so strong that she could not even sail. She had to turn and scud back to her previous anchorage, about twenty nautical miles further down the Strait of Magellan.
We considered Patagonia mooring somewhere else in the bay, but we rejected the idea after taking a closer look. There were no suitable pockets where we could moor with ropes in all directions, and the wind was blowing so hard that all movement was dangerous.
Moreover, we had good experience of Yaghan's ability to keep still at anchor. We had not needed to drag even once in the five years we had sailed her. On the other hand, we had never anchored in winds as strong as these. We had a stainless twelve millimetre chain that can withstand fourteen tonnes, and our stainless fifty-kilo Delta anchor that had the same capacity. We had been lucky before … In Mar del Plata, Björn on board the Lindisfarne had taken a look at our anchor and chain while fixing a loose plate. Björn is a bridge constructor and a structural strength expert. He was impressed by the anchor and chain, which he thought could withstand fourteen tonnes. However, between the chain and the anchor was an uncertified shackle. He estimated that it would only withstand six tonnes. This did not seem like a very intelligent solution, so he suggested that we buy a certified shackle from Wichard in France that could withstand fourteen tonnes, which we immediately did, and we also bought a few spare ones. We were grateful that Björn had noticed the problem. We also knew that the bottom was muddy and that the anchor was well secured. The wind strength sometimes increased to 50 knots in our bay. We decided to stay and ride out the hurricane. We were of course a little apprehensive about the “perfect” storm. We left the key in the ignition so we could start the motor quickly. We set up three anchor alarms and two radars that would warn us if we were drifting too close to land. We expected a sleepless night.
During the night we could feel the storm increasing in strength. The wind was howling through the rigging and Yaghan heeled heavily in the gusts. We got up several times to check that everything was all right. Fortunately, we did not budge an inch. In the morning, we could see the spray coming off the water in the gusts. At around 50 knots the water begins to froth on the surface. The boat was heeling twenty degrees, every now and then just on the rigging. The noise was worse than anything. Williwaws came roaring over the mountains. Our forty ton boat felt light in the gusts.
The wind started to drop a little towards the afternoon of Thursday, February 1, but it was still blowing hard. There was still no question of crossing Paso Tamar. We remained at anchor for a whole week, until Monday February 5. The wind was so strong that we could not use the dinghy to get ashore even once.
“What a monster low it was …”
The low pressure that had just passed was enormous and very deep. While moored at Caleta Notch, waiting for it to go away, we received an e-mail from Rolf and Deborah in Antarctica, seven hundred nautical miles away:
What a monster low it was. It reached from the Strait of Magellan in the north to the south of the South Shetlands in the south! We are of course wondering where you were and how it went. We hope everything is all right … We were at anchor in Yankee Harbour [South Shetlands, Antarctica], which has the best seabed (mud) that we know of around here. We were at anchor in the south-east corner where the holding was good during another gale. The anchor held up this time as long as the winds were only gale force. But at 0430 hours, the first time the front passed, we started to drag towards the shallows in Yankee harbour. You have no idea how much we appreciated our electric windlass and that we had bought one that was stronger than recommended for a boat our size. The wind was extreme. We estimated the wind strength to between 60 and 80 knots. We got the anchor out of the water and moved it to the north-east corner where we sought shelter near the glacier.
This was very interesting. You seldom hear the same low described from both sides. It tells you something about how risky it is to sail in these waters. Running into a low like this at sea requires more than a good boat and good seamanship.
It is always windier closer to the South American coast than down by Antarctica. Since the wind revolves clockwise around low pressures that occur in the southern hemisphere, the wind speed to the north is the sum of the low pressure wind and the speed it is travelling at. In the south, the wind speed is the speed of the low pressure minus the speed it travels at.
We left Caleta Notch in the morning of Monday, February 5, when the wind had dropped considerably. We were planning to travel the sixty-nine nautical miles to a place called Puerto Profundo (52°40.9 S and 073°46.4 W).
Patagonia Mooring – Seven Ropes to Shore
We motored the fifty nautical miles to Paso Tamar. Our course was northwesterly and the wind westerly. The wind had dropped, but the sea in the Strait of Magellan was still rather rough. When we arrived at Paso Tamar, we turned to starboard and reached. We set sail and continued north in fair weather. Only two hours after leaving Paso Tamar we reached an archipelago that is called Puerto Profundo. There were several anchorages that looked good on pape
r. We had set our minds on a certain pocket where you had to back in and then moor to shore with several ropes. It looked just perfect when we got there. It was small, approximately twenty metres wide and fifty metres long, surrounded by low hills and dense vegetation about the height of the mast.
We took out our 135-metre rope and put it in the dinghy that was hanging from the aft davits. Then Heléne launched the dinghy and rowed ashore to find a strong tree where we could fasten a rope straight to the stern. The dense vegetation at the foot of the tree made it difficult to secure the rope. While she was busy doing this I turned the boat and drove out to drop the anchor. I wanted it as far out as possible. I dropped anchor, backed in and waited for Heléne to bring me the end of the rope. She worked quickly as usual, and I secured the end of the rope to Yaghan. Then I made sure the anchor chain was taut so we would lie safely between the anchor and the land mooring. When all this is done in a location such as this, Yaghan is safely moored. Afterwards we can both work on securing as many ropes to shore as necessary. In Puerto Profundo there were a total of seven ropes by the time we were finished, a Patagonia mooring according to the book. Now we were safe from all hurricanes. The one disadvantage was that we were close to the trees ashore, which meant that we were sometimes bothered by mosquitoes.
The whole procedure took a couple of hours. Afterwards, it was nice to go down below for a shower and to change for dinner (only jeans, but still …). Before dinner we had a glass of wine in the cockpit and watched the sunset. It was a wonderful feeling, being all on our own in Patagonia. We slept like babies. Yaghan did not move, you could not even hear the water lapping against the hull. That is the way we like to anchor.
As usual, we stayed put the next day. We had a long suppressed need for going ashore. At midday we launched the dinghy and went looking for a place where we could climb onto the rather steep rocks. Then we walked around for a couple of hours. From the highest point there was a wonderful view of Paso Tamar and the Andes. In the afternoon we spotted a single sailing boat a few miles away, travelling north among the islands. It was the Empire.
Back at the helm - sailing the Yaghan to Antarctica, Patagonia and the South Pacific Page 19