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

by Martensson, Helene

  There were just over one hundred nautical miles to Puerto Natales (51°43.8 S and 072°31.2 W). First fifty nautical miles north along the main fairway, then we had to turn off and continue for another fifty miles east among the fjords. After that we had to double back to the main fairway. Puerto Natales was a detour of one hundred nautical miles. It is the only place in this 1,500 nautical mile long archipelago where you can fill up with fuel from a truck. In other places – Puerto Eden, for example – the diesel supply is unreliable, and you have to carry it in barrels. For us, who needed to fill up some 1,300 litres to get to Puerto Montt, the choice was easy. This stretch is also supposed to be very scenic and well worth seeing. That was not a strong argument for us, however. We were happy enough with the long stretch of archipelago we would travel through.

  We had not decided whether we would go straight to Puerto Natales or if we should stop at a natural harbour on the way. We considered one near the infamous Angostura Kirke – a strait famous for its tidal currents of 8–10 knots. (Angostura means bottleneck). When we got there it looked dark and dismal. The water was also affected by the strong tidal currents at Angostura Kirke. We decided to continue to Puerto Natales.

  Puerto Natales is situated on a strait that has a north-south orientation. The town and the quays are on the east bank. When the prevailing west wind is blowing, it is often impossible to moor at the quays. You may have to swing anchor for days until there is a gap in the weather so you can refuel.

  We passed the last major fjord before Puerto Natales in up to 40 knot winds. The wind did not affect our sailing ability, but it confirmed Puerto Natales’ windy reputation, and we started to worry about fuelling. Dusk was falling. We scrutinized our charts and guides, looking for a safe natural harbour near Puerto Natales where we could spend the night. We chose Puerto Lastarria, which was only ten nautical miles away. We dropped anchor at five, had dinner and slept well, alone in the bay. It was cold and windy, and the detour to Puerto Natales had not been particularly beautiful. It was a distance we just needed to cover.

  Fuelling at Puerto Natales

  The next morning, on February 8, after breakfast, we set sail and went the ten nautical miles to Puerto Natales. It was still very windy, but we were planning to anchor on the west bank of the strait and then cross it in the dinghy to investigate the fuelling situation. Shortly afterwards we were at anchor in an inlet opposite town. It was still very windy. We were sheltered from the sea, but we felt the wind.

  In the afternoon the wind dropped so we could cross the strait and take a look around town. It looked like a one-horse-town with low, wooden houses. There was a lorry used for serving ships at the fuelling station. The staff also thought the wind too strong for fuelling. They suggested that we try again the following morning. Our weather service also reported that the wind would have dropped by then. We were told that it was usually less windy in the morning. Said and done. We would try to cross the strait and moor at the quay by nine o’clock the following morning.

  The restaurants we saw at Puerto Natales were not of a class that we thought could compete with our own galley. We decided to eat on board and took the opportunity to check out the quay before leaving town. It was a steel and cement quay that was not at all suitable for leisure boats, but we figured out where to place the fenders in order to moor safely. We have six very large, blue spherical fenders that hang from the stern pulpit when we are at sea. They have saved us many a time from damages when Yaghan presses her forty tonnes against a quay. We also took a good look at the weather forecast, and the reports were promising.

  The following morning, on February 9, the weather seemed to be suitable for mooring. We weighed anchor at eight o’clock and crossed the strait to the quay. The wind speed was 16 knots, and you could feel straight away that it would be impossible to refuel at wind speeds over 20 knots. We were ready to load diesel well before nine o’clock. After five months in South America we had no great hopes that the lorry would turn up on time, which it did not. At ten we were beginning to wonder since the wind had increased somewhat. Heléne went ashore to get things going. She was offered the full range of South American excuses, but the lorry was on its way and would soon arrive. It turned up at eleven, and we could begin.

  Since Puerto Natales was not a place where we wanted to stay, we left as soon as we were ready, which was at noon. We were planning on motoring the fifty miles to the main fairway before the end of the day. We were rather tired of the rain and the wind, and we began to make plans for how we could reach Puerto Montt before the end of February. It would mean spending a total of thirty-eight days on the Chilean Channels.

  You Don't Know a Thing about Foul Weather until You Have Sailed in Patagonia

  This is how we calculated our fuel consumption: It was 950 nautical miles to Puerto Montt. If the Yaghan consumes 1.5 litres per mile on account of the strong headwind and counter current, our fuel consumption would amount to 1,425 litres. She normally only consumes 1.3 litres per nautical mile, but a strong headwind and counter current increase fuel consumption considerably. Ten litres per day are needed for heating and ten litres for our power supply. We estimated the rest of this leg would take us twenty days with a fuel consumption of four hundred litres. We would be needing 1,825 litres of diesel, and we had 2,200 litres of diesel available, i.e. we had four hundred litres to spare. Moreover, we were planning to sail two hundred nautical miles across Gulfo de Penas, which would save us another three hundred litres, which meant we had enough fuel to take us from Puerto Natales to Puerto Montt. With ten stops along the way, we would be able to stick to our old principle of staying an extra day in each place if felt like it.

  We were yet again pleased with our decision to install extra large diesel tanks. Normally, the fuel tanks on an HR 62 hold 1,600 litres, ours hold 2,400 litres. Since you can never access the dregs, it means that a standard boat can use 1,450 litres while we can use 2,200 litres, i.e. fifty per cent more fuel.

  We set off full speed ahead towards the main fairway. The weather was not great, but our large sprayhood provides plenty of shelter, so there was no problem. We doubled back the way we had come. The only problem on the way was Angostura Kirke with its strong tidal current. We knew that we would get through with the help of our strong motor, except for the passages with the strongest currents. The chances of a successful passage were excellent. In the evening we were back in the area around Seno Union and the main fairway. Seno Union is the fjord (seno means exactly that) that you first encounter when you turn back north. When we got there the wind speed was back to 30–40 knots, and it was raining. We did not think the natural harbours in the area looked very promising considering the high wind, so we decided to continue north to try and find a natural harbour, which could be easily accessed in the dark and where you did not need to moor to shore. We aimed for Caleta Columbine (51°53.6 S and 073°40.7 W), another twenty-five nautical miles to the north. It was another three hours of motoring, but it was summer and it got dark late. Caleta Columbine was not sheltered from all winds, but it was good in north-westerly winds, which prevailed at the moment and were forecast for the next few days.

  We arrived at about ten o’clock at night and used our radar to enter the bay. We dropped anchor at a suitable distance from land. The wind was blowing hard in Seno Union, but it was calm inside the bay. We immediately knew that we would be able to get a good night's sleep. We had dinner, went to bed and slept well all night. We had travelled a total of sixty-seven nautical miles from Puerto Natales, even though we had not left until noon.

  We weighed anchor as soon as we woke up in the morning, and we had breakfast in peace and quiet on the way. Caleta Columbine had served its purpose well, but it was not the sort of place where we wanted to spend an entire day. We decided to go the sixty-five nautical miles to Puerto Bueno, “the beautiful port” (50°59.2 S and 074°13.1 W). Unfortunately we had to pass Caleta Moonlight Shadow on the way. We had originally planned on stopping off there; a lot of
people say it is a very nice and sheltered harbour, but it was too early to stop, so we continued to Puerto Bueno. Later, we came to realise that we should have stuck to our plan. The Empire was there when we passed, and when we met up with them later at Puerto Montt they told us that it was a very nice caleta. You cannot get to see everything.

  Puerto Bueno was not particularly beautiful, but the sun came out for the first time in two weeks! You simply do not know a thing about foul weather until you have sailed in Patagonia. We had already started to talk about how much we longed for the warm climate in the South Pacific. We only stayed one night in Puerto Bueno. This was proof that natural harbours always offer surprises. Not even a name like “the beautiful harbour” can guarantee beauty.

  Caleta Bolina (50°11.6 S and 074°49.4 W) was fifty-five nautical miles away. We were now half way to Puerto Montt. In Caleta Bolina we executed a traditional Patagonia mooring with five ropes to shore. We were close to the trees and were bothered by mosquitoes. There are no free lunches! Caleta Bolina was nice and sheltered, and we spent two nights there, but it was not in the same league as the best harbours in Patagonia.

  There are seventy-seven nautical miles from Caleta Bolina to Puerto Eden (49°07.6 S and 074°24.8 W). It is the only “largish” community along the fairway between Puerto Williams and Puerto Montt.

  We encountered icebergs again for the first time since leaving Antarctica. It felt strange to find them so far north. They had calved from the Ventisquero glacier – one of the largest glaciers in Patagonia. It was named after Pope Pio XI in 1928. It is situated some thirty nautical miles up a fjord that discharges into the waterway we were travelling on. And the dolphins were back.

  At Puerto Eden you need to pick up a new zarpe for the second half of the archipelago up to Puerto Montt. We had heard that the Armada was stationed in a blue building by the south entrance to Puerto Eden. We could not moor at the jetty. Instead we had to launch the dinghy further out, and Heléne had to row ashore while I was waiting on board. The office seemed to be closed, even though we had been informed it would be open. Heléne rang the bell, but there was no response. We waited for fifteen minutes, and then I started sounding our extremely loud horn. After five minutes a sleepy officer came staggering down the steps to open the door. Heléne got her zarpe, and we motored for about a mile to a large inlet at the centre of Puerto Eden.

  We anchored offshore in the company of two other boats. Puerto Eden looked very shabby indeed. We immediately decided that we did not need to go ashore. Apparently one hundred people lived there, but it looked smaller. We were leaving the next morning. It was a relief that we did not need to refuel there. Puerto Eden was a disappointment. We had some expectations, but were let down.

  By now we had visited a whole string of harbours that had failed to impress us. It did not matter all that much since we are always comfortable in the Yaghan wherever we are. The boat is like a large, tastefully decorated apartment that includes all creature comforts. I will never forget the time when Heléne and I entered the Berlin marathon in 2003. Heléne arrived at the Adlon one day ahead of me since I had been in the US with the V&S board of directors. I talked to her on the phone and she was ecstatic. She had just been upgraded to a suite at that prestigious hotel, which is our favourite hotel. “The room is wonderful,” she said. “It's almost like our boat,” she announced frankly. She did not mean it as a joke; this is the way we feel about Yaghan.

  Yaghan's Plaque at Caleta Connor

  The next morning we set off for Caleta Connor (48°29.5 S and 074°23.7 W), a distance of merely forty nautical miles. This caleta was a must. Everyone who sails here puts up a plaque with the name of their boat on a famous tree. We had made one that would keep for centuries! We had bought a few bits of brass and some chisels for the purpose.

  We arrived at Caleta Connor on the afternoon of February 14, 2007. It was a lovely bay surrounded by high mountains. At the end of the bay was a place where you could moor with ropes to land, but we chose to anchor a little further out. After we had settled in we noticed some dolphins that were swimming around in the bay. They were large and blew water, just like whales. We had never seen dolphins behaving like that before, and at first we were not sure about what kind of animals they were. When we launched the dinghy they came swimming straight at us. It was frightening the first time it happened. We pulled the dinghy out of the water and postponed our visit ashore until the next day, when we had to go ashore anyway to put up our sign. The last time we had capsized in the dinghy, at Lagos, was still fresh in our minds. It was an unpleasant experience that cost us a new outboard motor. These large dolphins looked perfectly capable of overturning an inflatable dinghy.

  In the morning of February 15 we took out our chisels and got to work on our brass plaque. On it we engraved: “Yaghan from Sweden, three years round the world, Antarctica Dec. 2006, Caleta Connor 2007-02-15.” All morning we noticed how the blowing dolphins circled around in our bay. They kept “patrolling” the shores around the basin. There seemed to be at least ten of them. We were wondering what to do to make it ashore and up to the tree without getting knocked over.

  After we had finished making our plaque we launched the dinghy and attached the motor. Immediately, the dolphins came rushing towards us to find out what was going on. When we were ready to leave, we let the dinghy sit in the water for a while to give the animals a chance to go away. I estimated that it would take about one minute to reach the shore at full speed, which is 12 knots. When all had been quiet for a while and the dolphins seemed to be in another part of the bay, we quickly jumped aboard and set off towards land at full speed. Half-way there we noticed that three of the dolphins were coming towards us fast from behind. We were totally fascinated by the fact that they had discovered us so quickly and that they immediately started swimming towards us on the surface. I drove up to a rock at full speed and we threw ourselves ashore at the same moment the dolphins reached the dinghy. We had reached land, our hearts in our mouths. All we needed to do now was to attach the plaque to the tree. We tried to read all the other signs. Since all boats that pass through put up a sign, the number of signs showed that not all that many sailing boats come to Patagonia.

  On our way back to the dinghy we kept looking out for dolphins. When they seemed to be a long way off, we threw ourselves in the dinghy and set off at full speed towards Yaghan. The whole procedure was repeated all over again. Half way across we discovered that we were followed by three dolphins. We made it to the boat and onto the bathing ladder before they reached us. The dolphins swam and dove behind our boat for a while before disappearing in the direction of the shore. It was all very special. We had not seen anything like it in all the time we had spent in Patagonia.

  Patagonia Ends at the Bay of Pain

  After Caleta Connor we had to make our second difficult crossing after Paso Tamar: Gulfo de Penas, the Bay of Pain. To me, who have sailed a lot on the west coast of Sweden, these two places reminded me of the two most infamous places along the coast of Bohuslän: Islandsberg and Tjurpannan. Islandsberg comes after Gullholmen island if you are northbound, and you get to Tjurpannan just before you reach Havstenssund. Both these places were most off-putting once upon a time when I used to sail around this coast in my BB11. Paso Tamar and Gulfo de Penas made Islandsberg and Tjurpannan seem like child's play, which they were of course.

  At Gulfo de Penas you are forced to go two hundred nautical miles on the outside of the islands. It was 240 miles from Caleta Connor to the harbour we were planning to visit next – Caleta Jacqueline. We were forced to sail at night for the first time in a long time. Our plan was to start from Caleta Connor in the morning and to arrive at Caleta Jacqueline in the afternoon the following day. But we wanted southerly winds so we would not have to tack our way across the Gulfo de Penas. The prevailing wind was northerly, but in two days time the wind would change to southwesterly. This meant that we would be able to leave Caleta Connor on February 17.

  We enjoy
ed our two-day stay in Caleta Connor. In the afternoon some people on another boat arrived and moored with ropes to shore. We did not hear them since they arrived during our afternoon nap. The boat was under British flag. Maybe it was a sign that we were getting closer to more populated areas. We had not seen another boat for several weeks.

  The morning of February 17 was dead calm, but we believed that the wind would turn southerly during the day, and we left in the morning. There was no wind and the weather was glorious. We had fifty miles on the channels in front of us before we would reach Gulfo de Penas. We arrived in the afternoon and the much longed for south-westerly started blowing. We set sail by the famous San Pedro lighthouse and entered the bay on a beam reach. It was nice to be able to sail again; it had been many weeks since the last time.

  But the night turned out more strenuous than we had anticipated. Now and then the wind dropped and we were lying in the swell, sails flapping. We also discovered just how poor the charts over the area were. We had plotted our course with a respectful distance to land of between four and five nautical miles. In the middle of the night I discovered that we were much closer. We had to correct our distance to land by making major alterations to our electronic charts. It was essential since the islands are not correctly marked; sometimes they are several miles off. You always need to be on your guard and keep watching the radar. We were a little unobservant to start with, and we did not realize right away that we were too close to land. We also met some fishing boats with insufficient lights during the night. We normally try to avoid them by sailing further off shore, but you cannot go too far out when you are rounding a land strip, as we were doing – the further out to sea you are, the longer the detour.