Away from it all: An expedition cruise around Chile and Argentina’s far south
As South America’s adventure travel favourites begin to reopen to tourists, Nori Jemil recalls navigating the wilderness at the continent’s southern tip
Sitting on the striated rocks of a glacial moraine, looking across the water to Pia Glacier, we wait for the next shard of ice to fall. It occurs to me that these same views would have wowed the first Europeans who came here 500 years ago. It was 1520 when Ferdinand Magellan and his crew sailed the passage from the Atlantic to the Pacific, completing a three-year circumnavigation of the globe.
I’ve been coming to Patagonia for over a decade. While most tourists, quite understandably, head first to Torres del Paine or Argentina’s El Chalten for trekking, there is a world of remote, silent beauty beyond its best-known national parks. Towards the very end of the region’s Southern Cone lies Tierra del Fuego. Isla Grande, its main landmass, is cleft by the Chilean-Argentine border, while a myriad of smaller islands edge the south-west coast, separated by fjords and the Strait of Magellan.
There’s so much wilderness here, so far from human habitation, that it might just be one of the last bastions of undertourism. Chile’s Route of Parks, launched in 2018 and linking all national parks from Puerto Montt to Cape Horn, includes Alberto de Agostini – the third largest in the country and a location one can only reach by sea. A Unesco biosphere reserve, its sub-polar forest of native lenga and coigue trees makes it one of the most pristine locations on the planet. Like the Italian missionary and photographer it was named after, I was rapt as soon as I saw its peaks and glaciers.
It’s these views everyone on board is anticipating as we set sail on the Chilean-owned small expedition ship, Ventus Australis, from Punta Arenas. We’re taking the “Darwin Route” from Chile to Argentina, crossing part of the Strait of Magellan – though we don’t travel the entirety of the passage on this trip. The stretch that took Magellan’s tall ships around a month to sail, we tackle in four days, detouring south towards Cape Horn and the Beagle Canal. For the most part, it’s plain sailing in sheltered fjords and channels between the mountains of the Darwin Range, the final land-based part of the Andean spine before its coccyx sinks into the ocean.
The sun sets over Punta Arenas as we leave city life behind with pisco sour cocktails in hand as our captain introduces the route ahead. Then it’s a three-course meal of typical Chilean fashion, with fine wine from the Colchagua Valley. And while it’s not purely about the food and drink, the hospitality makes this expedition a very comfortable experience. And since it’s a small ship, Chilean owned and run, we’ll get access to some of the more remote places in the archipelago. In return, guides collect marine samples and keep a check on flora and fauna numbers for the authorities.
Having sailed overnight to reach Admiralty Sound, an offshoot of the main strait, our first Zodiac (inflatable dinghy) excursion is out to Ainsworth Bay. The mountain peaks of Karukinka Natural Park punctuate the sky on one side, while wind-blown silvery fjords fan out on the other. Our guide takes his time to point out mosses and lichens in the forest, as other groups head off in search of condors.
Tucker Islets, one of my favourite locations on this expedition, has more than 4,000 nesting Magellanic penguins. As we bump the Zodiacs briefly up on to the stony shore, they come waddling over to check us out. Great skuas, the merciless scavenger birds made famous by Antarctic documentaries, can also be found on the periphery, ready to take out lone chicks or an egg.
Nearby, a colony of cormorants is a sight to behold, even in the driving rain. Nesting on top of a promontory, they’re visible at close range from the boat, and sitting ducks for keen wildlife photographers, looking for a sharp image of those lapis lazuli eyes.
To say Magellan discovered this remote area is, frankly, wrong. Like all western explorers, he was among the first continental Europeans to clap eyes on a new part of the world but in reality he was arriving many thousands of years later than the first nations. When Magellan and his expedition navigated these fjords, they found the Yamana, or Yaghan, people already living here in dugout canoes and simple land structures. They survived by diving for fruits of the sea and keeping the harsh climate at bay with constant fires, so giving the “land of fire” its name – Tierra del Fuego.
We round the Brecknock Peninsula and tack eastward, entering the Beagle Channel. At Pia Fjord we come face to face with one of the most beautiful glaciers I’ve ever photographed. A stillness ensues before the anticipated creaks and cracks, then sooner than we can react, the dramatic explosion of water and ice is already in full flight. Whoops of joy from my fellow onlookers compensate for the disappointment they’ll feel when they click through their blurred images later on.
One of the most sociable parts of this trip is Glacier Alley, a series of hanging and tidewater ice sheets flowing from the Darwin Mountains. They’re mostly named after European countries and as we pass each one, appropriate snacks and drinks are brought to the upper viewing deck to toast the Italian, French and Dutch. This might be my favourite on-board experience, other than the expert talks which give fascinating insight into the culture and geography of the region. If guests don’t want to head out on deck for this, the enormous windows in every warm cabin allow for a front row seat as each glacier gives way to the next.
Before we arrive in Wulaia Bay, we hear about the significance of this once-inhabited, large aboriginal settlement. Described by Charles Darwin and sketched by Captain Robert FitzRoy during their voyages on the Beagle, the history of the now-dispersed Yamana is also told in photographs at the old radio station at Wulaia Bay and in more detail in Ushuaia’s Fin del Mundo museum.
Our penultimate port of call is without doubt the most exciting. I’ve been to Cape Horn National Park a few times and it hasn’t always gone as I’d hoped. Where the Pacific meets the Atlantic and the Southern Oceans, Cape Horn is notoriously one of the most dangerous confluences of water. On previous expeditions it’s been far too stormy for us to set down. One year I was ignominiously reminded that I was on an expedition cruise, not a cushy holiday, when rough waters tipped me out of bed in comedy slow motion, followed by my mattress, pillows and duvet.
This time we make firm ground, via the walkway to the metal albatross sculpture and accompanying poetry that memorialise the many lost souls who tried to round this cape. I’m thankful that I managed to make it here in February last year, just before the pandemic wrote off leisure travel for an unimaginable length of time. Big-ship cruising may not be everyone’s cup of tea and this kind of small-vessel adventure is about to resume with gusto at the end of the year. After all, what better way to get re-acquainted with Earth than a grand adventure to the ends of it?
Travel essentials
Australis is offering special five-night, all-inclusive tours on board the Ventus or Stella Australis sailing between December and March, with its usual routes to Argentina returning in October – from £1,180 per person. British Airways flies direct to Santiago and Buenos Aires, with connections to Punta Arenas and Ushuaia via LATAM or Aerolineas Argentinas.
Last Frontiers offers a 17-day Southern Grand Tour package from around £8,110.
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