24.01.09 – Porto Belo
At 1400h we dropped anchor in the first bay of Porto Belo. Full of motor boats, pirate ships, floating prawn restaurant, plus the odd fishing trawler and 2 cruising boats – Mallard (bob and bette),…
At 1400h we dropped anchor in the first bay of Porto Belo. Full of motor boats, pirate ships, floating prawn restaurant, plus the odd fishing trawler and 2 cruising boats – Mallard (bob and bette),…
We’re peering into a black night, looking for a little light which is flashing 3 times every 10 seconds, just for us. We should see it in 20 minutes, I say, then cross my fingers…
The headwinds have been monotonous, as we knew they would be. Fortunately not as strong as anticipated. We have the main up and sometimes the yankee too, but Mr Ford’s Invention has been grinding away…
It is a blue black night and there are a zillion stars. I have been threading us through almost as many fishing boats of the Rio Grande fleet. Now Dave’s abed and I have the…
Harried out of our snug marina berth by Hidrographia, who know we are squatting. We procrastinate as long as possible – waiting for immigration officers to come back from the cruise ship, I sit and…
A pampero came in at midnight. 25-35 squally knots with heavy rain, like a southerly buster. The first race boats arrived at 9am, sodden but generally intact. Much chaos as they attempt to pick up…
We motor out of Piriapolis at last, on a flat sea, into a faint E breeze. Cloudless and warm. The autopilot is clapped and so, I think, is the wind generator. Tant pis. There is…
Yesterday was a rest day for us lads, while others painted the bottom. My shame but their pain. A time to dream, read and reflect. I know what Chris means about Bruce Chatwin – his…
Yesterday the forestay was finally winched to the masthead and affixed. A sunstriking hour at the top of the mast left me ruddy, wet and dry. And today I have been irritatingly forgetful. Perhaps I…
In the cool of the morning we set about putting the new forestay together. Only then did I realise that the Wrapstop fitting was absent. It must have disappeared over the side when the forestay…
Piriapolis is packed with obese holidaymakers. To the noise of muffler-free motor bikes is added advertising by boom boxes on the roofs of cars. At top volume. If I were mayor of this town… Here…
It feels normal – no, wonderful to be back in BA, which is as beautiful as ever. The skies are cloudless, the markets are opening and washed cobblestones glisten. I have such rich, complicated memories…
I have just arrived in Buenos Aires but my baggage is enjoying an unexpected stop-over in Cordoba. Gritty eyes, a sore knee and an empty brain will just have to be put up with till…
The long trip up from Tierra del Fuego is finally over. It has been a strain – 1200 miles of persistent headwinds, short steep seas and the minor but constant anxiety about the mast. After…
We’ve got just 40 lurching miles more, across the estuary of the River Plate. Shallow grey water, shallow grey skies, shallow grey mood. But, touch wood, we should be in smooth water by midnight. I’ve…
At sunset and approaching Mar del Plata, we were motoring over a calm sea with many curious seabirds and Brendel playing opus 106. We were out of the roaring forties at last, the air warm…
I haven’t felt so un-sealegged for a very long time. The forestay incident and a recurring problem with the Aries vane have shaken my faith in all notions of permanence. They, like other recent events,…
Puerto Madryn is not terribly hospitable for yachts. It sits on a huge bay wide open to the east, and we had to anchor way out with the trawlers because of the tidal range. I…
I thought the worst of it was over when we had escaped the rip tides of LeMaire Strait. 2 nights later we were at 47 south, romping north on a broad reach with yankee, storm…
We’re SW of the Falklands in cold, gray and uncomfortable seas. Not too much wind though, and we’re going only slowly with reefed main and staysail. After some spectacular vomiting I slept well and am…
The girls have departed, leaving behind a yacht suddenly twice the size. Ian and I having stocked the boat with wonderful Argentinian spuds, lomo rosa (cow) and malbec, we cleared out of Ushuaia yesterday morning.…
From Ushuaia the choice of cruising grounds is easy – the Cape Horn circuit, the Antarctic Peninsula and the Beagle Channel. Cape Horn is only 60 miles away as the condor flies. Unless it is…
We roared back from Caleta Olla in gale force winds and steep seas. The weather was so bad that Ushuaia port was closed to shipping for the day, I believe. As we surfed past the…
A miserable night in the Beagle Channel. It is snowing on the tops and now sleet lashes the decks. The rigging whistles as we heel steeply to the gusts but we are tucked into Caleta…
We’ve just come out of the illegal Canal Sin Nombre, into Beagle North. Pia Este is only an hour away. It’s cold and raining. Rosie is doing nicotine withdrawal cross stitching and Jenny is astral…
It is 11.30am and Ian has gone exploring. Rosie is still asleep. Jen has just announced that the aft toilet is blocked – there goes my solitude. It rained all night. It is cold and…
This morning was misty and still, Micalvi’s grey decks damp. At 8.30 I went up to Captain de Puerto to get a zarpa for our next Beagle Channel trip with Ian, Rosie and Jenny. The…
We continued our meandering course south via Paso Aguirre, Canal Occasion and Canal O’Brien in grey, windy conditions. These are hallowed waters for those who’ve read Darwin and FitzRoy. Isla Basket probably hasn’t changed much…
In Canal Cockburn we felt big ocean swells again as we came around the SE tip of Tierra del Fuego into Canal Occasion. We were lucky though, because there wasn’t much wind and the current…
15 kts of SW wind and the last of the ebb had us scurrying east through the straits past Isla Carteret in Bahia Swallow. The charts here contain a veritable checklist of great maritime names……
With 4 lines ashore and 2 anchors down, we had our stern pulled in to within 10 feet of the weather shore. We were very secure but the rachas whistling down from the mountains were…
It was time to exit the labyrinth of canales we have been threading since we departed Puerto Montt a hundred years ago. There was nothing clement about the weather as we left Teoteka. I didn’t…
After a windy night at Caleta Damien we surged out into Estero Collingwood with bleak weather, staysail and poled out yankee, doing over 9 knots over the ground. In freshening winds we poked into Paso…
After a windy night at Steamer Duck Lagoon, yesterday we entered Estero Peel. This is a grand fjord which sweeps east and then north into the heart of the Andes. I have been here many times…
16.12.07 I’ve been sitting staring at a blank Sailmail screen for the last 20′, waiting for the muse. I don’t want to write pretentious, travelogue or air-headed. I’m trying to think of things to say…
The grand fjord of Seno Iceberg was free of eponymous white bricks until we reached the head. There we turned the engine off and sat in awed silence, barely 200 metres from the towering face…
Anchoring in Patagonian waters is problematic. The fjords are often very deep and the bottom tends to be rocky except right in close to creek outflows. Hal Roth discovered this to his cost. Fishing boats…
We’re bypassing Puerto Natales, so Puerto Eden (pop 140) is our last human contact before Puerto Williams. It is a poor, lonely outpost. But when the current sweeps you round the point out of the Inglese…
With falling barometer and freshening NW winds we made for a little cove on the southern side of Isla Vittorio. Ahead through the mizzle loomed the ghostly apparition of MV Capitan Leonides, a freighter wrecked…
We romped south down Canal Messier at 10-12 knots, with poled out yankee and full main and 25 knots of wind across the deck. It is cold and intermittently showery, but all-in-all very nice. The…
We ran square at 8-11 knots, rolling and lurching sickeningly in steep seas coming from every which way. I had about 40 sq ft of yankee unrolled and pulled in hard with both sheets. I…
After a grand fast reach down Canal Errazuriz. we stopped over for the night at a secure little spot, stern tied in to the trees. The usual mossy rocks and sodden rain forest 10 feet…
We are now in Chacabuco, whose main claim to fame is that it is a bit bigger than Puerto Aguirre. The anchorage is secure however, surrounded by rocky, steep hills with emerald patchwork. And close…
After his protracted bout of pneumonia poor Dave has at last stopped sleeping all day. He is still lumpen and non-contributory but he’s on the mend I think. Martin is a real asset – a…
Suddenly we were back in Quellon, with its gorgeous yellow fishing boats and that spectacular volcano backdrop. It is such a frontier town. Martin was impressed, Dave was appalled and I just love it. At…
“We’ve had a great sail across the bay from that fjord where the battleship Dresden hid. We passed Puerto Bonito with that lovely house on the point and it occurred to me you should buy…
Tainui came to terms with her abandonment in Puerto Montt. She sat on the hard through a wet cold winter with injured dignity but little to show for it other than dead batteries and a…
At 0830 we upped anchor, through reams of diaphenous green weed. It is fresh, crisp and cold, with uncharacteristically harsh light. I didn’t know there was sun at this end of the day. Puerto Montt…
Hector clambered aboard uninvited at a most inopportune time. but we will never forget his leathery features and his exuberant conversation. He offered a bag of tiny, sour apples in exchange for vino, wiskie, birre.…
Back across Golfo Corcovado. Motoring between distant pods of blue whales I have intermittent, end-of-journey flat feelings. Not nice, because with the end of the journey will come the end of the intense intimacies we…