The ship Mare Australis is a very pleasant Chilean cruise liner with space for about 180 passengers. Small but seemingly perfectly formed. As our guide Fransisco said, “This is an expedition ship, so there are no casinos or jauzzis here.” Having said that, after 10 days in a bunk bed in a dorm for six sharing a bathroom, my cabin was positively palatial.
We left the quay past a knackered old steam driven Argentinian navy submarine and Ushuaia faded behind us as the sun set and we headed into the Beagle Channel and Chilean waters.
It was a bit weird to find that my every waking minute has been scheduled out for me after so many weeks of going where I wanted when I wanted, but the three-course meal, unlimited wine and free bar in the evening took the edge off.
I was put on a table with a bunch of English speakers - an eclectic bunch, but thoroughly good company for the next few days. They were, from left to right: Paul and Janet, formerly of Nottingham but now the Seychelles; Russell and Brooke, the New York neurologist/property attorney mother-daughter team; Hilary and Stuart from Romsey; and Pauline and Jerzy, two finer examples of Australian good-heartedness you could not find.
Early to bed though as we had to be at 6am for a 7am “disembarkation” on to Cape Horn island. Francisco, our guide, had done such a thorough job of managing our expectations of being able to land that I went to bed nervous I would only get to see the famous cape and not set foot on it. For a good couple of hours I was unable to sleep, despite the gorgeous bed, lying there imagining what it would be like, whether it would fulfil my expectations, and of course whether we’d be able to land.
After only a couple of hours fitful sleep I woke up and joined the other passengers for the “early risers coffee” at 6am. (First trekking, now early risers’ coffee, I know, I’m shocked too!). It was a chilly grey morning, but as far as I could tell the water was pretty calm and I was standing with fingers crossed as we waited for the captain’s decision on a landing.
Fortunately it was good news and we donned waterproofs, life jackets and scrambled excitedly to the stern of the ship to get into the Zodiacs which dropped us off at the base of a cliff on a ‘beach’ which was only about 20 feet wide.
Cape Horn island is actually pretty uninteresting. There is a memorial to dead mariners atop one promontory, a lighthouse on another, a chapel, and a few wooden boxes housing Chilean marines who are de-mining the area in between - I’m not sure who put the mines there or when, but it strikes me as an absurd waste of time and kind of sums up man’s stupidity when it comes to territorial disputes.
We pottered about the island for an hour or so and I took as many pictures as I could trying to capture an image which perfectly encapsulated Cape Horn. After a while though I stopped hiding behind the camera and just sat staring out to sea having a moment. Even in the calm conditions we were experiencing it was a menacing place. Overall though it was more that I was able to stand atop that hill and look south at Antarctica that was what was important about the place, more than pictures of what was effectively a fairly uninteresting scrub-covered hill.
Back on board and tucking into my first hot breakfast, in fact the first breakfast to consist of more than a bread roll and jam, for five weeks, the Captain announced over the tannoy that because conditions were so good we were going to actually go around the Horn. Apparently they are only able to do this half a dozen times a year because the conditions around the Cape are often so poor - we were the lucky ones we were told.
As delicious as my scrambled eggs and bacon were I was buggered if I was going to miss this. Myself and most of the men in the room, the women on the whole seem curiously unimpressed by the whole Cape Horn mythology, ran to the viewing deck as the enormous cliff of the Horn hove into view. Maybe the girls weren’t raised on stories of pirates, shipwrecks and derring do, but I was and I was loving it!
They raised their special "Rounding the Cape" flag, sounded the horn and served up tots of rum, lemon juice and boiling water as we officially went south of the Cape. What a feeling.
There was no real sensation to it of course, but to know I was on a boat that was actually rounding Cape Horn was fantastic. Going to the island was great, but this was magnificent. And there was the Cape, not half a mile away.
That mythical place I‘d read so much about as a child, where thousands of sailors had died in freezing waters and howling gales. The cold wind, the roll of the ship, the sense of history, the mourning of so many dead, the smiles on the faces of passengers and crew, and the massive cliff of the Cape staring down at us. What a sensation, absolutely magnificent.
And to prove it, here's a pic of the GPS track!
Once the cape was moving out of sight it was back below deck to watch a documentary about Shackleton and the Endurance. More nautical adventures and British-based brilliance! There are a couple of other British people on board, but I wonder how many of the innumerable French, German, Dutch, Spanish and Argentinian people knew anything about his amazing journey. They certainly did by the end of it though and there were definite sobs from around the room as two-hours later Shackleton returned from South Georgia to find all his men still alive on Elephant Island.
There are so many references to the British in this part of the world - Shackleton, Fitzroy, Darwin, it brings out a strange kind of national pride. Completely misplaced of course as my gentle chug around the same waters bears absolutely no resemblance to what they and so many others must have endured down here, but at least now I have a sense of place to go with their stories and can put into context their achievements.
This is one little boy reading pirate books under his covers who is very happy!
There’s no time to waste on this adventure cruising lark though. Cape Horn, Shackleton, a three-course lunch, a quick nap and another disembarkation on to Isla Navarra at Waiula, the spiritual home of the Yamana indians. There’s actually only one ‘pure blood’ indian left and Chile is doing its best to preserve this island. I'm not sure if this is actually the last indian's house, but just in case, here it is.
The agenda for this afternoon is a trek up 1,500 metres to a viewpoint overlooking the island and the surrounding sounds and islands. So off we popped like a line of school kids, I'm surprised they didn't ask us to hold hands.
I did see some interesting flora, for those of you interested in green shit. Apparently the yellow balls are sap, not fungus and they are poisonous to insects. When the seasons changes they turn black and drop off and look like little bits of burnt bread which the indians eat. Rather them than me.
The weather wasn’t great so the views were a little disappointing, but we did stop off halfway up to try and spot some beavers. I was a bit sceptical as the last time I’d been to a beaver lake in Ushuaia the guide had said they are nocturnal and this was the middle of the day. The guide lined us all up on a log and all 20 of us sat there in silence staring at a muddy pool. To be honest I felt a bit of a dick. After about fifteen minutes of nothing, this popped up its head from under the water. Oh me of little faith.
We humped back down the mountain to the zodiacs and were greeted by a member of the crew handing out Jonny Walker served on glacial ice. If only all travelling were like this!
The evening was another four-course meal, but this evening it was followed by a bingo game in the Sky Lounge. I’ve heard rumours that bingo is making a comeback in London as the game of choice for hen dos, but I can attest to the fact that it’s alive and well in south America. They love it here. I think this is my third or fourth game since I got here, the others were on buses. And you’re not allowed to watch the movies on the bus until they’ve finished the bingo.
Anyway, I won the prize for being the worst bingo player on the ship - a Cape Horn cap. Well, I think it’s cool seeing as I've actually BEEN ROUND CAPE HORN.
After all this mountain climbing, trekking and excitement, I treated myself to a lie-in on the morning of the third day. Not because I particularly needed the sleep, but the chance to lie in bed, read, and do my own thing without half a dozen other people spoiling my ‘Me time’ was too good to miss. I missed my fried breakfast, but I did finish the Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes in blissful peace and quiet as the glorious cliffs of Tierra del Fuego drifted past my window.
By the time I emerged, the temperature had taken a distinct drop as we entered the ice zone.
We dropped anchor and sped off in the Zodiacs to have a look at a couple of glaciers.
As we entered the area where the glaciers met the water, the sun came out and we were able to see the glorious blue of the ice. The water is a curious milky turquoise around here, which is a result of the minerals in the rocks being absorbed by the glacier and then deposited in the sea. Glacial milk, it’s called apparently.
It was wonderfully peaceful, once the f***ing French had shut up, and the guides switched off the outboards so we could just drift at the foot of the glacier listening to it creak, crack and groan. The noise is surreal, it’s very loud and reverberated around the valley we were in like gunfire. It really puts you in mind of the immense pressures building up in the ice. At one point there was such a crack and upheaval of the ice that one woman took cover in the bottom of the boat, thinking the whole wall of ice was going to fall into the lake and she was about to be swamped by a mini-tsunami. Very cool place.
We headed bck to the ship which headed deeper down the channel to see this behemoth, whichh is named after a famous German called Gunther Pluschow. Sadly, he does sound a bit of a hero
That evening there was an auction for the chart plotting the route round the Horn. I did bid and Paul from our table kindly offered to contribute when I told him about the chart I had on my wall at home. But a very old Belgian guy wanted it too much, so I just missed out.
However, the next day Paul arranged for me to buy a chart and the pilot of the ship marked up our route on a little map so I can put the route on myself. Not quite the same, but pretty bloody close! Dad, the map and route are on their way in the post.
To be honest, this trip was all about Cape Horn, the glaciers were impressive, but after the Horn I lost interest a bit and wanted to be on my way. The people, food, wine and scenery were wonderful and I thoroughly enjoyed my time on the ship, but I had places to go and people to meet.
