On October 28th we set out from Puerto Montt, our northern-most point, lauching our bright red kayaks from a steep gravel beach just west of town. Our departure turned out to be quite an event with the Chilean Armada. We were seen off by no less than eight smartly uniformed personel of the Chilean Navy, and the exact moment of our departure was broadcast over the marine radio system throughout southern Chile. Four days later we were camped on a crescent sand beach, facing our first major obstacle--Canal Chacao, the current-swept passage separating the mainland from the island of Chiloe. After waiting a day for 30 knot winds to ease, we set off on a four-mile course for the island. The crossing went smoothly until we neared the far shore where our progress was checked by the building current. Struggling against the huge volume of water ebbing against us we paddled for all we were worth. Just when it looked as if we would be swept into the nasty rip building off Punta Trece Cruzes we broke through the current and into an eddy lining the shore. Stumbling out of our boats humbled and spent, we were very thankful to have completed this major crossing safely.

Paddling the shores of the island of Chiloe we felt the advantages of traveling by kayak. Land travelers see none of the shoreline that is this island's mainstay -- it's all about the beach. The beach brings food and commerce to the people. It is the highway for pedestrians, cars, trucks, horses, cattle and sheep. It is the gateway to the salmon and shellfish farms. It's the parking lot for all sizes of fishing and dive boats who lay dry on the sandy shore. Two hundred year old, brightly-textured and weathered, wood-shingled churches stand prominently facing the channels at the center of each tiny community.

Every beach has someone working. Skirted women, men and children barefoot in the mud, collect seaweed at low tide, dry it in the "sun" and load it into wooden-wheeled oxcarts for export to Japan. We shared the beach nightly with these proud, respectful and generous Chilotes, visiting briefly as they passed.  We were given clams, invited to drink mate (a South American tea) and brought home for delicious family feasts.

Compared to the relatively stable paddling conditions of Alaska and British Columbia, there is a heightened level of intensity here. It is a result of the quickly changing weather, the resulting winds, an 8-meter tidal range, and the almost ever-present rain. What is felt initially as a subtle undercurrent, builds as one heads further and further south. For a kayaker there is very little downtime. Even the usually relaxing routines--such as loading and unloading the kayaks, become frenzied struggles against the elements. Out on the water it is even more intense as the dymnamic sea state commands constant vigilance and offers very little room for error. This intensity has been hard on us, and it has also been hard on our equipment. We spent 10-days in the town of Chonchi repairing damaged gear and awaiting the delivery of an essential replacement part.

Leaving Chiloe we island hopped 60 miles east to the mainland shore. The pastoral islands of the Chiloe archipelago gave way to long stretches of steep-to shoreline, complete with ocean swells, and surf. Our next big obstacle was a transit of the Golfo de Corcovado and we spent four days paddling and paddle/sailing down the nearly featureless coast. With few places to safely land and rest, we spent entire days in our boats, forced ashore only by the threat of approaching darkness. And on one occasion this meant swimming our loaded kayaks through peels of breaking surf.

Once inside the "channels" as they are called here, we explored intricate passageways and camped on sheltered beaches covered by heaps of ancient mussel shells. The weather has remained constantly bad and nearly a third of our days have been spent in camp, awaiting lighter winds and calmer seas. We spend this time baking bread, taking turns reading aloud, studying the route ahead, and eating huge, high calorie meals.

On arrival at each town along our route we are required to visit the office of the port capitan.  Fortunately, there are few towns along the way—as the typical visit goes something like this:  On nearing a port we make a radio call (in Spanish) asking for permission to land on the beach. We then take our travel permit to the Armada office for inspection and revision. After explaining our expedition to the sub-officials we are interviewed by the port capitan who advises us of the local dangers to navigation. Invariably this leads to a long recitation of his own personal experiences navigating the channels, complete with an account of the training that led him to his esteemed position. If we endure this test of patience we are presented with a new travel permit, bearing the capitan's signature and stamped with his official Armada seal. The whole process can easily take several hours and in the town of Chaiten (where the Port Capitan attended life boat school for two years) turned what was to be a quick stop into an overnight stay.   

Outside of these small villages there are few people and surprisingly little boat traffic. By far the most common craft we've seen are the bright yellow and red, hand-built wooden fishing boats. There are also a number of modern, steel-hulled work boats servicing Chile's countless salmon farms. Pleasure craft are few and to date we've seen only four private yachts and one kayaker-- a solo, American paddler we had corresponded with prior to the start of our journey. 

From our present location our route takes us through Laguna San Rafael, with its tide water glacier and many icebergs. Next, we cross over the Isthmus of Ofqui, a historic and marshy 15-mile portage and river paddle. This places us in position to cross the exposed and committing Golfo de Penas, the "outside passage" section that is possibly the crux of our entire expedition. Once safely past this obstacle we are back in the channels and headed into the heart of the Chilean Patagonia wilderness. Our next email stop will be Puerto Natales-- 2-1/2 months away by kayak.   

Trip Statistics

Mileage to date: 440 NM (506 miles, 815 KM)

Days since Departure: 50

Days spent paddling: 32

Days with significant rain: 40

Longest paddle day: 28-1/2 NM

Shortest paddle day: 1-1/4 NM

Fastest speed obtained (sailing): 6 Knots

Wildlife Identified

brown-hooded gull

kelp gull

silvery grebe

southern giant petrel

imperial cormorant

rock cormorant

neotropic cormorant

buff-necked ibis

black-necked swan

turkey vulture

southern lapwing

american oystercatcher

whimbrel

peale's dolphin

southern elephant seal

south american sea lion

chimango caracara

south american tern

pelican

black-browed albatross

magellanic penquin

white-headed steamer-duck

sooty shearwater

ashy-headed goose