| The entrance
to the glacier was a labyrinth of floating ice sculptures and with the
wind and tides forever changing, this bounty of icebergs was a mesmerizing
kaleidoscope of aquatic beauty. We maneuvered our sea kayaks through the
gallery of ice and closer to our destination, the glacier which thundered
in the distance.
Blue skies
and wispy clouds whirled overhead as the Southern Icefield grew closer.
Each
stroke of our paddles brought us nearer to towers of ice that broke away
and crashed into the sea creating waves that rocked our boats and reached
the entrance of the bay, miles from initial impact. A sight which had once
seemed to exist only in Discovery Channel highlights was followed by an
enormous roar, our eyes searching the sky for non-existent thunderheads.
This
spectacle would become commonplace in our Patagonia fantasyland during
several days at Jorge Montt Glacier, as would the army of icebergs which
surrounded our camp and changed their position every couple of hours. In
the presence of extraordinary wonder, it is amazing how quickly our fantasies
can become reality.
Wind. In Patagonia
the wind and the rain are omnipresent reminders that nature, not man, is
in control. Safe travel mandates regular weather checks: type, speed
and direction of the clouds, the condition of the sea, and the movement
of shoreline trees. Even diligent scrutiny could not accurately forecast
daily weather patterns. A sunny morning with glistening seas frequently
camouflaged afternoon storms that could endanger even the most intrepid
kayaker.
Patience is
indeed a virtue on Patagonian mountains and seas where mind-numbing weeks
spent hunkered in tents waiting for even the slightest break in a storm
are common. Having been warned that half of our 28-day sea adventure might
well be spent on shore, we rejoiced at being blessed with splendid paddling
weather during most of our expedition. And then one day that changed.
As we approached
Canal Martinez, our boats fought against overpowering currents and exploding
waves. We pointed our bow into the waves and attempted to subdue
Mother Nature, but for the first time, our expedition was forced to retreat.
Returning
to a sandy beach that had been the prior night’s camp, we pulled our weary
bodies from our boats and unloaded our soggy gear. It would be four days
before the Patagonia weather would allow us to enter Canal Martinez.
Weather in
Patagonia is characterized by its extreme changes and unpredictable nature.
Considered by some to have the world’s worst weather, it is said that “all
the seasons can be observed in a single day in Patagonia.” Outside
the tropics, western Patagonia is thought of as the region with the most
precipitation in the world. There is not a single month for which
official records are available with more than six days without precipitation.These
notorious rains would accompany us through the next three weeks of our
journey affording us a taste of the infamous Patagonia weather. We cooked
in the rain, packed in the rain and paddled in torrents of rain.
My
head and upper layers were so drenched that each stroke sent water traveling
through my paddling jacket, down my pants and into my boots chilling every
inch of my body along the way.
These same
rains fueled the beauty that surrounded us as we paddled along a coastline
of stone-faced cliffs cloaked in vegetation and literally dripping with
moisture. Waterfalls tumbled thousands of feet through a blanket of fluorescent
rainforests disappearing and reappearing as they searched for a way down
to the sea. The waterways cut narrow channels through fjords so steep
that the vegetation clung to the mountainside like a frightened climber.
Our kayaks drifted upon currents that sucked us effortlessly through luminous
tunnels and into a string of crystal clear lakes linked by waterfalls and
streams. Set in a fairy tale setting among a grove of forests and bordered
by a fantastic wall of granite, we paddled across still fresh water admiring
the splendid location before setting up camp at the mouth of a bubbling
stream. Never before has it seemed so true that new wonders lie behind
every corner.
From our
new base camp, we bushwhacked through dense vegetation sinking up to our
knees in an abyss of living and decomposing plant life. Hopping from
rock to rock, the hiking group followed the spine of stony ridges surrounded
by towers of granite and pillars of bubbling rock. We observed new types
of trees and bushes, mosses and lichens, mini-waterfalls spilling out of
thick undergrowth and the lake below us which cut a narrow channel through
the mountain. Standing high above our camp, my friends and I stood and
listened to the patter of rain and rush of wind at our backs. We
didn’t speak a word. We could only smile the sweet bliss of being totally
alone in the world, seeing something completely new and knowing that moment
would forever be captured in a treasure chest of extraordinary memories.
We spent our
last night camped at Rio San Martin, just seven kilometers from our launching
point in Tortel. Together our group sat for the last time, huddled
under our tarps drinking mate and cooking dinner. Four weeks earlier when
we launched our boats into the Rio Baker, not a person among us could steer
his kayak, read a nautical chart nor accurately predict the tides. Now
we basked in our own glory, both as individuals and as a group. From learning
how to paddle to living through harsh weather, reading the tides and currents
to camping on sinking bogs, evaluating weather patterns and practicing
navigational skills, our group had learned to apply itself in one of the
world’s last great remote regions and, in turn, our expedition was rewarded
with some of life’s great unforgettable memories.
As we paddled
closer to Tortel, I felt the same buzz of excitement that had overwhelmed
me as we paddled down the Rio Baker. I remembered the feeling of heading
out, where the river met the sea and the fresh water became more salty.
Seeing the islands before us, the channels that carved alleys between them
and watching Tortel disappear behind us. It was such a fresh sensation
- new and exhilarating - and to have come full circle with so many accomplishments
and ageless memories in our wake, our expedition returned to Tortel as
seasoned explorers, conquering champions and humbled adventurers.
The following
articles are Kyle's previous articles for the magazine:
To contact
Kyle Click Here
Return
To Magazine Index |
