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Dear Friends,
It was with quiet elation that we savored the last day of our voyage around
Cape Horn. When we sighted the entrance to the Gulf of Corcovado and the
magnificent volcanoes lining its eastern shore, we were filled with satisfaction.
The weather smiled on us, sunny, warm enough to shed our heavy sweaters
and enjoy being in the cockpit, but with the high pressure that brought
this fine weather, came very light winds. So the last 40 miles into the
gulf were a slow 24-hour drift against changeable tides.
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This is the Cophuie, the national flower of Chile and the namesake
of our hosts boat. |
The entrance to the gulf is wide and well marked by a large lighthouse
and several smaller beacons to warn us if we were close to danger among
the hundreds of islands that cluster through out this gulf. So we continued
in as night drew on, a bit concerned as anyone in foreign rock and shoal
strewn waters would be. But we need not have worried as the full moon
came out only minutes after night fell and the visibility was stunning,
the snow capped leaning volcanic peak of the Corcovado (hunchback) and
the double summated volcano Tic Toc shinning as perfect compass bearing
points all night long.
The light winds continued the next day and drizzle set in so we decided
not to carry on to Puerto Montt, l20 miles through winding passes and
instead anchor and celebrate in one of the calas recommended in our Chilean
cruising guide. We set our anchor in 60 feet of water, sand and mud bottom,
just at noon, 2l days out of Puerto Williams and spent five hours cleaning
soot off the overhead and cabin sides. Though I resented the clean up,
I had chosen to put up with the mess rather than wake to a 40 degree cabin
as we lay hove to at 50 south. (Our kero heater only sooted when the motion
was really rough).
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We often thought about Lyle Hess
while we were sailing Taleisin to windward in the far south. He designed
a wonderful boat for us. Stark Jett took this photo when we were sailing
in the Chesapeake. |
That night we celebrated with a fine bottle of bubbly wine. We gratefully
slept in each other's arms after a long hot shower and it was noon before
we woke. Then came one of those special happenings. I noticed a mast going
by our port light. This was a real surprise as there are literally hundreds
of anchorages to choose from and only about fifteen sailing yachts in
these canals at any one time. We went on deck to see one of the most handsome
yachts in the world, Copihue, a dark blue classic sloop of 73 feet, lines
like the elegant cruiser racers of l950, varnished woodwork that , even
from 100 yards looked perfect (up close it looked even better). She came
to anchor just the right distance inshore of us. A few minutes later Richard,
son of the owners, Michael and Marnie Gribbon came over to apologize for
invading our privacy. We assured him we had had more than enough time
on our own and willingly accepted an invitation for cocktails.
Copihue (named after the Chilean national flower since Marne was born
and raised in Chile) had just come from a six-week meander through the
Chilean canals from the Atlantic. The adventures of her voyage were wondrous,
we marveled at their stories of magnificent vistas as they passed hundreds
of waterfalls, through wind blasted narrows and into tiny anchorages where
the kelp was too thick to anchor so lines were run ashore we wondered
if we had missed something special. Yet all of Copihues crew went out
of their way to make us feel that too we had achieved something very special,
that they had somehow missed something. The next day we arranged to meet
in Puerto Montt and both boats were underway with gray drizzly skies and
light winds. One mile out of our anchorage, the drizzle filled to become
almost like fog. Copihue carried on, but we decided to return to the anchorage
and wait for clearer weather. We had plenty of food on board and no deadlines
to meet and actually looked forward to just reading a book, free of watches
and concern about changing winds.
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. When we were going through a box of old photos, we came across this
one of Larry and Lyle back in l968 or 1970. Sure brought back memories. |
Two days later we set sail again and decided to carry straight on to
Puerto Montt as we were anxious to catch up with two months mail and also,
hopefully with Lindsey and Olive Stewart on Cruisaway, from New Zealand
as we had heard they might be there preparing for their voyage homeward
after five months of exploring the Chilean Channels. After two days of
interesting sailing (read-dodging rainsqualls, fog and rocks with tides
of two to four knots) we were within twenty miles of our goal, with one
last narrow pass to thread when the fog socked in thick. We turned to
run slowly back toward more open water in the Gulf of Ancud and then hove
to. All night long small fish boats with two or three men in each came
close by to call in Spanish, "are you okay? Do you need anything?
Do you have a compass on board; we can tell you the course to Puerto Montt?"
We assured them we would wait for morning and better visibility. The next
morning the visibility did clear and we sailed back toward the pass, but
missed the tide so decided to anchor near several fish boats in the lee
of a farm-crested island. As soon as we set our anchor one of the fish
boats lifted theirs and came directly over. "We are so glad to see
you; we were all worried about you last night. Here is some fresh fish
for your dinner." We reluctantly accepted the l0 pound eel like fish
they offered and gave them a gift of a bottle of Argentinean wine from
the cache under our floorboards. Their warm welcome was just a taste of
things to come.
Lin and Larry from Puerto Montt
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The stunning scenery of the Gulf of Corcovado is ever changing, especially
as there is an 18-foot tidal range. |
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