The ultimate sabbatical: The reality of raising a family on a yacht in Chile

Exploring Patagonia was a memorable family cruising adventure for Fernanda Mondadori

“You need to focus on Section 10, it’s the best part!” That was the message that flooded my inbox again and again as we planned our trip to Patagonia. With a coastline of several hundred miles and thousands of rocky islands, temperate forests and stunning deep blue glaciers calving at the end of long fjords, it’s not easy to limit yourself to a few destinations when heading south to cruise this incredible region.

We would arrive at the southernmost town in Chile, Puerto Williams, from the South Atlantic and would leave six weeks later, heading back into the Atlantic through the Magellan Strait. Even though the stretch between Puerto Williams and Punta Arenas, our entry and exit ports in Chile respectively, is only about 270 miles, the best advice we were given was to focus on this area alone.

All high latitude sailors in the south are familiar with the ‘Blue Book’, the Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego Nautical Guide by Mariolina Rolfo and Giorgio Ardrizzi. It is a heavyweight compilation of invaluable information from their decades of exploration, plus collective knowledge from other sailors on anchorages, weather and many other aspects of Argentina and Chile.

The coastlines are carefully divided into sections. It is an indispensable tool and we felt very safe while cruising Sections 8-13 following its recommendations. Section 10 covers Isla Grande de Tierra del Fuego, including the Beagle Channel, and the centre point of our trip.

Two-year adventure

Before setting off from Denmark in 2024 we – myself, my husband, Rune, and our three children – had given ourselves a deadline. By the departure date our eldest son should not be more than 12 and our youngest old enough to enjoy the ride.

There were many considerations when we decided to pursue a long voyage as a young family of five. The kids would leave their friends, school and familiar surroundings for two years: a big proportion of their lives. Hence, if our oldest was still in his early teens upon our return, we trusted he’d be able to swiftly rejoin school with his friends.

This deadline pushed us to get our boat, Odara, ready in time. We bought Odara in 2021 specifically for this journey: a 1982 Hallberg-Rassy 42E ketch with centre cockpit. At 40 years old Odara was in good shape but needed several upgrades before we could set off. We managed to slip the lines on 1 August, with the job-list checked off, a month before our son’s 12th birthday.

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Our big picture plan was to cross the Atlantic and sail south as fast as we could, aiming to get to Chile by late January, which would give us two or three months to cruise the Chilean channels before heading back to Brazil in the southern winter. But all sailors’ plans are written in the sand at low tide.

A long way down

By the beginning of February we reached Mar del Plata on the north coast of Argentina, about 250 miles south-east of Buenos Aires. From this tourism epicentre yachts have two options when heading south: to follow a close-to-shore approach, with a few ports on hand in case of bad weather; or a more direct offshore passage to the tip of South America, with a risk of encountering low pressure systems enroute.

We opted for the slower but more child-friendly strategy and planned for a few passages of around 3-5 days along the coast.

It is easy to see why few family cruisers and smaller yachts head south to Patagonia. While Brazil is a fairly easy sailing ground, to get to Chile you have to contend with the entire Argentinean coast.

The coastline is characterised by strong tidal streams around capes, a few harbour cities – usually positioned at the mouth of a river with sand banks and challenging currents – and very few safe moorings by the coast. Waiting out bad weather at sea can often be a better choice than seeking shelter.

Authentic Argentina

Our first stop after Mar del Plata was the small picturesque city of Bahía San Blas, 250 miles south, authentically Argentinian and a sport fishing paradise. We anchored in a lagoon surrounded by dozens of pink flamingos feeding on shellfish at low tide. From here we were entering Argentina’s Patagonia region, with its arid and dry prairie landscape.

The winds from the Pacific hit the Andes mountains, raining on Chile’s mountainous side, before running strong and dry on the Argentinean side. After waiting out some 35-plus knots of westerly wind, we realised we were in fact in a sand storm.

Continuing south we stopped at our first caleta, the Spanish name for the small protected inlets that are generally very good anchorages even if the weather is raging outside. Caleta Hornos is a beautiful small canyon with high rocky walls and 3m tides, where we could back Odara into a corner and – with some difficulty – tie our long shore lines to the rocky shore (it’s recommended to have at least 400m of floating shorelines on board). On the barren landscape we spotted guanacos (a native species that’s close to the llama), and also visited a sea lion and Magellanic penguin colony on Islas Leones.

Back in the 1800s the Beagle expeditions used Puerto Deseado literally as ‘desired’ – a welcome port of call for rest and supplies on their journey south. Puerto Deseado was our planned final stop before heading for the tip of South America and the Le Maire Strait. However, we could see our good weather window continue, so decided instead to press on, following the coast south and into the lower latitudes of the ‘Furious 50s’.

Up until this point we’d been enjoying sailing in shorts and T-shirts with easy seas and favourable winds. Even though we entered the 50°S latitudes with our spinnaker up, we got a taste of Neptune’s forces on approaching the strait.

The Le Maire Strait has vicious currents, as the waters from the Southern Ocean join tidal forces in this very narrow 16-mile channel. This can create overfalls, treacherous eddies and seas that become too dangerous even for large vessels. It’s important to time the passage with favourable tide and have following or light winds to pass through the strait.

Just as we rounded the first cape, Cabo San Diego, unpredicted squalls hit us with gusts over 40 knots. Odara was already reefed to only a small foresail and we rolled it to a tiny napkin as the squall passed in almost zero visibility.

Once inside the strait it was a race against time to avoid getting caught in the contrary tidal current. But by the time we approached the end of the strait we were motoring in non-existent wind and glassy seas, and celebrating a major milestone achieved.

The weather in Patagonia is unpredictable, forecasts can change fast and are not very reliable. You have to sail with one eye on the chart and instruments, another on the sea state and uncharted obstacles, and a third on the clouds.

Once we’d rounded the south end of Le Maire, we were welcomed by dozens of whale pods in the bays along the south coast of Peninsula Mitre. The whales – probably fin or sei species – blew air all around us. For hours we could observe their rhythm of breathing, mesmerised.

Beagle Channel

The Blue Book reminds east-bound sailors that on leaving the Beagle Channel they should be mindful of sea state. For us, west-bound, entering the channel brought flatter waters and stunning views of snow capped mountains. It’s hard not to wonder how it must have felt for the early European explorers heading into these uncharted territories.

To check out of Argentina all boats need to go to Ushuaia, but on the way it is worth making a stop at Estancia Harberton’s anchorage. The farm is an important historical heritage ground, as the first successful missionary settlement.

It is still run by descendants of Thomas Bridges, an English missionary who was able to engage positively with the Fuegian indigenous people of the Beagle Channel, the Yámanas. We got a glimpse of how these hunter-gather tribes lived an extreme nomadic life, sleeping in small domes made of sticks and leaves and rowing bark canoes. Sadly, virtually all indigenous Fuegian tribes have died out in the past century.

By contrast, we arrived in Ushuaia in early March, just in time for carnival. The city at the end of the world was hosting its largest carnival to date. Andean folk dance traditions mixed with European influences made for a remarkable show, topped off with a street party with spray foam and confetti.

South American countries are infamous for their love of paperwork, with Argentinian bureaucracy being a league of its own. In our best Sunday clothes we visited offices full of stamping machines, typewriters and paper forms. Both when checking in and out of Argentinian waters the Prefectura officers will visit yachts to inspect safety equipment, and it is vital to comply with their meticulous list.

Chilean adventure

In order to continue further into the channels we had to retrace our steps and sail some 25 miles backwards to Puerto Williams, to complete our entry procedures to cruise Chile. All yachts stop at Micalvi, a grounded ship that serves as mooring place at the most southern yacht club in the world. It used to host a sailors’ bar that is currently out of action, though we couldn’t resist adding our club pennant to their collection.

Section 10 of the Nautical Guide features the south side of Isla Grande de Tierra del Fuego, including both the south-west and north-west arms of the Beagle Channel. This would take us through the famous glacier alley. We had the aim of visiting as many ventisqueros (glaciers) as we could in the time frame available.

Sailing in the channels is generally challenging. Westbound vessels usually sail against the prevailing westerlies with following currents, so flying our spinnaker into the south-west arm of the Beagle Channel in light winds was an unexpected joy.

Our destination was Ventisquero Fouque, a glacier that looks like an ice river flowing directly into the fjord. After anchoring at a caleta two miles away, we hiked up the mountain walls, crossing streams of melted ice to reach a stunning viewpoint of the ice field.

The following day, as the weather was mild, we launched our Optimist dinghy to let our oldest experience sailing by himself in the fjord. The risk of capsizing in glacier water was a concern. In spite of being Danish, with whatever traces of Viking ancestry that may bring, a quick swim by Rune around the yacht confirmed that the water was freezing cold.

After giving our son, Nicolas, a thorough briefing on what to do in case of capsizing – namely getting the boat upright as fast as possible and himself out of the water – and keeping a very attentive eye out for sudden gusts, he set off for an unforgettable sail right by the glacier wall.

Back at Punta Divide, the point where the Beagle Channel splits into two arms, we entered the more travelled north-west arm and stopped at lovely Caleta Olla. Suddenly it felt crowded as we were one of three yachts in the anchorage! Our boat neighbours had caught a salmon and we got to taste what truly fresh and wild salmon is really like.

We regretted not having the proper gear to fish these waters, such as a thin 2-3 layer net to place across the creeks. Rod fishing from the boat only seemed to reward us with kelp, though we could catch our own centollas (king crab) in shallow water using a net from a stand-up paddleboard.

Glacier alley

Caleta Olla is at the beginning of the glacier alley. The very high mountain range of Cordillera Darwin, at the south-west end of Isla Grande de Tierra del Fuego, is covered with several glaciers; some can be seen from the channels and others demand a sail into their respective fjords.

We hiked to a viewpoint of Ventisquero Frances, then on our way to our next anchorage, passed through Italia, Alemanha and Romanche, the latter having the most beautiful waterfall flowing from under the ice cap.

We spent some time awaiting better weather in Caleta Beaulieu – a must stop anchorage, that is both well protected while providing a direct view to the glacier.

Patience is often key, and we were forced back into an anchorage after one failed attempt to reach a glacier at the end of the east arm when the winds built much stronger than forecast.

After a few days waiting we managed to get to the end, though we had to trust the nautical guide’s hand sketch when motoring over rocky moraine midways, as all fjords are not well charted. It’s advised to keep an eye out for kelp patches that could indicate submerged rocks when approaching shore.

Other fjords followed – Seno Garibaldi, which we got lucky with a perfect sunny and calm day to make our way deep into the fjord. Once we had manoeuvred Odara into the ice pack, we sent off the kids in their Optimist to have some fun among the slush and bergies. The agile dinghy was easier to navigate through the ice mush than our heavy yacht.

Admittedly, watching the kids sail alone or stand on ice chunks in the middle of the glacial wilderness was stressful, but also incredibly liberating to let them be adventurous on their own in a very wild yet controlled situation.

Our venture into the next fjord of Ventisquero Grande was a different experience. Though we thought we could sail the 12 miles in to the glacier in calm, settled weather, suddenly halfway into our approach the wind began blowing 30 knots against us and we were surrounded by bergies, some of a size we did not want to test against our glassfibre hull.

Bergies are often visible and can be dodged with an ice-watch from the stern, but some are clear blue and completely hidden among the stirred, foamy waves.

Our view of the glacier was cut short, and we turned around quickly to sail back. It was remarkable to experience the clear separation of waters that occurs over the moraine on this fjord. Coming from the Beagle Channel the fjord is narrow and not particularly deep for the first part, then on reaching the half mile moraine strait it shallows to 5m, before dropping down to hundreds of metres towards the glacier.

The dark blue salt waters from the Beagle Channel don’t seem to mix with the greener teal waters from the glacier, each keeping to their sides of the moraine. At the moraine, the tidal currents also create whirlpools that trap outgoing ice which could be felt on the rudder – counterintuitively, going through the shallows at some speed seemed like the better option.

Desolate Bay

Leaving the Beagle Channel behind, we sailed close-hauled past the barren mountainous sides of Baia Desolada. It’s immediately obvious why Captain Cook once named this bay Desolate Bay, as the rawness of this section of Patagonia leaves you wondering how anyone could survive among the rocky islands with sparse vegetation and harsh weather. Yet, the Yámanas did.

Caleta Brecknock is another must-stop anchorage. Tucked in the middle of high, naked rocky cliffs it provides good protection from the weather. Hiking offers a spectacular view of several suspended lakes at different heights. Chilly Antarctic winds also brought snowfall – to the delight of our children, who promptly had a snowball fight on deck.

Sailing the Pacific Ocean is another long-held dream of ours, and turning to port as we rounded the corner from Brecknock Channel into Cockburn Channel, to see the Pacific Ocean on the chart was tempting!

Our adventure in the channels was drawing to a close, but not before one last fjord. We took a detour into Seno Chico where we were met with beautiful melt-water ice waterfalls and could anchor in the cutest nook. The detour also provided our last icy water plunges.

All over Patagonia it is possible to fill the tanks with fresh, clear water from the many streams, sometimes even directly into the boat from waterfalls, which saved us from using energy for the watermaker – a big help as sun was not always abundant for our solar panels.

With an amazing view over Monte Sarmiento, a mountaineer’s bucket list as one of Chile’s highest peaks, we sailed the last few miles over to the Magellan Strait before stopping to decompress in Punta Arenas. Despite being a fairly large city, it unfortunately does not have mooring or any well protected anchorages for small yachts. But we could provision with fresh food and diesel, and celebrate our adventure with a proper cordero barbecue, a lamb dish typical of the region.

We tidied the boat back into ocean passage mode and got ready to face the waves of the South Atlantic, completing our circumnavigation of Isla Grande de Tierra del Fuego.

But we can’t wait to come back. The feeling of being truly alone in Patagonia can be hard to describe, and this mysterious region gets under your skin like no other place we’ve sailed.

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