The world’s southernmost hiking circuit is found in the Dientes mountains of Isla Navarino, off the southern coast of Chile. With a wild and desolate beauty, they offer an experience far off the beaten track for intrepid self supported hikers.

 

Go as far south as you can in South America and you might end up in Ushuaia, the world’s southernmost city – or that’s what the Argentinians would like you to believe.

However, a swift change of country will bring you to Isla Navarino and Puerto Williams, the world’s southernmost town, in Chile . We achieved this by taking the Seaboat from Ushuaia to Puerto Navarino on Isla Navarino, a journey of some four nautical miles with another 54 km by bus from there to Puerto Williams.

This cost the princely sum of US$130 but at least one could argue that the crossing is scenic, passing a lighthouse and the low scattered islands of the Beagle Channel. Ushuaia faded behind us with all its bright lights and we alighted at a small jetty in a tiny bay overlooked by a couple of houses belonging to the Chilean Navy.

Native shell middens or conchales, and circular depressions caused by their rustic dwellings, showed that Indians had been here long before the Europeans arrived. We had time to appreciate these as we had an hours wait for the bus, which eventually took us to Puerto Williams, skirting scenic bays and revealing fabulous views across the channel at each new bend in the road.

Dropped at the passport office to get our entrance stamp, we were lucky enough to run into the friendly Cecilia who gave us a lift to her Refugio El Padrino, a cosy hostel on the Costanera coast road overlooking the Beagle Channel.

Fortified with coffee and cake, we left our excess luggage there and headed off on the Dientes de Navarino circuit. First we had to register our intentions with the Carabineros in case we did not return when expected then acquire a fairly basic map from the shop next to the tourist office.

We discovered that the entire route can now be downloaded onto a mobile phone with GPS positioning so you can never get lost – our devices were all flat so we were unable to, but the track proved easy to follow and it would have been unnecessary. However, it may be a good idea for white out conditions!

Some Background to the Dientes de Navarino Circuit

Somewhat surprisingly, the walk was created by an Australian, Clem Lindenmayer, and then published in the iconic 1992 Lonely Planet edition of Trekking in the Patagonian Andes. The rest, as they say, is history and now a little known path at the bottom of the world is becoming more and more popular, with an average of about ten people a day on it when we were there. Many have diverted from the heavily booked Torres del Paine trek.

However, it still enjoys an unspoilt aura. First of all, it is free and, for the moment at least, no booking is required.  There are no facilities of any sort en route so wild camping is the only option. It is roughly signposted with 38 posts that confirm the route rather than indicate it, but sufficient people have walked it that for the most part the trail is easy to follow.

There is also a handy scattering of cairns which are helpful in the bare rocky places, as well as a broad swathe of footprints through the boggy areas: if you do lose the track, a quick circular recce will usually be sufficient to find it again.

The overall length is 31km but if you walk in from town, it is another five km, and eight to walk out at the end. A basic free guide is issued for the track, which breaks it into five days, suggests camping spots and gives the directions for the day, as well as points of interest. The distances each day are quite short, but the going is fairly rough in places and we found their five day schedule gave enough walking time – about 4 – 5 hours – whilst still allowing enough time to enjoy the country.  An enthusiastic hiker could easily do it in three or four days.

Day 1

We walked out of town the day we arrived. The 5 km gravel road to the trailhead was a gentle introduction to the hike and put us on the spot for an early start the following day.

Having passed numerous identikit naval houses flying the flag, we were soon out of town and our turn off to the trailhead was a very distinctive junction with a huge Virgin statue in the middle.

From there the road headed gently uphill, with just a couple of shorter, steeper sections.  We were following the wooded Robalo valley with its rushing stream; about 300m before the end, there was a neat little campsite on the right, right on the stream edge with seat and fireplace.

However, we continued to the trailhead at the end of the road where there is a dam which supplies by the towns drinking water and quite an impressive three tier waterfall. Crossing a very rickety bridge to the left bank, we found some excellent campsites with fireplaces and made ourselves comfortable with a distant view of the Beagle Channel.

Day 2

The day was still and largely sunny, always a bonus in Patagonia. We deviated from the trail right at the start: their suggested route initially follows the river then turns directly uphill to Cerro Bandera at 596m – or Flag Hill, so called because of the huge Chilean flag on top.

Instead we turned immediately east to follow the signposted route to the mountain which took us up a well groomed trail to the top in an easy hour and a half, with some excellent look outs en route.  Puerto Williams soon looked small below us and we had fine views over the Beagle and the mountains of Argentinian Tierra del Fuego. The tangled lenga forest fell away at about 400 m and then we were traversing bare hillside with only a low tundra type vegetation of mosses and lichens.

Cold at the top, we layered up and walked on over undulating rocky slopes. Soon we were traversing a precarious scree path which gave us a birds eye view over the tumbled floor of the valley below, with numerous picturesque lakes.

Our first stop was Laguna Salto, hidden behind another rocky outcrop. Suddenly our path came to a halt and we were looking down on a little lake encapsulated between the mountains. The only way was down, over a steep, knee sapping rocky slope, until we emerged with a sigh of relief into trees by the lakeside.

Here was the first constructed lookout, a wooden platform overlooking the lake. The promised information board no longer existed and one wondered if the energy taken to construct these rather incongruous lookouts would have been better employed in trail maintenance or signage.

We found a nice flat campsite between the two flowing outlets of a stream which tumbled down the cliff face behind us. There were fresh beaver signs: these pests were introduced in Argentina in the 1940’s as a potential fur industry but have since spread to cause havoc in delicate ecosystems unused to such animals.

Later a Swiss chap came to share our fireside and amused us with tales of Swiss military service. Apparently they all have a rifle under their bed, but no bullets – sounds the perfect solution to the 2nd Amendment in America!

Day 3

Another still day with cloud and scattered sunshine.  The initial ten minute ascent from the campsite was steep and muddy and a good warm up. We swung left handed into a gentler rocky valley with a small lake and scattered campsites.

The climb to our first pass, appropriately called Paso Primero, at 709m was steady and we emerged on a flatter area with ice clad ponds and superb close up views over the jagged peaks. One of the weirdest things about hiking here is just how bleak and barren everything is at only 500 m: in Europe you do not reach such bare slopes until about 2,500 m, so you constantly feel you are much higher than you actually are.

Of course things are not quite as barren as they can look at first glance and hardy flowers even manage to cling on. I loved the brilliant bright green cushions of lichen with delicate pink flowers just starting to emerge – they are surprisingly hard to the touch, but such life at the extremes is tough and I think this is one of the issues that will soon have to be addressed, that of marking a trail to avoid people spreading out willy nilly over the delicate terrain and bog vegetation. Ok

 

We crossed a section of old snow to reach Paso Australia at 776 m, overlooking a cold lake far below. Cold and windy, we dropped down to a sheltered rock for a nut stop which gave us a chance to peruse the route ahead.  A snowy slope looked quite scary but it proved fairly soft and it was easy to dig in one’s heels and descend safely. There was then another narrow, sometimes snowy, traverse to the Paso de los Dientes, where suddenly facing south, we had a distant tantalizing view of the Wollaston Archipelago where Cape Horn lies.

Here we experienced one of those sudden changes of weather that Patagonia is famous for and found ourselves descending past some small lakes in a swirling snow storm, which had ceased by the time we reached the next ridge 20 minutes later. Here the Lago Windhund trail bore off down the valley into a wild world of wooded lakes and open bogs. This is another rather lower level circuit that avoids most of the exposed mountains, though from what people have told me, the trade off for wind is thigh deep mud in places.

The way to Laguna de los Dientes was straightforward; this lake has the rough pyramidal peak of Cerro Gabriel towering above it to one end. There are many dead trees at the edges due to beaver damage; in the central section of the circuit, they do seem to have been eliminated, but it will take longer for the landscape to recover. At least they have provided an endless supply of dead wood for one’s campfire.

Our next camp lay just over another ridge, the aptly named Lago Escondido – Hidden Lake – at  552 m, enveloped in the fold of high bleak mountain slopes. A peninsula initially promised good camping but we decided it was too exposed and headed on towards the next lookout, under which someone had taken great care and built a laager from rock and dead tree limbs. This was too inviting to pass by and we set up camp inside, protected from the wind in an otherwise open spot.

Day 4

Sleat and snow in the night had not boded well for the day and indeed it started grey and overcast, the peaks atmospheric in swirling skirts of drifting cloud.  Our route swung up a long valley and had a fairly gentle climb to the Paso Ventarron at 716m, or Windy Pass, which promptly lived up to its name.

As we ascended, so the snow descended, thrown into a continuous icy blast in combination with the wind. Simon made a remark to the effect that the people below would think they were watching Mallory and Irving climb into oblivion on Everest.

Indeed the simile felt fairly apt: the wind was so strong that only leaning into it and using ones poles as stabilizers enabled a ragged progress up to the pass. I followed in Simon’s footsteps, keeping close to use him as a windbreak. Conversation was impossible, our words whipped away instantly, though they were only to the effect of ‘hurry up’ and ‘let’s get the fuck off here! ‘

Our exposure was prolonged as once we reached the wide top of the pass, we then had to swing right handed up the ridge for 10 minutes. Luckily the path was easy to follow and amazingly, as we descended on the other side into another pretty valley, the wind totally eased and the sun came out. 20 minutes later we were stretched out beside a lake, next to an old beaver lodge, enjoying the sunshine.  Which just goes to show , if you are not happy with the weather on the trail, wait awhile and it will probably improve.

Another short, sharp climb led us to Laguna Hermosa, our way leading over trees felled by beavers. It really is amazing what their teeth can achieve and it is easy to spot the trees they have attacked by their tapered ends.  Their dams also increase water levels, so more trees can die, which has the useful side effect for them of also opening up more land for grazing.

In commemoration of our friend Clem, the Lindenmayer mountain range now put in an appearance, the distinctive peak of Clem Hill looming above us.   

Finally we dropped down to Lago Martillo at 459 m. To shorten the following day, we continued down its shore, climbing a peninsula which protruded into it. Here on top we found an old beaver pond with an impressive dam, with another tree shelter construction for our tent.  It was a pleasant sheltered spot and we got a good fire going to keep warm as it was bitterly cold.

Day 5

Leaving Lago Martillo behind rapidly, our route led us down the Guerrico valley, quite pretty with constant up and downs, streams and lakes.  We finally reached Signpost 32 on the other side of the valley and paused for snacks, loading up before the last of our climbs on this circuit. Paso Virginia at 844m would be the highest yet and a fitting climax to the walk.

The climb was quite challenging to start with, straight up through a tangle of tree roots and mud, so that it was a relief to finally emerge above the tree line onto the bare rock of the mountain . We took the more sensible path which traversed across to a stream then headed off over a moonscape of bare rock, rock as far as the eye could see, to the pass.

 

From its curving lip we looked straight down onto Laguna Los Guanacos, 300m below. Getting there was slightly nerve wracking as the path initially dropped off quite steeply with lots of loose shale underfoot and a sheer drop on one’s left. I was happy when it eased off a bit and we ended up skiing down in fine loose shale that shifted below us, actually quite fun. Another rocky traverse, more shale and we were at the bottom, only a final path along the edge of the slope above the lake to lead us to our final lookout.

 

It was nice to look back at the pass and see what we had come down. The snow ledges followed the circling tops and it all looked quite cold and dramatic. There was another one of those killer camp spots behind the lookout, but the weather was unsettled and cold and we thought it was sadly safer to descend to the woods in the valley below us.

It was a wise decision as soon the rain moved in. Later, emerging from our tent we found three girls from Santiago huddled round the remains of our fire. One had put a bottle of hot water in her sleeping bag the previous night and it had leaked so was trying to dry the bag out. This is certainly not the climate to make mistakes like that and I was constantly grateful that I had a good down four season sleeping bag with me; it is worth the extra weight for a good night’s sleep.

This valley was populated by live beavers as evidenced by a newly renovated lodge and Mr Beaver himself swimming around, disappearing sporadically with a flap and splash of his leathery tail. One could only admire his endeavors, the beautifully straight line of the dams, a perfectly constructed infinity pool with regulated inflow and outflow.

Day 6

We had thought it was a simple matter of walking out on the last day but the trail had one final surprise for us. I think old Clem had thrown his hands in the air at this point and given up

We skirted our beaver valley and crossed to another, after which the trail led into the thick forest. What followed was a torturous hour and a half as we climbed down through the forest, sometimes quite literally as we clambered over and under big logs and little logs, paddled through bogs and slid down muddy slopes. It was more of an obstacle course than a walk and it was with some relief that we emerged onto a grassy clearing with a handy log for lunch and a great view over the Beagle Channel. There was even a sunny period.

 

Likewise the directions had stopped – we never found the final sign post –  just telling us to head to the disused Maclean fish canning factory on the bay below. We decided to take a direct line whereas I think it might have been wiser to traverse across higher up and then drop down. Our route did work but we had to tiptoe over a big bog at the end to reach the buildings.

Past the rusty bangers, the old sheds, workers accommodation and finally the managers house (I might have been tempted here by the armchairs and bay windows if the place were less grubby), we came upon the same map of the trail that we had started with – so we knew we were finished.

Our flight out was still two days away though, so rather than spend another US$48 at the hostel in town, we walked half a km west to the bridge over the Rio Bronces. Just beyond this, right on the Beagle Channel, were some lovely grassy camping spots with fireplaces and plenty of wood. It seemed a fitting end to our walk and a final goodbye to the Beagle on which we had spent the last two weeks camping on and around.

It is impossible to become bored sitting on the Beagle: the constant changing clouds and skies are a delight and there is the wild snow dusted beauty of the mountains. The water can change from a serene metallic blue to frothing waves. Seabirds blithely go about their business and its shores offer a multitude of shells and driftwood. Yes, I will miss the Beagle and its atmospheric moods.

 

Day 7

The final 8 km into Puerto Williams proved a pleasant walk with some lovely coastal views and little traffic. At about the halfway point, we found the Bateria Robalo on the top of a forested hill, the Chilean answer to the guns we had camped beside near Punta Almanzar in Argentina, just the other side of the Channel.

Here, in addition to two big guns with their ammunition boxes, there was an amphibious landing craft and a couple of basic huts, all in camouflage colours. To the east side there was a lovely big tree and a daisy strewn grass clearing with a super view and a fireplace: another top camping spot.

Town came up quite rapidly after that, with a new road under construction to the airport. We turned left to return past the little yacht club, the boats clustered round the hulk of Micalvi, the old 1920’s German freighter that started life on the Rhine but was bought out here four years later.  After a life of faithful service in these southern seas, it is now the focal point of the yacht club.

There are some 2000 people in Puerto Williams and most of them seem to be in the navy. As we walked past their complex, we had a final stop: the bow of the Yelco, the boat which had rescued Shackleton’s men from Elephant Island in 1916. It is such a thin sliver that it is hardly recognizable as a one time boat, but there she is yet, looking wistfully out over the seas which were once her home.

Other than the little museum which is all in Spanish, but has wifi and computers so attracts every backpacker in town, that just about covered the things to see in Puerto Williams. We stocked up on excellent meaty empanadas from the Simon & Simon supermarket on Piloto Pardo and ate them on the decking overlooking the Beagle; our walk was over and it was time for a diet to improve.

Back at El Padrino, we enjoyed a shower and revived sufficiently by the afternoon to stroll along the front. There is a new fishing port but further on one reaches the photogenic boat graveyard where horses graze amongst colourful washed up boats.

Shopping is fairly non existent; if you want maps of the walk or a bandana with the route on, Sheila’s shop and tour agency is your best bet. They also rent and sell everything you could possibly need for it including camping gas canisters. The best and only cafe we found in town was Puerto Luisa Cafe on Costanera opposite El Padrino; right above the dock with comfy chairs and picture windows it was a nice place to while away a wet afternoon.

Day 8

DAP airlines whisked us away an hour late from yet another cold – 8° – degree day on Isla Navarino. Cecilia had kindly dropped us off. The 40 minute flight to Punta Arenas was actually the economy option at only 65,000. They charged 1000 per kilo for our excess luggage and luckily did not weigh our hand luggage which we had left in the corner as we checked in.

For the best southern views, sit on the left of the plane, though in our case all was thick cloud. It was hard to be sorry to leave such a cold, rainy place, but the Dientes had been beautiful and there is something faintly endearing about the washed-up end of the world town of Puerto Williams.

 

Some Thoughts about Hiking in Patagonia

Hiking in Patagonia can be a frustrating affair : with 18 hours of daylight in the summer, you don’t see the sunset as you are already in bed.  Starry nights are in the middle of the night when you are asleep and sunrise is also too early to be awake.

Patagonia is cold and very windy: you will find the world’s best campsite but fear to use it as there is insufficient shelter. It is so cold that you can’t stop for long or you will get cold. Isla Navarino has an average temperature of between 6 and 8 degrees; the hottest month is February when it gets to the 11° mark – in anyone’s book, that is cold. Equally the weather changes so often that you are constantly putting on and taking off wet weather gear.

Once in camp, you can’t lie around and relax as it is so cold: you are reduced to the tent unless you are allowed and able to light a fire. Often you are reduced to the tent anyway as it will be raining.

On the plus side, you will be hiking through some of the most beautiful country in the world – and the weather changes so frequently that sooner or later there will be sunshine, though it may not last very long.

I must admit that whilst I have enjoyed my hiking in Patagonia , the weather can be off-putting. There are many places in the world just as beautiful where one can count on more enjoyable weather. I would not want to book a trip to this part of the world especially for a walk that could easily be a washout, so I would say that if you are in the area by all means do it, but don’t waste an international airfare on it.

 

Exchange Rate: £1 = 850 CLP