The Real End of the Earth
26 October 2012
When dealing with the south American maritime authorities, the best motto is "it's never over till it's over". To leave Ushuaia in Argentina, for Puerto Williams in Chile, required me to both emmigrate and get port and customs clearance. It was going so well, despite a little delay at customs where a confused lady thought I was arriving. Then the Prefectura announced the boat would have to be 'inspected' before departure. Since this was going to be a twenty mile passage in sheltered water it seemed a bit over the top. In thr end, a guy in a smart uniorm checked my bag of flares was in date, stared blankly at a fire extinguisher, and gave me clearance to go. I was giving a lift to Andreas, a young Swede who had just brought his boat back from Antarctica insisting 'I don't really know how to sail'. He had left his boat in P Williams, as I intended to do, and was keen to rejoin her. It was good to have his company.We sped alongthe Beagle, eastwards, tide under us, headsail drawing, at seven knots. I had a tense radio interchange with the Chilean navy because the young radio operators speak so damned quickly, and then I heard the words 'Micalvi' on the radio. Anyone who has read sailing accounts from these parts will know that Micalvi is the most famous, and southerly, yacht club in the world. It is centre around the remains of an old coaster that was sunk in a sheltered pool to provide something for yacht to tie up to. The shelter is complete, and the welcome from the bosun, Miguel, a former lighthouse keeper is beyond helpful. He drove me to thr Capitania for a form-filling process which lasted an hour.As I write it is snowing and beginning to collect in the cockpit. Yet another helpfulspul has taken my gas bottles for refilling, and I shall now wrap myself up and explore. At first glance, the End of the Earth could not be a better description.