I knew it was going to be a good day when it started with a fried egg on toast, thanks to Malcolme who as well as chief engineer is now breakfast chef. (Mike and I save ourselves for the evening feast).It had been a pretty exciting evening before too, as we edged our way backwards into the tiniest little hole into which I have ever taken a boat. We found it in Bahia Romanche on the northern coast of Isla Gordon. Less wide than we are long with a vertical cliff face on one side and steep wooded slopes on the other two - a real shoebox of a snug anchorage. Needless to say, when things are at their most complex is when things go wrong, and with no sense of the precision required to get the boat into just the right spot the anchor chain jammed a fraction after I had given the shout to drop it. Ho Hum. Then it was a case of urgent lines ashore, two from the stern and another from the bow, and we were so secure a hurricane would not get us - in fact, the weather so far could have been far worse: we have seen no sun, and only a little rain, but neither have we been blasted to bits which is the habit of the wind round here. So after the fried eggs it was time for Mike to row out to the trees to which our lines were attached, get them back on board and coiled down, and then back into the Beagle, heading north westwards to Seno Pia. It just so happened that the wind was strongly in the northwest but we are getting used to that. So, another stiff and wet beat, much tea and cake consumed and many Cup-a-Soups for which Mike has an unfailing appetite. He said he liked his sailing rough, and meant it. Malcolme was chuckling to himself, a broad grin on his face. 'I'm really sailing the Beagle Channel'.Then he would sing a bit. Entry to Seno Pia involves rounding the uncertain end of an old glacial moraine, but no problems. And exiting as we entered was the wicked-looking 'ParatyII', famous ship of Brazilian single-hander Amyr Klink. It looked so tough it was almost military, a bit scary. We headed north, expecting our first glacier having been tempted by distant glimpses of them as we headed north. Then, looking ahead, we saw something floating in the water. 'A white carrier bag,' we joked. It soon resolved itself into our first piece of ice.