I decide to make a visit to Puerto Williams, Chile, located southeast from Ushuaia across the Beagle Channel. I take a catamaran across with only one other passenger, a middle aged Italian guy, and we´re excited to basically have a private boat.
We pull into a small marina and disembark onto a bigger boat. Our captain greets a couple of Chilean immigration officers. Immigration in Puerto Williams is informal, to say the least. There´s a small metal table on the deck of the ship which the officers are standing around and chatting. One of them goes behind the desk, stamps our passports and then they get into a truck and drive away.
Puerto Williams ia a teeny tiny naval town with 2600 residents and not much of a tourist infrastructure (which I like). I find a place to stay, a dorm room in a woman´s house. I walk around in search of a plane to take me to Cape Horn, 70 kms south. They tell me in Ushuaia that I can charter a plane, but apparantly, this is not possible on such short notice and the day after New Year´s. I´m disappointed that I´ve come this far and I won´t get to see the Cape, but I put it out of my mind and decide to enjoy being there in Puerto Williams.
I walk around the town and find it totally charming. The people are really nice and friendly and the whole place has a peaceful, laid back vibe. It´s rather desolate, not much to do or see. The houses are small and painted in bright colors with tin rooves. The "Commerical Center" is a tiny square that consists of two restaurants, a cafe, a travel agency and a convenience store. All around town, horses and cows graze along the side of the road.
I find a small cemetery at the edge of town and wander in. It´s a stark contrast to Recoleta Cemetery in B.A. which I visited when I first got into town. Recoleta is all ornate showiness and this cemetery is very humble. In Recoleta there were these marble crypts that looked like mini mansions. Here, the graves consist of simple white wooden crosses and have a white picket fence around them. Many of the graves don´t even have names.
That night, I decide to go to the Micalvi Yacht Club, a former navy ship docked at the marina that is now a bar.I have a half hour before it opens, so I wander around town and find a wooden deck overlooking the water. I´m greeted by a German Shephard-y stray dog who takes an immediate liking to me. I sit down and he sits on my lap. I name him "Billy" after Puerto Williams and spend an hour hanging out with him. A group of other dogs approaches us and he gets up and barks a little, but after some sniffing, I guess he decides they´re ok. He doesn´t let them get near me though. When they approach me, he stands in front of me to block them and growls until they back off. I wonder what I´ve done for this dog to like me so much. It´s time to head to the Yacht Club and I feel sad saying goodbye to Billy.
I walk down the street and he comes trotting along after me. I try to tell him to go home, but it´s no use. He doesn´t speak English and, even if he did, he doesn´t have a home. He walks in front of me and seems to intuit my destination because he walks me right aboard the yacht, chasing and hearding the cows on the side of the road along the way.
He doesn´t try to follow me inside, but I look out the porthole occasionally and he waits there for at least 45 minutes. Finally I see him walk away and feel sad to say goodbye to my new friend. Earlier I had noticed a bloody cut on his cheek and I worry about him and wish I could take him back to the States with me or do something to help him.
Inside the ship, the bar is empty. It´s decorated with plaid couches, nautical flags and objects and is warmed by a wood burning stove. The bartender, Alonzo, is nice and pours a stiff drink, just what I´d expect at a bar on board a navy ship. I´m disappointed that there aren´t any salty sailor types there, but it´s still the randomest, best bar I´ve been to. I watch the sun set out the porthole and find it strange and amazing that I am where I am.
The next day, I get up early-ish and hike the Cerro Bandera (like Antonio Banderas). Puerto Williams is located on the Isla Navarino, which has an amazing range of mountains called "Los Dientes del Navarino" (The Teeth of Navarino). There´s a 5 day circuit trail arond the teeth, I suppose that means you´d be hiking along the gums, but I only have time for a day hike. It´s an easy hike, about three and a half hours through the woods. For the last half hour, you climb a rocky area above the treeline and this is a bit more challenging.
The ease of the hike has in no way prepared me for the awesome, rugged beauty of the peak. It´s cold and windy as heck up there and there are amazing amazing amazing views of the Beagle Channel, Tierra del Fuego and the surrounding teeth. This isn´t the most demanding or exotic hike I´ve done, but I feel like a true explorer at the top. As opposed to Torres del Paine, there´s no one else around and it feels wild and untamed.
I go back into town to catch my boat back to Ushuaia. I have to wait around for Chilean immigration, so I take a nap in the grass until it´s time to go. When I get back to Ushuaia, it seems so garish and touristy. I miss Puerto Williams.
The next day, I do a quick coastal hike in Tierra del Fuego National Park, just outside of Ushuaia. I treat myself to a nice seafood dinner at what´s supposed to be the best restaurant in town (but not very expensive thanks to the exchange rate). The next day, I fly up to Mendoza. Destination- farm.
