There were three things I liked about working night shift 911 in Key West; better pay than day shift, more serious thus more interesting calls and time between calls to take what I called my vacations. I traveled by Google maps at my desk at the Key West Police Department.
Day shift requires handling endless irritating administrative calls and minor crime issues. Not many people call 911 at three in the morning to report a bicycle theft nor would most people call expecting administrative offices in the police department to be open (there are always the exceptions) consequently I had time to wander satellite earth and street view and fantasize about the places I’d go. The shore of the Beagle Channel was a goal, too far to believe possible.
That’s what it looked like on my work computer screen, below is what it looks like now. This, more than Ushuaia was where I wanted to reach one day in retirement.
We anchored our home just 75 miles north of Cape Horn and more than ever as GANNET2 rocked to the east wind, I was wondering how Webb Chiles made his way around that point, the first American to do it alone, bailing his broken boat to stay alive.
After we finished with the apartment we did some food shopping on Saturday morning and headed north from Ushuaia. We have friends arriving by plane on New Year’s Day so we will be back but the idea was to take a few days wild camping on the Beagle Channel.
We were offered free water at the gas station so we loaded a few gallons, and the supermarket I met a couple of Canadians from Albert traveling in a truck camper, a Ford F150 I’d last seen parked in Punta Arenas.
Jeff and Sherry travel four months of the year to evade the Canadian winter then go home and work leaving their truck in secure storage. Quite brilliant as they aren’t old enough to retire. They showed up at the YPF gas station to fill up their water tank after us.
Rusty was not happy leaving the apartment and he hung out on the Astro turf right up to the last minute but I was ready to achieve my goal, camping near Estancia Harberton.
The only road north took us back towards these, the southernmost Andes with their permanent snows and strange needle-like summits.
Estancia Moat is the very end of the graveled road labeled “J” that runs for 55 miles along the channel. However the farm has closed and all that’s there is a gate at a naval installation so we weren’t planning necessarily to go all the way, just to find a good spot to camp along the road.
The turn off from Highway Three is clearly marked onto Highway J a well graveled road. It’s not nearly as isolated as you might imagine as there are hunting and fishing camps along the road as well as a handful of restaurants and cabins for rent. This area is a recreation destination for Ushuaia residents looking to get away.
My first job was to stop and air down the tires to 45 psi at the back and about 35 psi at the front. I have a special tool to do this which allows me to undo the valve core without any danger of losing that tiny little valve core which is wound into the valve on a spring and once released it will leap to freedom invisible in the dirt; the tool contains it until I need to screw the core back in. I can also monitor the pressure as I let the air out. It takes me less than ten minutes to air down four tires. It takes about 45 minutes at sea level to air back up and twice that at high altitude in the mountains. I discovered that little feature in Peru.
Airing down makes the drive much more comfortable in our heavy van and the flatter tires will improve grip if we run into sand or loose gravel. The restriction is that you can’t drive fast or the tires will overheat and destroy themselves but at 20 mph the ride on a rough dirt road is immeasurably smoother.
Locals in their lightly made cars and trucks travel at full speed on these roads. I just ignore them zipping by my door unless I can pull over to help them get by and leave us in peace.
There are no power lines down here but almost every cabin has two large propane tanks to supply heat and indoor cooking needs.
Highway J isn’t a terrible road as gravel goes. There are some potholes and some washboard stretches but we could keep up 15 to 20 miles per hour with an occasional burst to 25.
About 15 miles in there is a junction with the road going straight ahead back towards Ushuaia. It doesn’t reach town as it is stopped by a headland but there are some restaurant and cabins along the way for city folk to enjoy. We turned left.
Across the Beagle Channel you can see the Chilean village of Puerto Williams the naval base and town of 3,000 people serving Cape Horn and the Chilean Antarctic base. They also serve to fly the flag for Chile and claim sovereignty on the south side of the channel. I wish we could have shipped GANNET2 there from
Punta Arenas.
This is Highway J pointing due east with 40 miles to the end of the road.
Much to my surprise this section of road was as broad as a freeway if not quite as smooth.
And the trees on the hills show the force of the prevailing winds.
Families out fishing on a Saturday morning:
“EA” stands for estancia which means Ranch in Spanish. In these southern regions ranches are everywhere and they are identifiers instead of towns.
Thomas Bridges the English missionary brought his family to the ranch forty miles down the channel from Ushuaia which he founded. His descendants still own the ranch which is now open to the public.
The ranch has a terrible website which fails to explain how the restaurant works so we showed up and hoped for the best. It turns out lunch is served from noon to three while tea and cakes are served from
noon to seven and no reservations are required but they are closed on Tuesdays. Simple enough and why they can’t say that on the website I don’t know.
The restaurant is on a hill overlooking the ranch houses which also have cabins for rent.
The tea room is anything but cozy and reinforces the idea you may be at the end of the world (Fin del Mundo) but you are not far from civilization.
The view of the Beagle Channel.
Layne had a cheese scone while I had rhubarb crumble. The bakery here really is superb and they also make honeys and jams. It isn’t cheap - $8 for my tart and $3:50 for extra- big I’d like to stop by for lunch on the way out. I find the history of this strange isolated Fueguan ranch to be very appealing.
I can’t imagine living here with six children 150 years ago and carving a life out of this wilderness. Bridges and his family were tough. By the way they have also re-published his long lost dictionary of the Yamaná language. He learned it on the Falklands but his book faded from view until recently. The last native speakers died fifty years ago but he recorded their language. I had no use obviously for the book and we have not enough room for such a luxury in our van but I wanted to note it in passing.
I have been enjoying their dandelion honey which has a delicious citrus scent and a slight tang of lemon.
We rejoined Highway J and set our sights east toward Moat forty miles away.
And then we crossed paths with a truck and camper distinctively painted to look like a cow. They were friends of friends and we knew they were in the area so we flagged them down. We chatted for a while and look forward to meeting Mark and Liesbet again but they were on a mission of mercy.
It turns out Sherry and Jeff whom we’d last seen at the gas station in Ushuaia had broken down at the intersection of this road at the paved Highway 3 where their alternator had stopped working and lack of sparks led their engine to die. I’m telling you none of us is immune to breakdowns. We had been looking forward to hanging out a bit with English speakers but there we are.
As it was we found an open space at Rio Varela in an oxbow on the river. There was another camper nearby but they kept to themselves and Layne wanted to stop close by the sounds of the river. We actually drove on a little further to check out the possibilities but this was her favorite stop. Fair enough.
Rusty didn’t mind it either. 
I awoke Sunday morning to a bull right light illuminating the rear window blinds.
It was another astonishing morning in Tierra Del Fuego. Sunshine and no wind. Amazing.
This place has lived up to the hopes I had all those years ago in Key West at my desk imagining myself wild camping along the Beagle Channel. Here we are at last. All good.
