Words & photos:
Mathew Schweizer
Mathew Schweizer
Big thanks to Kayak En Patagonia for helping with logistics, gear support and weather updates and thanks to Seglagear for supplying the beautiful Ikigai Greenland paddle, it felt at home amongst the ice. If you would like to know more about paddling in Patagonia feel free to message me on Instagram @Mathew_Schweizer
Con La Positiva – a Patagonian adventure
Patagonia is a wild area, from the vast lakes of Alerce Andino to the soaring mountains of Torres del Paine. There are 17 National Parks in Patagonia, and it is a 1,800-mile stretch of land, water and ice like no other. The weather is usually harsh in the form of howling winds, pouring rain and freezing temperatures. It’s the perfect place for hearty adventures. It was in this untamed wilderness that Andy and I first crossed paths, working as kayak guides in Torres del Paine and Bernardo O’Higgins National Parks. Inspired by our surroundings, we embarked on our first Patagonian sea kayak expedition, aiming for Grand Campo Nevada, a massive ice field flowing into the western fjords northwest of Punta Arenas.
The trip plan was to paddle to Grand Campo Nevada, a large ice field that flows into the western fjords, located northwest of Punta Arenas. The trip consisted of two fjord networks, three lakes, two rivers, and three portages, two of which we did twice.
We got a ride from our friend and boss of Kayak En Patagonia to the trip’s start and our hopeful endpoint. We were nervous due to the forecast and our limited time to complete the expedition, as we both had flights home shortly after we planned to finish. We pushed pretty hard the first few days due to the forecast and got about 90km done within our first three days of paddling. We were starting in a fjord called Seno Obstuccion, a long passageway to the southwest of Puerto Natales with lots of big bays and islands.
After reaching the end of the fjord, we reached two narrow land bridges connecting the fjord to a small series of lakes. A pathway the Alacaluf and Kaweskar tribes used to access the western fjords. We would follow pathways that they had used for the last millennium. With tired bodies after a full day’s paddle, we hauled our kayaks over from the fjord to a small lake and then over to another larger lake. We felt excited to see such an untouched and untamed environment. Camp was established just in time as daylight waned, seeking refuge in sleeping bags as temperatures dropped. Another day’s progress marked, brimming with challenges and triumphs, setting the stage for further exploits ahead.
We used this larger lake to access the west coast. It was a vast area; the mountains were worn by strong winds and rain. We felt the isolation, a feeling that Andy and I both love, being able to feel in the present moment only challenged by the environment around us rather than the high-paced, anxiety-driven life that we can sometimes find ourselves in. Simple worries like, “Where are we going to camp tonight?” or “How high is the tide going to come up?” bring peace and keep us in the present moment.
We saw hummingbirds feeding on bright red flowers between the moss. We stopped on a beach halfway down the lake for lunch but quickly returned to the water as the cold prevented us from sitting still for too long. I was humbled thinking about what it must’ve been like for the Indigenous when trying to make this place their home, only having animal fat and furs to keep themselves warm when we had dry suits and merino wool.
four walls
The place was alive. After a long downwinder, we made it to the end of the lake. Hail and icy rain fell. Just before committing to the coast, we spotted a shack. It had half its roof missing but was good enough to sleep in if we put up a tarp. It was nice to have four walls around us.
The following morning, the weather had not improved; we were both pretty used to high winds and rain, so not even questioning the conditions, we were happy to get on the water. We were going to the coast by a short 800-metre river connecting the lake to the sea. The sea was rough, but we made good ground out of the bay. The day’s goal was to get to a bay right below Grand Campo, Nevada; we had two different routes.
There is one exposed coastal route and one inland portage route. We opted for the more exposed route. The sea conditions were quite good, followed by condors while paddling underneath huge vertical cliffs. However, as soon as we exited the exposed side, the weather worsened. The mountains and cliffs around us were getting barer, not due to weather but because of glacier erosion, and soon enough, we were surrounded by tongues of ice cascading down to meet the sea.
We found what looked like a solid campsite next to a river and a beach covered in large blocks of ice deposited by the tide. The booming sounds of the glacier were almost constant. It was a beautiful spot. With the coming forecast predicting winds of 100 kilometres per hour, we planned to stay at this camp for two nights.
Steep glacier
With the excitement of the booming glaciers, we returned to our kayaks after setting up camp and exploring the bay. At one point, I got out onto a large rock about 200m away from the 60m face of the steep glacier. As I returned to my kayak, a large piece of ice fell. I had to make a mad dash away from the rocks and surrounding minivan-size ice blocks before the wave came.
We visited another glacier the next day, but the weather conditions were bad; it was a short 5km to the glacier. The heavy downpour created landslides that concerned us about paddling next to the shoreline. Glaciers can be pretty difficult to kayak around, as they influence the winds, and it can become very unpredictable. Gusts of wind would drop straight off the top of the glacier, so there was no way of knowing when the wind might hit us.
The wind eventually came in, forcing us to retreat to our camp, where we stayed until a bathroom trip behind our camp revealed a stream starting to form, flowing straight toward our camp. We then decided to move camp to a less-than-ideal spot so we wouldn’t get flooded. By the time we remade camp, we were both soaked through. The wind sent the top of my tent into my face all night until at about 03:00, when everything went silent.
The next day, we aimed for another glacier near the shack, which we had stayed in three nights prior and where we aimed to be by the end of the day. We opted for the portage on the way back, which was fun. It’s always a bit of a risk doing a portage you have little to no information about, but it worked out for us as it was a flooded swamp, so the kayaks floated most of the way. We had to paddle a decent way upriver towards a lake to get to this glacier. We were quite excited about going up the river as the maps showed that we would have to paddle through a very narrow canyon. It did not disappoint.
The rock walls were steep and high; we had to paddle hard to get through a few rapids, and as we exited the canyon, it opened up to a big lake with a huge glacier at the end of it. We were over the moon, and this was what we wanted to achieve: to see all the glaciers that flowed off the western side of Grand Camp Nevada. Having a quick stop for lunch, the clouds opened up for the first time in five days, and we felt the sun warm us. This only lasted about 15 minutes; a gust of wind came around the corner, and we fought the wind back to the sea. We could dry out some gear by making it to the shack in good time and with small periods of sun in between fronts of icy rain and wind.
Farewell
We spent the next three days paddling back to our starting point, which went pretty smoothly considering the terrible weather. However, the further east we went, the better the conditions got. Yet, amidst the improving weather, there was a tinge of sadness as we bid farewell to the unexplored beauty of Patagonia’s coastline. With a taste of what Patagonia is like, we both plan on returning for more unforgettable kayaking.
