December 20th
The night has been relatively easy for everybody and by the time I wake up, sails are down – again – and engines are on. A request for a cooked breakfast –bacon and eggs and all the trimmings– is fulfilled and, well fed, we drop the anchor in the bay of Puerto Madryn at lunch time.
Puerto Madryn, an old Welsh settlement in a protected site of the Golfo Nuevo, has become a major tourist destination because of the wildlife sanctuary that surrounds it and the good beaches that attract mainly Argentinean holiday makers. This town prides itself on environmental consciousness and recently has declared itself a non-nuclear municipality. The University of Patagonia keeps here its departments of marine biology, computer science and engineering. With a population of 45.000, this northern Patagonian town is staking its future on its natural appeal (information taken from the Lonely Planet Guide of Argentina, Uruguay and Paraguay).
December 21
After some shopping and provisioning early in the morning, Shenandoah is underway again before lunch, sailing close hauled in a light breeze towards the other side of Golfo Nuevo. The wind freshens up by late afternoon, taking us to a speed of 12/13 knots. Finally, some decent wind and sailing since I joined in Rio! And accompanied by very friendly dolphins for a long-time!
We reach Puerto Pirámides in the evening. There is no doubt where the name of this small town comes from. The grey sandy hills have been shaped like pyramids by the wind over the years, and it is amazing how perfectly balanced those pyramids are: angles and walls are just what they are supposed to be, as if they had been man-made. Behind the grey beach, there is a line of trees forming what looks like a protective barrier to something I cannot see, maybe some low houses; in either side of the tree line there are a few buildings, one shop, one restaurant, and a small hotel. A few boats lay in the sand waiting for the high tide to float them again. The area looks well beaten by the strong winds. There are only dry hills and flat lands behind the town. Once a port of exit for the salt industry at the turn of the century, Puerto Pirámides is now basically a base for exploring the wildlife reserves of the Valdés Peninsula.
Our search for whales has already ended: we were told yesterday that the last mating couple left the area last week, delayed because their baby was late born. There are usually eighteen whales during the spring, and we missed them all. Locals say there may be a chance of us coming across some of them, but not to expect too much. Still, there is a large colony of sea lions and penguins that we hope we can see tomorrow.
A look at the sky at night reveals nothing but a few clouds. Where is the Southern Cross?
December 22nd.
Morning is calm, warm and sunny again after a very rough night: the wind started blowing at 40 knots and more during the night and some manoeuvring needed doing to stop the anchors dragging. Wind seems to be quite unpredictable, and it becomes even more unstable as we move south. It can shift 180º in only a few minutes, and go from 15 to 45 knots also without any warning. Currents are also very strong, which makes anchoring a very tricky operation.
A seal comes by the side and plays with the crew for a while, followed by a tourist boat that turns around Shenandoah, the guide making jokes to us in Spanish: “Sonrían chicos, que les están haciendo un millón de fotos... (Smile guys, a million photos are being taken of you...)”
The owner is gone bicycling around; the crew has an early lunch and an expedition ashore is organised. Serge has located the colony of sea lions and some birds that from the distance look like penguins (close examination will reveal they are not). We look for a suitable landing spot for the dinghy and, as we step ashore, we are amazed by the fact that all rocks seem to be covered by shells deeply embedded in them or, most likely, fossilised. Some sight! The beach is also covered in all sorts of seashells, mussel and scallop like, oyster like...The tide is ebbing fast, so Serge anchors the tender some six or seven meters from the shore. We set to walk on what seems to be dry seal faecal waste, or so we think, considering the smell of the place. In fact, it is mud that is underwater during high tide, drying fast under the warm sun. We pass a large crowd of hatching seagulls on the right, protecting themselves under a cliff side, shrieking louder and taking off scared when they see us approaching, little hairy grey chicks running up the cliff.
The sea lions lie mostly sleeping on the edge of the platform we are walking on. We get too close to one of them and he rolls out to drop in the water with a heavy splash. Others follow, and soon they look at us from the water, four of them, smiling and playing. As children, the owner’s guest, Coralie and I start making noises, jumping and talking to them to keep their attention on us, and we are well rewarded: there are the four of them, head above the water, making faces at us, or so it seems to me, splashing, diving, and kissing each other; a mock fight starts amongst them, and soon after, they seem to become tired of it and swim away. I think they want their place back.
More sea lions are further down, their furry necks and heads standing up, roaring, rolling palms up, some of them with their babies imitating them. Some sleepy ones seem to be snoring, a couple of them are starting a fight, trying to beat into each other's jaw, and it all happens under the surveillance of the seagulls and the low fast flights of some whistling birds with red long beaks.
We try not to disturb them, but the temptation to get close to them is too strong, they seem so peaceful...until the VHF calls. “Captain, police says that it is absolutely forbidden to land and walk in this protected area!” OOPS! However, we have an excuse: there were no signs or indication of such prohibition. We quickly return to the tender that is safely lying on the beach, about seven meters away from the water. The tide has gone down very quickly in one hour. We push the dinghy into the water, where we have to make space among some sea lions swimming there and make our way back to the boat.
After such an exhilarating afternoon, back to work. Following dinner, and a little tired from the excursion and the lack of sleep of the previous days, I go to bed straight away. The next morning the watchmen will tell me that the sky was clear. Missed the Southern Cross again!
