Our Ships Passed in the Harbor

NOTE:  We're now in Lima, Peru, and I'll post a blog soon about why we didn't spend more time in Chile.  But I'm still finishing our blogs from the cruise, so remember to check backwards chronologically for any posts you may have missed. 

18 February 2020 

We had two “sea days” as we sailed through the inland waterway made up of fjords, bays, and natural channels on the lacy west coast of southern Chile.  It has been gorgeous, even with the moody weather, and the Tempanos Glacier deserves a blog to itself.

Today, we had a full workday in Puerto Chacabuco, from 8 AM to 5 PM. 

Richard and I had no plans, and originally thought we’d just wander a bit in this tiny fishing village in the fjord network.  See what happened.  Hang out.  Our usual way of approaching a new location.

But in Ushuaia, when I had to pay a bill so I used the wifi at the terminal building, I found an email from a friend.  Who was heading out on a cruise, from Santiago to Buenos Aires, and she saw that we’d both be in Puerto Chacabuco!

So of course, that became my new plan.  We had a few emails back and forth, and settled on meeting in the terminal building when her ship came in late morning.

We rode the tenders (the ship’s lifeboats – called botes salvavidas in Spanish – literally lifesaving boats!) and looked around the terminal.  Richard set up his computer, and I walked to the ATM to get Chilean pesos for us.  There wasn’t much to Puerto Chacabuco – a few small shops, an artisans’ market for the tourists, a collection of homes, and a fishing fleet because this is a salmon fishing village.  Not even a bank, just an ATM.

I went back to our terminal and saw that her ship had arrived, and the tenders were starting to make their way to the shore.  I waited a while, but she didn’t show up.  It took about half an hour for me to realize that all of the tenders coming to our terminal were from OUR ship, not the other ship!  I asked the lady at the info desk if there was another terminal, that I was waiting for a friend from the other cruise ship (crucero in Spanish).

She explained, in English, that they were going to the state port, down the road.  That they had security, and I wouldn’t be able to get into the port.  But that maybe I could find my friends that way.  Or I could go to the craft market, and catch one of the light blue shuttle buses that were being used to transport the passengers of that cruise ship around town.

I thanked her and headed off.  Reached the guard house and gate of the other port and terminal.  Tried to explain in my not great Spanish that my friends were on the other cruise ship, we were meeting, I came from the other terminal from my ship, and how can I find my friends.  They didn’t have any way to call the terminal to make an announcement, and they also couldn’t allow me to come into this port area.  They agreed I could wait at the gate in case my friends came.  I found two tourists from that ship who walked to the gate, and they said they’d make an announcement in case my friends were waiting there.  I gave it another half hour, thanked the guards for their help, and headed back toward our terminal.

On a whim, I thought maybe I should look around that artisans’ market, just to be sure.  And of course, there they were, wandering around the front, looking for me in the crowd of people from two cruise ships!

They had a tour scheduled, but we had about two hours so we had a cup of tea and talked and shared adventures.  They had been at the Rapa Nui Tapati festival, the yearly event of traditional cultural games like young men racing down steep hills sitting on banana tree trunks.  Or sailing out to sea on a boat, and swimming back.  Relay races carrying 44 to 55 lbs (20 to 25 kilos) of bananas on your back.  (The women use the lighter load, only 44 lbs or 20 kilo.  Lighter.  Yeah.)  And of course they loved our boating adventure in Punta Arenas.

It was great!  How often do you meet someone you know in the middle of the Chilean fjords?  In Chilean Patagonia? 

They eventually left for their tour, and I wandered back to our ship for lunch with Richard.  And spent the afternoon on our balcony, watching the changing light on the snow-capped mountains and the crystal blue water of Chacabuco’s fjord. 

It might be a teeny weeny itsy bitsy little town, with not much action.  But this fishing town is in one of those heart-stopping breath-taking gorgeous locations straight out of a postcard.  Narrow waterways full of deep blue water.  Undulating hills covered in green green trees and lush vegetation.  Stately rocky mountains topped with snow and glaciers towering in the background.  And cascading waterfalls thundering down the sides of the hills and mountains, icy white cold curtains of liquid lace falling into the wine dark water of the fjords.

This place is more than pretty scenery.  This landscape is the kind of place that makes geologists and scientists take notice and wonder how it came to be.  It makes the poets and musicians sing, the artists itch for the paintbrush and canvas.  It makes the religious and irreligious alike more reverent.

This kind of landscape makes the human soul soar with delight in our world’s beauty.