Most travellers’ experience of Tierra del Fuego starts and finishes in Ushuaia, Argentina’s southernmost city, that sits on a narrow strip of land between the mountains and the waters of the Beagle Channel. It’s a fine place to start a trek or catch an adventure cruise ship to Cape Horn or even Antarctica, as well as being home to some of the best seafood in South America.
But Ushuaia also holds another promise – one that has been out of reach for years, but is now slowly starting to open up to travel pioneers looking for the next adventure. Just across the Beagle Channel is Navarino Island, which proudly flies the Chilean flag, and is home to the teeth-like ridges of the Dientes de Navarino mountain range and one of the best eco-lodges in Patagonia.
Out of reach
Navarino Island was one of those destinations that had always escaped me. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been to Ushuaia since my first visit in 2004. For 11 years I worked on and off as a guide on expedition cruise ships to Antarctica, and every time I found myself in Ushuaia I would always gaze across the Beagle Channel and wonder what was on the other side, or to catch a glimpse of the Chilean town of Puerto Williams as my ship pulled out of the dock and headed out towards the open ocean.
There was something so alluring about it like the historical links to figures like Charles Darwin (the channel is named after his ship, HMS Beagle) and the strange history that led to it becoming the international border between Argentina and Chile. But it was never possible for me to actually visit – either I was too busy working or the ferry schedules from one side to the other were too erratic to be trusted. I felt like a kid who was always looking through the window of an ice cream parlour but never allowed inside.
But last December, with two weeks to explore Tierra del Fuego and news of not one but two boats now operating between Ushuaia and Puerto Williams, I was determined to make it happen. It had taken me 20 years, but I was finally going to Navarino Island. I was finally going to get that ice cream.
The final frontier
Compared to the slick Antarctic cruises that tie up in Ushuaia’s main dock, my transportation was pretty simple – just a simple water taxi, with hard plastic seats. Its size suggested that the ride might be bouncy if the wind made the crossing a bit choppy. It all felt pleasingly adventurous. Even after buying my ticket near the port entrance, I had to give my Whatsapp number so the operator could call me to say whether the boat would depart according to the schedule, or if I’d have to stay in Ushuaia another day while they waited to collect more passengers.
Thankfully, I got the message to be at the dock at the appointed hour. There were a handful of other adventurous tourists already waiting when I arrived, including an American couple in their 60s who were backpacking around South America, and a pair in hiking gear who pointed to the Dientes mountains and chatted eagerly about tackling the southernmost trekking circuit in the world.
The boat ride, across that narrow ribbon of water that had teased me for so long, only took an hour. As I expected, the crossing was a bit lively at times—Patagonia’s wind never lets you down—but I couldn’t have been happier. At about the halfway point, as we slipped from Argentina into Chile, we saw the blow of a humpback whale. I found out later that a local project recorded all the sightings and had catalogued over 60 individual whales who are regularly found feeding in the channel.
Navarino Island, at last
Before I knew it, we were pulling in at the smallest dock imaginable. While some services take you directly to Puerto Williams, others like ours land at Puerto Navarino, where you can transfer into town. If you blinked, you could easily miss it: I had expected a village at least, but this was little more than a jetty and a couple of houses. There wasn’t even anyone around to stamp my passport. It was the most unassuming border post I’d ever visited.
Thankfully, a vehicle was waiting to take us to Puerto Williams, dropping us at the immigration building to undergo the border formalities. Only then could I really start to look around and with the realisation that I’d finally made it. My first impression was that the short hop over the channel was more like travelling back in time. All the houses were wooden, and there were hardly any shops. It reminded me of photos I’d seen of Ushuaia in the 1950s.
There would be plenty of time for me to explore, but for now I was met by Jorge, who whisked me off to Errante EcoLodge, where I was staying. Close to Puerto Williams, the lodge is a long arc of wood and glass, built to the highest sustainability standards. It’s an unexpected slice of luxury. Over lunch, Jorge recounted how had first come to Navarino to work at the island’s dentist, but had seen the opportunity to develop a low-impact tourism model that worked hand in hand with the local community. As a result, the lodge doesn’t just welcome guests, but also serves as Puerto Williams’ dental surgery.
The world’s southernmost ferry
As we sat and looked out over the Beagle Channel towards Argentina, and I finally got to enjoy a view I’d only ever experienced from another direction, Jorge asked if I was interested in another boat trip. As well as serving tourists and his dental patients, he also operates the ferry service around Navarino to serve its most remote communities – a free service paid for by the Chilean state.
For me, this was the essence of travel: an unexpected opportunity to see and do something completely new. Perhaps this was my reward for waiting 20 years to make it here: a day after getting to Puerto Williams, I was in a boat heading to the hamlet of Puerto Toro, the world’s most southerly settlement. After this, there would be nothing but a few Antarctic research stations, whose seasonal residents all fly north for the winter.
We rode east out of the Beagle Channel past the islands of Le Nova, Lennox and Picton, where in 1978 Argentina and Chile had fought a bizarre territorial contest, repeatedly knocking down the other country’s lighthouses and building new ones painted in the national colours. We picked up a few local residents, along with a couple of tourists that Jorge had met in the street in Puerto Williams. That’s how tourism seemed to be in Navarino: friendly and spontaneous.
Also along for the ride—or accompanying us for a while at least—was a pod of dolphins. We also saw a lot of sea lions and even more Magellanic penguins. As we chugged past a horizon of distant mountains and low grey clouds, at times it felt less like a local ferry service and more like an impromptu wildlife safari. Just one where half the passengers clutched shopping bags and lists of errands to complete in town. As we tied up in Puerto Toro, Jorge pointed out a big yellow ferry that runs a weekly service to Punta Arenas, taking 30 hours. That was the trip I should do next, he assured me.
Back at Errante that evening, with a glass of red wine and the warm glow of a good meal, I looked outside to where the trees were permanently bent double from taking root in such a windy place. Navarino clearly wasn’t an easy place to make a living, but it certainly was a beautiful one. To finally find myself on the absolute edge of Patagonia had been more than worth the wait.
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