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Around The Horn…Weather PermittingBy Michael DeFreitas“I am the Albatross that awaits you Even on a good day, a trip around Cape Horn can be quite an adventure, so you can understand my concern as I surveyed the dark gray December skies that engulfed us. I nodded good morning to fellow passengers and took a seat near the window. It was only 5 a.m., yet the forward observation lounge of the M/V Mare Australis was crowded. A passionate and alert group, we were anxiously awaiting the arrival of our captain. All of us–– the British honeymooners, the French family reunion, the sometimes-too-loud Spaniards and the Germans celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary––aboard this maiden voyage with a single purpose––to sail around Cape Horn. But would this be the day? Despite high tech navigational equipment and modern ships, few travelers get an opportunity to challenge the Horn. With almost 200 days of gale-force winds and 50-foot waves batter the Horn each year, and another 130 days or so of impenetrable fog and heavy clouds, the window of opportunity is like a mail slot.
From the rocky beach we climbed a steep wooden staircase to the top of the cliffs. From there wooden boardwalks snaked across the rough terrain to a small house, a chapel, the lighthouse and various monuments. In 1978 territorial disputes with Argentina forced the Chilean army to mine most of their uninhabited southern islands. Most of Isla Hornos is still mined, so it is prudent to stay on the boardwalks.
By the time we walked to the monument, the wind had picked up and the crew started hustling us back to the beach. With everyone safely onboard the ship and the last Zodiac secured, we made a dash for the Horn. As we approached the Horn from the east, the wind and waves increased dramatically. The ship smashed through the waves, throwing spray so high it drenched the upper lounge windows three decks up and the wind whistled through the cracks in the observation deck’s outer hatch. Any minute I expected to hear the captain’s voice announcing we would have to turn back.
Over the last 400 years the cold waters of Cape Horn have claimed more than 1,000 ships and 15,000 lives with barely a notice. We were lucky and as we celebrated I reflected on those early Cap-Horniers and what it must have been like for them. They and their ships would have had little in common with the modern Mare Australis and us. But, then it hit me. We did have something in common––that similar spirit of adventure. Our shrinking world has given rise to a new breed of traveler, a more mature and educated explorer in search of that special place, that memorable experience or that great adventure. For those of you who share this wanderlust, look no further. Cape Horn beckons. ContactsCruceros Australis http://www.australis.com ( ©2003 Michael DeFreitas Article and Images ) |
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TM
The chatter in the room stopped abruptly and I turned
to see our Chilean Captain, Fernando Carvajal Martinez, standing at the
doorway. He greeted us with, “Buenos días everyone,” and we answered in
grade-school unison. “Not to be worried, today there is good weather and you
all become Cap-Horniers,” he said in his now familiar Spanish accent. His
pronunciation of ‘horniers’ brought a few giggles from the newlyweds. We
wanted to believe him, but after staring at those threatening skies for the
last 30 minutes it was a push. Still sensing some concern he reassured us,
“Not to worry, trust me, this is a good day at the Horn.” 
The second ‘not to worry’ seemed to hit home and a
collective sigh of relief echoed through the lounge. The chatter resumed,
even more intensely. The newlyweds giggled, the Spaniards were louder than
ever and the excited German couple looked like they were about to
hyperventilate. It was hard to believe that, after walking among lumbering
elephant seals, having your shoelaces nipped by inquisitive penguins, racing
Zodiacs through glacial pack-ice, scaling waterfalls and tramping through
pristine temperate rain forests, anything could elicit more excitement––but
then again this was Cape Horn.
What separates an
expedition-type cruise from your typical cruise is the incredible shore
adventures and close contact with nature. Sure you get breathtaking scenery,
great meals and super sunsets, but nothing compares to the thrill of landing
on a deserted patch of shoreline where few people, if any, have landed
before. Heck, just racing around in the ship’s fleet of seven-meter Zodiacs
was a hoot. 
After a hot breakfast we boarded the Zodiacs and put
ashore on Isla Hornos, the southernmost of the Hermite Islands. The Isle was
named after the Dutch town of Hoorn, the birthplace of Willem Schouten, who
first sailed around the island on January 29, 1616. He named the point Kaap
Van Hoorn, which later became Cape Horn in English and Cabo de Hornos in
Spanish. 
To avoid any future sovereignty issues, the government
employs a Chilean family to live on the island. The latest residents, Ingrid
Bugos and Hector Andaur, live rent-free in the small one-bedroom house with
their two dogs Buba and Bubi, and cat Coco. Their responsibilities include
maintaining the lighthouse, providing weather reports to the Chilean Navy
and keeping the Chilean flag flying for one year. Then they go back to the
mainland and a new family takes their place. I could not imagine anyone
having to live on this rugged, desolate, gale-swept rock for a year. 
On the southern point of the island, 1400 feet above
the pounding surf, stands the impressive Cape Horn Monument, the work of
Chilean sculptor Jose Balcells. When viewed from the north side, the
monument’s two triangular bronze halves form the outline of an albatross.
The sculpture was dedicated on December 5, 1992 and stands in memory of all
those who have lost their lives at the Horn. A nearby granite marker
contains the beautiful verse by Sara Vial. 
For thirty-five
agonizing minutes we made slow but steady progress through the turbulent
sea. Then the captain’s voice crackled over the loud speaker, “We are now
passing through 55° 59' south and 67° 16' west.” Everyone cheered. It was
official. We were now ‘Cap-Horniers’––the term given to those who sail
around Cape Horn from east to west against the prevailing current and wind.
The newlyweds giggled, the French broke into song, the Spaniards tried to
drown them out and the Germans embraced so heartily it’s a wonder they
didn’t hurt each other.