Explore Tierra del Fuego, Chile, for a week-long expeditionary cruise. Discover a land of glaciers, mountains, and oceans in Tierra del Fuego.

Clumps of brownish scrub—winter seaweed—dappled the coastline of Ainsworth Bay. Bluish-tinted ice floes, the buoyant remains of the Marinelli Glacier, drifted lazily toward the banks. For a photo opportunity, I flopped like an elephant seal, rather unceremoniously, atop one of the larger bergs stranded on the shore. In the distance, late afternoon clouds kissed the snowy mountain peaks of the Darwin Cordillera.  Quite literally, my husband Gustavo and I were at the southernmost tip of the American Continent, in Tierra del Fuego, Chile, for a week-long expeditionary cruise aboard the Stella Australis.

A great way to experience Tierra del Fuego Chile is onboard Stella Australis. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

Suitably dubbed ‘the Land of Fire’ by the Spaniards, as they stared from their galleons at the blazing bonfires of Selk’nam tribesmen, this was the last vestige of the mainland before the South Pole. I discovered a land where glaciers, mountains, and oceans converge in Tierra del Fuego.

Exploring Tierra del Fuego

We had just trekked with our tour guide for an hour through virgin woodland, through thickets of deciduous lenga trees. The excursion followed the footsteps of the 16th-century explorer Ferdinand Magellan, even as we had sailed the strait that bore his name. Our group toasted to our adventurous spirit with a whiskey on the rocks…’ the rocks’ being actual glacial ice, millenniums old. Despite that momentary swill of warming liquor in my belly, I opted to nurse a hot chocolate instead while waiting for our Zodiac back to the boat.

Hiking the Magellan Forest. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

As I looked across the tranquil bay waters toward the purple haze that had settled on the mountainous crests, I imagined myself as part of Darwin’s expeditionary team, charting a course across the Beagle Channel, sailing to the outer fringes of the planet’s vast oceans in search of unknown cultures and untold treasures.

Settling in on the Stella Australis

The fleet of Cruceros Australis, specially designed vessels with ice cutters at the bow, forged the channels of the Chilean and Argentine Patagonia.  For myself, an adventurous traveler who enjoys visiting remote corners of the globe but still appreciates the nuances of fine cuisine and accommodations, the Stella Australis perfectly fits the bill.  Eight days of exploring the isolated terrain at the world’s end—untouched by man, untarnished by Father Time.

The Stella Australis allows you to explore isolated terrain at the world’s end. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

The panga finally arrived to return us to the cruise ship, where we feasted like royalty and drank cocktails long into the night. It was all-inclusive. I was hesitant about tasting the congrio (eel), having seen the snake-like fillets hanging in the fish market at Sangelmo earlier in the week in Santiago. But the chef was a culinary master; to put it simply, he wowed me. I finished every morsel and nearly licked the pattern off the plate, trying to savor the last traces of sauce.

A Glacier Adventure in Tierra del Fuego—Brookes Bay

With morning’s approach, we were off on another glacier adventure—Brookes Bay.  The sun had abandoned us, and a dreary fog lay across the top of the glacier like a mantle.  Nevertheless, we all herded into Zodiacs and surged through the salty waters of Admiralty Fjord.

We disembarked onto a playground of granite-like boulders that resembled hardened volcanic ash.  A pall of sleet momentarily disturbed our viewing, enough to necessitate the return of our photographic equipment to the protection of our backpacks. It faded away, and the expedition carried on.

Exploring the icy paradise. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

A Glacier Adventure in Tierra del Fuego—Pia Fjord

The following day, the Stella Australis sallied into Pia fjord. Gustavo and I trailed behind the rest of the crowd onto the viewing platform.  Like an artist’s canvas, chunks of ice, both titan and teensy and striated with blue, floated through the inlet—discarded jetsam from the retreating berg.

Taking the Zodiac to Pia Fjord. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

“Let’s sit here for ten minutes of silence. Have your cameras and video recorders ready,” the tour guide advised. At his suggestion, we sat utterly devoid of voices, the quiet only broken by an occasional cough or someone changing position on the uncomfortable stone. We were waiting. Two hundred people from Stella Australis were waiting patiently to witness the calving of a glacier…to see Mother Earth work her magic. She didn’t disappoint.

Glacier watching in Pia Fjord. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

I wasn’t lucky enough to photograph when the ice sheered from the wall. But Gustavo caught the eardrum-shattering ‘crack’ of the melting berg on video as it dispersed into the water. I felt inconsequential against this display of nature’s raw power and glad to be at a safe distance. The Arctic thaw tumbled into the bay like an explosion of dynamite, causing a sudden voluminous wave—more than enough to engulf a Zodiac.

Glacier Watching

We giggled like schoolchildren as we shuffled back to our motorized rides. Once onboard, I perched myself on deck, near the prow, ready to embrace that polar wind.  Edging away from the Canal de Ballanero, the cruise ship maneuvered along the northwestern arm of the Beagle Channel and leisurely navigated the fabulous ‘Avenue of the Glaciers.’

The glaciers in Tierra del Fuego. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

I ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ at one ventisquero after another—snowdrift glaciers that seemed to descend from the sky.

Glaciers as seen onboard the Stella Australis. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

My jaws stood gaping wide, awestruck by the passing landscape. To be frank, the reflection of the majestic ice fields shimmering across the tranquil Patagonian sound took my breath away.

The glacier watching is never-ending onboard the Stella Australis. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

Navigating Cape Horn

Nearing the end of our journey, we prepared for the entrance into the Drake Passage, where the headwaters of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans converged. Our captain steered us into non-stop blustering winds and churlish seas through Murray Channel and Nassau Bay, guiding us around the Cape (Cabo de Hornos). Cape Horn is a craggy boneyard for ships tousled by the raging seas.

I had felt the subtle change the last night when we left the relative calm of the channel and entered the open ocean. I had stared out the cabin windows, mesmerized by the swirling froth below. Giant swells and constant reeling of the ship had dispelled the gentle rocking motion of the last few days. Sleep came with a different tempo.

The Stella anchored away from the jagged headland of the Cape, forcing us once more into the Zodiacs for the harrowing excursion to shore. I felt the saline spray on my face as the water splashed over the side of the panga. A crusty layer of salt dried on my lips. The taste of the sea…testament of my visit to this tempestuous archipelago in Chilean Tierra del Fuego.

I clung to the railing at the landing and stumbled onto the wooden boardwalk. Flanked on both sides by roiling ocean and frigid, buffeting winds, the desolate staircase of Cape Horn yawned before me. Gustavo and I ascended 1394-ft. of sheer cliff face to the lonesome albatross statue on the far side of the promontory, an artfully-sculpted memorial to mariners claimed by the sea.

Cabo de Hornos or Cape Horn. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

Forged from 100 tons of steel, the silent sentinel was a grave marker for marooned vessels and seafarers lost to the surly depths. It was hard to believe we were standing at the most austral pinnacle in Patagonia, just shy of the South Pole.

Memorial to Lost Mariners on Cape Horn. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

Sailing into Wulaia Bay

Late afternoon, the ship cruised into Wulaia Bay, the home of ancient aboriginal Indians, the Yamanás.

Wulaia Bay. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

When we trekked uphill to the overlook, which offered a panoramic view of the surrounding fjords, the sun began its slow descent, casting sparkles of iridescent light into the cove. Sinking below the horizon…one last sunset before we arrived at Ushuaia and the end of the first leg of our journey.

We captured one last sunset at Wulaia Bay. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

Sailing into Ushuaia—Gateway to Patagonia

The second half of our expedition began at another lookout point, at the entrance to el Pase Aerosilla (the chairlift pass)—atop Glaciar Martial, in Argentina, where a rocky trail to the snowy peaks ran alongside the ski lift. I particularly enjoyed the view going down…wooded brushland approaching a town of colorful pastel houses perched at the edge of a bustling seaport. Yachts and frigates sailed through the freezing waters along with tourism catamarans. At the same time, freighters and supertankers crowded the pier of this most southerly city in the world—Ushuaia—the gateway to Patagonia.

Ushuaia is the gateway to Patagonia. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

As we re-boarded the cruise ship for our eventual return to the Magellan Strait, I felt a tinge of sadness leaving this South American town at the end of the world. Instead of a city buried beneath the snow and wracked by howling arctic gales, I found a quaint, cosmopolitan city with all the amenities—cinemas, libraries, schools, even well-stocked bodegas for shopping. All the comforts of home, just a stone’s throw from Antarctica…well, 1238km of a stone’s throw, if you want to be exact…the way the albatross flies.

Final Stop in Tierra del Fuego—Isla Magdalena

I couldn’t wait for our last stop at Isla Magdalena, a protected pingüinos (penguins) reserve. With fishing banned by the government twenty miles in a complete arc around their island, the resident penguins could languish for hours in the frigid currents, ferreting out their dinner without fear.

Approaching Magdalena Island. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

Clothed in tuxedos, they waddled toward the coastline; once in the ocean, though, they glided through the tides like Olympic swimmers. These penguin colonies went about their daily routines, oblivious to our droves…slinging sand building their hole-in-the-ground nests, dancing, a few even romancing.

The penguins on Magdalena Island. Photo courtesy Stella Australis

After the rookery, the ship would be obligated, once more, to pass by the Cape. Again, I pulled the knit cap down over my head, adjusted my fleece neck warmer, grabbed my husband’s arm, and began that long upward climb. We stood together, side by side, on the bluff’s edge, staring out into that expanse of the endless ocean. Holding hands…and staring glassy-eyed at the rogue waves. Here, on this arctic peninsula of the Americas, deep in Tierra del Fuego, Chile, in my husband’s birth country.

The surf beat the rock-strewn shores while the unrelenting winds wailed across the jutting headland; I couldn’t be sure if the ringing in my ears were just the blustering breezes or the chattering of my teeth.

Articles Related to Small-Ship Cruising

• Sailing Aboard a Legend: Five-star Small Ship Cruising on Sea Cloud
• Wander Stories Podcast: Small Ship Cruising
• Maine Windjammer Cruise: Disconnect and Discover
• A Yacht Cruise in Indonesia
• UnCruise Adventures: Wonders of the Columbia River Gorge
• Sailing the Caribbean Onboard Sea Cloud Spirit

Cruising Tierra Del Fuego

For more on Australis cruises or to book your cruise to Tierra del Fuego, Chile, filled with wow moments, visit the website here. Also, find more exciting articles about travel in South America by Wander writers.