INTO THE SEA
Cabo de Hornos – regarded as the most hazardous ocean passage in the world, located on the south end of the desolate Isla de Hornos. The headland marks the southernmost point of South America, as well as being the notorious meeting place of the Pacific and Atlantic oceans.
The cape, sitting on the end of the world at a latitude of 55 degrees, holds a formidable reputation against all seafarers. ‘Below 40 degrees south there is no law and below 50 degrees south there is no God.’ goes the famous sailors saying. ‘The south’ is all the sailors refer to these waters as. A generic term to describe the feared world of black skies, bitterly cold winds and storm-driven waves that eternally orbit the foot of the world. The immense low-pressure systems can span 2000 miles north to south, giving rise to unstoppable 50/60knot winds, nicknamed as the ‘screaming fifties’ and ‘screeching sixties’.
As they move west to east, they meet no obstacles over the barren Southern Ocean. This means their movement can be at a frighteningly fast pace and makes it possible for multiple systems to pass in a day. This, accompanied with violent polar fronts, will create huge instantaneous shifts in wind speeds and directions.
James paddled to my side and looked at me with concerned and understanding eyes. He knew how much this meant to me. He could see right into me, sensing my inner turmoil and feeling my deep emotions.
"I’m sorry James. I was a dick. I am a dick. I’ve fucked it. Our one chance. I’m so sorry"
"Yes Fi, you were a bit unreasonable back there."
He quickly smiled and made a joke, managing well to add a light-hearted moment to the depressing atmosphere I had formed. It was enough to bring a smile to my face, and diffuse some of my raging emotions.
"Fi, the winds have dropped don't you think," he said unexpectedly. The wind had indeed dropped significantly in the last ten minutes. The gusts no longer shot spray into my face and the indefinite roar in my eardrums was gone. I wondered where we would be if we had waited and not turned back. Looking at my watch surely Cape Horn was no longer an option today. I was intrigued by the comment, was James purely stating the bloody obvious or going to suggest the surely now impossible? I looked at him with raised eyebrows, signifying him to expand.
His words followed, firmly and definitively, "We turn around and give it one more attempt?"
"James, do we have time?" We had wasted over an hour now. The forecast was unreliable and a gale-force westerly was coming at some unknown point. It would be on the edge, It would probably always be on the edge out here.
"Fuck knows" came the blunt, utterly honest, but mildly amusing reply. I wanted to turn around so badly, but I was aware this ‘serious want’ was warping my judgement, a condition reasonably known as ‘summit fever’. I didn’t want to say anything, instead, I just stared at James with wide raised eyes, expressing my thoughts, fears and giving the silent urge for him to speak.
"Right, let's go for it?"
I could instantly feel an uncertain yet exciting smile creep over my wide-eyed expression as I felt a new spark ignite inside me.
"Okay, I agree!" I quickly yelped.
We retraced our strokes and became familiar with each rocky point that we now rounded for the third time. As we finally crept around the penultimate headland once more, we were surprised to see a very different view ahead. There was no longer raging winds but instead unperturbed ripples from a gentle northerly breeze. A shadowy grey blanket of thick cloud still covered the horizon ominously, but the dark angry clouds that had sent chilling waves of fear through me before had dissipated. A cheeky nod and we were off. Filled with anticipation we now raced side by side along the south coast of Isla Herschel, as headlands and points were quickly passed, motivation roared inside me once more.
We naturally came to a stop at a prominent bluff from which would be the shortest crossing to Isla Hornos. The dramatic north-west cape and its towering fins of rock penetrated vertically out of the sea. Even from our distance, we could see wild white water being thrown immensely into the air against the reefs. We became aware that the commitment factor would go up severely from here.
Having scanned the sky for weather forecasting clues, I had noted a small break in the dark grey blanket of clouds to the north-west. They now seemed to be on a slow course towards us. The weather systems were moving and changing. I realized there was no point wasting energy discussing the glaringly obvious fact. Instead, I focussed on the reality that right now a steady northerly breeze blew and the forecast was perhaps true.
"Looks alright, hey? onwards?" exclaimed James,
"Onwards!" I facetiously agreed.
With nervous excitement, we vigorously started our 7km crossing. We were now fully exposed to the south-west swell rolling in, which undulated beneath our hulls. We would sink into the deep troughs which would take away the view of both land and each other. It would then carry us back on its crest, momentarily showing us the world, before the next inevitable drop.
The sea soon became livelier as an eastward travelling flow seemed to develop, which mixing with the swell gave rise to an agitated coalition of larger irregular waves. Whilst continuing to keep an eye on the drift with a few transits, I was also now enjoying the natural thrill of paddling through the entertaining assortment of energetic waves.
With the mind and body engaged, and the northerly wind assisting us nicely, the crossing seemed to fly with the detail on the cliffs quickly becoming more and more vivid. But as I predicted, the closer to the point we got, the more we started to get slowed down by the tide, which seemed to be harshly rebounding off the headland and accelerating straight into our path. We were still making progress, but as I carefully tuned into the transits I’d been using as a speed gauge, I guesstimated our pace had now been nearly halved. I was aware it was a stroke of luck we had neaps (smaller tidal range) today, next week they would be springs (larger tidal range) which could have easily ground us to a halt at this point.
During the planning stages of this trip, I had tried endlessly to gather some information about the tidal flow rates and directions around these isolated islands. It seemed there was no published data, and all the usual go-to sources (nautical charts, ocean pilots etc) were worryingly empty of any tidal information. It had even been madly rumoured to us that the Chilean Navy view tidal information as a tactical advantage and therefore work hard to keep any evidence of it a secret! We accepted it was down to us to figure out the tidal puzzle for ourselves. We had to piece together clues and make guesses using intuition gained from the many lessons the seas had already taught us. Committing to a serious coastline with this large amount of unknown felt daunting, but at the same time wildly invigorating and provided a real sense of pure adventure.
The northerly wind now directly opposed the tide which in turn picked up the sea into a defined tidal race, with capping waves that heightened as the southerly swell rolled through. In the troughs, it felt like pushing my boat through a thick paste, and then as I climbed onto the peak in front I would suddenly gain a surge of speed, surfing down the other side.
Eventually pushing through the last of the accelerated tide and rounding the headland, an impressive and truly wild sight opened up in front of us. The spray was being shot high into the air in a mighty collision of forces, as waves born thousands of miles away were releasing their pent-up energy, exploding against the tall dark cliffs. Off the next headland, a colossal isolated pyramid of rock projected out of the sea. The gap between was far too small to contain the large swell trying to pass through. The waves were subsequently squeezed and forced to unleash their energy, resulting in phenomenal torrents of froth exploding out of the northern gap, accompanied by loud, echoing booms.
Obstructing our path ahead, extruding from underlying reefs, were two large rocks about 100m apart. Meeting the shallower depth, the incoming waves would steepen, almost double in height, and then forcefully thunder down, covering everything in white foam. Just inside the outermost gigantic rock spire seemed to be a slim path of unperturbed water, an eddy unreached by the chaos. With an adventurous look to his face, James nodded towards the small area of safety, "what do ye reckon?"
"I reckon it’ll be alright, shall we?"
Now fully exposed, the sea felt increasingly full of energy. The swell was rebounding off the cliffs, coming back to meet itself and rising into large triangular clapotis waves, peaking and breaking sporadically all around. This was fantastic sea paddling, now a brilliant and engaging playground of churned up waves. As soon as one blade came out of the water, I would plant the other immediately, creating stability against the irregular chaos trying to fling me around. I Drove my boat effectively up the steep variable waves, pulling a stroke on the very top of the peak. This led to my boat skyrocketing upwards becoming momentarily airborne. My stomach would then instantly drop as gravity yanked my kayak back down, feeling a bend in the fibreglass beneath. Occasionally with no warning the waves would steepen overpoweringly and break, sending a surge of adrenaline through me as I instinctively grabbed the breaking water and held on, accepting the now inevitable drenching, but instantly grinning once free.
I hesitantly stopped paddling and allowed myself to bob up and down in the turbulent waters to admire the power of the ocean. As a finale, a larger wave majestically erupted sending a cascading waterfall over the massive rock, it had just about defended us from the breakers path of obliteration. I glanced at James, silently sharing this invigorating moment that would be remembered forever.
We both came to a natural pause at the following rugged headland, acknowledging a decision had to be made. We could now see down the entirety of the west coast ahead, a beautiful and wild world. In the distance, there was a striking cape littered with jutting rocks which stopped us seeing any further. We knew just a few kilometres beyond this lay our infamous target. We were close! However, in the last few minutes, the winds had shifted considerably. The gentle northerly had near instantaneously become a much stronger breeze from the south-west, about 20knots.
We were both fully aware of the escalating risks. Aware that anything could happen. Aware, we were about to make a very serious decision. Turn around and make a run back to the north coast and safety, or take what was now a gamble and continue. Many thoughts quickly raced through my mind. The large system was potentially arriving earlier, which if it did could mean imminent gale force westerlies. But the wind was still manageable right now, and maybe it would stay so. We only needed two hours.
My racing thoughts were abruptly broken, "Fi, we need to decide, what do you think?"
Then I noticed the clouds had broken and the sky had become blue. The sun was beaming through, adding a sparkle to the sea and appearing to warm and dry the rocks. The wind was still blowing, but suddenly the world felt less ominous.
With no conscious thought, I found the words escaping my mouth,
"let’s carry on"
"Sure?"
"No!! you?"
"Not, really no!"
"Shall we do it anyway?"
"Yes?!"
"Alright then!"
We smirked fiercely at each other, sharing these powerful emotions that now billowed through us, and without hesitation started paddling forwards once more.
We paddled through the lumpy waters passing an array of stunning sea stacks. I watched as a whole colony of albatross performed incredible aerial manoeuvres, majestically swooping over our heads.
The strong south-west gusts now blew from behind, assisting our progress. I intuitively found myself adjusting my skeg to counteract the pressure of the wind, a subtle reminder that we were now on a one-way ticket forward. The sense of commitment amplified as I watched giant waves explode upon the completely inescapable sheer cliffs to my left. Nevertheless, now a perfect mix of terror and excitement flowed through me, creating a powerful feeling of aliveness and unstoppable independence.
Finally, side by side we gained our first view of cape horn itself.
“Well, there it is!” exclaimed James with a look of wonder in his eyes.
“What do you reckon, shall we paddle around it then!?”
“Let's do this shit!” came his comical reply.
James held up his fist towards me, I held mine up in return and we fist bumped through the air, this said so many silent words.
I felt a brilliant sense of freedom as I became aware of where we were, completely alone about to paddle around cape horn, the very end of the world. We were about to achieve a wild and improbable dream. My mind quickly flashed through the huge amount of challenges we had faced and fought through to get to this point. As I looked over at James smiling, it dawned on me that what mattered the most and made this so incredible, was sharing all this with my best friend. An explosion of chemical reactions roared through me, sending a tingling sensation through my skin. I realized this unique feeling was complete happiness. Right now, nothing else in the world mattered.
A gust sped down the cliffs, hitting me in the face, and knocked me back to reality. The low lying clouds that had previously been hovering over the summit on the mountain in front of us, were now whipping around its conical shape with speed. The winds were back to offshore, and strong.
“Oh my god, James look at the clouds! let's get around this cape and get the fuck outta here” I shrieked. Without hesitation, we pointed our kayaks towards the protruding rock ahead and started paddling forwards with ravenous force. The clouds accelerating across the mountain top, kept my senses fully heightened and maintained the adrenaline in my system, keeping me paddling with speed.
As we neared the cape, it became apparent that what had initially looked like an intricate dark pattern on the rock, was an enormous colony of cormorants covering nearly every square inch of the huge stone platform. It wasn’t long before the first cormorant noticed our arrival, and sensing we were a threat, quickly dove off the rock and flapped away in a flurry. The birds neighbouring him followed with a natural survival instinct, an unstoppable domino effect was triggered through the entire rookery, each blindly following their friends and frantically jumping off the slab. At a guesstimate, now near 500 cormorants had turned the sky to a thick black haze, all wildly flapping and swooping in a complete frenzy. Eventually one by one, they landed in the ocean about 200m to our right, and the world was calm again.
Eventually, the moment came where we stopped paddling and together let our boats gracefully drift round the infamous point. We purposefully stopped right on the point with our bows in the Atlantic ocean and our sterns in the Pacific, sitting there in awe trying to take in the magnitude of the moment. On the headland now visible to the northeast stood the striking monument of an albatross in flight, built-in 1992 as a memorial to the 10,000+ souls who have lost their lives in the treacherous waters around this point.
I paid a silent tribute to the unlucky people that hadn’t made it alive around here. Horrific images flashed through my mind of the terrifying shipwrecking seas that commonly ravage this point, and it hit home how incredibly lucky we were to be here, gently bobbing up and down in our sea kayaks on the most feared point in the Southern Ocean.
I noticed we had been slowly drifting out to sea, towards Antarctica, by the steady offshore wind. Glancing up to the summit of the mountain, it was impossible not to notice the speed of the clouds whizzing over the top. I couldn’t allow myself to linger here any longer, it was time to go.
As anticipated, the moment we rounded the next point and turned north, we were immediately smacked in the face by the strong north westerly. With wind chilling our cheeks and stomach muscles burning, we started the fight inwards towards the shore. I was relieved that we were steadily making progress even though I became fully aware of our potential vulnerability here, what if the wind been 10knots stronger? Unable to retreat to safety from the most exposed point at the end of the word, this was the cape horn trap. Yes, we had taken a gamble, and yes, we had got away with it.
For the next few hours, we continued to push up the east side of Isla Hornos. Into a tiresome mix of a strong headwind, thick kelp and a slight tidal backflow. As we rounded each feature, we desperately desired to find an easy sheltered landing and call it a day. However, the entire coast of this island seemed to be comprised of a steep jumble of gigantic boulders, and even though the waves were small, they broke awkwardly in between the ankle-breaking gaps among the rocks. With the swell forecast to become immense again tomorrow, it was glaringly obvious that unless we wanted to be stuck on this desolate island for days, we had to find a sensible landing.
We now knew in our minds that the dangerous part was done and we would most likely survive the rest of the day. Our bodies sensed this, and the adrenaline that had been continuously pumping through us for the last 9 hours had dissipated. This change in chemistry left us feeling lightheaded, depleted and lethargic with the aches and pains that had been masked by the natural drug of adrenaline, suddenly reappearing.
To add to this, the mental impact of having ‘ticked off’ the big objective appeared to have hit me hard. Despite the fact we still had a way to go, (over 200km and a large open crossing probably far more committing than rounding cape horn itself!), right now it weirdly felt like an anti-climax to the expedition. I was bemused to find I was feeling a similar drop in my drive to paddle forward, as I had 8 hours ago when we had turned around. This goal had granted us phenomenal motivation to keep going, and paddle harder than we ever had before. We had achieved a big dream, and it felt satisfying. However, I noticed I wasn’t feeling as fulfilled as I imagined I would, weirdly feeling a little down that it was accomplished. The harsh reality dawned on me. It is not achieving the dream that gives the soul true joy, but it is instead the journey to get there.
Eventually, having consumed many chocolate bars to help us push through the threshold of exhaustion, we had made it to a sheltered bay on Isla Herschel. Just before rounding the final point to land, I took one last look over my shoulder and was amazed at the sight before me. Looking at James's pale expressionless face, I could tell he was utterly exhausted, just like me. “James look!” I exclaimed, pointing behind. It was clear he had to summon a huge amount of energy just to turn around but knew he wouldn’t be disappointed.
As the sun was dipping below the horizon to the west, a blazingly red array of colours engulfed the sky, glowing extraordinarily behind Isla Hornos. The prominent headland that jutted out to the south was emphasized by the glow into a dark but striking silhouette in the distance. I inhaled a large breath, trying my hardest to soak this moment up, knowing I would never be back here and would never see this island again. James now had a giant smile across his face, as the words quietly escaped
‘Wow, what a day fi…’
‘what a day James…’ I replied.
