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Navimag Grad - Chile
by Leanne Lance | Date >
2006-07-16 | Country : Chile | City : Navimag
| Area : Magellan Strait |
We decided to splurge a chunk of our meagre travel budget and catch the Navimag ferry along the coast of southern Chile. The journey began at Puerto Montt through island channels, including the Magellanes Islands. The journey is relatively calm except for about 24 hours when we need to cross out into the ocean because the ferry is too big to pass through the narrow channels.
The passengers on our trip ranged from 20 - 80 years old, the biggest group being a Chilean mob with 10 of the loudest 60 year old women ever heard on this planet. Their vocal ranges are practised during movies, presentations and safety talks, their special talent being to happily ignore the poisoned stares directed their way.
Carlos and I quickly hook up with three senoritas who become our sea mates as we bond over the Chilean spirit, Pisco Sour, each night for the Happy Sour Hour.
We glide through breaktaking scenery of dotted islands and jagged coastlines, scanning the horizon for elusive seals, dolphins and out of season whales. One day I think we spot a rocky outcrop covered in penguins but begrudgingly admit they are probably only seagulls. We are amazed at the fortitude of the flightless Steamer Ducks as we see them miles from land, bobbing through the channel swells on their own.
Between all this scenery and wildlife spotting we are well fed three times a day although cravings for pizza go unsatisfied.
The only exercise we get is doing laps around the ferry, trying to spot wildlife.
One of our crazy senoritas decides to try to photograph the sky in 1000 different moods. She succeeds admirably, although her friends and family back home may not appreciate the feat after they have looked at their 756th sky photo.
Another mate on board was a dog Carlos named Bowsen. Bowsen wandered onto Navimag about four years ago and now makes every trip with them. The funny thing is that each time they pull into port, he trots off into town by himself, returning promptly the next day for departure as though he has read the timetable. Each night we cradle a nice Chilean red and stand out on the deck rugged up in all our winter clothes considering that we might never do anything like this again.
The ocean crossing night interrupted our usual evenings activities as things got really, really rough. The sensible travellers on board popped their seasickness pills two hours early, whilst the not-so-sensible took some about two hours too late. The stupid and the brave took none at all and may have been responsible for most of the involuntary purging for the next twelve hours. Being in the not-so-sensible category, I spent all night in bed, cluthing my stomach as it swelled and twisted in sympathy with the ferry. Meanwhile Carlos sat happily upstairs eating two serves of pasta.
For our last night on board the crew organised a Bingo game, something that ignited the competetive tigers in all of us. We scrambled to get our hands on a pile of bingo cards, especially when we saw the Chilean Mob had about six each. We cheered madly when the grand prize was won by Eric the Swede and not one of the Chilean Mob who had taken out nearly every other prize. We had survived the trip and beaten the Mob. |
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