Mercedes at Puerto Natales

Many people seem to consider Puerto Natales as nothing more than a staging point for visits to Parque Nacional Torres del Paine or Cueva del Milodón Natural Monument, the latter an attraction as much because it was made famous by the book that made Bruce Chatwin famous as for the fact it was once home to the giant ground sloth, the eponymous Mylodon. But I liked Puerto Natales — much of it, at least — for its own sake and stayed a little longer than many visitors. I even thought this was one place I'd like to stay for a protracted period, improving my bad Spanish, writing, wandering, watching the birds, photographing the old boats I suspect the passers-through don't find. Maybe, I thought, if my Spanish improved enough I'd eventually be able to listen to something of the ruins of their moments.

[4 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 30 mm, ISO 100, 1/160 at f16]

All content © 2013 Pete McGregor

First dawn in the fjords of Chile

We slept on board the Evangelista at Puerto Natales and set sail before dawn. Apart from the crew, I was one of the first up, not wishing to miss anything.

[Pohanginapete has a new post. Short, but it means the blog hasn't died.]

[6 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 14 mm, ISO 800, 1/6 at f8]

All content © 2013 Pete McGregor

Squall in the fjords of Chile

Squalls of rain sailed along the fjords as we motored north towards Puerto Montt late in 2011. The wildness seemed fitting.


[7 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 14 mm, ISO 100, 1/250 at f11]

All content © 2013 Pete McGregor

Wind cloud, Puerto Natales

We boarded the ferry in the evening to sleep aboard in readiness for a pre-dawn departure. Many of us stayed on deck watching the last light fade and the wind clouds form over mountains, fjords, water. I took one last look at Puerto Natales, knowing in all likelihood I might never see it again.


[6 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 14 mm, ISO 200, 1/100 at f8]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Blue boat, low tide, Puerto Natales

To most travellers, Puerto Natales is little more than a stopover en route to the Torres del Paine or Tierra del Fuego and Ushuaia. But I loved it for its own sake — so much so, I even half-wondered how I might settle down there, at least for a few months. Maybe work on my shamefully poor Spanish, write, wander, photograph the endlessly fascinating shoreline.


[4 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 14 mm, ISO 100, 1/160 at f16]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

River at Campamento Italiano, PN Torres del Paine [II]

Another view of the river, this time from above.


[21 November 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 14 mm, ISO 100, 1/10 at f16]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

River at Campamento Italiano, PN Torres del Paine

Same place as this photograph, one day later, a different feel. Everywhere I travelled, I felt compelled to photograph flowing water. Here in the mountains of Chile, so similar to Aotearoa in so many ways, the compulsion felt even stronger.

[21 November 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 14 mm, ISO 100, 1/8 at f16]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Dawn in the fjords of Chile [III]

The first sunlight grazed the peaks at about 5:30 a.m. as we sailed steadily north through the fjords of Chile. Only a few other keen people had risen, but the early start rewarded us with scenes like this.


[6 December 2012, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 45 mm, ISO 100, 1/125 at f11]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

River at Campamento Italiano, Torres del Paine

At Campamento Italiano on the Torres del Paine circuit, the river splits then rejoins at the swing bridge. I spent some time there, mostly in the morning before anyone else had risen, and was rewarded with a close look at a pair of torrent ducks.

The red-flowering shrub is known locally as notro, the Chilean firebush (Embothrium coccineum), and was a common and striking element of the flora while I was in the PN Torres del Paine.

[20 November 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 14 mm, ISO 100, 1/3 at f16]


All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

View from the Mirador del Valle Frances, Torres del Paine

I'd not long arrived at Campamento Italiano when I heard someone call my name. A tired Scott stood there, enormous pack on his back, after the better part of a week walking the circuit in the opposite direction to me. The next day we left our gear and walked up to Campamento Britanico, then to the Mirador. Cloud slid around the huge cirque, hiding and revealing wild mountains; occasional flurries of snow swept over. Fine weather has its charms, but for sheer spectacle in the mountains, this is to be preferred.


[21 November 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 14 mm, ISO 100, 1/200 at f16]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Austral negrito at Puerto Natales

This little austral negrito (Lessonia rufa) hopped around the shore at Puerto Natales on an overcast day. He never seemed to pause long enough for me to press the shutter button, and kept his distance as well. Consequently, this heavily cropped photograph is the best I'm ever likely to manage of these lovely little birds. They belong to a group having what seems like an utterly inappropriate name: the Tyrant Flycatchers. On the other hand, I guess if you're a fly, ...


[5 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 100–300 mm at 300 mm, ISO 200, 1/800 at f5.6]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Somewhere in the fjords of Chile

I've read claims that wild places no longer exist, that you can't go anywhere without encountering overt signs of human activity. I find those kinds of claims slippery at best — what's overt to their authors might be not all all obvious to many of us; just how long must I go without being reminded that other humans share this place with me; what constitutes wildness; how large is this wild (or not) place about which we're arguing, and so on —  but I do acknowledge this: wild places are declining.

Still, some remain. Anyone who's travelled through the fjords of Chile will know that.


[6 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 45 mm, ISO 100, 1/60 at f11]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Torres del Paine

The Torres, from which the National Park gets its name, remained elusive, hiding behind wreaths of cloud. I caught a glimpse of the central tower for a minute or so, then the cloud closed in again. I didn't mind; the cloud and cold seemed to reflect the nature of the place in a way fine, sunny weather couldn't. I considered myself lucky.


[19 November 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 18 mm, ISO 200, 1/10 at f11]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Evening at the Torres del Paine mirador

The cold at the mirador felt as if it could kill, and as the sun crept down behind the Torres only the keen people stayed — just four of us. The Torres stood almost silhouetted; the extreme contrast made photographing difficult. But sometimes sunlight would stream through the swirling cloud and mist and pick out parts of the mountainsides, and in those moments the cold no longer mattered.

Here's another photograph from the same evening.


[19 November 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 100–300 mm at 100 mm, ISO 100, 1/125 at f11]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Dusk in the fjords of Chile

Passing through the fjords of Chile — a wild, wonderful landscape. I've used a slightly smaller version of this for the Pohanginapete post I published yesterday. Usually I don't duplicate photographs on the two blogs, but I thought this one deserved the larger format.


[7 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 100–300 mm at 100 mm, ISO 400, 1/125 at f8]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Evening in the fjords of Chile

As evening fell, I found what shelter I could and watched as we made our way through the fjords. The maze seemed endless. We shared the sea with nothing but the wind and the birds.



[6 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 28 mm, ISO 400, 1/250 at f8]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Leaving the Brujo Glacier

The Brujo Glacier slipped out of sight; a curtain of rain slid over the fjord. The Evangelista motored steadily back towards the main channel, leaving the sea to its silence, and the gently rocking icebergs faded into the gloom. Rock, ice, water, and the southern beech forest — saturated, dripping. I wanted to know everything about the lives living in this hard and wonderful place.


[7 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 100–300 mm at 252 mm, ISO 100, 1/160 at f11]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

"Antartico", Puerto Natales

What seas had the Antartico seen? How long did she work the waters of southern Chile? How far south did she sail, and who sailed on her? Where will her future take her?


[5 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 45 mm, ISO 100, 1/160 at f11. A lot of filtering in Photoshop]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Dawn in the fjords of Chile [II]

As the dawn grew brighter we passed by mountains reminiscent of the Torres del Paine. I wanted to stop and explore, and wondered who might have been lucky enough to have done that. The possibilities seemed endless.



[6 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 29 mm, ISO 100, 1/50 at f11]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Dawn in the fjords of Chile

The berths on the Evangelista were only slightly larger than coffins, yet I slept wonderfully every night. Perhaps that was why I was also up early each day, sometimes before sunrise, so I got to see the first light, then the first sunlight striking the mountains, the islands. For the first day and a half from Puerto Natales we sailed through an almost incomprehensibly complex landscape of islands, and I couldn't help wondering when anyone last set foot on some of these places.


[6 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 14 mm, ISO 100, 1/20 at f11]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor