The PaddlerUK magazine July 2015 issue 3 | Page 50

P D L RUK 50 A DE Lee Franklin, Mike Burnett and myself made up our small team of three. Jokes and stories entertained our rainy first few days and the landscape fascinated me – it was like nothing I had ever seen before. Bushes so thick that access to the land would be limited only to the rocky banks below the trees and steep sided mountains framed the channels with intimidating stature. For hours we paddled with no possible landing opportunity, as the mountains seemed to fall directly into the sea. Streams would pump down the steep inclines creating white creases through the rocky crags and above the tree line, lingered the still melting winter snow. Our journey would take us to the heart of Patagonia, as close to the ice fields as it was possible to approach from the sea and to the very tip of a fjord called Estro Peel, where glaciers flow directly into the sea. The first week was littered with blizzards and hail storms as we began to learn the difficulties of locating a possible camp spot and thanked our decision to invest in our toasty Palm Dry suits. The first taste of Patagonia's unpredictable and powerful weather had us realising the state of play for the next four weeks. We woke one morning to blue sky and mirror still waters where hunting dolphins broke the glass-like surface, sending circular ripples for miles. The reflection of the mountains in the water added immense depth to the already dominating landscape. The rhythm of paddling continually ticked along like the second hand of a clock as time was now measured by light and dark, hunger and fatigue. Our goal was to paddle 30km a day and in the calm condition this was a pleasure. During this period of high pressure weather, we reached one of the largest Glaciers in Patagonia, Pio XI. Standing about 60 metres in hight and 5km in length it was colossal! Chunks of ice regularly broke from its front surface and crashed into the calm water below. Shock waves would travel out, thrusting the large floating icebergs around with an unnerving amount of ease. The dry weather was short lived and the inevitable wet weather soon greeted us again. Winds helped and hindered us in equal proportions, but always with fierce strength. Gusts would hurtle down the steep sides of the fjords, rumbling as they grew closer, before knocking us sideways as we griped our paddles tightly. When the waves picked up the Albatrosses would come out to play. They provided endless acrobatics and performed breathtaking manoeuvres on the face of the growing waves. At least they distracted out attention from the unnerving winds and occasional open water crossings. The reflection of the moun added immense depth