Puerto Williams- 55 degrees South
March 18, 2026
And then there were three - Mark, Tess, and me. Tim left One Ocean while we were in Puerto Williams. It’s the first time on this trip that we’ve chosen to sail as a crew of three.
Why?
Part of it is that we’ve been racing down the South American coast—racing against time, schedules, and of course, the weather. We rounded Cape Horn, and we kept telling ourselves that once we did, the pressure of that timeline would finally lift.
For the first time in over ten months, it feels like we can exhale.
I know it will mean more work for each of us, and a different kind of pressure, but it also feels deeply necessary. Not that we haven’t appreciated every volunteer who has joined us—we absolutely have, and we will again. Their help is vital on such an intensive expedition. But right now, we need a short reprieve from trying to make fixed schedules fit into the unpredictable rhythm of life at sea.
When we quietly slipped our lines from the docks in Puerto Williams and eased back into the gray waters of the Beagle Channel, I felt a strange mix of emotions about leaving a place like this.
Puerto Williams gave us space to reflect—not just on the miles sailed or the goals achieved, but on the people we’ve met along the way. Sailors, teachers, students, scientists, and strangers who opened their doors—and their lives—to us.
There was pride in having rounded Cape Horn. Gratitude for the unexpected friendships formed in this small town. And a sense of accomplishment in the research, classrooms, and outreach we’ve carried out.
There is still much more to come. But Puerto Williams—there is something quietly extraordinary here.
There is a warmth in this town perched along the cold waters of the Beagle Channel and backed by the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the Dientes de Navarino. Where colorful fishing boats and small sailboats rock gently at their moorings and the air carries the scent of woodsmoke, sea salt, and the coming change of seasons.
It all began with a serendipitous meeting—Leo, John and Nacho, in a small local restaurant.
Leo, a journalist, was in town filming a documentary on the Cedena Sailing School, following five students preparing for an expedition that would sail all the way to South Africa.
Nacho, an instructor at Cedena Sailing School, and about to sail to South Africa on this expedition.
John—a sailor, climber, wing base jumper, citizen scientist and adventurer—already knew about the Around the Americas Expedition. He had read One Island, One Ocean, from the voyage fifteen years ago.
And here we were, at what the town proudly calls the end of the world, in a dimly lit crowded restaurant, meeting someone who had been inspired by that earlier journey. That kind of full-circle moment feels like magic.
Through that meeting, we connected with the Cedena Sailing School, where we were invited to present and share our education tent.
The school had just reopened after a year of renovations, and there was a buzz of excitement in the air on opening day. The staff welcomed us with incredible warmth as we set up. It was sunny and warm, though the trees surrounding us already carried a faint hint of autumn color. Summer vacation had ended and school had just begun.
Across the slough, near the old Macalvi “dock”—a half-sunken ship now serving as the town’s marina—children waited along the beach. A small boat came to collect them. They climbed aboard laughing and waving, their lifejackets bright against the emerald green water.
Here, sailing is part of the regular school curriculum. More than seventy students participate—not only learning to sail, but learning how to contribute onboard. Cooking, sewing, navigation. Real skills for real life at sea.
We were deeply impressed—not just by the structure of the program, but by the mutual respect between students and staff. We were immediately welcomed into their world.
When we shared our mission and research, we were met with wide-eyed curiosity and excitement. For us—tired, weathered sailors—it was exactly the reminder we needed.
This is why the work matters.
At the end of the day, it was difficult to pack up our tent and leave. I had a strong sense that I wanted to stay—to find a way to contribute more to this remarkable community.
When we returned to Puerto Williams after rounding Cape Horn, we were welcomed with such warmth that it felt less like visiting and more like returning home.
Even in the simplest moments.
Walking past the town school as classes let out, parents lined the road, and nearly every student waved—recognizing us from our presentation days earlier.
It’s those small moments that stay with you.
When the town heard about the loss of our dinghy, help came quickly. Within hours, there were offers and ideas. By the next morning, we had leads on a replacement dinghy and motor—thanks to John.
I could go on about how extraordinary this place is. The people. The wild horses wandering the hills and streets. The deep quiet of the forests. The raw, untamed beauty of the surrounding landscape.
And for a brief moment, we were part of it.
Leo said it best—this place has a way of calling you back.
I will miss our new friends but I am reminded of Herb McCormick talking about the 2 degrees of separation theory with sailors and I know that we will meet again.
Hasta luego friends…fair winds.