Surviving the Eater of Men…

 

It squeezed us dry of every last drop of energy, and then demanded more. Patagonia, that distant magical place with towering spires for mountains and roller coaster seas, where someone told me “there’s nothing much doing with the tides from what I remember”, ate us up. It lived up to its name as ‘The Eater of Men’ (and women to be pc), and supplied a string of tough stuff, none of it helped by Andy hurting his back a few hours before starting. He crawled into the kayak high on drugs but still in pain, with a posture worse than Quasimodo.  We would be two cripples in the wilderness, neither able to walk. It seemed a crazy plan to ‘set forth’, a hard juggle of our good sense with our commitment to make a film.

 

 

 

Andy being a big wall climber is well used to pain and thrives on things being as hard and grim as possible, so he was determined to try for at least one day in a kayak. I’ve a history of ex-boyfriends with bad backs, paranoid about my part in that, and though desperate for him not to make it worse, was no force to his stubbornness (which the Triple Echo film crew were thankful for).  So in an already keen wind, we began – how hard could 5 days get? – our journey through tide-tortured waters. Fourty km a day, not much for some, but a lot for two wobblies who hadn’t sat in a kayak for five months, took us through tidal races, island narrows, white water rapids, and winds that built from nought to ‘too scary’ in no time at all. Any comfort we’d taken in our adventure being safe, given the proximity of the film crew on their boat, the ‘Natuiluca’, disappeared on day one, when they lost us, our white double kayak just a speck amongst the expanses of breaking waves. We felt vulnerable, all too aware that under ‘non-filming’ circumstances we would never come to such a remote man-eating place without other kayakers, believing some safety in numbers.

 

We were initially disappointed at our original month of paddling being shrunk to only 5 days by the filming schedule, and reticent about how realistic or challenging the journey would be…but we were quickly counting the days of effort that still lay ahead. Each night, I dragged myself through barnacles and crabs towards bivvy spots that might keep us safe from the unpredictable tide, and Andy crawled around, chopping small logs to roll the kayak up the beach. In sympathy, and seeing Andy doubled in pain, the camera crew occasionally carried a bag up the beach to help our slow process of making camp.

 

Why? Because there was a shrinking glacier to reach, carving into the sea in the Laguna San Rafael. Because neither of us can say no to adventure. Because now we’ve survived being swallowed up in the ‘Gulf of Elephants’ and its 20km open water maelstrom, and been swept by ten knot tides to a icebergs bluer than any colour swatch blue could be, life feels sweeter for a little while.  It took a lot, but it was all worth it, and the Pisco Sour in our Santiago airport hotel right now tastes better than ever.

 

The verdict on Andy’s back….strained ligaments in his sacro-iliac joint, 6 to 12 weeks to recover. It might even drag Andy away from his Apple gadgetry, to the gym. And if anyone reading this fancies a paddling adventure in Patagonia, we’ve a great contact there with kayaks and kit and keen to help anyone get out there.

 

Thanks to Triple Echo and their fantastic film crew, the Nautiluca and their fantastic boat crew, and Patagonian Logistics, there will be a documentary about this, on BBC Scotland in March (I think). Happy paddling!

Wish it had been this sunny at the glacier (not our pic)…read more about our laguna arrival at www.andy-kirkpatrick.com Sorry no photos yet but camera batteries flat or with the airport baggage handlers!

P.S. Our Palm gear was superb – kept us dry, and was durable to those barnacles, and the best cut buoyancy aids we’ve ever worn.