Adventure a la carte
By Alistair Smith | theage.com.au | 16 February
Image: Theo Allofs/Corbis
We are in the Patagonia wilderness. That's middle-of-nowhere, no one-to-turn-to country. Inhospitable, impenetrable country, where even if you could force your way into the bush, you would lose your bearings within 10 metres.
Carlos is a tall, burly, powerful man with a scruffy beard. He wears a black military-style beret pulled low over his left eye. If you were casting for a movie, he certainly wouldn't be the good guy.
He stares me straight in the eye, a steely glare. "Strip," he orders. With his Spanish accent, it comes out as "Streeep" .
I look at him. Askance. Apart from the fact that burly men don't usually ask me to strip, it is cold and wet. His face splits into a big grin. He realises something has been lost in translation.
"No, no, no," he says. "I cast, you strip."
Strip is a technical expression in the sport of fly-fishing. Carlos Adrazola, a top-notch guide in this business (and, incidentally, a good guy), works the rod back and forth, whip-cracking style, letting out more line with each forward action, until he is satisfied that the shiny green lure will settle in the best spot.
He hands me the rod. "Now you streep," he smiles. With the tip held low, I pull in the line by hand with short, brisk movements. The tip dips suddenly and I feel a twitch under my fingers. I flick the rod high to ensure the trout is properly hooked and start the process of landing it, under Adrazola's guidance, letting the fish run, reeling, pulling, releasing, until he can net it.
Take a picture if you will but this fish is not destined for the frying pan. We practise catch-and-release. Even in these overcast conditions, the rainbow colours of my trout sparkle magnificently. I have succeeded in the world of "extreme fly-fishing" - so called because it takes place in extreme conditions and remote areas. In this case we travelled two days by ship before being dropped in by helicopter.
Adrazola and seven other specialist fishing guides work for Nomads of the Seas, a company that operates the 696-tonne, 28-passenger luxury vessel Atmosphere. It cruises the coastal waters and fjords of Patagonia from the port of Puerto Montt, about 1000 kilometres south of Chile's capital Santiago, with an emphasis on extreme fly-fishing and ecotourism, including whale watching and soft adventure excursions.
The guides and helicopter pilot are apparently sworn to secrecy about where you are fishing (there's a rumour it's written into their contracts). No charts are displayed and no maps issued to passengers. When we ask Adrazola where we are, he gives us a shrug and an odd smile. "I don't know," he says. "How you say? Tinkle, tinkle?"
"Ah," says one of my companions. "You mean a bell - this is Bell Lake!"
"Si, OK then, zees eez Bell Lake." Another shrug, another smile.
The fishing is pretty good and angling-savvy publications agree. A writer for the American Fly Fishing And Tying Journal described it as "superior fishing" and "the best day of brown trout fishing I've ever done in my life". In the Spanish publication Feder Pesca, a fisherman wrote, "We caught rainbow trout and brown trout in their natural state, aggressive, like few other times we've fished. We caught so many, and [so] well-sized, we couldn't believe it."
Nomads of the Seas is the brainchild of Andres Ergas, one of the richest men in Chile, his wealth based on banking and the automotive industry. A passionate angler and qualified aircraft and boat pilot, Ergas had explored and fished remote Patagonia for 20 years, promising himself that he would retire at 50 to enjoy it.
He quit early to launch his dream. At 45, he travels on most Atmosphere voyages and confesses with a grin, "It certainly beats banking."
Ergas had the ship specially designed for the purpose. At nearly 46 metres long and 10 metres beam, it is officially categorised as a small ship, although captain Jose Luis Bioti, with 30 years in the Chilean navy behind him, says he still thinks of it as a "boat".
Its 28 guests have 32 crew members to care for them. Also on board is a Bell 407 helicopter that holds six passengers, a 16-seat Hurricane 920 Zodiac - the type you see in movies for armed incursions by sea - six jet boats and six smaller, portable Zodiacs. About 50 boats and associated gear also have been flown into remote locations so they are immediately available when guests and guides arrive by helicopter from the ship.
Many of the staff have been hand-picked or headhunted and Ergas insists they continue formal training in various aspects of their work.
Our journey begins in Puerto Montt, which has a population of about 200,000. The handicraft market is worth a visit and anyone with time on their hands might explore Puerto Varas 20 kilometres away, with its large inland lake and alpine architecture, or the nearby national park with tumbling rapids and waterfalls, where two snow-capped volcanoes play hide-and-seek in the clouds.
We sail south from Puerto Montt on the inside of Chiloe Island, passing the township of Chaiten - one of the few communities of any size in the area and the gateway to the Pumalin wilderness park.
In the course of a normal voyage, the Atmosphere will travel 750 kilometres, although where she anchors depends on weather, fishing conditions and the level of water in rivers and lakes.
The ship travels overnight and almost everyone in our jet-lagged group of Australians wakes at 3am as the ship crosses the rougher water of the Gulf of Corcovado. With our safety drills fresh in mind, some have dreams of the Titanic. After one great thump I have a bizarre thought: "What happens if a whale-watching boat hits a whale?"
We anchor in a fjord, Tic Toc Bay, and at dawn can see we are surrounded by densely timbered steep slopes scarred by landslides. Between them, in the distance, gleam the snowy peaks of the Andes.
It is cold and windy as we board the big Zodiac, straddling shock-absorbing saddle-style seats for an excursion headed by Gian Paulo Sanino, a marine biologist specialising in cetaceans. Dolphins are high on our agenda but we see none. That's the thing about wildlife watching: what you see is what you get. And in the beginning that means three different types of cormorant, a couple of vultures, some varieties of native goose and a little thing locals call the diarrhoea bird because of its habit of pooping profusely upon take-off.
We spot a small group of stripy penguins waddling on an outcrop and find a sea lion colony. Many of the sea lions bask in the sun while others fight, snort and roar. Downwind, it smells atrocious. A calf lies dead on a rock ledge while vultures circle overhead. There is a sense of disappointment that we don't see them picking over the carcass.
The cold seeps in. The wind chill factor is high, especially when the Zodiac pounds over the water at 40 knots, crashing over waves, crunching into the troughs between swells. One of our group has nine layers on under the waterproof gear and still feels the cold.
You only have to look around to see the weather's extremes. The sun is shining in one area, cloud is over mountains elsewhere as rain squalls drift up a valley. The snow peak of an Andean volcano is visible in strong sunlight one minute and lost in cloud the next.
Yet there is a day of glorious sunshine when a group of us drift around in the Zodiac while others go fly-fishing, 20 minutes away by chopper, skimming a glacier en route. We find a stretch of rocky beach at Pita Palena - where wild fuchsia and rhubarb grow - and sun ourselves while a picnic lunch is prepared.
And what a picnic. A sunshade is erected over a table dressed in linen cloth and napkins, with china plates, silver cutlery, stemmed wine glasses and a salad, bread rolls and a selection of cheeses. A stir-fry of pasta, chicken and prawns is cooked on a barbecue wok.
These picnics reflect the cuisine and style of the ship. The lounge-bar area (drinks are included) is elegantly furnished with deep soft chairs of subtle oatmeal colours, with a small library of volumes on wildlife and Patagonia to hand. There are spa treatments, a sauna and massages available on board.
Many meals - styled by a chef who is president of the Chilean chapter of international chefs' association Les Toques Blanches - feature Patagonian produce, particularly seafood, and include krill, that tiny crustacean more regularly regarded as whale food. It tastes like a mix of shredded calamari and shrimp and is served with layers of tomato and avocado.
After-dinner entertainment might be a slide show of the day's adventures, a brief lecture or a demonstration of fly-making. One night Sanino drops a camera over the side and projects into the lounge images of shrimp and other marine life dancing an unchoreographed underwater ballet, while outside on the surface sea lions frolic under one of the ship's spotlights.
On the last day we linger on the beach over another glass of red, savouring the moment until the tide rises. Nearing the ship, a pod of dolphins, as if summoned somehow by Sanino, begins surfing in the wake of the Zodiac. To me, that was much better than stripping for Carlos.
Alistair Smith travelled courtesy of Abercrombie & Kent and LAN Airlines.
Fast facts
Getting there
Puerto Montt is 1000 kilometres south of Chile's capital, Santiago. LAN Airlines flies from Sydney to Santiago via Auckland and then from Santiago to Puerto Montt. Fares from Melbourne (via Sydney or Auckland) are from $1914 and $1814 from Sydney. Aerolineas Argentinas flies from Sydney to Santiago via Auckland and Buenos Aires from $1599 and then $567 from Santiago. Melbourne passengers will have to buy a separate ticket to Sydney. (Fares are return and do not include tax.)
Abercrombie & Kent arranges seven-night expeditions with Nomads of the Seas departing Puerto Montt each Saturday, from October to April, with prices for anglers from $16,460 and non-anglers from $11,200 including all meals, drinks, English-speaking guides, airport transfers and expeditions. Phone 1300 851 800 or see http://www.abercrombiekent.com.au.
Fishing there
From April to December, clothing should be suitable for wet and windy weather. Avoid blue clothes in January - they attract mosquitoes. Take a six-weight rod with a quality single-action reel. See www.nomadsoftheseas.com.
First published by TheAge.com.au on February 16 2008
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