Sea Kayak Course in Patagonia

The strike, it turned out, was the easy part. In our 20 day expedition sea kayak course through the wild fjords of southern Patagonia we faced incessant rain, wacky winds, big seas, dense forest thicket where pitching a tent was practically impossible, faulty communication systems which nearly lead to an evacuation by the Chilean Navy, entrapment on a ranch, and undercooked lentils. I personally was challenged by foot fungus, mysterious hand blisters, explosive diarrhea at an inopportune time, and sunglasses that jumped suicidally out of a hatch and dove to the bottom of the sea. All of these were but petty inconveniences when compared to some really horrible group dynamics. In the coming months there would be plenty of recrimination and finger-pointing. Apparently some folks missed the obvious point here, when you plan an international expedition, things often go wrong. The learning comes in how you deal with those things.

Despite the challenges and some suffering, we completed our objective of accessing some of the most remote tidewater glaciers on the planet, and exploring a part of the world few people get to see, especially in a way afforded by a sea kayak.

Near the end of the course our group of seven found ourselves trapped in a small fjord, due to a strong tidal ebb current courtesy of the new moon. We couldn't paddle against the current, and "eddy-hopping", a kayakers term for using the surrounding areas of slack water, was not an option. So, how about killing some time with an impromptu lesson in ferrying in current?

I slipped into the strongest part of the flow and maneuvered into the sweet angle that allows the current to slip past while you more or less hold position with a few adjustment strokes. This is called surfing, and river or sea, it is the paddler's nirvana. The water rushes past, but everything becomes briefly still and perfect.

The rain eased to a slight mist and the elusive sun began to poke through. A rainbow spanned the arc of the fjord behind me. Giant kelp blades glistened in the sun. Two southern sea lions leaped in unison behind me, enjoying the current as much as I was. Storm petrels arced and swirled above my head. My kayak carved effortlessly through the glassy flow.

Even when nothing seems to go right, the ocean always offers these perfect moments of beauty and light. For this reason I will probably be powerless to refuse the next time the office says, "How about a kayak course in Patagonia?"