Sam Is Away

Category: Chile

  • Chile: Touring Arica & the Altiplano in the Far North

    Chile: Touring Arica & the Altiplano in the Far North

    The mirador Cotacotani in the Chilean altiplano, located above 14,000′ elevation.

    Patagonia was the driving motivation behind the trip to Chile, and with good reason. But Chile is an incredibly varied country, and its unique shape means we had no shortage of options to extend our trip after leaving Patagonia: wine country, Santiago, the desert, the beach? Hop over the high Andes to Argentina or Bolivia?

    The Atacama desert started to seem the most appealing, and San Pedro de Atacama initially was the natural choice – a frequent stop for backpackers in South America, and one that came highly recommended by friends. But the double-edged sword, as with all popular destinations, is that touring around San Pedro can get crowded. So we kept looking, and settled on Chile’s far north, where the international tourism market is primarily overlanders going to/from Peru and the occasional cruise ship.

    It ended up unquestionably being the correct choice.

    The moon shines on the altiplano’s rust-red landscape in the early morning.

    After leaving Patagonia, we connected straight through Santiago to Arica, the capital of Chile’s northernmost region. Arica is closer to Peru and Bolivia than to the next Chilean city (Iquique), and is the driest city in the world. It lies at the delta of a river valley between steep oceanside cliffs, underneath an imposing rock called the Morro of Arica.

    After spending a night at the Hotel Plaza Colón, our tour guide picked us up for four days of travel through the altiplano, heading up from sea level to eventually make it above 15,000’ altitude. Iván, our tour guide (Arica Unlimited), had entirely customized the tour according to our interests. He is also a Chilean birding champion, which was very promising.

    Day 1

    The road south of Arica, where the Pacific crashes against the rocky desert coast.

    We spent the morning visiting sites around Arica. We went up to el Morro, where we could look out over the city and the Pacific Ocean. Iván also took us out of the city to both the south and north coasts, where we saw lots of birds and got a better sense of Arica. We walked through the main market of the city, where vendors sold produce, clothes, electronics, and more. 

    The final stop before heading up into the mountains was for lunch, which was freshly caught fish at a restaurant on the water, right near the city’s main port. After eating, we made our way into the Atacama desert, which spans virtually all of the northern Chilean lowlands. Following a quick stop to see 11,000-year-old (!) mummies at the San Miguel de Azapa archeological museum, we headed east on Highway 11, away from the city.

    The verdant Lluta River valley slices through the Atacama desert, which comprises most of northern Chile.

    For 100 kilometers, the highway follows the Lluta river valley as it slices through the desert, which makes for astonishing landscapes as you look down into a narrow green strip at the foot of steep, arid mountains of sand. The bulk of the traffic is Bolivian trucks, with a notable number of fuel tankers, as Arica and Antofagasta are the two primary ports for Bolivian shipping. Though the highway is a major international trucking route, there was minimal passenger traffic. This stretch through the desert also steadily climbs high into the Andes – I kept nodding off in the back seat from the hot sun combined with the falling oxygen levels. 

    In Zapahuira (11,000’), the Atacama turns into the altiplano, and the highway turns into a seemingly nonstop series of switchbacks. The landscape was now dotted with vegetation and high peaks, and the air was notably thinner.

    At this highway pullout just down the road from Zapahuira, the ecological change is apparent: in the foreground, the bone-dry Atacama; in the background, the snowy high peaks that characterize the altiplano.

    The final part of the first day’s drive was 30 kilometers from Zapahuira to Putre (11,500’). Unfortunately, a substantial stretch of that was under construction to widen the highway, which meant that it closed for several hours in the afternoon. Iván knew this and had planned the drive to coincide with the scheduled reopening – the sign indicated that traffic would start moving again at 5 p.m. – but we ended up waiting over two hours until 7:30 before continuing onto Putre. There was an astonishing lineup of trucks winding down the highway as everyone waited for the road to open.

    Eventually we got moving again, sat down for dinner in Putre, and checked into the Hotel Q’antati, which offered beautiful accommodations and real (not instant) coffee – far from the norm in the altiplano.

    The lineup of Bolivian semi trucks and fuel tankers waiting for the road to reopen.

    Day 2

    After a large breakfast, we returned to the van and continued climbing up Highway 11. The altitude was now steadily increasing again and we were all feeling the effects. I had previously been above 14,000’ on several occasions, including for multiple days at a time, but never without an acclimatization period – we traveled from sea level to over 15,000’ in less than 24 hours, and the experience was dizzying.

    Past Putre, the highway climbs steadily higher through the altiplano, and I kept falling asleep in the car due to the thin air.

    Despite the oxygen shortage, we marveled at the stunning views in the chilly morning air. A bit up the road, we officially entered Lauca National Park which, along with the adjacent Las Vicuñas Reserve and Sajama National Park in Bolivia, accounts for a huge protected area in this region of the Andes. The landscape is dominated by two snow-capped volcanoes collectively called Payachata (twins in Aymara), and the Nevado Sajama over the border in Bolivia, all more than 20,000’ high. The lowlands – relatively speaking – consist mostly of shrubland, bofedales (peat marshes), and small ponds.

    Our first stop was for a short walk at Las Cuevas, where there is evidence of human habitation from thousands of years ago, visible in how the rocks are arranged and remnants of fire. There were vizcachas everywhere basking in the sun, and the mice they rely on for food were scurrying around.

    The impossibly adorable vizcacha is found throughout the Andes. It feeds mostly on mice, and in turn is food for the region’s apex predators – puma and andean cats.

    Further on, we pulled over at the Mirador Cotacotani. A herd of vicuñas was nervously trying to cross the highway, and flamingos stood in a small lake with a snow-covered backdrop. This was a preview of what was to come: after crossing one of the highest points on a paved road in Chile (15,200’), we stopped at Chungará Lake to see one of the most jaw-dropping landscapes I’ve ever witnessed. Dozens of bird species waded in and flew over the still blue water, with the volcano Parinacota towering behind and the Nevado Sajama in the distance. 

    The altitude had become extremely strenuous, and even the short walk down to the lakeside was exhausting. It was birding heaven, yet hard to find the energy to identify all the species. After a short time marveling at the view, we piled back in the van to descend a bit and head to the town of Parinacota.

    The snow-capped volcán Parinacota is one of several 20,000′ peaks that feeds Chungará Lake (in the foreground). This area teems with wildlife, despite the harsh conditions.

    After admiring a 1600s-era church in Parinacota and grabbing lunch at a small roadside restaurant, we visited one of Iván’s friends in the altiplano, shepherd Don Alberto. The alpacas were off somewhere else grazing, but he did have an adorable four-day-old goat. The kid’s mother was not happy when we were holding him! 

    We went to see an odd geological feature called the Devil’s Crater, and finally made it to Doña Julia’s alpaca farm (13,500’), where we would spend the evening. She had hundreds of alpacas, kept for both meat and wool, but one alpaca named Copito was her pet and lived by the house. He came right up to us and got in our faces, sniffing around and rubbing up against us – kind of like my cat at home. I’d never pet an alpaca before, and it was incredible to feel my hand sink into his layers of thick fur.

    Doña Julia prepared an unbelievable two-course dinner: soup with potato, alpaca, and pumpkin; followed by a plate with quinoa, rice, alpaca, and chicken. The food was incredible, as were the stars outside. Staying on her farm was an unmatched experience, in the middle of the Altiplano with nobody else around for miles except the hundreds of alpacas outside.

    The view from Doña Julia’s farm as the alpaca herd returns from grazing in the evening.

    Day 3

    After breakfast with Doña Julia, we stopped at a small hot spring in a secret location – it’s on private property, and Iván had special permission to visit, so I don’t want to give anything away.

    After lunch and a visit to see the ruins of a chacu – an ancient method to corral animals as a hunting technique – we returned to the lower altitude of Putre and the hotel Q’antati. I went for a run (which wasn’t easy) and we went back to the same restaurant as the first night. It had been an exhausting couple of days with the extreme altitude, and we all welcomed a day with some time to rest.

    Putre, the largest town in the area, sits in a valley just north of the highway.

    Day 4

    We left Putre in the morning for the long drive back down to the coast. After another wait at the highway cut, we stopped for a birding walk in the small town of Socoroma and walked through the center of town. It was a beautiful, picturesque farming town with few facilities outside of the central church. 

    We stopped in the picturesque town of Socoroma on the return drive from Putre.

    We then began the descent down through the Andes, stopping at the edge of the Atacama in Zapahuira for lunch. Other than a few roadside stops where Iván pointed out some historical and contemporary landmarks, we rapidly made our way back down to the Pacific, where he dropped us off at the hotel. We spent an additional couple of days in the city, which I wrote about here.

    Chile’s northernmost region was astonishing. I leave every trip feeling fulfilled and with a renewed sense of wonder toward the Earth – but Arica & Parinacota floored me in a way I’ve rarely experienced. It is a little-traveled region that we were fortunate enough to see through the eyes of a guide who not only knew the terrain extraordinarily well, but personally knew and cared about the people we met. Looking up at the Milky Way from Doña Julia’s farm, I felt a million miles away from everyone I know and yet so close to the rest of the galaxy.

    A rhea strides across a bofedal (peatland) in the altiplano.

    The landscape was unique, particularly seeing the transformation from desert to altiplano, and one truly special part was that I didn’t quite know what to expect. We had traveled to Arica from southern Chile (read about that here), where the mountains were likewise magnificent, but I had seen photos of them before and didn’t experience the sense of awe that the Payachata and Chungará Lake inspired. Flamingos wading amid a backdrop of snow capped volcanoes was truly breathtaking. And it wasn’t just the altitude.

    A flamingo wades in Chungará Lake, with the 22,000′ Nevado Sajama – Bolivia’s highest peak – in the background.
  • Chile: Illness and Crowds on the Iconic Mirador las Torres

    Chile: Illness and Crowds on the Iconic Mirador las Torres

    The stone “towers” that give the national park its name.

    Whether it’s a single-day hike or as part of a week-long trek, visitors flock to Torres del Paine to ascend to the lakefront viewpoint at the base of the three towers. The endpoint of the Mirador las Torres hike is deservedly one of the most iconic natural views in the world. 

    Because of its popularity, this out-and-back route can get extremely crowded, particularly during the single-track sections near the top. But the payoff is worth sacrificing some solitude.

    I hiked to Mirador las Torres on a Thursday in January, right at the height of Chilean tourist season. Unfortunately, I had come down with a cold, so I barely slept the night before and couldn’t breathe through my nose. That wasn’t about to stop me – as with many people, this was a big part of why I was in Torres del Paine in the first place – but it made an already arduous hike an even more substantial endeavor. One element working in my favor was that the hike starts at only 500’ altitude and barely crosses 3,000’, which is a huge fitness advantage when hiking in Patagonia.

    The Route

    From the parking lot and visitor’s center, my GPS captured Mirador las Torres as 13.6 miles total, entirely out-and-back. (This changes somewhat when hiked as part of the O- or W-trek.) That distance differs slightly from information found elsewhere and from very approximate signage along the way. This is mainly because the official trailhead is not where most people begin the hike (at the visitors center), but rather a bit down the road by the very luxurious Hotel las Torres (over $2,000/night). All distances referenced here start at the welcome center.

    On the first uphill section, the towers periodically come into view.

    For 1.4 miles, the trail traverses the pampa at the foot of the Paine mountain range. This portion is entirely flat, alongside the road that leads to the Hotel las Torres. At 1.3, the trail crosses the Ascencio River for the first time – the trail follows this river through the Ascencio Valley, and crosses it twice more.

    At 1.4, the trail splits – bearing left leads to the Valle Francés, and for Mirador las Torres you turn right. At this point the initial ascent begins. The trail climbs from about 500’ to 1,500’ over the course of 1.6 miles before flattening out. For this portion, the trail is a mix of dirt, scree, and occasional tree roots, and the hiking trail forms a double helix with a separate horse trail, which receives the right-of-way at the numerous crossings.

    The view behind me became more astonishing every time I turned around, looking out over the yellow-green pampas and deep blue lakes that characterize the park – I also saw a condor during this portion. I did my best to resist the impulse of turning around too frequently, knowing that I would be returning back down the same route in the afternoon.

    The Refugio Chileno, located four miles into the hike, offers restrooms, snacks, beer, and camping.

    The trail flattens 2.9 miles into the hike before turning into a slight descent with open views of the valley below. At this point, the horse trail ends and hikers start sharing the narrow path with horses carrying tourists and burros carrying supplies up to the refuge. Shortly before mile 4, the trail makes a fairly sharp descent and crosses back over the Ascencio River, where the Refugio Chileno is located. Restrooms, food, and water are available here, as are bunks for thru-hikers.

    Past the refuge, the previously open trail turns into a thickly forested path at river level, slowly climbing along the rapids. The surface is soft with few tree roots and the ascent is more gradual than the other portions of the route, climbing 600’ over two miles. There isn’t much to see due to the trees, and there’s a few staircases. The trail crosses back over the river for the final time.

    The Río Ascencio, which the hike crosses three times en route to the summit.

    After a series of staircases, the trail flattens again and comes out into an open clearing (mile 5.9). Down to the right there is a ranger station, restrooms, and a helipad for emergencies. Straight ahead, the trail continues, and a sign indicates one kilometer to the summit. Do not believe it! There is still a full mile left, which is by far the most challenging and narrow part of the hike.

    The final mile climbs nearly 1,000’ through narrow staircases of rocks and roots, and over fields of scree and boulders. I started to really feel my sickness at this point, as the sharp incline made it hard to catch my breath and the wind above the treeline really picked up. The trail is single file for most of the final mile, and it felt incredibly crowded.

    After a final traverse hopping from rock to rock, I climbed the final boulder, and the view opened up, where still turquoise water meets the grey stone face of the Torres del Paine.

    The image may be instantly recognizable, but in person it is simply sublime.

    This legendary view is awe-inspiring in person. Unfortunately, the cold wind really began to make itself known at the summit, and even with all my layers on (and hat and gloves), I was too under the weather to appreciate the landscape as much as I’d have liked. It didn’t help that I was short of breath and couldn’t stomach much more than a granola bar. Oh well — at least I made it. After debating whether to take a longer rest or get out of the wind, I elected for the latter and headed back down. 

    Because I had started the hike early and hiked relatively quickly, there hadn’t been much two-way traffic until the final part of the ascent. That certainly was not the case anymore, with a steady stream of hikers on steep, loose single-track coming the opposite way. This required frequent stops to let uphill hikers through until a gap allowed me to continue downhill. This mile was the least pleasant part of the hike, but once back to the ranger station clearing, the incline mellows out and the trail widens.

    One of the flatter sections of the hike, found between miles 3 and 4.

    The trail follows the same route back down — through the forest, past the Refuge Chileno, briefly uphill, down alongside the river, and across the pampa to the visitors center. (A quick description for what felt very long.) I was famished by the end, but my stomach settled on the downhill and flats, so I was able to eat my sandwich once back at the trailhead, along with a $6 gatorade. The visitors center also sells beer, snacks, and souvenirs.

    The Mirador las Torres hike unquestionably deserves its legendary reputation. I wish I hadn’t been sick, but fortunately it wasn’t severe enough to fully take me out of comission. Overcrowding on this trail is a reality and worth considering in advance — start early to avoid the worst of it, and be prepared to be patient for the mile before and after the top. 

    If you’re looking for solitude, pretty much any other hike in Torres del Paine will lead you to it. But this one leads you to one of the most magnificent views in the world. To me, it was worth the tradeoff.

    The hike provides constant views of Torres del Paine’s expansive landscapes.
  • Chile: The Perfect Visit to Torres del Paine National Park

    Chile: The Perfect Visit to Torres del Paine National Park

    The legendary backdrop of Torres del Paine pierces through the clouds.

    The three iconic grey pillars, clear deep blue lakes, and endless wide open golden plains combine to form arguably the most famous protected natural area in the Western Hemisphere. 

    Part of what makes Torres del Paine magical is how it has resisted development. The roads are unpaved gravel and the closest airport is a 90-minute drive away. Formal lodging inside the park is extremely limited and huge portions of the park are inaccessible without guides and special permits. This ensures that even the busiest areas remain pristine – it also means that spending time in this stunning place entails various logistical challenges.

    Looking out on the pampas and lakes of the park, as seen from the Mirador Cóndor.

    We visited in January, the height of Chilean summer, and stayed in cabins in the Villa Serrano area by the park’s south entrance. We did not do either the W- or O-trek (the two iconic thru-hikes in Torres del Paine), opting for day hikes instead. Even with extensive research ahead of time, there was plenty I wish I’d known in advance – I’ll cover all of it here.

    Getting There

    The park is accessible by road only. This is typically managed by first flying into either regional capital Punta Arenas (there are several daily flights in from Santiago, and a handful of other Chilean destinations) or Puerto Natales (seasonal daily flights from Santiago). Overland car travel is also possible from the east via Argentina.

    The hotel AKA Patagonia, just outside of Puerto Natales, where we spent a night en route to the park.

    We flew via Punta Arenas, and spent a night there (Hotel Almasur, from $210 summer/$50 winter) and a night in Puerto Natales (AKA Patagonia, from $127 summer/$75 winter – one of the most wonderful places that I’ve ever stayed). 

    By renting a car, our trip became much more flexible, although getting to Torres del Paine by bus is very manageable from either city, especially on a shoestring.

    Highway 9 from Punta Arenas to Puerto Natales is a flat, lonely three-hour drive.

    The drive from Punta Arenas to Puerto Natales was about three hours on Highway 9, a lonely trip across wide open pampas scattered with sheep, guanacos, and rheas. There were a handful of tiny towns along the way, with bathrooms available with a snack purchase, but there are no gas stations for the 120 miles from the split with Highway 255 all the way to Puerto Natales. There is no gas or formal car service available beyond Puerto Natales, so it’s vital to plan accordingly – consider purchasing an extra gas can in case of emergency.

    The park has two main entrances: the Serrano entrance, in the south, and the Laguna Amarga entrance, in the east. (Two others, Lago Sarmiento and Laguna Azul, aren’t convenient to many trails or facilities, and are occasionally closed.) Choosing between the two entrances is pretty straightforward based on where your lodging or trailhead is. The legendary Mirador las Torres hike (read about it here), the O-trek, and the Las Torres hotel/camping zone are best accessed from Laguna Amarga; while Lago Grey, lodging at Rio Serrano, and Lago Pehoé lodging are best accessed from Serrano. If traveling by bus or as part of a single-day trip, the vast majority of tours will use the Laguna Amarga entrance. We entered the park at the Serrano entrance, right by where we were staying.

    Leaving Puerto Natales, I started to see the mountains getting closer and closer.

    Heading north from Puerto Natales on Highway 9, there is a left turn lane about 10 miles out of town for Highway Y-290, which goes to the Serrano entrance – stay straight on 9 for all other park access points. The drive from Puerto Natales to the park gate is 50 miles. The only facilities are about 16 miles into the drive, at the archaeological Mylodon Cave site (we didn’t go see the cave, but the bathrooms were very clean). 

    After the cave, Y-290 turns from paved to gravel for 8 miles. The next stretch is paved, and then continually switches back and forth between the two surfaces. Based on Chilean highway surface maps and previous reports of Y-290 as entirely gravel, I would assume that it is in the process of being entirely paved at some point soon.

    Between the changing surfaces, rolling hills, constant sharp turns, and frequent pulloffs to admire the views, this is not the quickest drive. If making great time, it is feasible in 90 minutes. We did not make great time due to a 30-minute roadwork delay, arriving at the Cabañas Lago Tyndall in Villa Serrano at 3 p.m.

    The road approaching Torres del Paine is stunning, as it cuts through a valley and alongside lakes.

    Traveling by bus is also a great option – Bus Sur is probably the best option outside of private transport arranged through a tour provider. They offer direct transport between Argentinian and Chilean locations, including several locations in Torres del Paine from September to April. Tickets from Punta Arenas (either the city bus terminal or the airport) can be under $20 to the park (About 5 hours with a transfer in Puerto Natales). The 12-hour ride between Punta Arenas and Ushuaia is about $60.

    Our Stay

    The cheapest way to stay in Torres del Paine is to camp, either at an established site or as part of a thru-hike. Other than that, lodging options start to get pricey – if not already sold out. Hotel rooms range from a few hundreds to thousands of dollars.

    The best compromise – which we opted for – is the Cabañas Lago Tyndall, which start at $210 for a four-person cabin. They are located in the Villa Serrano area, located just outside the south entrance to the park. This area also houses a car/motorcycle camping zone and four hotels of various luxury levels. (That was my observation in January 2025; based on other information online, Villa Serrano seems to be expanding, with some websites listing only two hotels.) 

    The cabins have full (but small) kitchens, wifi, and either one or two bathrooms depending on the cabin. There are also at least two restaurants in Villa Serrano: Don Pascual at the Pampa Lodge and Qawaskar at the Hotel Río Serrano. We ate at Don Pascual on our last night in the park – prices weren’t cheap, but the portions were enormous, so it felt reasonable given the remote location.

    Within the Park

    If traveling by private vehicle, it’s possible to buy a park entry pass on arrival, but the online platform is very straightforward (For foreigners: $55 for 3 days or less; $75 for longer stays). When entering the park, you pull over at the welcome center to have your pass scanned; when we entered very early in the morning one day, the welcome center was still closed so we could drive straight in.

    The approach toward the towers, just through the Río Serrano park entrance.

    Car access in Torres del Paine consists entirely of unpaved, narrow roads over rugged terrain. As a result, traffic moves fairly slowly within the park; I would plan for an average driving speed between 25-30 mph, in addition to any road work stops or breaks to admire wildlife and scenery.

    This map is the best resource for navigating the park. Note that several trails require guided access – typically due to elevated risk of encountering pumas – while others are unidirectional. Closing times are enforced and subject to change, which obliged us to change our route the first day from the Ferrier Lookout to Lago Grey. It wasn’t the end of the world, since we were able to watch icebergs calve as a result, but it’s better to err on the earlier side in case of unforeseen delays. If driving, access to the Mirador las Torres hike is additionally constrained by the small parking lot.

    Lago Grey in Torres del Paine, with the otherworldly backdrop of Glaciar Grey.

    Other Preparations

    • Formal lodging in Torres del Paine is extremely limited, extremely expensive, and sells out up to a year in advance for the summer season. Campsites also sell out well in advance. It is vital to make reservations well ahead of time if not camping as part of a trek, although the shoulder season offers more flexibility.
    • Before leaving Puerto Natales, make sure you’re stocked up on provisions – while there are a handful of restaurants in the park affiliated with the more luxurious hotels, they are fairly expensive, and there are no grocery stores. 
    • We had a slow leak in one of our pickup’s tires, which was fortunately slow enough to not require a patch or spare. However, it could have been much worse given the rugged roads and sparse cell service. If getting to the park by car or motorcycle, it’s imperative to be prepared to fix things yourself (or speak enough Spanish to get help).
    • Even in the height of summer, weather is highly unpredictable in southern Chile. I recommend budgeting an extra day for any hiking or sightseeing you want to do, in order to work around rain and fog. And pack clothes accordingly – in January, it got into the 30s at night, and the wind is severe.

    Torres del Paine is legendary for a reason, and remains the crown jewel of southern Chile’s remarkable network of protected areas. While regional tourism infrastructure is robust, it is still an isolated part of the world, and being well-prepared will make a huge difference – particularly during the height of summer. Gazing up at the snow covered mountains, the last thing you’d want on your mind is a return to Puerto Natales to restock food or supplies.

    A rolling landscape of Torres del Paine on a cloudy, rainy day.

  • Chile: Sailing the Beagle Channel, and the world’s southernmost “city”

    Chile: Sailing the Beagle Channel, and the world’s southernmost “city”

    An isolated dock at Yendegaia Bay in the Beagle Channel, only accessible by water.

    The morning after returning from Torres del Paine, we headed to the airport for the hopper flight to Puerto Williams, the Chilean gateway to Tierra del Fuego and the world’s southernmost city. (This is subject to debate, as the title was traditionally bestowed on Ushuaia, Argentina, population 80,000; rather than Puerto Williams, population 3,000.) 

    We weren’t spending much time in Puerto Williams, an empty port city which largely felt like a ghost town. There are hardly any services there – residents even have to go to Punta Arenas to give birth. 

    But it was the best way to get to our next destination: a commuter ferry through the Beagle Channel back to Punta Arenas.

    The central plaza in the town of Puerto Williams.

    Getting There

    Puerto Williams is only accessible by boat and plane. The tiny airport is serviced by DAP Airlines once daily except on Sunday; one-way tickets are CLP 100,000-160,000 (USD $107-170). Tickets can supposedly be booked directly through the DAP website a couple months in advance, but I had issues with the online booking and had to do some back-and-forth emailing to reserve tickets – Spanish helped a lot. The flights often sell out since the planes are so small.

    If traveling by boat, there are several options that dock at Puerto Williams. The majority of these are wildlife-viewing cruises or Antarctic sailing expeditions, some of which start in Puerto Williams and others which dock there on the way from Punta Arenas or Ushuaia. These typically cost thousands of dollars (as is standard for any Antarctic tourism) and would probably be an unforgettable experience. There are also ferry services between Puerto Williams and Ushuaia.

    The port of Puerto Williams, where we boarded the ferry.

    We opted for a more basic accommodation, which was the commuter Ferry Yaghan, offered by TABSA. As of 2025 the twice-weekly, 28-hour ferry ride between Puerto Williams and Punta Arenas starts at CLP 149,480 (~$160) for foreigners or just CLP 7,680 (~$8) for Chileans. Adults over 60 and children under 10 are half price. The ticket includes food, although the offerings are somewhat spartan – more on that later. As with the flight, I arranged ferry tickets by email since the online portal was a bit challenging.

    The Flight

    A north-facing glacier near Mt. Darwin, seen from the flight to Puerto Williams.

    DAP Airlines operates only a handful of scheduled routes, primarily island-hopping between remote Patagonian locations. They also operate charters and Antarctic tourism (2025-26 rate: USD $6,660 for a full day).

    The airplane was a 16-passenger propeller plane – loud, bumpy, cramped. Flight time is about 45 minutes, with astonishing window views of the Straits of Magellan surrounded by mountains and rugged island terrain.

    The DAP Twin Otter plane on the Puerto Williams tarmac. It was a stunning – albeit slightly cramped – flight.

    We landed at the airport, which is on a small peninsula just outside town. We walked from there to the ferry terminal, which was about 2.5 miles along the side of a road; it didn’t look like there were taxis at the airport but I’m sure it would be easy enough to arrange car transport if needed. 

    Our flight had been delayed – DAP needed the plane for an emergency medical airlift – so we had to rush a bit. We passed a couple small plazas at the convergence of residential streets, and I was struck by the number of murals plastered around the town, but we didn’t have time for much else. At 3 p.m., we boarded the Ferry Kawéskar for our 4 p.m. departure to Punta Arenas.

    The Ferry Kawéskar, our home for 28 hours.

    Ferry Accomodations

    The 30-hour ferry from Puerto Williams to Punta Arenas is primarily a commuter route, as reflected in the ticket prices. For tourists, the point of traveling on this boat is to see some of the Americas’ most remote and pristine landscapes for a reasonable cost, not to have a luxury sea voyage by any means. 

    The accommodations were adequate (although I wish I’d brought more sandwiches/snacks with me) and it’s worth detailing that side of the experience, but I’ll never forget seeing glaciers cascading down into the Beagle Channel.

    Chilean passengers have priority for the limited lie-flat seating on the boat; the rest of the seating is wide Amtrak-style chairs with plenty of legroom – roomy enough compared to an airplane, but not the most comfortable for sleeping. The boat’s interior area has passenger seating to both sides, while the central area houses a cafeteria-style dining setup where the crew serves meals.

    The view from my seat on the ferry. The brown chairs are the dining area, and the metal bar to the left is where the crew served meals.

    There are outdoor decks on both bow and stern of the lower level, as well as an upper deck which provides the best sightseeing opportunities. Bathroom facilities are basic and good enough, although a couple of the women’s restroom stalls were reportedly out of commission by noon on the second travel day. 

    Meals are included, and the crew served four – dinner the first night, and all three meals the second day. The food was forgettable, at best: a main dish such as pasta with meat sauce, a thin vegetable soup, and a side of pudding or ice cream. There was tea and instant coffee available for free, as well as additional coffee drinks and snacks for purchase outside of meal times. There was ambiguously sourced water available, although I opted for the boiling water and let it cool – I figured better safe than sorry, as it would have been nightmarish to deal with any stomach issues on the ferry. I recommend being more prepared than we were and bringing sandwiches and energy bars to sustain yourself (especially for anyone with dietary restrictions).

    Our dinner meal the first night: pasta with chicken, a thin vegetable soup, white bread, and an ambiguous pudding.
    The snack menu on the ferry (CLP exchange rate to USD is around 950:1).

    There was WiFi, but it only worked for about an hour total of the trip, and incredibly slowly when it did. In our experience, cell service was nonexistent for virtually the entire time until the final approach to Punta Arenas. There was an additional seating area behind the dining section, with movies showing throughout the daytime hours. Some passengers had come prepared with dominos or cards.

    As a first-time passenger, I spent every minute I could fighting rain and wind on the upper deck, watching albatrosses plummet into frigid waters fed by blue-white glaciers tucked between rugged mountain peaks.

    A black-browed albatross rides the wind while hunting for fish.

    The Journey

    We travelled in early January, when the sun is up at 5 a.m. and doesn’t set until 10 p.m., and the sky never gets fully dark. As is characteristic of Chile’s far south, the sky was cloudy for nearly the entire trip, with intermittent rain and fierce winds.

    The ferry set sail right on time, heading west through the Beagle Channel and occasionally crossing the maritime border with Argentina. We made a single brief stop, around 8 p.m. in Yendegaia Bay, the gateway to the new and highly inaccessible Yendegaia National Park (private landowners ceded the land to the government in 2013; an extension of highway Y-85 south from Porvenir is currently under construction, which will allow for overland access).

    The one stop of the journey, at Yendegaia National Park.

    The truly jaw-dropping landscapes started shortly after the Yendegaia stop, when the ferry took the right fork to bypass Isla Gordon to the north. The islands surrounding this part of the Beagle Channel are inaccessible and uninhabited. The sky slowly darkened as we sailed through the aptly-named Glacier Avenue, home to a series of glaciers named after various European countries. 

    I stood on the upper deck, marveling at the jagged ice fields to starboard. To port was Isla Gordon, glacier-free but equally desolate, with small waterfalls fed by patches of snow on the upper reaches of the cliffs. A pair of snow-white kelp geese nested at the foot of the island, while huge petrels and albatrosses circled the Ferry Kawéskar and rode on the wind. We saw a whale tail briefly crest above the water, far in the distance.

    Glaciar Italiano along “Glacier Avenue,” shortly after sunset.

    A little past 11 p.m., it was getting hard to see so I headed back below deck to sleep a bit. When I woke up the next morning, we were nearing the open Pacific Ocean, offering endless views out across the water. Time seemed to pause the entire second day on the boat, as we cycled between eating meals, playing cards, and staring out across the expanse of islands ringing the Straits of Magellan. It was no longer the dramatic cliffs and glaciers, but the landscape continued to be mostly free of humans. 

    We made the final approach into Punta Arenas around 10 p.m., about two hours ahead of schedule, right as the sun was setting behind the mountains that ring the city. We disembarked and caught a taxi from the port to our AirBNB.

    The first view of civilization, a bit south of Punta Arenas.

    There was something unsettling about spending so much time away from any signs of human life. The landscapes were astonishing, yet eerie and silent. Standing on the ferry’s upper deck as it rained sideways, heading out of the Beagle Channel into the open Pacific – it was a singular feeling of near-total isolation. 

    Would I take the ferry again? Maybe, although it was a lot of work to get there and a long time to spend in a chair. But maybe that’s the point. The southernmost part of the continent is characterized by its remoteness, very much living up to the billing of the “end of the world.” I would love to return by a different route, maybe overland to Ushuaia or via the new road to Yendegaia. Or, ideally, en route further south to Antarctica.

    A southern giant-petrel along the ferry route.
  • Chile: Relaxing in the world’s driest city

    Chile: Relaxing in the world’s driest city

    Facing north from El Morro de Arica, with the city spread out below in the morning haze.

    I knew very little about Arica before we landed there. We had primarily chosen the destination as a jumping-off point for our time in the altiplano, but reserved a couple days of the trip to relax in the city. It was also the end of my time in Chile before heading home.

    It turned out to be the perfect destination to wrap up an unbelievable trip. Arica is a beach town with an enormous shipping industry, and the bulk of tourists are domestic, Bolivian, or Peruvian. Unlike in Patagonia, almost nobody addressed me in English. I was mostly looking to enjoy a cold beverage in the sun, explore the city a bit, and eat well; I was able to accomplish all of those not-too-lofty goals. Taking a dip in the Pacific before heading back to the freezing New York winter wasn’t too bad either.

    The Port of Arica juts out into the Pacific Ocean. It is a major shipping hub, and one of Bolivia’s two primary ports.

    Getting There

    There are a handful of daily flights between Santiago and Arica, with one-way, no-frills fares available under $50. (The only other regular destination is La Serena, Chile.) There are various long-haul bus routes available to destinations along the Chilean coast; Tacna, Peru; and major cities in Bolivia. Additionally, there is a twice-daily train between Arica and Tacna; tickets have to be purchased exactly one day in advance. 

    If flying in from Santiago (like we did), sit on the right side of the plane for jaw-dropping views of coastal cliffs and Highway 5 slicing through the Atacama. A taxi from the airport into the city was CLP 18,000 (USD ~$19), which seemed to be a flat fare. Taxis to the Peruvian border are also an option – it was unclear if they will take you beyond the border, or if crossing on foot and getting a taxi on the other side is required.

    A canyon cuts through the cliffs of Chile’s desert coast just south of Arica.

    Our Stay

    We stayed at the Hotel Apacheta, a gorgeous beachfront hotel with an unusual ocean view: thousands and thousands of seagulls lounging on rocks jutting out into the Pacific. The hotel had wonderful facilities and a delicious breakfast included with our stay., The one caveat was that a lack of air conditioning and the floor-to-ceiling, west-facing window in our room made it uncomfortably hot in the afternoon and evening.

    The city center is small, and was very easy to explore on foot. It never rains in Arica (really, never: less than 1mm per year) and the weather is around 80 degrees and sunny all summer long. Unsurprisingly, life in the city is all about the beach: the sand is fairly dark but clean, and the water warms up enough in the afternoon to make it comfortable.

    Waves crash on Arica’s south coast, where the oceanfront road ends.

    Saturday afternoon, as we walked into town, the two beach areas south of downtown were packed with partiers, families, and food/juice vendors. We stopped at a restaurant called Ruky’s for a couple pisco sours, which we sipped while basking in the sun and looking out across the ocean – the perfect conclusion to a trip packed with activity. 

    Food in Arica was considerably different from what was available in either the far south or in the altiplano. Arica’s unique geography, hundreds of miles of desert away from any other Chilean city, means that its culinary scene is a blend of Chilean, Peruvian, and Bolivian cuisines. Peruvian staples were widely available, and the arroz con mariscos that I enjoyed at La Limeña may have been my second-best meal in Chile (the winner was undoubtedly the homemade dinner at Doña Julia’s in the altiplano). We shared ceviche both evenings, and had salteñas at Caupolicán for lunch on Sunday – not the same texture as those in Cochabamba, but with similar fillings and flavors.

    El Laucho beach in Arica, halfway between our hotel and downtown. I swam here in the morning, but the beach was packed by mid-afternoon on Sunday.

    On the morning of our final full day in Chile, I ran to the top of El Morro – the enormous rock that dominates the cityscape – to once again admire the view out over Arica, the Atacama, and the Pacific. The desert and the ocean both sparkled in the morning sunlight. On the way back to the hotel, I stopped to swim at El Laucho beach, where I joined several other morning swimmers, volleyball players, and runners. 

    The combination of mountains, desert, ocean, and city in Chile’s far north was so much more than I could have asked for. Spending a couple days drinking pisco sours by the beach was the perfect way to wrap it up – and to start planning when we would come back.

    Looking down on the Hotel Apacheta, where we spent two nights in Arica. The hotel is just south of town, but within walking distance of beaches and the city center.