patagonia expedition

A 32 day, 850+ km expedition through Chilean Patagonia – Ice, Wind, Rain and a little sunshine.

For 32 days we paddled through one of the most remote and unforgiving coastlines on the planet — the Patagonian fjords. From Pío XI, the largest glacier in the Southern Hemisphere outside Antarctica, we traced a route south through storms, ice, wildlife, and complete isolation. Every day demanded something different: patience, grit, problem‑solving, or simply the ability to keep moving when everything was wet and cold. This is the day‑by‑day story of that journey — the crossings, the portages, the weather, the highs, the lows, and the moments that made it all worth it.

How the expedition started.

I was on my lunch break at my plumbing job when I got a call from Mat. After a quick catch up he dropped the question out of nowhere, ” we have a 40-day expedition planned in Patagonia, do you want to join?” I quickly said yes. He explained a little bit more about the plan, then I decided I should probably ring my girlfriend to make sure she would be okay with me disappearing into the middle of nowhere in a different country for 40 days. To my delight she immediately said yes.

Planning stages

Luckily for me, Mat and Andy (the other two on the trip) were already based over in Puerto Natales which was our end point for the expedition. They were therefore running the permit and logistics side of things. I was tasked with sorting food, my fortē. The most important item for a trip like this is dehydrated meals. Luckily in New Zealand, we have plenty of options. Radix was a company I had used many times before and found them to be the best tasting and most nutrient dense of the options. Planning for 40 days’ worth of meals meant ordering 80 dehydrated meals from them; they were kind enough to throw in some extras free of charge as well as some breakfasts. Two weeks on I receive a big box. I open it and my first thought is how I’m going to fit all of this in my bag!
Particularly as my girlfriend and were to do a personal holiday up the northern end of Chile before my expedition in Patagonia, alongside all of my personal kayaking kit for the trip. But with the right bag and using some of my girlfriend’s space in her bag I got it all in.

Getting to Puerto Natales (Patagonia)

After I finished with the northern end of Chile, I flew out of Santiago Airport straight to Puerto Natales, instantly feeling the temperature difference. I went from a lovely 20 degrees Celsius to barely in the positives. After a small wait the crew picked me up and we drove into town. We had 3 days before our boat left for our trip, so it was straight into getting everything ready. Getting last minute supplies, doing our major food shop and a lovely visit to the sweets shop where we spent about $500 nzd+ on chocolate bars. Once our shopping was complete, everything charged, any repairs done. We did a dry fit of our kayaks just to make sure everything fit and to find our ideal set up. That evening was our boat ride north.

The boat ride.

We waited by the dock to board the Crux Australis, a boat that travels up and down the fjords to different towns, some only accessible by boat. They loaded the cars and heavy items on first then called us to load our gear on. carrying our 80kg kayaks down to the boat was a task of its own, heavy enough with 2 of us carrying each kayak. All loaded up we made our way into the sitting area, the boat was going to leave in the very early hours of the next morning, so we had “dinner” (plain bread with one slice of luncheon and one highly processed slice of cheese). We then went to sleep. I didn’t notice the boat taking off and slept right through. The next morning, we were passing through some amazing areas and seeing some of the areas we would be paddling through. We had another dinner which in my eyes was just as average as the previous nights – boiled steak and mash, if you go on this boat, I HIGHLY recommend bringing your own food. The next morning was an amazing wake up. I woke up, looked out of my window and all I saw was icebergs. This was the first time i had seen proper icebergs floating around me. Not too long after we arrived at Puerto Eden – our starting point.

Puerto Eden

Puerto Eden is small fishing village only accessible by boat, with a population of 176 people, once we arrived the boat crew let us off with our kayaks and we were told to wait up by the big shelter for the navy. For this trip navy permission is a big hurdle as they control the waterways in the area and are responsible for anybody using the waters. This meant we needed a full navy inspection of our gear and experience. This experience was made even harder by the fact that the navy officers spoke 0 English, while me and Andy had basically no Spanish. Mat had very basic Spanish which seemed to be enough to get by. After the inspection we were free to head off on our expedition. With a full boat ramp of locals and tourists from the boat taking photos we got our kayaks ready and set off.

Day 1 – Day 10

Day 1 — Puerto Eden to First Camp (10 km)

We set off from Puerto Eden in perfect conditions. It was already mid‑afternoon, so we only paddled for about two hours, followed most of the way by small fur seals. We found our first camp on a beautiful little island about 10 km from town.

This was also where we found our first problem: Mat’s kayak had a small leak. We tried to find it with no luck, had dinner, and went to bed.

At about 3 a.m., Mat woke us saying it was light outside. Half asleep, I started packing my sleeping bag and tent before Andy yelled, “Mat, it’s 3:30 in the morning!” We set everything back up and slept until 7:30.

Day 2 — First Big Crossing (38 km)

We packed up again, had breakfast, and were on the water by 9 a.m. The first three hours were a big crossing to get onto the correct side of the fjord. We stopped for lunch on a small beach and set up our first handline.

Another four hours of paddling took us past massive cliffs and waterfalls before we found camp. First big day done — roughly 38 km. Bodies were feeling it.

Day 3 — Into the Ice (45 km)

We woke to an absolute stunner: warm, glassy water. We set off at 8:30 and rounded a big corner into a huge canal with thin low fog — properly mystical.

Soon we reached Icy Canal and were greeted by thousands of small icebergs. After lunch we pushed on another 20 km, including a 10 km crossing. As we paddled, we slowly got more and more views of Pío XI (Pio On‑say), the largest glacier in South America — 64 km long, a 6 km face, and 1,300 square km of ice.

Rounding the final corner and seeing the full scale of it was unreal. We camped directly across from the glacier on a sandy beach — a welcome sight after a 45 km day. All night we listened to the deep booms of the glacier calving.

Day 4 — Base Camp at Pío XI

We slept in and decided to have a base‑camp day to explore the glacier. With empty kayaks we paddled to a safe landing spot, got the cameras and drones out, and rounded a corner into one of the most epic sights I’ve ever seen: mountains of ice with insanely deep blues at the base.

We shot footage, soaked it in, and headed back to camp. Later we finally found the tiny crack in Mat’s kayak and spent time welding it.

Day 5 — Dolphins, Cliffs, and Icy Fjord (33 km)

We woke to a beach full of icebergs right on the tide line — some about 3 m long. Getting the kayaks in the water meant sitting in them on the ice and pushing off.

Rounding the corner, we were greeted by about 30 small dolphins that followed us most of the way. We passed seal colonies, trees growing upside‑down off overhung cliffs, and huge sections of thick moss.

At the entrance to Icy Fjord — well named, full of ice — we found a small campsite and settled in after 33 km.

Day 6 — Into the Maze (27 km)

We made our way into Icy Fjord. There was just enough of a clear path to get in, but it was more ice than water. After weaving through the maze for hours, we realised we weren’t getting much further safely, so we retreated to our previous camp. 27 km of ice‑bashing is a tough toll on already sore bodies.

Day 7 — Ice Drift and No Campsites (27 km)

Overnight, a significant amount of ice drifted into our camp, so the first two hours were more ice‑bashing just to get out.

We followed the fjord toward our planned campsite — only to find there wasn’t a single spot to pitch a tent. We kept moving. Another 5 km down we found another potential site, but it was also unusable.

Eventually I spotted a tiny island that would just fit both tents. It turned out to be a great little camp. Much‑needed rest after 27 km.

Day 8 — First Breath of Wind (32 km)

We finally saw our first bit of wind — only 10 knots, which shows how lucky we’d been. This day was mostly about covering miles toward Penguin Fjord. Once again our planned campsite was unusable.

We made it into the entrance of Penguin Fjord and found a good camp after 32 km.

Day 9 — Into Penguin Fjord (15 km + rest afternoon)

We paddled about 15 km into Penguin Fjord. Like Icy Fjord, it was more ice than water — but the icebergs were next level in size. Luckily there was a clear path along one side.

We camped opposite our lunch spot and took a rest afternoon. To our surprise, an otter played in the water right in front of camp — our first of the trip.

Day 10 — Patagonia Weather Arrives (31 km)

We paddled another 7 km deeper into the fjord before deciding we weren’t getting any further. We turned around and aimed to get back out to the main fjord.

We had to cross from the north side to the south side just as the weather turned. We crossed in 20–25 knot winds, 0.5–1 m waves, and solid rain — our first proper Patagonia weather, and honestly, what I came for.

We made it out to the main fjord and paddled another 3 km south to a campsite. The sandflies were horrendous. 31 km for the day.

Day 11 – Day 20

Day 11 — Searching for a Way Through

We woke waiting for a forecast from our support person back in Puerto Natales through the InReach. The weather looked good enough to move, so we geared up and pushed down the next unnamed fjord — the one that held our portage route.

We aimed for a cluster of islands in the middle, grabbed a quick lunch on the southern one, then committed to the centre of the fjord. A 15‑knot tailwind and the tide lined up perfectly, pushing us through the 10km of open water toward the portage.

Once we landed, we dumped all our gear and went bush‑bashing to find a route for the 5‑metre kayaks. The first option was a nightmare — steep, tangled, and instantly rejected. Luckily Mat sent the drone up and found a better line in the next valley. We camped with the kayaks and planned to paddle around the corner in the morning.

Day 12 — The Portage

We paddled to the true portage spot, unloaded everything, and stuffed our gear into the big duffels. I scouted a route ten times better than the previous day — one short rope‑pull section, then open ground to the first lake.

First job: haul all the duffels and loose drybags up. Second job: the kayaks.

One by one we teamed up, dragging them up the hill with a rope system we improvised. We clipped in and dragged them across the open ground to the water. After a short paddle across the 400m lake, we hit a steep but clear descent to the next one. Ropes out, kayaks belayed down.

The second lake was bigger — a 7km paddle to the next section. The topo map said a 200m open field walk to the final lake. Reality delivered a 1km knee‑deep swamp. All three of us clipped into towlines, dragging loaded kayaks through mud that occasionally swallowed one of us to the waist.

Eventually we reached the last lake and searched for the river that would take us back to the fjord. Instead, we found a dry riverbed. So, we carried the kayaks again until we finally hit water. Around the corner the real river appeared — an easy grade 2 rapid. Helmets on, a quick send, and suddenly we were back in salt water.

Camp that night was boggy, but after a day like that, anything flat was luxury.

Day 13 — The Spicy Crossing

We woke to proper wind — 20–30 knots at our backs. The morning flew by. After lunch we faced a 9km crossing in 30 knots and a 1m swell. Fast, spicy, and full‑on.

Once across, Mat decided it was the perfect moment to get the big camera out. He paddled to shore, half‑stood up, and a big swell knocked him straight out of his kayak, flipping it in the process. Somehow he sorted it, stayed uninjured, and still got some unreal footage.

Camp that night was on a noticeable lean, but well within Patagonian standards.

Day 14 — The Tarp Explosion

Overnight the tide crept right up to our tents, almost touching the fly pegs. As we huddled under the tarp eating breakfast, a 50‑knot gust ripped the tarp clean in half.

Great start.

The wind wasn’t too bad on the water, so we launched into heavy rain and zero visibility. The only highlight was human contact — a salmon farm transfer boat pulled up, offered help, supplies, and their radio channel if we ever needed an extraction.

We reached camp soaked through.

Day 15 — The Drying morning

Worst sleep of the trip. My sleeping bag was saturated, my mat was wet, and the cold cut straight through everything. My Arc’teryx puffer genuinely saved me.

We called a drying day. By 2pm the weather was turning again, so we pushed off for a 17km paddle, chased the whole way by the incoming system.

One kilometre from camp Mat yelled “ORCA!” A big fin and a spout came straight toward us — turned out to be a sei whale. Still unreal to see that close.

Day 16 — The Dreary Grind

Another night, another wet sleeping bag. Another morning of wind and rain. No views, no breaks — just a head‑down 27km grind with the occasional glimpse of glaciers hanging off the mountains.

Day 17 — Into the Narrows

Still damp, still windy. The weather eased as we launched, then swung into a direct headwind. Smoky gusts blasted through, forcing us to brace until they passed. We paddled through 40‑knot headwinds until the wind began shifting every five minutes, like we were inside a giant bowl.

After lunch the weather calmed. As we approached “the narrows,” the ice increased. The fjord — normally 3–4km wide — funneled into a 100–200m channel packed with house‑sized icebergs smashing into each other.

We had to paddle up it.

Nerves were high, but we made it through, then fought the strong flow for another 2km. After the next corner the world opened up — towering mountains, massive glaciers pouring down every valley, the Patagonian Ice Cap glowing above everything.

We found an incredible campsite with views in every direction. Halfway point. Three bottles of Austral beer to celebrate. Clear skies and perfect trees for drying gear — the best gift Patagonia could give.

Day 18 — Basecamp Day

First decent sleep in four days. A slow morning, empty boats, and a relaxed start. We paddled up Seno Andrew toward the main glacier, stopping at a cluster of islands about 200m from the face — a safe distance to sit, eat lunch, and take photos and drone shots.

A rare, calm, perfect day.

Day 19 — Back Through the Ice

Overnight the tide and wind pushed huge icebergs onto our takeoff beach. We threaded a route through and reluctantly left the most spectacular place we’d ever been.

The narrows were against us again — more dodging, more ferry gliding, more ice chaos. After lunch we explored another branch of the fjord, hoping to reach more glaciers, but the ice was too thick. We turned back and found a better camp around the corner after rejecting the first option.

Day 20 — Waiting for the Ice to Move

A half rest day. The wind and tide were pushing the ice to the far side of the fjord, so we waited until 2pm to launch. Still icy, but manageable.

The first 10km were slow, then the fjord opened up. Mat let me try his Greenland paddle — long, narrow, and surprisingly easy on the body. I loved it.

We planned to reach our old camp, but 10km later we found a perfect rocky outcrop with space for all the tents. One of the best camps of the trip.

Day-21 to 30

Day 21 — Frozen Morning, Final Glacier

We woke to the coldest morning of the trip — thick fog, frost on the tents, and a thin layer of ice forming across the fjord. For reasons known only to him, Mat decided this was the perfect moment for a swim. Surrounded by icebergs, in he went. No chance I was joining.

Once he’d warmed up, we got on the water after lunch. For the first hour we paddled through 2–3mm ice, breaking it with our bows and paddles. We detoured into the southern arm of Pío Fjord to visit our final glacier of the expedition. The extra 5km was worth it — a massive, blue, creaking wall of ice guarded by drifting bergs. We got close enough to appreciate its full scale before heading back to our first Pío Fjord camp for the night. A solid 30km day despite the late start.

Day 22 — Chasing Weather and Chasing Water

The forecast looked grim, but the morning was calm, so we launched at 9am. The first half of the day was straightforward mileage. After lunch we could see the weather building behind us.

We reached our planned campsite only to discover there was no water source anywhere nearby. We split up to search, eventually finding a small stream — but by the time we returned, we realised the campsite itself was useless.

Back into the kayaks we went, now in 30‑knot winds and growing swell. After nearly an hour of searching in rough conditions, we finally found a workable spot. The rain stopped as we arrived, so I pulled out the sleeping bag to dry it yet again.

Day 23 — Rest Day, Earthquake News

I woke at 8:30 and wandered down to the tarp. Mat had decided he needed a rest day — the sandfly bites on his hands had been blistering, bursting, and were now looking close to infected.

Through the InReach we received news of a 7.4 earthquake south of Ushuaia. We were advised to camp as high as possible in case of a tsunami. Luckily our site was already elevated, but we moved the kayaks higher and tied them down.

Rain set in, so the rest of the day was spent resting in the tents.

Day 24 — White Sand and Strange Encounters

A standard morning: wake, pack, paddle. A 20‑knot tailwind pushed us quickly down the channel. After about 28km we spotted a boat. We called out “hola, ¿cómo estás?” but the crew just stared and motored past without a word.

A few kilometres later we reached a cluster of islands. After half an hour of searching we found an incredible campsite — a white sand beach with a flat platform above the high‑tide line. One of the best of the trip.

Day 25 — Repairs, Wildlife, and Low Mileage

Repair morning. Mat’s sleeping mat had been a nightmare all trip, deflating every night. We found three new holes — ten total now. While the boys patched the mat, I took the chance to dry my sleeping bag again.

As we worked, a dolphin cruised into our little cove. Moments later an otter appeared on the far side of the island, and then a kingfisher dived from a tree and came up with a fish. Three wildlife encounters in under a minute — unreal.

We eventually launched and threaded our way through a dense maze of islands, navigating by map and GPS. Once clear, we paddled another 5km along huge granite walls to camp. Only 15km total — Mat’s hands were getting worse.

At camp we did a full food tally. Plenty of breakfasts and dinners left, so we doubled breakfasts and occasionally shared an extra Radix. Much needed calories.

Day 26 — Brutal Crossing and Another Wet Bag

Perfect morning conditions… until the big crossing. As soon as we committed, a 15–20 knot headwind hit, and the tide turned against us. The 6km crossing took two hours.

We continued through more islands searching for a campsite and eventually found a decent one. I hung my sleeping bag to dry, but the temperature dropped. When I went to bring it in, it was soaked with dew. Wet again.

Day 27 — Dolphins and Distance

A nothing day — head down, paddle, 22km. A few dolphins followed us for a while, which lifted the mood. Found an okay campsite and called it.

Day 28 — Forty Knots and Three Crossings

Forecast looked bad, but the morning was calm enough to launch. We had three crossings lined up, and with each one the weather deteriorated. By the third crossing we were in 40 knots and 1m waves — manageable, but demanding.

After 25km we started looking for a campsite. It took another 12km to find one. Exhausted, we ate and went straight to bed.

Day 29 — Southernmost Point

We woke to heavy rain, ate under the tarp, and launched. Immediately the sun came out. Patagonia doing Patagonia things.

A 25–40 knot tailwind and 1–1.5m following seas pushed us quickly toward the southernmost point of the trip. As we rounded it, the tailwind became a light headwind. We entered the next channel and found a small island to camp on.

The island was covered in rubbish washed ashore — sad to see, but also a sign we were nearing civilisation. Mixed feelings: we didn’t want the trip to end, but the thought of a dry bed and a toilet was becoming very appealing.

Day 30 — The Whirlpool Gauntlet

We paddled toward the northern channel leading to Puerto Natales, aiming to hit the dangerous section at slack tide. These channels can run at 7 knots, and they’re busy with fishing boats — a big change after seeing only two or three boats in the last month.

We entered at the end of high tide — perfect timing. As we approached the exit, we could see the whirlpools. Big ones. A clear green tongue of water cut through them, so we went for it.

Confused water grabbed us and bunched us together. I had to choose: go sideways into a small whirlpool, or commit left and punch through the bigger ones. I paddled hard and sent it through the guts. Made it out cleanly, but had to fight the recirculating water trying to drag me back in.

Once free, we pushed another 11km into a 20‑knot headwind to reach camp.

Day 31 and 32

Day 31 — Wild Horses and the Last Real Crossing

We woke to a stunning sunrise — calm water glowing orange, the kind of morning that tricks you into thinking Patagonia might go easy on you for once. We paddled 6km past three salmon farms, a clear sign we were closing in on the end.

As soon as we rounded the point to start our crossings, the wind arrived right on cue. About 35 knots slamming into our sides for the first 5km. We fought through it and reached a small island for lunch, fuelling up for the big 10km crossing ahead.

The wind held strong as we set off, but about 4km in it finally eased. We reached our marked campsite but decided to push on while the weather was good. A few kilometres later we found a beautiful spot — and were greeted by eight wild horses wandering the beach. A surreal welcome for our final night.

Knowing it was the last evening, we feasted on all the leftover dinners, keeping just two meals aside “just in case.”

Day 32 — The Last Paddle

We slept in a little, launching around 10am. Knowing we only had about 20km left was a strange feeling — part of me wanted to turn around and add a few more days, but the promise of a real bed and a pub meal was calling.

We took our time through the first half of the paddle, soaking it in, taking the last drone shots and photos. As we approached our final crossing, Patagonia delivered one last punch. The wind picked up, the swell built, and the last 4km crossing turned into the roughest conditions of the entire trip.

We pushed through and landed on the beach right in town. Stepping out of the kayaks for the final time was an unbelievable feeling — relief, pride, disbelief, all at once.

One of Mat and Andy’s co‑workers met us with a trailer and drove us straight to the kayak base. Mat and I headed to his place for a quick shower and fresh clothes, then straight back into town for a massive pub feed. We ordered an absurd amount of food and demolished all of it.

Back at Mat’s house, into a dry, warm bed at last — lying there, replaying the last 32 days, it finally hit what we’d just completed.

Finishing the trip felt surreal — stepping out of the kayaks in Puerto Natales after a month of wind, ice, and saltwater felt surreal. The routine we’d lived in for 32 days — paddle, eat, dry gear, sleep, repeat — was suddenly gone, replaced by warm beds, dry clothes, and the noise of town. Looking back, the hardest moments are the ones that now stand out the most: the portage, the storms, the wet nights, the long crossings. They’re also the moments that made the whole journey meaningful. Patagonia tested us every single day, but it also gave us some of the most incredible landscapes and experiences we’ve ever had. I’d go back in a heartbeat.