Cruising northward in the Chilean fjords, our weather has been less than optimal. Much of the time, our windows looked out on dark, mist-shrouded landscapes under heavy skies and drizzling rain. It was plenty beautiful, still; we can only imagine how fabulous it would appear on the occasional clear day!
Puerto Chacabuco is the smallest port we stopped at. We took a little walk through the tiny village, bought a few necessities in a similarly tiny storefront, inhaled deeply while standing downwind of the fishmeal factory, and decided to get ourselves out of the rain and back on the ship. It was, nevertheless, a lovely area, with all the feel of a spot of questionable civilization only just wrested from the raw wilderness.
Cruising northward in the Chilean fjords, our weather has been less than optimal. Much of the time, our windows looked out on dark, mist-shrouded landscapes under heavy skies and drizzling rain. It was plenty beautiful, still; we can only imagine how fabulous it would appear on the occasional clear day!
Puerto Chacabuco is the smallest port we stopped at. We took a little walk through the tiny village, bought a few necessities in a similarly tiny storefront, inhaled deeply while standing downwind of the fishmeal factory, and decided to get ourselves out of the rain and back on the ship. It was, nevertheless, a lovely area, with all the feel of a spot of questionable civilization only just wrested from the raw wilderness.
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