After breakfast we travel to the outskirts of the city where a dozen of us are bundled into an 18-foot inflatable zodiac with a plastic roof and windows fastened to a skeleton of PVC pipe. The rig looks sturdy enough for a quick trip out to Magdalen Island where a penguin rookery awaits the eager photographers among us. As we clear the shelter of the harbor we quickly discover why the Strait has such a dubious reputation among sailors.
A gradually rising chop intensifies to four-foot swells careening into one another like sumo wrestlers. Deftly, our twenty-something pilot Gonsalvo surfs us around, over and occasionally through swirling canyons of water. We experience a stomach loosening lurch and a member of our party loses his scones to the sea.
I am among the fortunate souls who’ve never known seasickness. Apart from the spine-shattering violence of dropping from the crest of a passing wave, I am enjoying myself immensely. After gunning the engine to power our withered looking troupe over the biggest wave yet, Gonsalvo casually answers his ringing cellphone. Taking a call in the Strait of Magellen seems the ultimate “Can you hear me now” moment.
Gonsalvo’s elan is a lesson for me on which I will draw later in life, namely that the larger the challenge, the more relaxed you should be in meeting it. Patagonians don’t sweat even the big stuff, probably because they’re too busy trying to survive.
Eventually our hardy craft gains the lee of Magdalen Island and a pale, gaunt parade gratefully staggers onto a makeshift pier.
Magellanic Penguins on the beach regard us like unwanted relatives who’ve dropped in unannounced. They waddle off muttering among themselves. I think they’re hoping we don’t plan to stay the weekend.
Magellanic penguins (Spheniscus Magellanicus) differ from their Arctic cousins being somewhat smaller in size. Their markings are unique, more tie dye than black tie.
Millions of them live along the coasts of Chile and Argentina but the species is classified as “Near Threatened” due to the vulnerability of large breeding colonies to oil spills. Declining fish populations and a nearby colony of sea lions have also taken a toll.
The birds seem resigned to their windswept existence. To keep things interesting, occasional squabbles break out among neighbors over disputed nesting sites. The spats lead to a deadly earnest Kabuki dance of aggression that lends variety to an otherwise unremarkable existence.
Having had a taste of a penguin’s sandblasted life, we are stuffed back into the zodiac for the punishing return journey. Lunch awaits us, though few are thinking about eating when we finally enter the safety of the harbor...
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