SOMETHING IS BROKEN
12 – 20 March 2026. Leaving the park, we made our way back to Puerto Natales.
The original plan had been to drive north via Argentina’s Ruta Nacional 40—long, remote, and legendary. But somewhere between the wind, the roads, and the growing sense that something wasn’t right, we knew we didn’t want to risk it. Breaking down out there—truly remote—could mean an expensive tow from the middle of nowhere.
We suspect the front engine mounts have failed. Pushing on into that kind of country felt like a gamble we didn’t want to lose. So we switched strategies.
Not north by road—but north by sea.
We booked tickets on Friday morning for Monday’s sailing aboard the Navimag Ferry, bound for Puerto Montt—a journey we’d considered before as a recommendation.
With a couple of days to spare, we lingered around town. One stop we were keen to make again was visiting Chris Jordan at his gallery. Jaxon had been emailing back and forth with him, and this time, Chris surprised him with another gift, this time a very nice tripod, light weight, carbon fibre. Telling him it was an important piece of equipment—something that would elevate his photography.
An incredibly generous gesture. They talked for another hour.
Passing a few days before we board, we spent one night outside the park, the next at a campground, which was more like a carpark. Directly next to the road with constant traffic, we needed water, showers and a place to wash the truck before taking it in for repairs. And one night camped along the waterfront which was quieter and awoke to a beautiful sunrise morning.
THE NAVIMAG
The Navimag isn’t a cruise, there’s no attempt to make it one. It’s primarily a freighter ship transporting goods and people between northern and southern Patagonia. It’s practical. Slightly worn and increasingly popular with Overlanders and travellers seeking the more remote corners of southern Chile without the frills.
The ship was 2 days late due to high seas, which was great for us, it meant we would be able to board the next sailing. Following that the next ship wasn’t until March 25th, and winter was approaching.
Our ‘last-minute’ booking also worked doubly in our favour, saving us both money and time. We were offered a discounted fare for Jaxon at half price. When we requested a private cabin, the agent offered us an 8 bed dorm room that he said we wouldn’t be sharing and at a price of $700 USD less. Win win!!
Monday we had to have the truck in the yard by 5pm, supposedly to load around 7pm. After getting all our paperwork stamped and stamped again at various different offices we returned to the truck to wait.
Monitoring all the comings and goings of truck trailers being loaded, by 8pm expecting to be given the signal, we waited for the ‘go’. Eventually, by the time it was our turn, it was close to 11pm. Finally, the last vehicle loaded was us. Tim drove on and parked close against the wall before being tightly secured.
The cabins were simple bunks, comfortable enough with a private bathroom, mid ship so no portal window.
Meals were just as simple —breakfast, lunch, dinner—served in a modest dining room where passengers slowly began to recognize one another. Conversations started in fragments, then stretched a little longer each day.
BETWEEN LAND AND SEA
We moved slowly—7 to 8 knots—through a part of the world that few visit. Actually more people go to Antarctica than here. These southern fjord lands of Chile are moody and demand patience for careful passage as the ship navigates narrow channels that are timed with the tides. And the occasional ship wreck half-claimed by the elements.
Steep mountains rising straight out of the water. Glaciers clinging to distant slopes, this is Patagonia without roads. Tiny remote fishing communities only linked access to the outside world is by boat.
Bundled up against the sharp wind we walked the decks, scanning the waters for whales. Dolphins appeared once, alongside the hull before vanishing again. In the narrow channels we saw sea otters adrift in thick kelp forests, rising and disappearing between the swell. Seals traced the shoreline, basking in the sun. Above us, albatross and petrels rode the wind.
Eyes peeled, and did catch a glimpse of blows and a couple of tails just as they disappeared below the surface.
Day 3 we reached the open ocean, for 24hrs we pitched and rolled, to avoid feeling sick the kids and I took medicine, Tim chose to tough it out, but it forced him to walk many laps on the decks.
For the rest of the time it was Eat. Watch. Read, Write. Talk. Wait. Sleep. Repeat.
Some down time, a reset with time to plan our next steps.
After five days and five nights, we reached Puerto Montt.
Or at least, we thought we had.
The ship entered the harbour on schedule, but that’s where things paused. Wind picked up. Then dock space wasn’t available. Foot passengers were off loaded to tender boats, leaving us and a handful of others onboard for another…. 10hrs.
Afternoon stretched into evening.
It was close to midnight by the time we finally disembarked. Tired from doing nothing but waiting. We drove 30minutes north to Llanquihue, pulling over on a quiet street for the rest of the night.