17. Submerged Mountains

How often have I dreamed of this farthest land?
How much did I think of this place while working overtime and even on holidays at the company where I worked in Yokohama, before I acquired Aomi?

From a chart dealer in Tsukiji, Tokyo, I obtained a nautical chart, code 22ACO22032, published by the U.S. Department of Defense. Spreading it out on the floor of the company dormitory and kneeling over it, I longed to see the southern islands of the Patagonian Archipelago.

After leaving Japan, how often did I think about this place while pushing a lawnmower as a gardener in a port of call, or working with a wrench at a car repair shop in the desert?

Now, the longed-for land undoubtedly stretches out before me. Could this be real? Is there anything more satisfying? Is there anything more amazing?

In Caleta Brecknock (Seno Ocasion inlet) of Fuego Island, I anchor Aomi and assemble my folding polypropylene boat. I open the 2.8-meter-long, 0.5-meter-wide, 15-centimeter-high folded-flat hull on the deck, insert the seat boards, attach two oars, and load a small anchor with a rope for emergencies. Then, I begin rowing toward the shore.

At the far end of the bay, a large triangle of sand-colored rock rises, with a sheer cliff behind it. Large blocks of rock rest in places on the surrounding eerie mountains, as if placed there on purpose.

Hidden among the clouds, the sun occasionally shines on the rock face like a spotlight, and only the illuminated areas glow pink or gold. The rocky mountains change color with the shifting rays of light, their mysterious appearance utterly otherworldly.

In the midst of the magnificent, overwhelming landscape, I look up at the mountains like a small animal being stared at by a raging beast, my breath taken away, and I begin to row my dinghy to shore.

The shore is a series of steep slopes, offering no place to land. Searching for a gentler spot, I manage to pull the dinghy onto the rocks. I wrap a mooring line around a small rock nearby and walk up the steep slope in my rubber boots.

Suddenly, a piece of rock underfoot catches my attention; when I pick it up, I find countless black crystals glittering among whitish minerals.

When I reach the top of the hill, I look down into the bay. Surrounded by rugged mountains, Aomi appears as a lone white spot on the water, occasionally rippled by the wind.

What a view, what a place. What can compare to the awesome power of these rocks and the sea that overwhelms me? Which part of my body resonates with this landscape? Is this stunning scenery before my eyes even real?

Pulling my camera from my backpack, I peer through the viewfinder. Yet, I know no photograph or words can capture even a fraction of this breathtaking impact.

The days before I left Japan, the risk-filled voyage, and the time spent in ports of call were not easy at all. Yet, if I had stayed at my company job in Japan, I would have missed these breathtaking sights and surprises. I would never have felt so directly and profoundly how beautiful and awe-inspiring the planet Earth is.