Yoshi Kataoka April 1983

‘AOMI’ APRIL 1983 Yoshi Kataoka (1953 -) Condensed from https://en.aomi-sailing.com/bws/bluewater-story19.html and https://en.aomi-sailing.com/stories/19cape-horn.html

Kataoka landed on his second attempt by a folding rowing boat from his 7.5mt yacht ‘Aomi’ moored 150mt off shore. Unfortunately he only spent a hour in the immediate area of the beach and did not make the 5km overland trip to the great southern cliff. His account is principally useful in documenting and illustrating the approach from Punta Arenas. His first unsuccessful attempt was anti-clockwise via the west coast of Cape Horn Island, actually ‘Rounding the Horn’ to the east coast where he identified a possible landing beach. His successful attempt was clockwise down the east coast to this beach, which appears to be that now used by the Chilean Lighthouse keepers and the RIBS from tourist cruise ships. As of 2026 he still lives in Japan and still owns ‘Aomi’.

In early April [Autumn in the Southern Hemisphere] 1983, Aomi sailed south through the Patagonian Archipelago:-

‘Before arriving at Cape Horn, I stopped in Punta Arenas while sailing down the Patagonian Archipelago. There, I tried to get information for the Cape Horn landing. Each time I stopped at a port, I always made significant efforts to gather information on Cape Horn. Though I had Sailing Directions issued by the U.S., there was little information about Cape Horn. The Chilean Sailing Directions seemed to be more detailed. Fortunately, I had copied some pages of the Chilean Sailing Directions when I had visited the Chilean Navy Headquarters in Valparaiso a few months earlier. Because I couldn't read Spanish, I dashed into a bookstore in Punta Arenas and bought a Spanish-English dictionary (Spanish-Japanese dictionaries were, of course, unavailable there).

The strait is about 30 km wide at this point, with a single jetty extending into the sea. There were no breakwaters at all, making it a port with severe conditions for small boats. The winds in the Magellan Strait are usually strong. During my stay, there were days with steep, triangular waves over 1 meter high in the port. Aomi was severely shaken and bumped against fishermen's boats at the jetty. The stainless-steel handrails of Aomi were bent, and a window broke. I had to leave the port as quickly as possible and sailed through an uninhabited area for another two weeks, to arrive at the small town of Puerto Williams, a Chilean Navy base.

The water between the islands was sheltered from swells, but in places, it was filled with kelp, giant seaweed that could foul Aomi's propeller. Great caution was necessary. Although Aomi was running with sails, the engine was ready and idling in case of emergency. Strong gusts of wind sometimes blew and heeled Aomi considerably. My target, Cape Horn, was about 150 km away. The photo below shows Puerto Williams, which I took from the Beagle Channel.

As soon as I stepped onto the pier, I was told not to take any photos. The town’s unexpectedly large harbor was lined with gray warships and torpedo boats, with a red and white communications tower standing on a nearby hill. The Cape I am aiming for is just over 100 kilometers south of this naval base. I visited the base headquarters to obtain detailed information about Cape Horn. The Comandante, the highest-ranking officer of the base, saw me. I traced a course to the Cape with my finger on the nautical chart on the wall. “No. For military reasons, passage through the Murray Channel is not permitted”, but he pointed to an alternative route. He gives detailed advice about dangerous rocks, currents along the way, and where to take shelter in case of storms.

I ask “If the weather is favourable when I pass the Cape, I would like to row a dinghy and go ashore.”

He explained “In the waters around Cape Horn, strong winds blow constantly. In this region, several low-pressure systems line up and move through almost every day.”. “But after a low-pressure system, a high-pressure system always comes, right?”. “No, you are wrong. No high-pressure systems will come. Only low-pressure systems will continue to pass one after another. There might be hope if it were summer, but it’s already April. Winter is approaching in the Southern Hemisphere, and the weather is extremely bad. You must have experienced many storms. But the storms at Cape Horn are different; near the Cape, the seafloor, which is 4,000 meters deep, suddenly rises to only 100 meters. This creates steep, triangular waves that are extremely dangerous even for a large ship.”

After leaving Puerto Williams, Aomi sailed south for about 130 km and entered a small bay called Lientur on the southern tip of Wollaston Island. I spent two days there, waiting for favourable weather before heading to Cape Horn.

A few mornings later, I arrived at a point 10 kilometers north of Cape Horn. The legendary Cape, which I saw for the first time, stands 425 meters high, its triangular peak basking in the sun beneath a rare, clear sky.

After rounding dangerous rocks at the island's south west corner, I reached the southern tip of the Cape shortly after noon. As I continued along the cliffs below the Cape, the coastline unexpectedly receded, revealing a small cove. This was one of the possible landing sites I had marked on the chart. However, numerous black stones resembling human heads lay on the beach, and the swell and waves broke violently into white foam. If I had tried to approach with Aomi’s rowing dinghy, the waves would surely have engulfed and sunk it. [Note: The ‘Boulder Beach’; I believe this was Drake’s landing place]. Giving up on that site, I continued, and soon a hill of dead grass appeared ahead. Below it, I saw the small cove I had chosen as my next option. I approached, raised my binoculars, and saw the cove covered in brown seaweed. It was too dangerous to enter. However, if Aomi anchored at the mouth of the cove and I rowed the dinghy over the seaweed, I might be able to land.

After lowering the CQR anchor at the mouth of the bay, I checked its hold by moving Aomi with the engine. When I applied full power, however, the anchor slipped on the seafloor. With the landing site in sight, I made the difficult decision to abandon the attempt. Though I was unable to land on Cape Horn that day, I made Aomi run in the bay lengthwise and breadthwise to check the seafloor with a depth sounder and create a map of the bay. Then, with the wind suddenly strengthening the weather changed rapidly, and a storm was approaching. I returned to Lientur Bay to wait for good weather before attempting to land again..

During the four days of fierce gales, Aomi quietly sheltered in Lientur Bay 30 kilometers north, surrounded by mountains. I stayed inside the cabin, cautiously preparing for my next attempt. The success of the landing operation depended on proper anchoring technique. If the correct type of anchor was not selected and did not firmly set in the seafloor, the unmanned Aomi could be blown away by a storm during my landing. In the small cove where the landing was planned, the CQR anchor had dragged across the seafloor when Aomi pulled hard on it. According to the echo sounder’s ultrasonic reflection pattern, the seafloor was composed of hard mud, hard sand, or rock with some seaweed. Therefore, a Fisherman anchor was the appropriate choice.

When landing on Cape Horn, the most crucial consideration is preparation for a sudden storm. If a strong wind begins to blow, getting back to Aomi in a small rowing boat might be impossible. Furthermore, if the wind became much stronger, Aomi could be blown away unmanned. Perfect anchoring was essential to prevent accidents.

I simulated the landing using the sketch of the small bay I had drawn, and I packed emergency rations, a hammer, a military-grade folding shovel, smoke bombs, a flashlight, and other essentials into a backpack. I also prepared a wetsuit to protect against the near-freezing seawater in case the dinghy capsized during landing. For several days, the storm had been weakening; air pressure was stabilizing, wind speed was steadily decreasing, and wind direction was beginning to shift. “Tomorrow, April 15 1983 , the Cape Horn landing operation will begin.”

At dawn, I left the cove, Aomi’s engine sounding light and lively. Holding the action plan in one hand, I passed the rocks and small islands exactly on schedule, maintaining a precise pace like clockwork as I headed south.

Two hours after departure, Cape Horn appeared on the horizon, its black rock poking into the sky. Suddenly, a small hole opened in the thick clouds, and a spot of sunlight shone on the dark landscape. The sunlight beamed onto the triangular rock at Cape Horn’s peak. I held my breath.

Heavy hailstones began to fall from the leaden sky, rattling Aomi’s deck. The wind was picking up, too, and the next storm would surely come. I had to leave the Cape as soon as possible. I hoisted the sails immediately and headed for Lientur Bay, sheltered by the mountains. I looked at my watch: ten hours and thirty minutes since departure. Everything was finished an hour ahead of my schedule.

Back

Three hours and fifteen minutes after my morning departure, I arrived at the small bay where I planned to land, and I lowered the sails. As expected, the bay was downwind of the Cape itself, with almost no swell or waves. I had several different anchoring plans depending on the situation. These would determine the success or failure of the operation. After reconfirming the wind direction and topography, I began to execute the third plan in my notes.

The first step was to drop a Fisherman anchor by carefully approaching the dense seaweed forest in the bay. Next, I turned the engine to full power, and Aomi pulled hard on the anchor line. As expected, the rope became so tight that I could almost walk on it. This indicated the anchor had held firm, securely fixed in the seafloor. I dropped another anchor to ensure security. Based on my experience, it would withstand winds up to Force 8. As soon as I lowered the dinghy from the deck onto the water, I rowed the 150 meters to shore, putting all my strength into the oars. I glided smoothly over the brown seaweed and reached a beach of large black stones.

“I have done it. I’ve finally done it. I’ve stepped on the legendary Cape Horn.”

The scheduled hour passed as I walked around the shore, taking pictures of the black rock beach and picking up some souvenir stones. I did not want to leave just yet, but no, it could not be done, even if it was 99 percent safe, proceeding without a plan for the remaining 1 percent risk would be foolish. No one could know when the next storm would hit or how bad it would be, if I did not hurry back to the starting cove, Aomi may never reach any cove. I immediately rowed the boat back over the seaweed.