At the edge of the world

Chasing giants on the windswept plains of Tierra del Fuego

by Chad Shmukler - Wednesday, Nov 20th, 2019

Images: Chad Shmukler and Earl Harper. Words: Chad Shmukler.

Tierra del Fuego, the windswept archipelago at the tip of South America, might rightly be called the edge of the world. Separated from the rest of the South American continent by the Straights of Magellan, Tierra del Fuego is the southernmost location on the entire globe one can reach without crossing the ship and sailor-swallowing Furious Fifties and making landfall on Antarctica.

Split roughly down the middle, the western portions of Tierra del Fuego which border the Pacific Ocean belong to Chile, while the bulk of the eastern, Atlantic-facing lands are controlled by Argentina.

The archipelago's western reaches, predominated by small islands, are mostly mountainous, wet and sparsely inhabited. But the region's largest island, which lies to its north and east and is separated from the rest of the archipelago by the Beagle Channel (named after the HMS Beagle, the vessel that carried Charles Darwin on his historic voyage of exploration) is a large, contiguous, semi-arid, mostly low-lying land mass.

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Tierra del Fuego first attracted European settlers beginning in the late 1800s, thanks to the abundant presence of rivers and high quality pastureland. Today, land on Tierra del Fuego's northern island remains predominantly agrarian (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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Though Tierra del Fuego's countless rivers and streams, which flow through austere landscapes and seemingly endless grasslands, first drew Chilean and Argentine settlers seeking to graze sheep and cattle, today they draw anglers from all over the globe, thanks to their well-held reputation as offering some of the finest trout fishing on the entire planet (photos: Earl Harper).

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Despite the region's extreme latitude, which keep Tierra del Fuego's summers cooler than anywhere else on the South American continent, winters are relatively mild. As a result, the archipelago supports a diverse population of wildlife including these guanacos (a wild, close relative of the llama), fox, beaver, and almost 100 species of birds (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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Most of the settled portions of the island are a patchwork of estancias—ranches which produce either sheep, cattle, or both (photos: Earl Harper [top], Chad Shmukler [bottom]).

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Some of these ranches—and their expansive, privately held tracts of land and water—are also home to classic Patagonian fishing lodges, like Villa Maria Lodge, which host anglers from December to March, when massive sea-run brown trout enter the famed Rio Grande (photos: Earl Harper).

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Large, two-handed rods lined with bulky heads and sinking tips that can power through Tierra del Fuego's powerful winds are the weapon of choice on the Rio Grande (photo: Earl Harper).

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The Rio Grande's sea-run browns average roughly 7 to 15 pounds but commonly exceed 20 pounds. In fact, 20 pound fish are caught virtually every single week of the season on Villa Maria's beats (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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With high latitudes come long summer days, and 12 hour shifts in search of sea-run browns are common. Midday, anglers escape to Villa Maria's day house, perched high above the Rio Grande, which offers a welcome respite from the conditions. The day house's hearty, indulgent meals, free-flowing wines and the rhythmic howling of the winds outside serve to send even the most nap-adverse for an hourlong siesta (photos: Chad Shmukler [top], Earl Harper [bottom]).

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Recharged, anglers return to the Rio Grande, to ply new beats hoping to encounter sea-run browns that have moved upriver overnight or throughout the day, including dime-bright, silver, blue and magenta-hued specimens like this one (photos: Chad Shmukler).

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The real drug in fishing is anticipation—of a rise, an eat, a reel-burning run. On the Rio Grande, however, the greatest anticipation may be for the release. Tierra del Fuego's sea-run browns, typically subdued and cooperative in hand, explode with electric vigor when released and almost never fail to put on a show (photo: Chad Shmukler).

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As daylight begins to fade, each new cast becomes more precious than the last. Not only because the day is waning and with it the opportunities for the next encounter with the Rio Grande's anadromous trout, but because with the vanishing of the light typically comes the best chances to connect with river's largest, most impressive fish (photos: Earl Harper).