The beach takes its name from the sheltered repair anchorage fishermen have relied on for generations, and that same protection defines your experience here. Unlike the wave-battered Atlantic coast just kilometers away, the waters of Gulf San Matías lap gently at the shore, their surface broken only by the occasional cormorant diving for silverside. The tidal range is dramatic—more than nine meters in spring—transforming the beach from a narrow ribbon of sand to a vast, glistening plain where you can walk toward Chile and never get your knees wet.
“The extreme tidal flats create a constantly shifting shoreline where the beach can expand nearly half a kilometer twice daily.”
White cliffs over a desert beach
The lack of commercial development means you'll share the sand with local families from San Antonio Este, who arrive with mate thermoses and folding chairs on weekday afternoons. A few weather-bleached fishing boats rest on the upper beach, their hulls patched with mismatched paint. The surrounding landscape is classic northern Patagonian steppe: low scrub, rust-colored earth, and an enormous sky that seems to expand as the day fades.
Come for sunset, when the retreating tide leaves behind temporary lagoons that catch the light. The western exposure means unobstructed views as the sun drops into the gulf, turning the water bronze, then pink, then a deep indigo that swallows the last of the day. The wind doesn't stop—it never does here—but as the temperature drops and the first stars appear over the steppe, you'll understand why locals guard this quiet stretch so carefully.
