This beach marks a transition, the point where the Beagle Channel's character shifts from sheltered harbor to exposed waterway. You'll feel it in the wind, which arrives with less interruption, and see it in the waves, which stack higher and arrive with more purpose than those lapping Ushuaia's port. The pebble beach stretches longer than you expect, curving around headlands that hide the city completely once you walk five minutes east. Kelp beds offshore sway in the current like underwater forests, their fronds occasionally surfacing in the tide.
“The last easily reached Beagle Channel beach east of Ushuaia before wilderness takes over completely.”
Aqua water against a rocky shore
The shoreline here shows evidence of the channel's moods: massive driftwood logs piled above normal high water, stones arranged by size through the physics of wave action, tidelines marked with everything the water rejects. You'll find fishing lures tangled in kelp, fragments of king crab carapace picked clean by gulls, the occasional glass float that drifted who knows how far. The water runs colder than at Ushuaia proper, fed by currents from the open Drake Passage mixing with local runoff.
Behind the beach, scrubby vegetation gives way to the first foothills of the Fuegian Andes, their slopes still bearing snow in December. Condors ride thermals above the ridgeline, visible as black crosses against clouds, their wingspans so wide they seem to move in slow motion. The beach faces northeast, catching morning light that turns the Chilean peaks across the channel into layered silhouettes, each ridge a different shade of blue receding to the horizon.
