Oceanic Patagonia

Patagonia beyond the mountains

Patagonia travel is so often associated with jagged mountains, glaciers, fierce winds and condors soaring above ice fields. Yet along the Atlantic coast of Argentine Patagonia lies an entirely different world; one of vast open steppe, enormous skies and deep-blue seas teeming with wildlife. This lesser-known corner of Patagonia stretches from Estancia Monte Dinero in the far south to the newest national park between Trelew and Comodoro Rivadavia. Welcome to Patagonia Azul.

For travellers searching for a wilder, quieter side of Patagonia, this coastline offers something remarkable. Here, guanacos roam above whale-filled bays, penguins gather on empty beaches and tiny settlements cling to the edge of an immense landscape that still feels almost untouched.

Welsh settlers in Argentine Patagonia

You have to go back to 1865 and wonder what must have been going through the minds of the first Welsh settlers as they reached these shores aboard the Mimosa. Nothing could have been further from the green, rolling valleys of Carmarthenshire. Here, the immense steppe stretched out before them for an almost unimaginable distance; it is more than 700km to the foothills of the Andes and the border with Chile.

The wildlife would have seemed equally unfamiliar. Guanacos gathered in wary herds beneath the ever-present threat of puma attacks. Then, just months after the Welsh families arrived, the penguins returned to nest along the coastline, followed by sea lions and, later, whales arriving to breed and raise their young in the sheltered bays.

Yet this migration was unlike so many others to South America. It was not driven by conquest or dreams of lost golden cities. Instead, it was thoughtful, deliberate and intended for the long term. Entire families crossed the Atlantic – men, women and children all seeking a new beginning. Perhaps that is why the relationship with the indigenous Tehuelche people developed so differently from elsewhere on the continent. The Welsh learnt from the Tehuelche how to ride wild horses, hunt guanacos and, crucially, locate fresh water. In return, they traded bread, sugar and tea, forging a remarkable partnership between the two cultures. The bond became so strong that many Tehuelche learnt Welsh, and the language is still spoken in parts of the region today.

The forgotten coastline of Patagonia

It is surprising, then, that so much of this coastline remains overlooked by visitors to Argentina. Many travellers head to Península Valdés in the hope of seeing southern right whales or orca launching themselves onto beaches in pursuit of sea lions, yet very few continue south along this extraordinary shore.

That may soon change. The creation of a new national park, developed in conjunction with Rewilding Argentina, is helping to protect a vast marine reserve rich in wildlife. If you are searching for genuine wilderness, you may just have found it.

Camarones and the road south

My guide met me at the airport in Trelew – once an Argentine air force base during the Falklands conflict – before we began the 250km drive south to Camarones. Few Patagonian towns can rival Camarones for natural beauty and layered history. The Spanish arrived here in the early 16th century, intending to establish their capital, only for storms and mutiny to derail their ambitions. Eventually, they moved north and founded Buenos Aires instead.

The natural harbour was largely forgotten until the 19th century, and today the town is home to just 1,650 residents, who care deeply for its historic buildings and pristine coastline.

We wandered through the traditional general store and old church before lunch at Alma Patagónica. Blending Tehuelche influences with the cooking traditions of shepherds and fishermen, it has become something of a local institution. It is also perhaps the finest introduction to the remarkable seaweeds that grow in abundance along the shoreline.

Marisma Camp and Patagonia Azul

While there is a charming little hotel in Camarones, we continued further along the coast to somewhere altogether more remote. Marisma Camp is a new project and the very definition of a wild coastal retreat. Just six simple cabins are scattered along the shoreline, where luxury is defined not by opulent interiors or designer furnishings, but by endless skies, ocean wildlife and delicious home-cooked meals served overlooking the bay.

Not far away lies Cabo Dos Bahías, home to between 20,000 and 30,000 Magellanic penguins living alongside guanacos, armadillos, maras and extraordinary birdlife. Yet perhaps the greatest joy of this colony is the absence of crowds. During nearly two hours exploring, only two other visitors arrived.

Back at Marisma, dinner featured yet more local seaweeds, served as the sun sank over the bay and the night sky filled with stars. It was difficult to believe how much we had experienced in just one day, and how utterly removed from the outside world it all felt.

The following morning we explored the landscape surrounding the camp, hiking across sections of steppe scattered with stone flakes left behind by indigenous communities thousands of years ago. With the sea constantly in view, the name Patagonia Azul suddenly made perfect sense. I have rarely seen water with such an impossibly deep shade of blue; it was nothing short of mesmerising.

Wildlife and whale-watching in Patagonia

That afternoon, it was finally time to head out onto the water itself. We sailed past sea lion colonies, paused beside nesting gannets and spotted penguins darting through the waves. Between October and December, and often well into January and February, whales migrate along this coastline with their calves. Orca are also occasionally seen hunting in these rich waters.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, nature produced one final surprise. Tens of thousands of seabirds rose into the evening sky in mesmerising murmurations, swirling through streaks of orange and violet light.

Horse riding in Patagonia

The next morning provided considerable entertainment for everyone else, as they were given the opportunity to watch me on horseback. Somehow, despite countless trips to Patagonia, horse riding remains a skill I have never remotely mastered, and my attempts appear to provide endless amusement for anyone within sight. Despite that, I absolutely love it. Riding along the shoreline with the ocean on one side and the vast guanaco-filled steppe on the other is unforgettable.

Any accomplished rider would be in heaven here, cantering alongside gauchos through scrubland or galloping beside the water’s edge in complete wilderness.

As I write this, I am reminded of one of the wonderful truths about travel: before leaving home, the highlight of this journey was always going to be the next stop. Everything I have described so far felt, in the planning stages at least, like a prelude to the main event. Yet how often do the places you expect least end up leaving the greatest impression?

Bahía Bustamante: Patagonia’s wildest lodge?

And so to Bahía Bustamante, a place I had dreamt of reaching for decades.

In 1953, a hair-gel entrepreneur named Lorenzo Soriano ran out of imported ingredients needed to make Malvik, then Argentina’s most popular styling gel. It is probably not the sentence you expected to encounter in an article about Patagonia. Yet Lorenzo realised agar-agar could be extracted from seaweed, and Bahía Bustamante had it in abundance, washed ashore and ready for harvest. Better still, agar-agar had countless other uses and an entire business empire was born.

What began with a handful of people collecting seaweed by hand eventually became a thriving town complete with shops, a bar, school, church and police station. At its peak, more than 400 employees and their families lived here. Then, in the 1990s, cheap imports from Japan transformed the industry and the town slowly fell silent.

It was Lorenzo’s grandson, Matías, who recognised the area’s potential in the early 2000s. The same conditions that allowed seaweed to flourish had also created an extraordinarily rich marine ecosystem. Sea lions and penguins gather here in vast numbers, whales migrate past the lodge between August and December and resident pods of orca patrol the coastline.

A marine reserve at the edge of the world

In 2008, the surrounding shore was incorporated into Patagonia Austral Marine National Park, protecting critical nesting sites for 13 seabird species alongside the waters beyond. This remote and seemingly barren corner of Argentina has quietly become a sanctuary, protected by Matías and his remarkable team. And the story extends beyond wildlife alone. Archaeologists continue to study ancient middens along the coastline, uncovering traces of indigenous communities that lived here for thousands of years.

Arriving at Bahía Bustamante today feels much as it must have decades ago. Passing through the gate, you could easily believe you are entering a working farm from the 1950s – and in many respects, you are. At first glance, the buildings appear purely functional and some visitors initially wonder what all the fuss is about. Those doubts rarely last long.

Matías has created something genuinely special here. Rooms are beautifully designed around wood burners that fend off the Patagonian chill, while vines planted along the waterfront now produce wines served alongside exceptional food in the restaurant. Old workshops have been transformed into small museums telling the story of the town and its wildlife.

Yet perhaps what stays with you most is the silence. No vehicles are permitted beyond the entrance gate. There is no road for at least 50km beyond the one that leads here. During three days, I did not see a single aircraft overhead. There is only the sound of the wind and the sea.

Exploring Patagonia by land and sea

Days are spent exploring with the lodge’s wonderful guides, whether on foot, horseback or aboard ageing Land Rover Defenders that seem perfectly suited to this landscape. Hidden beaches appear from nowhere, many ideal for a quick swim, while penguin colonies, art installations and extraordinary wildlife reveal themselves around every corner.

Exploring by sea offers an entirely different perspective. Huge tides dramatically reshape the coastline, uncovering islands and opening access to hidden bays. Sea lions rise curiously beside the boat while cormorants, terns, giant petrels, skuas and even flamingos sweep overhead.

Why Patagonia Azul changed the way I see Patagonia

So, after years of dreaming about reaching this corner of Patagonia, did it live up to expectations?

Without question. I have always been drawn to remote places; the further from civilisation, the better. And if that place happens to be Patagonia, better still. Yet there was something more here. Patagonia Azul completely changed the way I think about this region. No longer does Patagonia feel solely defined by mountains and glaciers. There is an oceanic Patagonia too, wild and elemental, and it is utterly spectacular.

Should you go? Clearly, this is not a destination for everyone, though that is very much part of its appeal. Some of the properties are simple, roads remain unpaved, fresh water is precious and the weather can change in an instant. Yet if you have read this far, my suspicion is that Patagonia Azul may already have found its way onto your list, and I would highly recommend it.