Punta Arenas: Strait of Magellan Park & Fort Bulnes Tour

4.76

(144 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

The first thing I noticed in Punta Arenas was the wind. It’s not just strong—it sort of wraps around you, carrying that salty chill from the Strait of Magellan. Our guide, Camila, met us right at the hotel (which I appreciated because I’m hopeless with directions) and before long we were winding through town. She pointed out Muñoz Gamero Square—locals just call it “la plaza”—with its old trees and those grand houses from another era. There were kids chasing pigeons, and a guy selling roasted nuts on the corner; I can still remember that sweet-burnt smell mixing with the sea air.

We stopped at the Punta Arenas Municipal Cemetery next. Camila said CNN called it one of the world’s most beautiful cemeteries—she sounded proud but also a little amused by it. The place is actually peaceful, not gloomy. Cypress trees everywhere, and these elaborate tombs with family names carved deep in stone. Some had fresh flowers; others looked like no one had visited in years. I found myself reading names out loud softly—maybe to keep them company for a second? Anyway, it made me think about all the people who came here chasing something at the end of the world.

The drive south along the Brunswick Peninsula felt like slipping off the map. The land gets emptier and wilder until suddenly you’re standing above the Strait itself. We reached Fort Bulnes—a wooden fort perched over cold blue water—and Camila told stories about how this was Chile’s first settlement down here in 1843. The wind was even fiercer up there; my scarf kept smacking me in the face (I gave up trying to look cool). Inside, you could touch rough timber walls and imagine what it must’ve been like to survive a winter here. There’s an interactive museum too, but honestly I just wanted to stand outside for a minute longer, listening to nothing but wind and distant waves. Dolphins sometimes show up if you’re lucky—I wasn’t this time, but someone else swore they saw one flicker past.

We ended back at a little café near the visitor center—a hot coffee never tasted so good after hours out in Patagonia weather. Camila laughed when I tried to pronounce “Estrecho de Magallanes” properly (I definitely didn’t). On the way back to town, roofs glowed orange under late sun and Tierra del Fuego hovered on the horizon like some secret place calling you further south. Even now I catch myself thinking about that view from Fort Bulnes—the feeling that history isn’t just stories here; it’s stitched into every gust of wind.