By Kenzie Hines of University of Vermont
The little boat came around a bend and Glacier Bernardo spilled into our view, with the bow pointed directly towards it. We reached the end of the portal into the fjord dimension, after a six hour boat ride from the town of Tortel through the deep and narrow passages of the fjords lined by steep mountains that erupted out of the water. Clouds hung low in the sky when we pulled up to the shore of what seemed like the refugio at the bottom of the world. Waterfalls flowed with urgency down steep hills, crowded with dense green beings, competing for the sunlight that filtered through the fog.
We were here to work with the Chilean Forest Service, or CONAF, to continue long-term Huemul population surveys in Fiordo Bernardo. These aren’t your average ungulates. Huemul are wonderfully stocky and charismatic; with thick fur, big ears, and kind eyes. There are about 2,000 individuals left in the world, and an important population lives in these fjords. This area is tucked into a fjord ending in a glacier that spills off of the northwestern tip of the Southern Patagonia Ice Field. We moved around glaciers and through the steep landscapes that they carved, as well as fjord waters, rivers, and lakes to find these elusive creatures. These surveys happen twice a year – once in the Austral spring and once in fall. The same transects are monitored twice a year, either by boat or on foot to collect live sighting data. The live sighting data included sex, age, distance and bearing from observer, habitat type, distinguishing characteristics like antler shape, and a photo of the huemul. The photos were compiled into Round River’s huemul photo database in order to keep track of which huemules are in certain areas year after year, as well as when new huemules are born. This is a crucial piece of population monitoring, especially for small populations. We did walking transect surveys while backpacking into more remote areas of the fjords, and boat surveys to monitor huemules along the shores of other remote areas. We got to know a pair of huemules, a male and a subadult male, as father and son based on their similar antler characteristics; they lived near the refugio and liked to hang out on the shores of the fjords. Identifying and photographing individuals for the photo database and avoiding double counts in our data was my favorite part of our research. Getting to know a small population and identifying individuals felt extremely special and was such an engaging way to examine population dynamics.
So, with that, we entered the fjord dimension. Figure 2 is a shot of an adult macho, or male, huemul that we stumbled across when we climbed over a moraine; he was itching his felting antlers on the ground and chewing on berries. Figure 3 is a gorgeous subadult macho with a backdrop of icebergs; he is the mayor of Stud Town.
Our time in the fjord dimension could not be aptly described with any sort of schedule or ordering of events that would encompass the whole experience. It was a completely different world punctuated by moments; moments of easy and sidesplitting laughter, song, togetherness, and the intense feeling of being so remote. The cast of characters chucked into this new dimension consisted of the following: Felidor, a guardaparque who grew up hunting huemul; he is hilarious, charismatic, an incredible musician, and can spot individual huemul from hundreds of meters away. Fabio, Felidor’s 23-year-old son is a guardaparque-in-training, as well as a guitar and accordion player, and a jineteador (someone who does rodeos). It was such a privilege to be able to see a snap shot of Felidor and Fabio’s relationship- they played incredible duets of Patagón folk music, joked on and with each other almost constantly, were incredible truco partners, and even better opponents. Truco is a Chilean card game that involves a lot of bluffing and betting. And Raul, a marine biologist who loves rock music, is great at guitar, and had a warm smile and a soft sense of humor. Those three, plus the Round River folks, made for a motley crew in these fjords. Figure 4 is our crew after a long day of hiking, up above Glacier Témpano. Felidor is second to the right, with Fabio to his left, and Raul is second from the left in his (government-issue) Black Sabbath t-shirt.
Our first night at the refugio was an asado. When I say asado, I mean that meat we brought from Cochrane was cooked in a repurposed satellite dish over a fire in the shed behind the refugio. Fog drifted in through the half-open sidewall, the fire popped and cast shadows in the corners of the room, and Felidor and Fabio played sweet duets of Patagón folk music. The plucking of guitar strings and the rise and fall of harmonized voices drifted through the air over a warm meal. Songs were punctuated with stories, laugher, and the stoking of the fire. The guitar was passed around to those who felt inclined, and our world in the fjord dimension was filled with music. Figure 5 is Raul cooking meat over the fire on the repurposed satellite dish, which was vigorously cleaned beforehand. Figure 6 is a wonderful moment of music between Felidor and Fabio.
The following morning we left for a four-day excursion into the neighboring valley. Our dimension expanded as we journeyed past the end of the fjord, over a massive waterfall, up through a bog, and around Glacier Bernardo. The clouds clung to the Coigüe as we slurped our way through the blanket bog. We stopped for mate and the clouds finally broke to reveal the massive river of ice that was Glacier Bernardo. Fabio and Felidor rattled off jokes as usual; showing their relationship that is so sweet and filled with shared knowledge of the land and laughter. Firgure 7 is a moment of shared mate between Felidor and Fabio above Glacier Bernardo with two Coigüe trees in the background.
A night later, we were camped on a wide and flat expanse of land above Glacier Témpano. The glacier was cradled in between two mountains and a glacial lake spilled out below. This lake was where I took the first swim of my 22nd year on earth, with the company of friends and icebergs. That night, the moon slipped out from behind the mountains and illuminated the glacier and made our bodies cast shadows in grey light. The Southern Cross rose directly over the middle of the glacier, and a shooting star blew across the sky. The mountains and glacier and stars were reflected on the perfectly still water of the glacial lake, and it looked as though the mountains and glacier were floating in the middle of the cosmos. Here we were, deep in the fjord dimension, standing on what used to be the bottom of a glacial lake, watching a dreamscape. I can’t make this stuff up. Figure 8 is an incredible night shot of Glacier Témpano, illuminated by the moon, with the Southern Cross elevated above it.
Later in our trip, Raul and I had a moment of sharing knowledge across three languages. I found two mussel shells on the shore and Raul and I used a combination of English, Spanish, and Latin to communicate about the differences between the shells and the beings that once inhabited them. Figure 9 is a picture of Raul when we pulled up to the refugio after our first long boat ride, playing guitar on the shore of the fjord.
Our exit from the fjord dimension was a rough boat ride back through the fjords and up the Rio Baker towards Tortel. I bounced in my seat as a warm mate gourd found its way into my palm. The bombilla clattered between my teeth as I desperately tried to keep the hot leaves contained. Patagón folk music was again blaring from a set of huge speakers, and Felidor’s voice rang out over the sound of the engine as he steered us back to our previous dimension. We pulled up to Tortel and were thrust back into reality with a hasty unloading and quick goodbyes. Fjord dimension- you have my heart.