By Kian Sia Su from the College of Saint Benedict and Saint John’s University
Our final surveying excursion of the semester brought the entire Round River crew to a small campo on a lake to the Southeast of Cochrane. The objective of the trip was to retrieve and reset camera traps as well as employ rapid biodiversity survey methods across different vegetation types in support of past and current Round River student projects. While the projects we were planning to work on initially appeared mundane, I left Lago Brown with some of the highest-highs of the entire semester.
Lago Brown is sheltered between two alpine mountain ranges and an expansive river valley, all within viewing distance of the border between Chile and Argentina. Relative to Cochrane, the area is significantly wetter and greener, receiving spring water and ice melt from up above in the mountains, carving small ravines as it flows downwards into the river basin. Between the mountains is an open expanse, the eastern half being occupied by the lake and the western half being drier steppe. Neither environment was entirely new to us students.
The first part of our Lago Brown trip was aiding in a student project focused on making the first flora guide for this part of Patagonia. Our goal was to make in depth observational notes on different plant species found in the area. The job could have been extremely tedious, but I was fortunate enough to be paired up with my best buddy from Minnesota, Hannah, so it was a breeze. We noted our observations and took our species photos at rapid pace, holing up within one of the vans to shield ourselves against the constant gusts that blew across the open steppe. We laughed as we passed the time working together, chatting about her flora project, about home, and about the semester as a whole. It was another reminder to me how fortunate I am to have a friend from home out here in Patagonia, of all places, and with whom I’ll be able to return and share all of these memories with.
The rest of the day was occupied with training for the backcountry surveys we were going to conduct the next day. We organized into four stations and sat through (though well-done) long lectures on field methods and procedures, at least the people around me made it quite enjoyable. My crew for the backpacking trip consisted of Brendan, Caroline, Harriet, our instructor Lauren, and myself. We were aptly named the ‘endurance’ crew due to the distance and elevation of our route. Relative to our first backpacking trip of the semester, though, endurance didn’t seem completely applicable, but it was a fun way to hype ourselves up, nonetheless, for the steep incline that was awaiting us.
Most of my group and some other buddies, including our instructor Ben, wanted to spend the last bits of the afternoon enjoying the namesake lake, Lago Brown. Numbingly cold, we waded out about 30 meters into the shallow lake, the water rising at most up to our navels, then dunked ourselves under the icy surface. Brains foggy, we stood shivering out in the lake, looking down at the clear, glassy water to see our legs slowly turn pink then red below us. Moments like these are a mix of type one and type two fun, both enjoyable in the moment and stupid fun to think back on later.
Dinner that first night was set to be a group meal, including both groups and all of our instructors. Cooking across the whole semester has been one of the biggest hardships yet one of my favorite activities. Group one (me, Hannah, Izzy, Gus, Brendan, Caroline, Elena, Jackson, and Daniel) have had a blast experimenting with different foods this semester and have created a mach-recipe book filled with some of our favorite backcountry creations. Myself, Izzy, Harriet, and Evan were assigned to the meal prep crew before heading to Lago Brown, and we packed for Tikka Masala to be our first dinner, a recipe we first tried back in Jeinimeni to delicious success. Serving so many people has often been a challenge, but one of my favorite aspects of my group is how everybody can jump in and get involved in cooking dinner together. With around 10 sets of hands cutting potatoes, tomatoes, onions, garlic, and chicken, dinner came together quite smoothly. Although it often feels like we’re roughing it out here in the field, dinner with my group has left me feeling like I’m thriving.
The next morning started really early and was relatively uneventful. By around 10am, the endurance crew was all packed up and on the road to start our hike. About half an hour in we came across a guard dog wandering around an open field, hopeful for a quick pet or some food scraps. We continued on and started straight up the mountain and she came too. Little did we know at the time that she would stick with us for the rest of our trip.
We hiked through thick lenga forest, over creeks and ravines, contouring through open rock faces with scattered shrubs, until, 300m of elevation later, we stopped to survey in an open, exposed scrubland with bright red mosses and clusters of low-lying green shrubs. The wind was whipping at the higher elevations, and, a couple times, my paper flew out of my hand leading me to run and stomp on it before it was carried off and away.
Stopping to observe the smaller forbs and grasses that underlie almost every environment was taught to me by my professors back at SJU in our Arboretum’s tallgrass prairie. I used to not look closely at the mosses, lichens, and fungi that dominated lots of landscapes here in Patagonia. Little jungles and alien structures dotted all across the floor, growing in every direction, so short as to not be caught by the blasting winds on top of this plateau. Bryophytes, horn lichen; Jonah, another student from Carleton and one of the student project leads of this survey, had earlier expressed a lot of enthusiasm and passion for these little organisms. I was thankful to be able to share a little bit of his interest and to have stopped and observed something that exists nowhere else in the world.
We continued on to survey another similar site. This one, though, was located on the edge of an alpine bog with a slow moving creek plotting away and down the cliff below. Brendan pointed out the emerging face of San Lorenzo to the south, a massive mountain with a cirque glacier that towered over the southern ridges and out of sight above the clouds. Pausing to take in the landscape, I noted familiar places from the past two days: Lago Brown Campo where we spent last night, the pine plantations along the road, the open steppe where Hannah and I took plant observation notes, and the greater valley we drove in on with the winding river flowing towards the Rio Baker.
Our next stop was along a ravine, which had flowing through the middle into subsequent pools and cascades up to two meters high in between. We picked this as our campsite for the night, setting up tents and our tarp. We then just hung out around camp, made ourselves dinner, and watched as the sun started to set on the edge of the valley. Three of us sat separated on the edge of a cliff to watch the sun slowly fall as the colors in the sky brightened. I retired to the tent after the sun was out of sight, but Brendan suggested I watch for a little bit longer. So I zipped open the tent flap, already in my sleeping bag, and sat watching the ensuing golds, oranges, reds, and purples reflecting on the snow-capped mountains. It had to have been one of the prettiest sunsets I’ve ever seen.
The next morning, we rose early to check a camera trap and to achieve a new goal we made for ourselves: to summit the mountain. Chowder, what we dubbed our dog, followed us further up the mountain where snowpack started to get thicker and the wind stronger. Once we had reached the camera trap, there was nothing left but sharp, steep scree between us and the top. Climbing up was exhausting. We added another 500m to our 300m between the campsite and the camera trap. The wind picked up greatly, and putting on more layers felt like chancing it on whether or not they’d blow away forever. After an hour of climbing straight up, we reached the top.
The summit was flat and open and covered in snow and ice. We could now see the panoramic views of the mountains, lakes, and open steppe below us. There wasn’t enough time for us to savor all that we had climbed. Soon after reaching the top, we headed back down along the same path.
That day was thanksgiving, and it will be one I remember forever. We pre-planned a list of assorted thanksgiving sides, desserts, and more for us to prepare as a group. Although we had to make some last minute adjustments, all of it came together in a meal we could share and reminisce on the semester as a whole.
I’m thankful for this opportunity to travel and experience such a different place from my home. I’m thankful for the people with whom I get to travel with and share a quincho. I’m thankful for the instructors from diverse backgrounds and experiences and for the knowledge and passion they share. I’m thankful for a family to support me in coming out here to learn and live as well as for being there ready for when I come home.
