By Ashley Novella, University of Vermont
After a two-day ferry ride through a labyrinth of fjords in the south of Chile, we finally set foot onto the soil of a sixty-inhabitant town of Puerto Edén. This vast region is home to a single village, surrounded by a wealth of biodiversity and aesthetic beauty – picturesque mountains paint the skies and colorful buildings speckle the town’s boardwalk, which shuttles its residents in one of two directions along the island. The unifying structure was built from the rot resistant wood of Cípres, an exploited resource native to the Chilean bogs. The Cípres is a staple of this region, as is shellfish, which make up a large portion of the locals’ diet and economy. Both of these iconic species are suffering due to overharvesting and climate change.
Team Delfín quickly became acquainted with the flora that adorns each side of the boardwalk, with many experiencing a particular liking to the fern-like leaves of the Tiñeo tree. Daily activities include playing pick-up soccer games and cards with our new island friends as well as learning how to make bread with our welcoming neighbors. We were guests in this town for the next two weeks, hoping to learn from residents and their traditions, share in environmental education activities with the local kids, and, to everyone’s surprise, take a boat trip – courtesy of the Chilean Navy – with inquisitive youth, to South America’s largest glacier: Pio XI. Thanks to the Navy’s generosity and prior planning with Round River, we had the special opportunity to experience a natural wonder with our new Edenino friends, who, despite having a glacier in their backyard, had never been touched by it.
On January 28th we eagerly boarded the Puerto Natales, a Chilean navy ship, and got an exclusive tour of the boat from the commander himself. We sliced through the thick fjords in just three short hours, a trip that took a previous semester two days. The water coursing below teemed with marine life, while the naturalists on deck grew increasingly ecstatic with each sighting. We played natural history bingo, with one of our youngest members – 13 year-old Joaquin – zealous to check off bingo boxes for the Imperial cormorant, the Kelp gull, South American sea lions, rainbows, and newly forged friendships.
Excitement pervaded through the ship, with everyone awestruck at the massive white line growing in the distance, seen through a haze of rain and cloudy skies. Pio XI is the only glacier on the southern Patagonia ice field that is currently expanding. An accumulation of snow at the top of the ice field plateau compiles into new ice, contributing to the glacial flow that carves into the fjords below. In contrast, most other glaciers in the region are retreating quickly due to the harrowing reality of climate change.
We couldn’t internalize the scale of this natural wonder until our instructors and part of the crew took a boat to its shore. The boaters grew smaller and smaller until we couldn’t distinguish them from the rocks; and even then, they hadn’t reached the glacial wall.
The remaining naturalists boarded the zodiac, journeying to the mudstone rocks deposited by the glacier, surrounded by trees downed and ground by the relentless advance of Pío XI. We set up camp on a bog adjacent to the glacier, immediately bombarding our senses with the ice’s beauty every time we emerged from our tents.

Our seemingly tiny tents utterly fail to do the vastness of Pío XI any justice. Photo by Lily Schroeder.
We gave our local friends a crash course in camping; for many it was their first time staying the night in a tent. Due to the glacier’s proximity, the weather shifted from driving rain to light winds for the remainder of the day, keeping us perpetually wet and cold. While sipping on mate and munching on the sweet snack of nearby Austral Bellflowers, we had an informal class on glaciers against the stunning backdrop of crystallized blue. At the end of the discussion, we dispersed and enjoyed ten minutes of silent reflection, facing Pío XI’s inescapable immensity.
The consistent rain and wind failed to dampen our spirits, so we happily concluded the day under the group tarp cooking dinner and singing songs. There was sufficient time to personally explore the glacier, but there will never be sufficient words to grapple with the sense of place that overcame us. The seemingly endless expanse of ice radiated resilience, instilling a feeling of empowerment. Here, persistent through the incalculable odds, Pío XI marches forward. Here, against the innumerable forces, a group of conservationists is unabated in their pursuit of a more holistic world.

Our Round River family appreciates one of Pio XI’s many ice caves and crevasses. Photo by Shalynn Pack.
It took great strength in the morning to pack up our belongings and boat away from an excursion that evoked such emotion in every participant: students, locals, and navy men alike. We turned away from the natural wonder with satisfaction in knowing that this particular glacier is still advancing. We returned to the boat greeted with the aroma of awaiting hot coffee and tea.
The glacier forged an ineffable relationship between all that experienced it. We came from different backgrounds, some having never seen a glacier, others new to understanding how these gigantic slabs of ice came to fruition. Regardless of the varying levels of experience, there was a universal respect in the wake of its raw power; serving as a uniting thread between each individual given the opportunity to witness Pío XI and all of its glory.












I see parallels of the John Gillespie Magee poem: High Flight. Images of an expedition that has ‘slipped the surly bonds of earth’ and ‘topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace’ in the ‘high untrespassed sanctity of space’. So much magic and wonderment in just a few photos. Thanks for the blog.
Thanks for reading and your comment, Brenda!