by Stacy Polykova, of University of Maryland
As I write this final blog post, the Austral Fall approaches and soon we will escape the cold of incoming winter and head back to the spring of the Northern Hemisphere. Our time in Patagonia is sadly coming to an end and soon we will be saying Ciao to the pampas, the bogs, the forests, the glaciers and to the wonderful friends we’ve made. Team Tero has stuck together while exploring urban Punta Arenas, the legendary Strait of Magellan, and the windy Torres Del Paine; navigating the expansive fjords for 50+ hours; traveling back and forth on the Carreterra Austral; staying in the towns of Puerto Eden, Tortel, Villa O’Higgins, and Cochrane; and working and researching in the field. Wow! Explaining all that we have done and the impact it has left on us is difficult to put into words.
Cabo Froward, our first outing and first look at the Strait of Magellan. Photo by Sophie Karolczak.
Team Tero in our arrival in Torres Del Paine National Park. Photo by Adam Spencer.
My impression was that the semester was split into two parts: before and after our arrival to the Cochrane base camp. The first part of the semester felt wild – we were always on the move, traveling through remote areas and seeing so much of Patagonia all at once. We got an amazing first taste of the beauty in Cabo Froward and Torres del Paine. When we sailed through the fjords and landed in Puerto Eden, the remoteness of the area accentuated the beauty even more. We started learning the names of species and becoming familiar with the landscape. I got my first experience in field work during our time in Puerto Eden. Pushing through dense vegetation and falling into mysterious holes in the forest floor in Fiordo Falcon, all while collecting biodiversity data, was a surreal and otherworldly experience; it was even a tad overwhelming. Little did I know how routine and comfortable this would soon become.
The beauty of Puerto Eden. Photo by Sophie Karolczak.
We took some local people from Puerto Edén camping for their first time at Lago Valderas outside Puerto Eden. Photo by Sophie Karolczak.
After our arrival in Cochrane there was a slight shift in how I perceived my experiences in Patagonia. We were no longer a group of wandering vagabonds, tumbling around and living out of our backpacks. Our base camp in Cochrane was usually sunny and dry. There were always eggs and coffee. My laundry was clean and I was showered. It felt very comfortable, yet didn’t diminish our time in nature since our research trips were always so outrageously wild and beautiful. The long days of Guanaco and Ñandú research in Parque Patagonia were much more appreciated after the order and ease of base camp. The back-country sites in Rio Mosco Bien Nacional Protegido and Fiordo Bernardo felt even more remote and surreal.
A majestic Guanaco seen during research in Parque Patagonia. Photo by Sophie Karolczak.
The view above tree line in Bien Nacional Protegido Rio Mosco. Photo by Sophie Karolczak.
The iceburgs of Glaciar Bernardo. Photo by Sophie Karolczak.
A Huemul got so close! Photo by Diana Bertuol Garcia.
It wasn’t just the physical comforts of Cochrane that provided relief from the rainy days near the Patagonian Icefield; it was also the fact that in our minds and in our hearts, we thought of Cochrane as home. The first day we referred going back to Cochrane as “going back home” made me realize the significance of how we created a home for ourselves in Patagonia.
As the semester went on, this motif of home started to spring up in my mind more and more. At first, only Cochrane seemed like my home. But soon, the Carreterra Austral, the road that runs through this region of Patagonia, also became very familiar as I started to recognize its curves, hills, and adjacent waterfalls. Not much later, the fjord system we navigated, which was such a rich blue in all directions, often wet, and full of dolphins, also became familiar in a sense. I began to orient myself in terms of the Patagonian Icefields. On almost every field research trip and outing, we could see corners of the either the Southern or Northern Icefield peeking out behind a mountain or saying “hello!” via glacier. The beautiful wild places we spent so much time in also felt comfortable as we understood more about them. In the beginning of the semester, I would look around me and see beautiful mountains, forests, and fields, but now, I feel a familiar intimacy with the Patagonian landscape that I didn’t realize I didn’t experience before. By taking a closer look at the small details and taking the time to understand the interactions around me, I simultaneously feel like a part of the landscape and also very small in nature. The sight of a Guaiteca’s Cypress growing in a bog or the sound of a noisy group of Thorn-tailed Rayaditos gathering above me has so much more value to me than I could have ever imagined before. Slowly but surely, Patagonia became like a home.
Temporary home in the Chacabuco Valley. Photo by Sophie Karolczak.
Most importantly, however, are the friends I made here that made this wild and distant place feel comfortable. Together, we pushed through thick brambles of spiky Chaura, fell into bogs, crawled up mountains, quietly searched for Huemul, ate a lot of manjar, strengthened our passions for conservation, and unfailingly made each other laugh every day. I could be anywhere with these people and be content. Thank you!
Team Tero and Team Chucao together. Photo by Adam Spencer.