Written March 25, 2016
By Sadey Mirabile (University of Vermont)
The evening before leaving for the Chacabuco Valley I ran through some thoughts of what to expect while lying in the contents of my second home (my one-woman tent). I closed my eyes and could only picture a stoic guanaco perched on a gradual ridgeline with her head held high and staring into my soul. Effortlessly, glimpses of dinosaur-birds, the Ñandú (or Darwin’s rhea), frolicked in the background. After hours of dreaming of these interactions, I awoke to a starry early morning sky.
A Ñandú (Darwin’s rhea) grazes alongside a guanaco, a sight the Parque Nacional Patagonia has endeavored to re-create in the verdant Chacabuco Valley. Photo by Adam Spencer.
All packed for the eight-day trip, our group gulped down some eggs and hit the road heading north. Following the gravel Carretera Austral we realized how accustomed we have become to rough, winding roads. They no longer posed the threat of carsickness – instead they welcomed eventful jolts that made sure you weren’t falling asleep and missing out on some epic views. Bobbing along to some of James Maloney’s beloved remixes, we passed the confluence of the Baker and Chacabuco Rivers and pointed out where HidroAysen proposed to build a dam. Only 20km into the trip, this site seemed so close to Cochrane and our field house there. With the efforts of the activist group “Patagonia Sin Represas” fresh on our minds, I couldn’t help but gawk at the thought of transforming this canyon into a cement wall. To great luck, two days before embarking on our third trip, we had the pleasure of discussing proposed hydropower projects with three leading members of Patagonia Sin Represas, Karla, Lily and Mattias. Having only been aware of the advantages and disadvantages of dams within the United States, this conversation helped me understand the current challenges Southern Patagonia is facing against pressures from multimillion-dollar energy companies. From my understanding, it seems that on top of the issue with foreign corporations owning the rights to its water, the Chilean government is actively pushing hydroelectricity on southern Chile because of vast economic benefits for mining (80% of the electricity generated by the proposed dam would have been used by mining facilities in the north, still requiring locals downstream of the dam to pay for their energy). In order to gain public support HidroAysen advertised that homeowners along the Baker and Chacabuco Rivers would reap the benefits from the profits generated, however, this is a generous overstatement and white lie. I was taken aback by how bleak the future fight against HidroAysen seemed.
With the thought on all of our minds, Mattias argued that tourism is the needed counterculture. Being an avid escapee to the wilderness, this hit me as a surprising solution. I couldn’t help but think of how overpopulation has vastly degraded wild areas in the past and how increases in popularity of a place necessitates more roads and services to be built, making the land accessible, instead of quiet. But, without the support of government and benefactors, maybe community-based tourism would unite inhabitants dependent on the rivers and provide a needed source of income.
The confluence of the Baker River – the most voluminous in Chile – and the Chacabuco River as it leaves the valley of the Parque Nacional Patagonia. Photo by Adam Spencer.
Turning onto the X-83 – the road that goes through the Chacabuco Valley – the group was debriefed on guanaco surveys before heading further east to start counting. I shouted with excitement when I saw the first guanaco (soon I realized we would see nearly 400 of these guys within the next two hours). Coming around the bend into Parque Patagónica’s Administration headquarters, we came upon a mega-group of 81 guanacos foraging amid the 19th century German-colonist-style buildings. It was a sight to behold.
The Administration HQ of Parque Nacional Patagonia with its resident guanaco herd below Tamango Peak. Photo by Adam Spencer.
After two months of living the backcountry lifestyle, I was used to pulling on the same pair of jeans everyday… until I walked into the lobby. Just moments before I walked inside I had felt so proud of becoming a minimalist, only needing one pair of pants and a short sleeved shirt. The grandeur of the stone buildings in front of me, however, were more suited for royalty than a couple of wilderness-wizened hikers. Nevertheless, Manuel, the head of tourism offices, and Cristián, the park’s wildlife biologist, welcomed us with coffee and an enlightening presentation about the Park’s work. Sitting on the first couch in weeks we happily filled our brains with the historical context of Conservación Patagónia (the conservation NGO that manages the Parque Nacional Patagonia), and its work restoring the Chacabuco Valley to support the puma, guanaco and Ñandú populations.
Deeply engaged with Cristián’s research, Grace Fowler and I were grateful to learn so much about the Ñandú before diving into our own research over the next couple of days. Unable to escape the backwoods lifestyle, we quickly found ourselves tailgating for lunch in a parking lot. We split up the rest of our drive by stopping at viewpoints to look for viscacha (a rabbit-sized relative of the chinchilla that live on rocky cliffs), black swans and guanacos.
As we left the Chacabuco Valley toward the Chilean military’s border control sheep ranch where we would stay during our research here, we saw our first Ñandú! From over 800m away I could still see their immensity, grace and sort of awkwardness with the long neck and big torso. It was exciting to see them run with their heads down in a flock, although they clearly were scared by our presence as soon as we stepped out of the truck.
A Ñandú roams across the steppe near the border with Argentina. Photo by Adam Spencer.
Arriving at our accommodations, we quickly felt at home with loving puppies and the serene stillness of the remote plateau. We welcomed nighttime with maté and lively conversations with Alvaro, Oscar and Felipe (two sheep herders and a member of the Chilean military, respectively). Being immersed in such an arid landscape I was reminded of the American southwest. It was a pleasure to wake up to the surrounding views of our cabin, including buttes, snowy mountain ranges and a strange-looking triangular feature just over the Argentine border. Going birding at a lagoon close by, the group gazed upon an abundance of winged wildlife: Chilean flamingos, black-chested buzzard-eagles, Andean condors, yellow-billed pintails, and upland geese.
Chilean flamingoes filter microorganisms as the sun rises above Argentina. Photo by Adam Spencer.
The excitement continued as we traveled to the Ñandú Captive Breeding Center, a short drive away. Greeted by Eric, a volunteer veterinarian, we practiced our active Spanish-listening skills as we were introduced to 4 juveniles and 9 adult Ñandú.
An adult Ñandú struts its feathers for the RRCS visitors at the Conservación Patagónica Ñandú Breeding Center. Photo by Adam Spencer.
Arriving home with our heads swirling with various Ñandú facts, (their top speed is 35mph, the chicks are born in October after their fathers guard the nest for 40 days and then lead around the troupes of a dozen hatchlings, until they reach sexual maturity at 2-3 years), we were most interested in the plan to increase genetic diversity within the population, as fairly recently the breeding center brought in 9 Ñandú from a zoo north of Puerto Montt in hopes of mating these individuals with the Chacabuco population.
Grace Fowler and Sadey Mirabile meet the subjects of their research project. Photo by Shalynn Pack.
Once at camp we dove into a restoration ecology class on eco-philanthropy (the idea of wealthy business people putting their money into conservation efforts) and neoliberal conservation (re-evaluating nature through a capitalist lens and promoting capitalism as the fundamental means to save nature). I was psyched to lead this discussion and was even happier when my fellow scholars brought on such thoughtful discussion.
The climax of the trip came early on March 20th when we spent half a day solo-hiking to census the Ñandú population. Having the opportunity to walk alone across the barren, arid landscape was a memorable day, allowing us the time to hike at our own pace and let the mind wander while searching the desert plateau for Ñandú. At the day’s end we counted 36 of the giant, flightless birds.
Colby College student Nathaniel Rees scans the horizon for Ñandú on the RRCS/CP census. Photo by Adam Spencer.
Considering that the previous semester found around 19 individuals, we were overjoyed with the results. Pushing our work further, we scanned two fences for Ñandú and predator scat to decipher whether more birds were able to cross these fences or if they impede their movement.
RRCS students walked over a dozen kilometers of fences to evaluate if the flightless ratites try to cross the unnatural barriers. Photo by Adam Spencer.
Interestingly, I got to witness this theory be put to the test when I watched a handful of guanaco being chased by a dog. The adults were able to hop the fence while the juveniles paused and began running along the fence until they found a gap. I was very happy watching the chulingos reunite with their waiting families on the other side.
Guanacos spotted during the Ñandú census. Photo by Adam Spencer.
Okay, maybe the climax wasn’t the Ñandú census. On the sixth day out here we awoke to a flurry of rain and snow blasting the sides of our cabin while we lay snug in our sleeping bags, somewhat refusing to leave the comfort and warmth. By-passing the early start due to an early autumn snow storm, we spent the morning finishing our natural history Grinnell journals. When late afternoon came we all had cabin fever and longed to adventure into a new country.
Popping into Argentina, we were greeted with smiles and hugs by members of the Argentine Gendarme (armed forces). Once again I found myself sinking into a fluffy couch as I was handed rounds of maté and homemade bread. It amazes me how at home I feel with just a sincere and sweet welcome, it’s hard to get that kind of vibe from many Americans I’ve met for the first time. Extending their warmth further, two members of the Gendarme hopped in our cars and took us on a mini tour. Passing the border, the landscape changed drastically. The Chilean Patagonian steppe transformed to cliffs, canyons and lakes.
Westminster University Student James Maloney looks over the Sol del Mayo ranch in the breathtaking valley formed by the falloff of the Buenos Aires Plateau. At left is Cerro Lukas Bridges (named after the founder of the Chacabuco Ranch in the early 20th century), in the middle are Cerro Lapiz (named for its bizzare spire) and Cerro Comillo (canine peak named for its cone shape), and Lago Ghio to the east (right) of the image. Photo by Adam Spencer.
Needing to be afoot, we all bounded for a short hike up a canyon overlooking Lago Ghio to the east. Taking liberties with the whipping wind Adam pulled out a kite, making us all feel like kids again. Chasing the kite through the wind, a sense of freedom, pure bliss and happiness swept through us, even though it was snowing. We took in the views a while longer before heading back to the border where we concluded the night with shared good company, laughter and bread.
Upon our journey back to Cochrane we stumbled upon the company of two Canadian backpackers heading north. Sharing scenic views and trading knowledge of Ñandú and geology, we all enjoyed the safari-style guanaco survey to another campground. Departing with our friends, we enjoyed a warm afternoon in the sun working on a short assignment about the ethics and effectiveness of the Future Patagonia National Park.
A network of guanaco trails criss-crosses the endless bunchgrasses of the Chacabuco Valley. Among the lakes, marshes, streams and ridges, the keystone grazers are making a comeback in the land that was once reserved for sheep. How many guanaco can you count in this photo? RRCS students used binoculars to count guanacos from the truck as they drove the entire X83 road through the park. Photo by Adam Spencer.
Arriving home at base camp we exchanged welcomes with Gilberto and Angélica, meeting some of their extended family and friends. We shared a nice chicken dinner before heading off to our respective tents, content with the previous trip’s experiences.