Living Simply
I think that I can speak for most of us in the Round River crew in saying that this program has been life changing, or at the very least a fantastic experience. I am going home with a potential career direction (field biology), Guillermo has decided that he wants to study Vizcacha for his senior thesis at Colby, Jermey is claiming to be going home with big plans for a new fitness and study regime. Some of us, like Mike returning to his prairie studies, are heading back home to a more familiar routine. We all have grown close over the past few months – a far cry from the first two weeks of quiet apprehension and overly extended common courtesies. Sure, we now have to struggle, some of us anyway, against flagrant gas passing (no names mentioned) and the assuredly rank fumes of well worn hiking socks. Despite these struggles, we have grown close enough to laugh wholeheartedly and speak truly without any misgivings (even when using a filter might be a good idea). This might be the last blog entry and it would be tough to do a survey of all that we have accomplished and experienced with any justice. So, rather I’ll base this blog on a topic of conversation that we had a while ago.
More often than not, when we are at basecamp, the evening routine takes on a predictable pattern: 1) return from field work tired and hungry; 2) The civilized among us will take a shower or at least wash off; 3) We will make a dinner with an absurd quantity of a lentil, pasta or rice base accompanied by a glass of wine if we are so inclined; 4) We all dutifully clean dishes, or more accurately Hannah dutifully cleans the dishes; 5) People slide on long johns, or as they are referred to in Patagonia, “sleepy tights,” while water boils for tea and cocoa; 6) The hardy among us settle down for a friendly game of Hearts; 7) We bid each other goodnight and prepare for a chilly night filled with Patagonian dreams.
The sixth stage of the evening, the Hearts game, can sometimes get competitive, it’ll often get weird (as Neely tends to think, anyway), and it will occasionally be the centerpiece for thoughtful conversation. On one such night, as previously described, we settled down for a game of Hearts, and our leader, Will, brought up the irony of the “Live Simply” brand by the Patagonia clothing company. The company sells hats and graphic tee shirts with this slogan costing $25 or more – simply, indeed! Now each one of us owns at least one article of clothing from a “designer” outdoor brand, but regardless the irony did strike us as, shall I say, bold?
We proceeded to talk about what it really means to live simply, and I think that we all agreed that we were able to inch closer to that ideal living down here, in Chacabuco, than any of us had in our routines back in the states. I don’t think any of us would claim that we are living as simply as Eustis Conway, “the last American man,” or as simply as the strange and stoveless vagabond, Jimmy from St. Louis. But even so, living in Chacabuco has certainly brought us closer to the idyllic and romantic notion of simple living – how its done and what can be gained from it. Allow me to explain.
Back home all of us are conservation minded. We go hiking on the weekends, take classes in ecology, and have summer field jobs. Some of us have had the incredible experience of NOLS, others have entered in orienteering competitions, and others among us just enjoy going out on a day hike with their fathers. Regardless, we all find an appreciation for wilderness and wildness in our own ways. Even so, our everyday routines surrounds us with cities and computers; university campuses and weekend parties; the endless struggle to decide between pizza and Chinese take-out; and malls and marketplaces that ensure guaranteed access to just about whatever floats his or her respective boat.
Here in Patagonia we have not found such ease of access or availability. Instead of six lane highways, there is just the “1000 kilometer gravel rodeo” that is the carraterra austral. Instead of a shopping mall with just about anything one could desire, we have El Supermercado, which is a hodgepodge mini-Walmart that has a selection of food supplies, clothing, hardware, and sporting goods. Since one can never be sure that El Supermercado has what is needed and it seems to take siesta at the most inconvenient of times, we also choose to peruse the other two grocery stores in Cochrane – the “blue” store and the “red” store. Just about the entire town of Cochrane relies the selection available at these stores, and what’s worse is when Round River rolls into town, and proceeds to buy all three stores out of just about every major food group: bread/grains, vegetables, dairy, fats/sweets, and Frugeles (this candy is deserving of its own category).
Our meals have become very standard to this point in the semester, other than the occasional curve ball meal prepared by Nick, or, our leader, Iris. In the mornings we have come to expect consistency – Avena Oatmeal – everyday. None of us complain, though. As we have come to believe, “Oatmeal will take you higher, oatmeal will get you through the day,” thank you Mr. Eismann. Eaten with a large spoonful of sugar, Avena instant oats hits the spots on the seriously brisk Patagonian mornings. Oatmeal is accompanied by Nescafe instant coffee or black tea, each is prepared with, depending on the preparer, an unhealthy amount of powdered milk and sugar, making for a breakfast that is simply divine.
Our lunchtime meal offers considerably more diversity. The first consideration is whether we will be eating in the field or in camp, but for “No Frills” Will this does not really matter, because lunch does not often change from canned tuna and crackers. For the rest of us, if we are in camp, we like to fry eggs with cheese and toasted bread. To Guillermo’s disgust, all of us gringos will spoon a side of avocado with our eggs, if available. The non-egg eaters might go with watery jam and bread, or if chilly, round two of the ever present Avena instant oats. If we are rushing into the field, then usually lunch is just bread and cheese. When available we will have avocado or the canned hummus that is sometimes stocked in the Cochrane main store.
For dinner, our meal consists of some combination of lentils, rice or pasta as a base, vegetables, and cheese. If we invite guests over then we will go wild and soak some black beans for Mexi-Night.
I describe all this, because we do not have quite the selection that we are accustomed to in the states. Our meals consist of the, more often than not, limited selections available in the fairly remote outpost of Cochrane in the Aysen district of Chile. Since we eat pretty much the same foods everyday, we have learned to get creative with or meals – sometimes to great success, and other times we eat the odd concoction of food anyway because we are all so hungry. We have learned to make crepes from scratch. Iris’ garbanzo boil has become a pre backpacking ritual and the gurgling pot of beans eventually translates into a delicious garlic hummus. We have experimented with powdered milk to make surprisingly pleasant crème sauces and hot chocolate mixes. We have made some pots of lentil curry that require second and third helpings. And of course, Guillermo’s scientific carrot rice has become a beloved staple of the group, and a ten page field methods paper could be devoted to the intricate and delicate process that goes into its making.
Unfortunately, not all of our meals have quite gone according to plan. I will certainly take my fair share of the blame. An attempted fried rice experiment turned into a fried rice glob disaster. Another creation of mine, pasta and instant mashed potatoes left everyone feeling bloated for the next few days. Still, I am not the only experimenter gone awry. Nick, a great cook in all earnest, decided to try putting instant coffee in a bean dish, to a less than pleasant result. Our chef extraordinaire, Iris, has mad a dill sauce whose recipe is best left forgotten and buried next to Iris’ own unfinished bowl of pasta. Then there is Mike, who has the penchant for turning just about every delicious meal into an aji inferno.
The point of all this is that living simply requires and inspires creativity. Although it may not have always worked out for us, we have learned an awful lot about what works and what is at least, well, edible.
Another facet of living simply, as we have come to find, is dealing with the elements. Patagonia is notoriously harsh in terms of weather conditions. The wind on the steppe howls unrelentingly, it will start to rain during what was otherwise a blue bird sunny day, and it can get so cold at night that the water in our nalgenes has frozen and we have to bring our sleeping bags on morning bird surveys to keep warm. Furthermore, we have experienced hail, morning frosts, a relentless horde of mice at basecamp, and days that require an outfit change from wearing a puffy jacket, fleece, wool shirt, and baselayer to being able to swim comfortably in Rio Chacabuco.
We have learned the essentials of thermoregulation. Hannah and Neely go to bed hypowrapped in an obscene layer of clothes, blankets, and sleeping bags (yes, sometimes plural). I have calculated just how much mint tea I can consume without needing to relieve myself in the middle of the night and, therefore, avoid suffering the cold. Also, I have learned that Becky wakes, like clockwork, to the rise of the sun. If I time it just right, Becky will have hot water steaming by the time I saunter over to the food lean-to. I’ve learned to bring a raincoat, even on cloudless day trips. I’ve learned that shorts are an invariably bold move to make in a land dominated by the exasperating stick tight, that will stick tightly to every singly article of clothing and in the most inconvenient of places.
We have also learned to get inventive with our free time. We have no cinemas, music halls, or student centers, and we have only very limited access to the Internet. Living the simple life requires that one must possess an active imagination. Guillermo has created a number of tools: a hammer from stone; a pull up bar from wood; and a fishing rod from the Patagonian bamboo, quilla. This rod is made of a long branch of bamboo, some recycled metal, duct tape, and a spool of fishing line with a hook. We took this rod down to a stream that drains into the Chacabuco and both Guillermo and Becky caught fish, using grasshoppers as bait.
During one free afternoon Becky, Mike, and myself took a hike up the slope visible from basecamp to the “hidden forest” (a lenga forest, unseen from camp, amidst a largely steppe ecosystem). On the route down, we raced back to camp wobbling between the point of safety and being out of control, much like the races run by Guanaco in heat.
During academic days, we might take a 20 minute break to play keep away soccer, that with our level of skill becomes increasingly silly and difficult as we move from 3-touch to 2-touch to 1-touch passing. We might not be very good, but as Memo would say, its much more about the passion.
Other free time activities include Wine 101 with the Northern Californian, Iris. We have learned the nature of pairing and session wines, and the appropriate application of each while entertaining guests.
Some among us (with Will as the creative director) have developed a screenplay for a romantic comedy, “Permanent Ink.” I won’t divulge the plot or details as I risk copyright infringement.
We have also heard, to no end, about the high life that Jeremy and Will will be living once they are in the business of making millions, although none of the rest of us are quite sure what that business entails. It may just be the Patagonian dust, but these fellows vision themselves as better dressed than Ryan Gosling and more suave than George Clooney. Hopefully they will remember us small folk once they finally make it big.
Also, of the utmost importance, Will and I have converted the whole crew (sans Jeremy) to become lifelong, diehard Liverpool fans. You’ll never walk alone.
In all seriousness, I am writing this blog in my tent with a pen that is entirely wrapped in duct tape, because you never can know just when you’ll need it. It has been a great three months. We have all learned a lot and explored the future Patagonia National Park far and wide. We almost always had access to a selection of Frugeles, Tauregs, Morochas, Limons, and an equally exhaustive list of chocolate bars. We were able to connect to internet once every couple weeks to peek at the old home life and register for classes. We were able to blast jams (generally bluegrass with Iris, Collective Soul with Will, and at least one Bob Marley jam for Memo) as we drove to our field sites. We were able to use solar powered showers with questionable water pressure. And, most importantly, we were almost always able to get a weekly Liverpool FC score update.
Despite these considerable luxuries, we spent three months in the Chacabuco Valley living in tents and out of our backpacks. We cooked beans over fires, and had mate with hardened gauchos. We prepared strange meals, read plenty of books (in Mike’s case 32-38 depending on the counting methodology), created the next blockbuster rom-com, ate bread and cheese while searching for vizcacha colonies, and watched the daily weather changes morph into the seasonal climatic changes.
In our remoteness, we were afforded the opportunity to live a simpler life. We woke at sunrise and went to bed by 10pm. At the very least, we edged closer to whatever it means to live simply. I think what we have learned, we will be able to take back to the states: Confidence in our own abilities to tackle problems; Creativeness when our options are limited; Preparedness for the unexpected (such as total engine failures, faulty fuses causing the car horn to sound without leave, or the bumper falling off the truck while in motion). While we were all, in some way or another, conservationists before jetting down to Aysen, we will walk away from this experience and this place with a new understanding and vigor for conservation.
It is difficult to express, in a short blog entry especially, all the experiences that we are taking away from this place with us. There was the nature stuff, such as: full moon nights requiring no headlamp; the new moon nights where I saw the milkiest Milky Way galaxy that I’d ever seen. There was the steppe grasslands that roll into mountain glaciers; also, the turquoise (by other accounts, teal) water that is astoundingly clear and pure. Then there is the academic stuff like learning to create a holistic restoration plan, proper field methodology, and long discussions about Traditional Ecological Knowledge and Island Biogeography (with guanaco running amuck in the background). Then there is the other, miscellaneous, stuff. Learning new card games, like Hearts, to pass the time, or sharing stories with one another, which, similar to the Kevin Bacon principle, are somehow always relatable to the going ons in the Midwest, specifically Minnosota, and the Twin Cities, in particular.
We have learned a lot and have had boatloads of fun. While the irony of selling expensive tee shirts that blaze the slogan “live simply” still rings clear, we have taken a step to finding out what that slogan really means. We have learned that, more often than not, less is more. We have learned that there is a lot to learn from stepping away from busy lives and fancy technology. Living simply requires the nine ways problem solving philosophy where, in order to thrive, one cannot be narrow minded or overly confident. My time in Patagonia has taught me that much at the very least, and as we all saunter along to our next life challenges, we will be better prepared having this experience under our belts.
The Group at Monrreal before we head out!