February 23, 2016
By James Maloney (Westminster College)
Our adventure began at the end of the Baker River: Tortel, a fishing village buoyed by boardwalks. Here, in this saturated town of just 600 inhabitants, the Baker River meets the intricate Patagonian fjord system—a flooded labyrinth of lush isles and rolling hills of granite, basalt, and gneiss. Eighty miles southwest, we embarked on our first trek through Isla Orfhidro. It would take us five days through old growth Coigue (southern beech) forests and over an unnamed alpine pass to reach the Isles’ southern bank. High above the turquoise waters, we could see Bernardo Glacier to the East and dozens of peaks across the fjord. Then we successfully flagged down the CONAF ship with a smoke signal. After five grueling days of bushwhacking and backpacking, we boarded the ship that would take us across the icy waters to the safety of the refugio—a weathered outpost on the banks of the fjord. We were greeted by the smiling faces of the Guardaparques. Warm and dry for the first time in days, we huddled around as our guides sang and played guitar in the refugio’s tiny kitchen; in that moment, it was easy to forget that this place is just as hard to reach as it is to leave.
Making sopaipillas in the refugio
Quickly, we became accustomed to daily life at the refugio. Most mornings began by packing into the kitchen for oatmeal with Calafate berries, a sweet, blue berry abundant in Patagonia. Many students sat around the table and stove while others perched on the staircase or simply stood. But regardless of where one sat or stood, you could be sure that at some point you’d be handed the mate gourd—a caffeinated tea popular in Chile. After breakfast, instructors and students went upstairs to the loft area for class; conservation biology, restoration ecology and environmental humanities were the topics for this section of our academics.
Working on assignments in the refugio
By noon, it was time to get outside. Some hiked North to one of the area’s many waterfalls to swim, others explored to the South and East toward Bernardo Glacier. One morning, we helped the Guardaparques clear a path through the chaura, a low-‐ lying thicket. As we prepared to head out on our next five day trek, we received news of an approaching storm that had mostly disbanded to intermittent rains. So, we put on our gaiters and got ready to get wet.
Young male huemul deer
Female huemul deer
Our plan was to hike seven kilometers Southeast to the Tempano Glacier and establish a photo-monitoring site. And ultimately we did, but not without getting our feet wet. The first day we set out from the refugio in light rains, but by noon-time the winds had picked up and darker clouds were moving in. As we ascended an area of loose rock and cascading waters, it became clear that it was going to be a long day. We descended the opposite side, crossed flooding rivers and reached the flatter and relatively drier lowlands known as the Pampa. And in a region where over 4,000 mm of rain fall annually, when and if you find a relatively dry plateau, you camp there. The next morning, we received news that the weather would turn from bad to worse over the next few days. So, we followed our instincts all the way back to the refugio. And good thing we did, because that weather forecast was right.
Tempano or Bust
As rains battered the refugios’ windows and the Chilean flag fought a losing battle against the winds outside, the reality that we might be stranded here started to set in. When we received news that the port in Tortel was closed and that the ship we planned to take back would not be able to reach us for the next few days, we took another inventory of our food and made sure a backup ship could reach us if necessary. Before I go any further, I should mention that our inventory checked out, we did indeed have a backup ship, and that if there’s anyone you want to be stuck with in the Patagonian Fjords it’s the CONAF guardaparques. So, we did what people used to do before they had the world at their fingertips: we get to know the people sitting right next to us. We told stories, spoke a little Spanish, and did what we had to to ride out the storm. I’d be lying if I said there weren’t tense moments—with a dozen people in a tiny outpost, feet are bound to get stepped on—but on the whole, we rode out the storm and got to know each other a little better in the process.
Twelve days later we caught a break in the storm and rode out in the early morning darkness. As the sun rose and reflected across the fjord, the fourteen of us sat crammed aboard a boat in one final test of our camaraderie. For eight hours, we watched the seascape. Water trickled, then funneled, and finally splashed in grand falls to the glacial waters below—each unnamed and unnamable. We reached Tortel relieved and almost a month after the outset of our adventure. In that time, we glimpsed the essence of this wild place—safely stranded.
Tempano Glacier