by Conor Larkin, Colby College (photos by Adam Spencer)
Our time in BNP El Mosco Reserve can only be described in two words: quite remarkable. I kid, I kid, not only due to the fact that quite remains to this day an English word, but because it simply cannot be described adequately in words. However, I will try my best to do so by reliving a specific afternoon that represented all the amazing opportunities that a semester with Round River provides.
Allow me to set the stage. It’s about 3:00 in the afternoon and we have settled into our campsite nestled in a Lenga forest at about 800 meters up on the slope of a mountain north of the Rio Claro.
Above the Río Claro Valley
We spent the earlier part of the day hiking up the steep slope along forest ridge lines formed by river beds and through dense scrub carrying our heavy packs that held all we needed for our time in the backcountry. As we hiked we conducted research on the abundance of birds and huemul, the relative human disturbance, as well as the vegetation patterns along each habitat and transect we covered. As we settled down for camp our instructor Adam Spencer informed us that we could go farther up the side of the mountain to look for huemul. Being the GPS guy I felt a certain responsibility to tag along and ensure that everyone else, who is way more capable in the backcountry than I, would not get lost. So I grabbed my water bottle and followed along with Frank, Valeria, Luke, and Adam. Adam led us up beyond tree line and the alpine scree loomed large ahead and views of the valley and glaciers flooded our vision with inconceivable landscapes. What a sight.
We hiked on up, my legs getting more and more weary until we came to a freaking glacier that stretched up and over the ridgeline of the mountain. We reached an elevation of 1355 meters. We stood there drinking from without a doubt the purest substance on planet earth, a glacial stream, and eating crumbs of Dorito snack pack mix. In reflecting on this moment I think I am reaching more clarity of what it meant to me. A chance to experience a world untouched, yes humans have been using our so called wild lands for centuries and often times wild land can not truly be described as devoid of human use, but in this spot on this mountain I can pretty confidently say that there hadn’t been a human to stand in that spot before us. Yet, not surprisingly, there in the snow were huemul tracks. We were in their land now far from human settlements, but still, in that moment I felt more human than anytime than driving a car or playing basketball in my driveway.
Luke stands where perhaps nobody else ever has.
We hiked down as the sun began to fade slowly below the western peaks. Navigating down the scree and loose rock, almost never looking up from where our feet were about to step except for maybe to steal a glance of the mountains all around us. During one of these moments I looked out to the west to gaze down the valley and my eyes noticed something out of the ordinary. “Adam Adam” I spoke out too loudly as I stumbled down the rocks that I had taken my eyes off of making far too much noise, “Theres a huemul!” Along the ridge peaking out from a rock was a majestic adult male huemul deer about 150 meters away, checking out the new guys in town. We didn’t just spot it – it revealed itself to us, almost welcoming us into his own home. After making sure we were alright it trotted off with a natural ease along the rocks, allowing us be in his home, as only the most trusting neighbor would.
A male huemul on the ridgeline
As we traversed down the mountain, reaching tree line and allowing our hands to reach out and grab the closely growing tree trunks propelling us down the hill without needing to slow, the sun peaked though the leaves and created a mosaic of light dancing throughout the forest. And I felt in that brief moment a peace with the land that cannot be described in any word, but was emulated masterfully as the huemul danced along the ridge moving away from us.