By Lily Zanta, of University of Vermont
As the first couple weeks of our program come to a close, I am astounded by how much I have learned in such a short time. I often forget the excitement that newly acquired knowledge can invoke in a person, and in Chilean Patagonia, this excitement is not in short supply; in just a few days, our team has converted our anticipatory nerves into joy and curiosity.
Our first heap of knowledge was gifted to us on our journey to Cabo Froward, the southernmost point in South America. This two-night trip lead us and our backpacks across pebbly beaches – which, I must say, are as hard to walk on as you might imagine – and through Magellanic Evergreen Rainforest to a campsite on the coast of the Strait of Magellan. Once settled, we took a leisurely day hike to acquaint ourselves with our gear and the habitats in which we were staying. There is a tangible sense of security here, as I have felt about all of Chile, presumably due to the lack of large dangerous mammals and the kindness of the people. The birds, too, were outgoing and plentiful. Dark-bellied Cinclodes flew in the midstory, Southern Caracara perched high up in wind-blown coigue trees, and Flightless Steamer Ducks swam through the Strait. I am reminded every time I see a bird here that the land is not the possession of humans, but rather that we are visitors of and equals to all other life.
Adam, Anna, and Luke (left to right) walking on the southern beaches along the Strait of Magellan, toward our campsite for the next two nights. Photo by Sophie Karolczak.
From Cabo Froward, we headed toward Torres del Paine National Park to witness what I would now define as the most spectacular views I have ever seen.
The view from our campsite at Torres del Paine National Park. Photo by Sophie Karolczak.
Our first day hike set the standard for Patagonian beauty; we walked up to the mirador Torres del Paine (Towers of Blue. “Torres” meaning “towers” in Spanish, and “Paine” meaning “blue” in the native language of Tehuelche). The hike proved itself to be long and strenuous – but well worth it, leading us first through the Patagonian Steppe, up past the Magellanic Deciduous Forest, and finally to the top of the hike.
Team Tero at the top of the Torres del Paine! Photo by friendly stranger
The second day was a rainy one; we walked to a lookout point to see a shyly clouded Glacier Grey and made our way back to have class. Even on a day like this, we were surprised by Patagonian beauty; a female huemul deer crossed our path, followed by Puma tracks. On our third and final day in Torres, the sun hugged us goodbye. We took a small hike out to a lookout point to see Los Cuernos (the horns), a geomorphic spectacle that was incredible to see. As we sat in silence and observed the mountain (this was Adam’s idea, not ours), a full and rushing sense of gratitude filled my body and mind. I am ready and eager to learn all I can about this landscape which takes my breath away.
Luke Basler hikes back from a viewpoint of Los Cuernos (the horns). This towering structure is even more breathtaking in person, if you can believe it. Photo by Sophie Karolczak.
I thank this part of the Earth, our instructors, and all the students I have come to know, for filling me with an initial and unique excitement and security. I am left feeling honored to serve the Patagonian landscape and enthusiastically curious about what is to come.
A guanaco, taking a mid-morning rest in front of a glacier flowing off the flank of Paine Grande mountain. This camelloid species is common in Patagonia and will be one of the species we’ll research on later on in the semester. Photo by Sophie Karolczak.