By Max Carlin (College of St. John’s and St. Ben’s)
Another week has passed here in the Aysen region. It is clear now that winter does in fact come to southern Chile: the sun and heat that seemed so eternal have abated lately. The summit of Tamango, the most prominent peak visible from Cochrane, received its first dusting of snow, and many of the beech trees lining the banks of Rio Cochrane are retiring their summer verdure for the brilliant russets and reds of autumn. Anticipation of entire hillsides painted in those smoky hues makes the prospect of colder weather much more bearable.
After our first couple of preliminary visits to the Chacabuco, we were eager to dive headfirst into fieldwork there. But first, it was time to cut loose. One afternoon, a small group of students enjoyed rainy kayak trip with a local boating club called Escuelos just up the river from our fieldhouse. Their testimony in favor of the excursion was more than convincing.
That same evening, we treated ourselves to a night on the town. It was a good night to be a reveler in Cochrane, as they were celebrating the 61st anniversary of townhood with a musical fiesta. First on stage were several participants in a talent competition who made an impressive display of local musical aptitude. A winner was selected by judges and then the stage was cleared for…Michael Jackson?! Yes, back from the grave the king of pop moonwalked and hip-thrusted through a compilation of his greatest hits, with more ambition than skill. It was only when two of our most perceptive students realized that the man on stage was actually a gentleman they had seen in the supermarket the previous day that the jig was up: it was merely the world’s most talented Michael Jackson impersonator! What a treat! And that wasn’t even the main act. At the early hour of 1130 the evening was only just beginning, as Chilean music star Tommy Rey and his nine-piece band took the stage in snappy red suits. A full compliment of horns backed Rey’s powerful voice and adroit movements. Soon, though, all of our hours spent slaving away at academics suddenly caught up to us. We returned to the fieldhouse just when the Cochranians were starting to cut rugs.
The next day was spent preparing for our first research outing to the Chacabuco. Students in their various states of packing disarray kept the fieldhouse humming with activity, and also devastatingly cluttered with gear. By minor miracle, we departed the following morning in a punctual manner. The drive was of course gorgeous; the Rio Baker rushing bright blue at the bottom of a deep gorge, the mountains of San Lorenzo framing the smaller foothills of the steppe, where the majestic guanaco stood silhouetted against the rising sun, chewing its cud in the dust.
That night we camped at a military outpost near the border with Argentina, where our host David graciously allowed us the make a mess of his kitchen and clog his toilet. Also featured at the military base were dogs thought to be responsible for the deaths of highly endangered a species of ostrich-like flightless bird called nandu in the valley…as well as their adorable canine offspring. The dire conservation state of the birds was quickly forgotten when the rambunctious wiggle-bodied puppies trundled into camp.
John learns about puppies
Between the yappy pups and the howling wind buffeting our tents at speeds up to 50 miles per hour, I had to work very hard to carve out a few good hours of sleep. Luckily, I did not have to languish sleeplessly in my wind-whipped tent for long, as reveille was scheduled for five o’clock for a bird survey. This was conducted at a nearby lake, known as Lago Frontera for the neighboring border. To cover more ground, we split into three groups.
The group I was in, led by the effusive Fernando, also boasted America’s birding sweetheart, the pride of Fairfax county, Nina Ferrari. With the sun brightening the eastern ridgeline and wind roaring at our backs, we glassed the dusky lake for birds. And we were not disappointed. Upland geese rose in great flocks, and flamingos stalked quietly in the shallows. With a warm mug of coffee, jovial companions, and as many layers of warm synthetic clothing as can be fit on your body, even the windiest of predawn bird counts can be fun.
In the afternoon, we spent an edifying hour and a half completing our very first vizcacha survey. Students ran pell-mell along the base of a large cliff, collecting relevant data on the habitat and presence of vizcacha sign, and then coordinating the relay of that information to Ava so that everyone ended up shouting numbers to her at the same time. By a stroke of luck I was spared the brunt of this mess by my assignment of looking for crevasses, deep and narrow clefts in rocks at the top of cliffs that vizcacha love to live in, with rock climbing enthusiasts Fernando and Guillermo. This quickly devolved into the three of us ogling at the surrounding cliffs and boulders, prime climbing conditions that also happened to make excellent vizcacha habitat.
View east down the Chacabuco Valley from a vizcacha cliff survey
Our second night in Valle Chacabuco was spent at Casa Piedra, known as Stone House to those who do not speak Spanish. Here we found the tent sites of agreeable flatness, we found the gravel to be of agreeable size, and Russell found a horse head in his tent vestibule. The poor sap was the butt of some mean-spirited prankster’s idea of a practical joke. This whodunit mystery unfolded with great suspense as students theorized at the identity of the culprit. This witch hunt soon found a victim, and unhesitatingly dismantled the pillars of the Western justice system in their eager Crusade to let the heavy hammer of blame swing errantly at any individual found to be even the least bit suspect. As it turns out, under this primitive ideology, prior convictions are the primary basis on which to form verdicts of guilt. Given my lengthy rap sheet, I was quickly tarred and feathered. Without incriminating myself, all I can say is that it was a pretty clever prank that would probably require two people working together to pull it off, and possibly even the unauthorized crossing of international borders. But that’s just my unprofessional opinion.
The next morning, equine-related shenanigans were all but forgotten as we made our way back toward Cochrane in the early morning with plans to stop for several bird counts at choice locations. But even the best laid plans of mice and men are no match for the devilish designs of dirt roads. One of our trucks was briefly stuck astraddle the shoulder of the road. To haul it back on track required the aid of the friendly park grounds crew and their high horsepower tractor cab. This delayed our progress just long enough to keep our bird count limited to the one lake we were parked near. Here swam yellow-billed pintails, red shovelers and ashy-headed geese. The strident call of a Magellanic Oystercatcher was heard to the north, and stately guanaco grazed their young, called chulengos, on the grassy lakeshore. Birding has never before been such a joyful experience.
But the day’s work was far from over. Upon our arrival back at the fieldhouse, “Casa Gringo”, students in their designated Fjords research groups busied themselves preparing presentation material for our meeting with CONAF, scheduled for the very next morning, 10 AM. Fortunately, we did not have to start from scratch, as Mateo had stayed back in Cochrane while we mucked about in the Chacabuco to begin working on a PowerPoint. This was our first formal opportunity to analyze the data we had collected in Bernardo O’Higgins and it was wonderfully illuminating to see the hectic times of the Fjords suddenly mean something.
The group all done up for the presentations
Donning our finest threads and reciting the statements we had each prepared in Spanish, we drove to the CONAF headquarters on the far side of town. Among the CONAF staff members who greeted us there were some familiar faces; Felidor and Orlando! The legendary gauchos ushered us inside, and the presentation began. Each research group had a chance to present their findings, along with an additional group of students who explained our route and logistics. Our Spanish was understood and our PowerPoint slides were truly something to be proud of. When all was said and done, our CONAF overlords expressed how pleased they were with our work. They also responded with a presentation of their own: a fascinating report on the huemul deer. All in all it was a very enjoyable morning, best described by the word “synergy”.
Good times rolled into the afternoon, with our instructors returning from their second CONAF meeting cheerfully bearing news of a contract renewal between Round River and CONAF. Huzzah! A simply capital denouement to such a splendid week.