By Jesse Isenhart of Dawson High School
In a briefing back at base camp days ago, two things were very clear in my mind: it was going to be cold and likely raining the whole time we were in the Pascua and we were going into an extremely remote and special area that even few Chilean people ever get to visit, never mind foreigners. The plan would be to stay a few nights at a family campo near the mouth of the Pascua that was previously owned by Fabio, a CONAF guardaparque (pretty much the equivalent of a park ranger in the United States), as well as spend a few nights near Lago Bergues at the base of the Southern Patagonian Ice Field.
As we neared Fabio’s campo after a long day in the car which had already involved taking a ferry across a fjord, the most obvious obstacle between us and Fabio’s campo was a huge, fast flowing, freezing cold, turquoise glacial river. The way across? That wasn’t clear at all, but Fabio said we would use something called a balsa. Fabio our fearless leader was first out of the vehicle when we arrived. Students watched in amazement as he put together this makeshift platform that would carry ourselves AND our two vehicles to the other side of the Pascua! It was a complex system that consisted of 3 different pulleys that worked together with the flow of the huge river to slowly pull us across. Halfway across the river it became apparent as to why this area has been left so untouched, and that this adventure that we were beginning was thanks to Fabio’s experience. We already felt both indebted and dependent on this 24 year old incredible Chilean.
“HELP, STUCK, END OF ROAD”.
Claudia, our instructor, typed our message in all caps and pressed send: The start of our 8 eight day Rio Pascua expedition was off to an adventurous start to say the least.
With light rain in the forecast, this had seemed like a perfect day to get acquainted with our research protocols and give it a try where the mighty Pascua River met the ocean. At the very end of the road we were ready to jump out, and all we had to do was turn our little white van around so it would be ready to go when we got back. We were soon completely stuck unable to move, in the middle of nowhere, and we knew help was not close. We tried multiple different techniques to get out but none worked. Finally our new local friend and guide Fabio and another instructor (Matt) came and towed us out with a truck they were using to scout the start of our bushwhacking access to a remote lake, Lago Bergues.
The plan for this Lago Bergues expedition was told to us during over dinner at Fabio’s campo. We would bushwhack into Lago Bergues and do our RBI (Rapid Biological Inventory) transects there for 3 nights and then hike back to the campo and do RBIs in places where we could do day hikes. This remote, untouched area was similar to what you would see in a painting: a lush green valley due to all the rain, with fog and clouds covering the tops of the glaciers that surrounded us. Large mountains loomed overhead but we did not get to see them all that often as they were also covered in clouds. At some points, the Ice Field would be visible but because the snow and ice stretched for such a long period it was easy to overlook it as if it was just more clouds. The closer you looked and the more you focused, the more you were able to see and it was truly mind-blowing to see how far the ice stretched. And forget about how that is only about 1.5 percent of the entire ice field.
We split into four teams for the RBI transects— plant team, bird team, amphibian team, and my group, huemul team (Huemul: an endangered and stocky looking deer that plays a huge ecological role in Chile). We would stop every 250 meters and collect data of what each team was seeing. As a team huemul member, I spent my days with my eyes locked to the ground looking for any evidence of a huemul whether it was a track or a pile of their scat. Live sighting data could also be included, but we were told that we could likely walk all day every day and still not see any huemules. Luckily, this was not the case!
Our track to Lago Bergues involved bushwhacking through dense rainforest as well as navigating through deep bogs and areas full of sphagnum moss (a 5km hike took us about 7 hours!). This mystical hike was well worth it though, as our camp/home for the next three nights was unbelievable. We were perched above a large lake with a view of the Southern Ice Field and large icebergs floating very close to us in the lake. It was super cool and special to see! After setting up our tents (no flat or dry ground to be had), we cranked up the Whisperlite stoves and made a warm meal called Gato Gato which is pretty much just noodles with peanut butter, and a bit of soy sauce and veggies. After our long day, it tasted delicious and was much appreciated by all as we huddled under the group tarp in the pouring rain. I found myself awake a lot during the night, feeling like our tent was about to get ripped out of the ground from wind, while listening to the distant but loud bellowing of the glacier as it calved into the lake.
Rain began to feel more and more normal along with the feeling of always being a little bit uncomfortable. But sharing that as a group, along with the excitement of our adventure together brought our group even closer. Our soggy trend was broken on our third day as we were walking to a new campsite. The sun was out all day! This was a much needed solar event, and appreciated by all us students.
Our other excitement of the day came while we were stopped for a water break. Matt pointed, all heads turned toward the end of his finger and we got to see our first huemul. The huemul is of great significance to Chileans and is even engraved on Chile’s national coat of arms (along with a condor). After about 10 minutes of soaking up the moment of seeing this special deer, something scared it and it took off. This is when we realized that there were two of them, both very healthy males. Team huemule celebrated with hugs and laughs with the whole group!
We continued with our transecting late into the afternoon, and with Matt and Fabio’s help, picked a spot that seemed like ideal huemul habitat. This was not the case. Instead it was a huge bog that engulfed us up to our waists at some points. Walking through habitat like this was tricky and at times, when you thought you had good footing on something solid, you would fall through into a nasty smelly puddle of water underneath the mosses. Add a large, heavy pack to the scene and you get the sense of walking in our boots! Despite the challenges of the bog, the views and the many laughs we had made it a very fun experience.
The last full day in the Pascua was spent with Fabio. While others were doing their rapid biodiversity indexes, I got the chance to go with Fabio to a neighboring campo where he wanted to get a sheep for an asado (a traditional Patagonian barbecue). The campo was on the other side of the river so we had to take a small boat across. The plan was to get to the campo and ask the woman there, Tia, if we could try and catch one of her sheep for our asado. Tia was all for the idea, it cost us 45 luca which is equivalent to about 55 dollars, so cheap! When Fabio told me we would have to catch the sheep and that it could be in the wild I thought that I had lost something in the translation as he spoke no English and his Spanish was incredibly difficult to understand. But I had not misunderstood what he had said. We literally had to run after the herd of sheep, corral them into a makeshift pen and then try to catch one. Tia was quite thrilled to just stand and watch us try to desperately catch one of these sheep. Feeling a little out of place I stood to the side thinking that Fabio had it covered. When he shouted for me to come help and block a path I jumped right in. Right as I stepped in to help, the herd of sheep came barreling at me. Not thinking much of it, I stood my ground as I was fully expecting the sheep to run to the side of me. I was wrong! The first sheep came straight at me, jumped into the air and hit me directly in the chest. Both me and the sheep went down hard. Fabio and Tia had quite the laugh and I can only imagine what Tia was thinking about this gringo who came to her campo to try and help.
The rest of the day was spent preparing the sheep the traditional way and drinking a lot of mate with Fabio and Tia. We had great conservations (at least I think I got the gist of what they were telling me). I asked about this area and their thoughts. Fabio works for CONAF and sees value in ecotourism and likes the idea of having his backyard be a protected area which would ensure that it was not dammed. But he also said it would be hard if the locals could not use the land and extract wood or run their sheep since they depend on the land for just about everything.
Tia had a bit of a different perspective and told me her story with lots of emotion. From what I understood through her extremely hard to understand Spanish was that she would never leave this place nor would her husband and family. They grew up here living off of the land and have everything they need. They don’t need money from anyone she said because she has all the value she needs in all of the trees around them that they harvest and sell in Cochrane and their sheep and cattle as well. She also picks calafate from the bushes and makes jam to sell in Cochrane. For this reason she wants her home to stay the way it is and not have people come mess it up.
Once the sheep was prepared, we loaded the boat up and went back across the river. The rest of the afternoon was spent making a fire and cooking the sheep. When everyone got back from the RBI we enjoyed a delicious traditional feast. A perfect last night in this amazing place.
At the end of this trip, when we loaded the van with all of our gear to begin our journey back to base camp, I began to think about this incredibly beautiful landscape and what it has taught me. It felt very special to know the research we collected would be used to help set aside this unique place, and keep it from getting dammed. The phrase I kept repeating to myself was one that I had learned from Gabe… while doing a rose bud and thorn of our trip. It was a way to fully appreciate the beauty while also accepting and experiencing the challenges. The Pascua truly taught me what beautiful misery meant. It was the rose in the sense that this remote place gave so much to us, the thorn in that it rained almost every day and we would do our RBI’s soaking which was hard. But despite the hardships, it still felt like a rose, and a bud in that we looked forward to more of it every day.
