By Carrie Finkelstein of University of Vermont
Hello from the end of the road! I mean this in the most positive and literal of ways; for the last ten days, my team and I have been exploring the area around Villa O’Higgins, a town located at the end of the legendary Carretera Austral. Our journey at the end of the road was based out of Hostel El Mosco. This cozy cabin filled with fellow adventurers became our second home in the time we spent here. It has been beautiful and exciting to hear each person’s tales of how they arrived at ‘the end’, spoken in about a dozen different languages. Each time we left the hostel to go on one of our expeditions, it was bittersweet for each of us knowing we were leaving such good company, but there was also the thrill that came with following the path less traveled.
Our first expedition was through Bien Nacional Protegido El Mosco, with our main objective being to retrieve data from the long-term camera traps scattered across the valley. We set out midday, following a trail that would lead us to our campsite for the night. The warm sun greeted us as we made our way through a pasture, up some rocky scree, and through a sprawling field in the shadow of the glacier. After about an hour or so, we came across something that had long been absent in our travels through Patagonia: a forest. After spending almost two weeks in the Patagonian steppe, this forest brought a welcome sense of home. I think it was the smell of the pinque ferns and sunlight that danced through the trees and onto my skin that made me conscious of how full of life the landscape around me was, and how full I felt.
Every part of the hike out and back felt like the perfect summer day. I felt a true sense of place for the first time since coming to Chile and a restored sense of self. After two days in El Mosco, we returned to the hostel to prepare for our next expedition and the true objective of the trip: the transect to Entrada Mayer.
The trail between El Mosco and Entrada Mayer can truly be described as taking the path less traveled; there was no trail. Our group of Round River students is the first team to collect data in this area, and aside from the gauchos that guided us and the ranchers scattered throughout the valley, it seemed like we were the only people there for miles. Our goal was to assess the biodiversity of the area and whether or not the valley, Veranada El Azul, acted as a wildlife corridor for the endangered huemul deer (Hippocamelus bisulcus). Participating in this research was incredibly gratifying to me, as there could be real conservation implications as a result. Additionally, our connection to the gauchos and a local masters student, Orlando, allowed us to get a first-hand account of community views and values; hopefully, these will be considered and applied if a conservation plan is to be put into action for the valley.
In terms of habitat, Veranada El Azul was incredibly diverse. Over the course of four days, we trekked through lenga forests, sphagnum bogs, rocky scree, mallin, and open grassy fields. The sphagnum acted almost as a blanket at the base of the mountains and served as a home for such species as the Patagonia toad (Nannophryne variegate); a tiny amphibian roughly the size of my thumbnail.
We saw Andean condors soaring over the horizon and European hares darting through the field if we approached too quickly. Each night we filled ourselves with fire-roasted lamb cooked by our gaucho companions, Florentino and Gustavo, and mate. Though I don’t speak a word of Spanish, we were still able to communicate our joy and gratitude to each other. We were lucky enough to find sites to camp that were within a stone’s throw of a river or stream, lulling me to sleep. Every day brought new adventures and many river crossings over the Rio Azul that snaked through the valley.
I felt incredibly lucky to be surrounded by people who were as enchanted by the land and as passionate about the work we were doing as I was.
To end of our journey along the path less traveled, we joined our guides and other friends for a celebratory asado. Gustavo treated us to lively accordion music, and we all came together to dance around the fire. I’d never felt so welcomed by strangers and left the night feeling electric. We packed out the next morning, driving back up the long and winding Carretera Austral. Our final goodbye from Villa O’Higgins came from a huemul buck, staring at us curiously as we returned from the end of the road.
