by Russell Carter
The past few days have been a whirlwind of activity. However, they started out a little slower, when we had the opportunity to dry out next to a fire and rest on the banks of the Rio Orfhidro, which we had made camp next to. After spending the past 7 days trudging up and over cliff sides and slogging through bogs the rest day was a welcome commodity and morale booster. The gauchos had told us that we were either going to have to cross the river or try to bushwack a way around it; they were going to determine what would be the best option. We were also waiting for our resupply boat driver, Lucho and his partners, Eladio and Jairo, to make their way to our camp. While we were waiting we heard a strange, yet familiar sound emitting from the sky. The distant drone of an airplane was an odd reminder that civilization still existed elsewhere. The gauchos returned with the news that crossing the river was the best option and that Lucho and company were unable to make it. We went to bed hoping that the river would go down to the point that it would be an easy crossing in the morning, but in the fjords nothing goes to plan.
Of course, the next morning the river had swollen substantially, so it was back to the waiting game. We all had broken down camp so that we could head out on a moments notice, so we crowded around the small fire trying to absorb any warmth that it had to offer. The day had been broken into 4 phases: Phase 1: Breakfast, Phase 2: Breaking Camp, Phase 3: Monitoring the River and Phase 4: Actually Going. At this point we had cruised through phases 1 & 2 and were stuck in phase 3 and on standby. The gauchos once again headed out on a scouting mission to try and find a viable place to make the crossing. While they were out we decided to squeeze in a class and not waste any more time while holding in phase 3. By the time they returned class had concluded and they had news to share. What they first said sounded rather grim, and that the river didn’t look like we could cross, but then they exclaimed, “Vamos!” Commence phase 4.
We were all somewhat in disbelief after waiting for so long that we had grown antsy to get going. Once we arrived at the river crossing Felidor wasted no time. He jumped into the aqua colored water and waded right across. We then realized that the river was not nearly as large of an obstacle as we had previously believed. Not to say that it wasn’t chilling, glacial water that was swiftly moving, but the depth at least wasn’t of too much concern. Following the crossing and re-clothing period, we set out to meet our resupply. After 3 hours of bushwacking and slogging we found the legendary Lucho and comrades under a mythical flock of 6 revolving Condors. We had reached salvation, our resupply, which contained dry clothes, chocolates, cookies and a dose of sanity.
The group in front of the Refugio
After we had found our compadres Lucho and crew, we hiked to a zodiac, which motored us across a glacial lake that was strewn with icebergs and afforded us awe-inspiring views of another arm of the Southern Patagonian Ice field. We camped the night on the shore of Orfhidro fjord and woke up in the morning to the CONAF boat, which was supposed to take us to the refugio, resembling more of a beached whale than a watercraft. The tides had thoroughly grounded us. Oh the irony, we had spent the previous two days waiting for the water to go down, and now we were stuck waiting for the water to rise. After holding in phase 3 of the day once again for an extended period of time we helped to push the boat into the trickle that was left of the river. Another two hours passed before the boat resembled a sea-faring vessel rather than a large grounded marine mammal. We all crammed in and began the trip to the refugio. Soon the Bernardo glacier came into view, with the refugio tucked onto the shoreline just before the massive river of ice. We arrived to our gaucho Orlando yelling “My house, your house!” We all wedged ourselves into the cozy oasis the refugio had to offer, complete with warm homemade bread, courtesy of Felidor. After wolfing down plenty of bread we headed back outside to set up camp; while doing so we had the awesome privilege of getting to view four huemul deer just outside of the refugio. The next day was spent catching up on academics, hacky sackin’, and drying gear out, as well as gearing up for our next adventure, a three day trip out by the Bernardo O’Higgens glacier to the Valle de los Toros.
One of the rare huemel deer sightings
Heading towards the glacier was a gorgeous trip in itself, weaving through the icebergs in Bernardo fjord in fog so thick you could cut it. When we arrived to our dropping point we were once again provided with indescribable views of glaciers and otherworldly landscapes. We made our way towards the Valle de los Toros, and as we crested a steep cliff side the gauchos claimed they had spotted 1 of the 2 remaining feral cows in the area. We made our way down into the valley, all interested in what exactly the next days would hold with the sighting of the feral cow. The next day we enjoyed a relaxed day hike along a dried riverbed to yet another glacial lake. While we saw our first huemul in the field, the gauchos were out hunting the cow. We made our way back to camp, eager to see if the gauchos were successful in their endeavors, and as we arrived back to camp we were greeted with a massive rack of ribs. The guachos had wrangled the cow! That night we enjoyed an amazing asado (the Chilean equivalent of a BBQ) and feasted on the most ethically raised, moss and grass fed Patagonian beef one could imagine. But the work was far from over, the next day we had to lug the rest of the meat out, all 220kg (the gauchos estimate) of it. When we arrived back at the boat, to what we wish we could say was a surprise, the boat was beached again. After heaving it out of the mud and back into the water where it was actually floating we made our way back to the refugio. That night, as dinner was being prepared, our boat back to Tortel showed up a day early!
After convincing Paulo (the boat captain) to wait until the following morning to leave we called it an early night, considering the boat was leaving at 7:00 am. We all rose early and packed our things, eager to head back to the north, to the boardwalk town of Tortel. After a long, but gorgeous 13-hour boat ride we arrived back onto solid ground, in beautiful Tortel, having survived the fjords, albeit being drenched for the better part of it, we had quenched our thirst for adventure and filled our tanks full of freedom.