Wandering Deeper

By Shannon Quinn, University of Vermont

November 14, 2017. 6:40 a.m. I woke up in a cold dark place. I am reminded of life’s inherent harshness; the kind that can threaten to wash one’s spirit downstream. My foremost thought this morning is that I’m soaked to the bone, but this does little to dampen my mood. Camped in an ethereal old-growth Lenga (Nothofagus pumilia) forest in the heart of a remote valley, the sounds of the previous night’s rain have long since dissipated. The sun’s rays invite themselves through cracks in the ancient Lenga branches; timidly. In a forest this old, much of its past is scattered throughout the forest floor in the form of fallen, rotting snags. Its wisdom lies in the Lenga trees that continue to stand 150-250 years later. Its youth is found in the playful mosses and foliose lichens that blanket the ground.

This is the birth of a new day in Valle de Los Moscos, Patagonia, Chile.

This is the final stretch of a 6-day backpacking trek through the heart of an isolated wilderness on the outskirts of Bernardo O’Higgins National Park, just on the northeastern edge of the southern Patagonia icefield. We began our backpacking trip at the mouth of Valle Largo and eventually crossed over into Valle de Los Moscos, with the goal of documenting the presence of plants, birds, amphibians, and endangered Huemul deer (Hippocamelus bisulcus) in the two largely unexplored valleys. Invoked in the group is a sense of wonder and urgency. We were stepping on ground that greets our presence as strangers. The unpredictable grounds of mother nature are beyond anything a human mind can recreate.

This is nature for its own sake.

One of the people who is familiar with the valleys of the BNP was our guide, Lorenzo. Lorenzo is a true Gaucho (Chilean cowboy) whose world is encompassed in this landscape, where he grew up and continues to call home. He led his four horses through the entanglements of temperate rainforest and mixed evergreen habitats while we trailed behind the whole way. His three trusty dogs were always by his side. A man of the mountains, Lorenzo weaved his way through the valleys with a poise and elegance that I don’t feel many people can recreate. Lorenzo is one of the people adapted to living amongst the harshness of the Patagonia terrain. I want to be perfectly clear: without his guidance, this expedition wouldn’t have happened. Lorenzo and I didn’t exchange many words in the week we spent with him. However, a crucial aspect of social interaction in Patagonia is this: the essence of sharing company is the passing around of maté, a strong, bitter, caffeinated tea that runs through the veins of each Patagón.

The 2-day final stretch of our trek took us all the way to the end of Valle de Los Moscos and hooked back around to where Valle Largo meets Lago O’Higgins. We hightailed it through dense jungles, the perfect habitat for the monstrous Costilla de Vaca (Blechnum spp.) ferns; and high-altitude blanket bogs where hardy cushion forming plants transformed dense bedrock into life. I won’t soon become immune to the memory of trampling through ferns that grow to be same size as a full-grown human being; nor the inherent thrill of feeling swept off our feet as we traversed the windy mountain ridges that embraced the edge of the milky blue Lago O’Higgins. A sense of gratitude overcame me as we watched Andean Condors (Vultur gryphus) soar not only above us, but below us. Our mission was this: To persist through a terrain of uncertainty so that when we stumbled onto the beach concluding Valle Largo we could look each other in the eyes and say “We tried our best, and we did it.”

This is inner quest manifesting itself as the physical.

When we finally did awake that final day there were clouds weaving through the mountains on the horizon. We were camped on a blanket of bog plants on a windy ridge. As the cold dawn faded, the sun thawed our spirits. The hike down to the beach was long, and required a good amount of bushwacking and maneuvering through dense vegetation. It wasn’t what one might call “a walk in the park”. I recall the fond memory of the feeling of smallness settling inside me as I walked on a fallen Coigüe (Nothofagus betuloides) tree. I stepped up onto the trunk and pushed through a shrub, only then realizing its sheer mass. Looking down at the cracked, ancient wood, it seemed to continue into infinity. A tree that had spent its 250+ year lifespan on Earth reaching for the sky, now it lay to rest on the forest floor. I walked the tree to the end and continued onward. Everything eventually decays.

The final moments as we descended down the last cliff face to the beach were climactic. We had backpacked over 35 kilometers without any semblance of a trail, collected data on over 70 species of plants, roughly 20 species of birds, documented the presence of endangered Huemul deer, and experienced a whirlwind of different habitats and weather patterns, as well as thoroughly tested the strength of our bodies and minds. We filtered off the final ridge onto the beach at Lago O’Higgins, where we were finally level with the milky blue water we had been gazing down at for days. We rejoiced; the hugs and smiles shared solidified our success. Lorenzo de-saddled his horses, letting them run free. They too were elated to have made it. We waited for the military boat to break though the fog and take us back to Villa O’Higgins.

This is the feeling of returning home, regardless of where home is.

Throughout the whole expedition, I felt enlightened by a familiar interest in the native plants. I thoroughly enjoyed taking note of the different habitats we passed through. Old-growth Lenga forests housed small forests of little tree moss (Dendroligotrichum dendroides) and lycopodiums (Lycopodium spp.) were dusted throughout the forest floor. Mixed evergreen habitats were the only places in the valley one could find the fragrant rarity, Ciprés de Las Guitecas (Pilgerodendron uviferum). However, I took a particular interest in the small plant species of the high-altitude blanket bogs. I was enchanted by the intricate mandalas of cushion plants such as Erizo (Oreobolus obtusangulus) and Bolax that can be found there. Dainty complexity can be found in the flowers of the marsh marigold (Caltha spp.) and Donatia (Donatia fascularis) plants. When walking through a bog, it is easy to overlook these small wonders. However as I learned the different species, the diversity of the plants there became increasingly apparent. Carnivory is one of the incredible adaptions certain species evolved in the bog. Rocio Del Sol (Drosera uniflora) captures gnats using a glue-like substance it produces in order to survive in the harsh, nutrient poor conditions. Plants there form cushions in order to hold up against the cold wind. The blanket bogs of Patagonia are a sign that life can sometimes be harsh, but it is always beautiful.

Wander deeper. A certain understanding can be awakened when one takes time to listen, look, and connect with the seemingly insignificant wonders of the world. Your human form is meant to understand far more than intuition grants you.