read up.

Some more food for thought, in the form of interesting articles I've read in the past month:

• Aysén and Chile's stupid addiction to centralism
• How Our Broken Immigration System Indirectly Killed Nelson Avila-Lopez
• Australia's Changing View of the Dingo - this has some unmistakable parallels to the opinion of pumas among ranchers here, best reflected in this quote from the article: "Like the wolf in America, the dingo is a symbol that may mean one thing to hunters or sheep ranchers and another to scientists and nature lovers."
• Who Will Win Over America's Latino Voters?
• Specialists in Rare Earths Say a Trade Case Against China May Be Too Late
• Chilean Town Withers in Free Market for Water - the backstory to how Chile's water came to be owned by foreign entities, opening the door for megaprojects like HidroAysén.
• Chile sets deadlines for meeting demands of Aysén protesters - too soon to hope for progress?
• Chile court rules in favor of Patagonia HidroAysén dam - dam it, this is bad: look at the map and know that the site of the Baker 1 dam is right here at the entrance to our park:

The site of the Baker 1 dam (in the canyon running down the center of the frame).

• The 5 Best Treks in Patagonia - our Lagunas Altas trail gets a shout out!
• Beneath that Beguiling Smile, Seeing What Leonardo Saw
• In California, Economic Gap of East vs. West
• Why Trees Matter

Return

It's a rainy morning, my first back in the Chacabuco Valley since the beginning of April.  I've been on vacation in Parque Pumalín, 700 kilometers and another world away from here.  Things there feel like an old prehistoric world, what with the abundance of rain, green, and volcanoes.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.  Pumalín deserves its own post.

I arrived at the estancia yesterday afternoon, after two long days on a bus from Chaiten to Coyhaique to Val Chac.  About two hours after my arrival, we were joined by our latest guests: Tom and Jenny, a really nice couple from New York with their 13-month-old daughter Sofia.  They'll be here for a week, exploring the park and getting some fresh air away from the bustle of the Big Apple.  The same day that they leave, we're expecting a large group of photographers on tour around the area with Jonathan, a Colorado transplant who runs an adventure tour company in the area.  This group will take over for a night, and then there are no more visitors on the horizon for the rest of the season.  Being within three and a half weeks of the end of my current travels is a weird feeling; going home seems imminently close and yet immensely far away, seeing as I've been gone for almost seven months.  I'm looking forward to returning and seeing my dear family and friends (and my kitty!) but I'll miss this place as well.  The drive from Coyhaique yesterday couldn't have been a better reminder of the original reason that drew me here...the sky was blue, spotted with a few puffy white clouds, lending light to illuminate the red and yellow leaves of the lenga trees as they climbed from the lips of sparkling turquoise lakes up towards the rugged snow-capped peaks of the Andes; all this, while sitting next to an old waso (a type of rancher) who remarked that my camera was a "tremenda maquina" (tremendous machine).  Between yesterday and today, I've gotten warm welcomes back from everyone I've seen, and I can't help but smile at the fact.  It's nice to feel that I've created a community here and made an impression on people; it alleviates some of the separation I feel happens as a result of working in the lodge all the time without interacting much with the other workers on the estancia.

My time out of Val Chac definitely helped me get some perspective on things here, and it was interesting to be able to compare this park, in its baby stages, with one that's been up and running for a few years (more on this in the Pumalín post).  Lilly (the volunteer coordinator intern) and I have talked about the ups and downs of this project many times, and moreso in the past couple weeks since we were on vacation together.  While I'm still piecing things together in my mind, the basic conclusion that she and I have both come to is that while we see that what's happening now on the estancia is flawed in many ways, it has enormous potential to be something incredible in a few years' time.  It's something of the classic case of talking from an ivory tower, where the people who thought up the whole operation are wholly disconnected from those running it on the ground, and are consequently oblivious to the needs of their workers.  The irony of their house on the hill above the estancia is lost on none of us, and in some ways helps put this disconnect into a physical form: the jefes live in a beautiful "castle on a hill" while the rest reside at their feet, in the same way that the jefes dream up a beautiful national park project without considering the practical side of the effort (like providing decent living conditions and competitive salaries, and fostering goodwill and useful skills within the surrounding community).

My sense of it is that we're faced with a choice, as we will continue to be for the remainder of our lives: either take the easy road and avoid associating ourselves with something inherently good but, in practice, flawed, or decide that it's worth all our work and time and energy to help to change it for the better.  Why, might you ask, should we take the hard road?  And why should it be us, two gringuitas, and not Chileans?  The answer is simple, and one that we keep coming back to: we care about what happens here; we care about the land and the people and the success of the project, and we have something valuable to contribute.  As my mama brilliantly put in an email,

Working with [them] doesn't make their conservation efforts worthless because they don't understand the human dynamic they encounter.  Their cause is worthwhile, but it isn't churning at the highest functioning level because of their lack of ability to work with all of the players involved in their efforts.  You grasp a part of the "teamwork" that they don't get, but they also grasp a piece of the work that you may not understand (working with donors, motivating investments, etc).  That is why it takes a team to accomplish big things... And that is why you have valuable skills and understanding to offer them.  At the same time, don't buy into the idea that you are somehow indebted to them or have to make all of your judgments based on their values.  Instead, challenge them to keep growing and to consider aspects of their project that weren't obvious to them when they started.
 
And give them some kudos....they have done a wonderful thing in protecting these lands... they just need to take it to another level.

At some point, each of us have to choose what our fight in life will be, and then hold on for the long haul; having an emotional investment in the outcome of that fight legitimizes all the work we'll face.  As a testament to this and our (unintentional) attachment to this place, Lilly and I have both asked to return for the next season, in our respective positions, with the idea that we'd also work together on the side to improve the things we are unhappy with.  Regardless of the outcome, it's been a big lesson for us to learn, that we'd rather join the team and do what we can to effect a change, and that we have valuable skills and ideas that make us desirable team members.

So here's to returning to places we've left, because in returning is when we appreciate the lot we have in life.

A Val Chac Farewell, for now

It's been a long time since my last post.  Typical.  And here's another post to tell you that it'll be a while until my next one.  Why?  I'm on vacay, baby, heading to Pumalin!  I'll spend a couple weeks in the park with Lilly, Jorge, Sarah, and Fernando, and I can't wait.  It will give me some much-needed space from and perspective on the estancia, and a taste of more of Chile!

The past few weeks have been filled with donors and goodbyes and sunny days and rain clouds and good times and frustrations and rantings and ideas and inspiration; in short, the normal stuff here in the valley.  More details will come in the next post, but for now I'll leave you with this quote from Aldo Leopold which recently struck a chord with me from his book A Sand County Almanac:

When I call to mind my earliest impressions, I wonder whether the process ordinarily referred to as growing up is not actually a process of growing down; whether experience, so much touted among adults as the thing children lack, is not actually a progressive dilution of the essentials by the trivialities of living.

Food for thought.  Chau chau for now!

Friday

Life carries on here in Valle Chacabuco, despite the uproar from the protests.  The senator that came to visit us a few weeks ago was wildly impressed by the landscape that surrounds us here; I remember hearing him say he had no idea it would be so beautiful.  Sounds like we played our cards right in that regard.  Since then, a few more guests have come and gone, but in general things are quiet here on that front.  We’ve had other visitors here for a while, like Jeremy, who’s soon to join the ranks of pilots for Kris and Doug’s project at Iberá in Argentina, and Annabelle, who’s working on a short promo video to show here and when Kris goes on speaking tours.  The Spanish version, which will eventually go on the CP website and be shown at various events in the local region, is her current project – but the catch is that she doesn’t speak Spanish and therefore needs a translator.  Guess who gets to take on the task?  Yours truly.  It’s been a fun project, because I get to listen to interviews of the various people who work here and translate their message.  Since this is meant to be a promo video, everyone’s statements are all very optimistic and inspiring…maybe not one hundred percent realistic, but it does remind me of what attracted me to this internship and the ultimate reason that I’m here: we’re creating an important national park in Chile that leaves behind it a legacy for generations (of humans and other animals) to come.

Another reminder of why I’m here came a few weekends ago with a quick backpacking trip into Cochrane through the Tamango National Reserve.  I went with a group of interns and we had the most incredible time.  On day one, we got a late start and slowly made our way up part of the Lagunas Altas trail into the saddle between Cerro Tamango and Cerro Tamanguito, from which we got some pretty awesome views of the Chacabuco Valley behind us and the Tamango Reserve ahead.

Looking down at the recovering burn area and the Valle Chacabuco and Jeinimeni Reserve beyond.

In the saddle between the two peaks, looking towards the Tamango Reserve.

We decided to climb to the top of Cerro Tamango, which measures just over a mile high, and left our packs in a field below the start of our ascent.  Tamango has quite a few false summits, and we spent a couple hours scrambling up through continuous scree fields and winding our way around small high alpine lakes.  When we finally got to the top…incredible.  There was a low and heavy blanket of clouds overhead which somewhat diminished our view, but we could still see forever in all directions; from the Río Baker to Lago Cochrane, from the Jeinimeni Reserve to Cochrane and beyond.

From partway up Cerro Tamango, looking down on Cerro Tamanguito (foreground), Valle Chacabuco (left) and the Tamango Reserve (right).

From the summit of Cerro Tamango.

From the summit, southeast over the Tamango Reserve, with Lago Cochrane the last lake in the background.

The view south from the summit over Tamango Reserve and Cochrane, with Pete.

Group shot with (clockwise) Josh, Eric, Pete, me, Diane, and Collin.  This is why I love these people.

We loitered briefly at the summit, but then began to pick our way down the rocks, to make it to our packs and get a ways further to find a campsite before dark.  The afternoon light during our descent couldn’t have been better.

The Río Baker and a wee bit of the northern ice field.

The next day we were tasked with finding an existing trail in the Tamango Reserve that would take us downhill and into Cochrane, using only an old and partially reliable map and our general sense of direction.  We wandered and bushwhacked our way through the southern beech forests for most of the day, a different experience from the other terrain we’d covered thus far.  The forests are beautiful, and have a contagious kind of inherent peace to them that makes you feel like an explorer in a new wondrous place.  For us, that’s actually what we were.

The rare sight of Cerro San Lorenzo (3706 m or 12,159 ft), the second highest peak in Patagonia, looms over the Tamango Reserve.

Collin and Pete in the southern beech forest.

Josh.

Looking south-ish, with Cochrane barely visible on the left.

We rolled into Cochrane in the late afternoon, and since it was Sunday and everything was closed, we headed straight for the rodeo grounds to catch the end of the Fiesta Costumbrista, a small cultural event with a rodeo, food, and a live cumbia band.  We (or at least I) had a good time watching the end of the jineteada (a contest riding a bucking horse) and dancing to the live music.  We camped close to the rodeo grounds and hitched a ride back to the cruce the next day, from where we hoofed it back to the estancia, arriving tired and happy and refreshed.

The start of a jineteada round.

The food bus where we bought some french fries.

The live cumbia band with lots of dancers up front.

The next couple weeks passed by in a blur of few visitors, a couple journeys up the Aviles river valley, numerous sunny afternoons of frisbee, and an intern camping excursion by the Río Chacabuco.  In this case, I’ll let some pictures do the talking:

The Río Aviles.

Cerro Pintura above the Río Aviles.

The runout of the Río Aviles where it winds its way towards the Río Chacabuco. 

Sarah in the reeds on the shore of Laguna Cisnes.

Incredible late afternoon on the way to our camping spot at the Río Chac.

Collin.

The view of the Río Chacabuco from the beach where we camped.

Sunset.

Eric, Diane, Jeremy, Nadine, and Collin 'round the campfire.  Sarah's trout, which she caught in the river, is roasting in tin foil in the flames.

Newly discovered cliff jumping spot.  Jeremy takes a leap.

Jeremy and Nadine.

Josh, super excited about the rainbow trout he caught.

Annabelle, Jeremy, and Sarah.

Josh and Collin.  See Collin's line?

Jeremy and Josh.

In the past few days, we’ve had some employees from Kris and Doug’s projects in Argentina (the future Esteros del Iberá National Park and the Laguna Blanca farm) here as part of a “global” team meeting, the first of its kind.  The idea was to have all the staff from three of Kris and Doug’s foundations meet here in Val Chac and spend the week getting to know each other and learning about everyone’s work.  Unfortunately, none of the crew from Pumalín joined us for fear of transportation issues, but the week still turned out to be fun and interesting.  The first two days were filled with presentations about the various projects and what we’re all hoping to accomplish in the next couple years, interspersed with some afternoon hikes and horseback rides.  Yes, I finally got out on a horse!  No, I didn’t take my camera, but considering that I got launched off my horse at one point (when we were galloping along and he tripped), it’s probably a good thing I didn’t have anything important with me.  I was fine, just a little sore, and the event didn’t put much of a damper on the ride in general.  I’m addicted and want to go back out again as soon as I can.  Who knows when that will be.

This coming week we’re supposed to host a group of people from Ecotrust, a Portland-based organization that aims for “reliable prosperity,” helping found and fund projects that protect the natural environment in politically and economically viable and profitable ways so that they can be self-sustaining for long periods of time.  They’re coming in the capacity of potential donors to our efforts, so fingers crossed that they can actually make it here.  The group is slated to spend a week at the estancia, surely being entertained by Kris and exploring many aspects of the project, hopefully walking away with the idea that our work is worth supporting.  They are really the last important group of people to come this season, besides a few tourists and a German TV crew that come later in the month.  By the eighteenth of March, it seems like our traffic will drop off almost completely, so I’m starting to compile ideas of what to do with the rest of my time in Chile.  I want to spend as much time as I can getting to know new places, be it here in the park or elsewhere in Patagonia.  Time to break out that backpack again!

In the meantime, I’ve found a few interesting articles in the past few weeks when there’s enough internet to peruse the news.  Here are a couple of them:

Top 10 Jobs that Make the World a Worse Place

New Life, from an Arctic Flower that Died 32,000 Years Ago

And finally, this New York Times article just came out today, about the general paradox we’ve put ourselves in the middle of here around Cochrane.  Although the article doesn’t paint the most flattering picture of CP, it is pretty accurate; however, during and after talking to the reporter, we were and are working with a local sociologist to figure out what the barriers are to our acceptance in Cochrane and she’s proposed some initiatives to put into action to see if we can’t start to win people over.  That’s part of what the promo video I translated is for as well.  But without further ado, read up:

In Patagonia, Caught Between Visions of the Future

All photography copyright Kendall DeLyser.

Just when we thought things were on the up and up...

...here's a translation of an email we got from Daniela, one of our employees who works with the Patagonia Sin Represas campaign in Coyhaique:

As far as things go here, nothing came of the minister's visit; he asked yesterday that all the barricades come down before he'd even sit down and talk.  This morning, the protesters counterproposed that they open the barriers every two hours, but the minister rejected the idea, which spurred the leaders of the protests to declare a total blockage.  The government answered with the threat to impose the national security law.  People in Coyhaique started to protest and set up barricades early this afternoon, and there are a lot of people in the central plaza who plan to spend the night there.  For now things haven't gotten out of hand, but the government is just waiting for the first fighting or looting to send in special forces.  It's looking ugly.  This afternoon, finally, I got to talk with Patricio [another Sin Represas employee] and I told him that I was worried...his words were, "That's how revolutions are..."

So far things haven't gotten worse here in Val Chac, but if things continue as it seems they will, we may be waiting for an air drop of food and seeing cancellations from our guests slated to come in the next couple weeks.  Stay tuned...