[010] Patagonia National Park
I'm travelling in South America. Here's what I'm up to, some photos and other bits
On the drive into Patagonia National Park we wound along the valley bottom. Farmers held a hand up from their plots as we passed. We stopped to look at the wildlife - flamingos, upland geese, condor, nandu.
The park already had a distinctly different feel to the other places in Patagonia. Instead of jagged peaks and ominous glaciers the mountains felt friendly. Soft at the tops with flora making a home on the valley sides.
And the park was alive with animals. In the documentary Wild Life on Disney+, Kris Tompkins said that 'landscape without animals is just scenery'. You could tangibly feel that here, the diversity of life made the place sing.
Patagonia National Park is Chile's newest, formed in 2018 after Kris and Doug Tompkins bought and donated Valle Chacabuco - a grass valley which was previously an overgrazed livestock farming ranch - connecting it with Jenimeni Reserve in the north and Tamango Reserve in the south. This created a contiguous park without fences allowing wild animals to move freely.
My plan was to walk the park north to south in 5 days. It was really up my street. No more than 15km each day and mainly flat walking along the valley bottoms. It gave me a lot of time to cook by the river, take in the wildlife and enjoy the long days.
Beginning in Jenimeni I waded across rivers, zig-zagged up the valley and admired the impossible blue lakes from above. When I rounded the corner into Valle Chacabuco the landscape turned into dry grassy steppe.
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The park was so quiet, it was pretty much me and a group of four Chilean students from Valpraiso. I made friends with them and they augmented my slow approach to the walk.
They were gorgeous souls and it was lovely hanging out with friends raised in a culture of slow enjoyment, community and generosity; it was a good influence on my attitude which has been moulded by a western obsession with busyness and productivity.
We left camp late, made frequent stops to look for Pumas through binoculars (no success), and stopped for siestas by little brooks. One day we started walking at 6pm and pitched tents our tents in the dark - cold, but happy. The four of them squeezed into their 3-man tent and stayed up late, laughing at each others jokes.
During long breakfasts in camp we made coffee, tea and maté for each other. Martin, Sofia, Juan Pablo and Cata cared for each other in such a generous and beautiful way, putting each other before themselves. "George, where is your cup?", was always the question without hesitation.
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On day four we stopped at the park visitor centre. There is swanky accommodation and a small museum, and Guanaco roam the grounds.
The museum is one of the best I've visited. It impressively teaches the stark details of our impact on the planet, the beauty of wild lives we need to save, and how parks can help with this. It lit a spark for me to give more time and energy to causes like these, and I'm waiting to see how much fuel I have inside.
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After the park we settled into Cochrane. It was lunchtime and Cata came over: "George, a guy in a truck is going to give us a lift to a lake where there's a glacier - want to come?" Claro, vamos!
Now there is a big movement to say yes. Say YES to everything. It might be printed on a fridge magnet, it might be some people's new year resolution
But it can be a terrrrrible idea.
This charming bloke was in our campsite garden reading palms, telling fortunes and making us laugh. His nickname was 'El Pollo'.
He went to get his truck and whilst waiting we watched a Chilean Bee move from flower to flower - they are huge, fluffy, orange and endangered due to the arrival of European bees.
We piled into his truck, three in the sleeping berths and two wedged between him and his mate. They filled the cabin with cigarette smoke then started a circuit of the town. They honked. Exchanged pleasantries with locals. They made lewd comments about women on the street. They mounted the pavement and plucked apples from a tree. He handed a 2,000 bill to a bloke on the back of the bin truck. We stopped at a supermarket and they came out clutching bags of bread and hunks of cheese.
We finally departed town and quickly turned onto a gravel track. It tumbled us around the cabin.
Have you ever not asked a question because you don't necessarily want to know the answer? I did this. 15 minutes passed. Then 30, 45. I thought this would be a short drive to a pristine lake. I'd changed into shorts and packed my kindle in a little rucksack.
Pollo kept joking, "should we leave the gringo here? ohoho". I started strategising, making plans for what to do when this bloke dumped me in the arse end of nowhere. I made a note of small farmhouses we passed, converted driving minutes into walking hours, guessed at our orientation from the sun's position in the sky.
Two hours in we stopped for our 'reward'. A view of Cerro St Lorenzo across Lago Brown... from the side of the road. We held a meeting away from los hombres. "Oh man, this is the worst deal we've ever made". What happens now?, I enquired. "Well, it's another hours drive, pick up the logs, then drive back the way we have come". Oh.
At the end of the valley the road gave out. Construction on a new pass into Argentina had been halted. A Chilean farmer stood with his dogs in a field by a pile of logs.
It was unspoken, but pretty implicit what had to happen. We hopped out and started loading.
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We moved 11 tonnes of logs that day. Splinters pierced my work-gloves and Pollo watched on with a fag in his mouth. It took two hours of graft. Then we climbed into the cabin exhausted.
We trundled back to Cochrane, the cargo weighed heavily. My back ached and my eyes rolled in and out of sleep. Over the littered dashboard I watched rabbits dart left then right as they scampered away from the truck's headlights and horn.
We got back to Cochrane at midnight. I reluctantly shook this conman's hand and he handed us 20,000 pesos for breakfast.
I'm resting up now; warmed by the fire, by 10-man Huddersfield holding Leeds to a point, and with an updated CV which reads: 'modern slave'.
I continue my journey up the Carretera Austral this weekend.
All my love,
George
