| Trials
And Treasures In Patagonia |
| Adventures
In The South Of Chile |
| by Kyle Hammons |
| Rivers in
Patagonia run wild. Few bridges cross the glacier-fed streams and our group
was having difficulty locating a safe crossing spot. The Nadis River
had only grown deeper and wider as our expedition journeyed further into
the secluded valley in southern Chile. Now twenty people were faced with
the daunting task of crossing a rapid-moving river. Numerous attempts
were made the previous day, but all scouting parties were forced back by
impassable waters.
Our options
were running out. The guides contemplated setting up a tyrolean traverse,
but it seemed unlikely that even they could swim the powerful river. |
|
|
|
|
|
| We could
continue upstream, but it would take us days off schedule. Our group
had not yet been turned back and failure was not acceptable so early in
our expedition. Now, our first great challenge rumbled before us.
Two days of
scouting had revealed only one potential route. Having joined the scouting
party’s first attempt, I knew the challenges they faced. In the deepest
spots the water would rise above every person’s waist and the current was
strong enough to send a whole team swimming.
Temperatures
in the river would threaten hypothermia and loose rock was a challenge
to sure-footing. An attempt would be made in the morning when the river
level would be the lowest. It would be led by our guide Nacho Grez,
a native Chilean, experienced mountaineer and the strongest member of our
expedition.
Nacho led
the scouting group into the river armed with a sturdy stick for support.
“Step,” he commanded over the roar of the river. |
|
|
| Each step
was calculated and risky. In the train formation, the lead person absorbs
the force of the river thus creating an eddy behind them, just like a large
rock in the river. The others receive less pressure and work at bracing
the lead person. The train is a great method so long as the group maintains
position directly behind the lead. If one person steps out of line, they
are hit by the force of the water and often end up swimming.
From the banks
we could see the water level rising past Nacho’s waist. Determined to
succeed, he leaned forward with all his strength and fought against the
river’s power. The waters surged around him and more time began to elapse
between each step. They were only halfway across and already their chances
were dwindling. With little chance for a group of twenty to cross,
it came as no surprise when Nacho ordered, “Back!” |
|
|
Offshore
Resources Gallery
|
|
|
| Safely
together on the river’s bank, we began to calculate our options. A
line of poplar trees downstream was indication that a residence might exist.
Gabriel, a native Chilean, took a scouting party to explore and when we
spotted them returning, they were accompanied by two horses. “Bin Laden,”
our guide whispered. As the first horse approached, we viewed an older
man with a stocky build, black beret and a long, grey beard that earned
him the unusual nickname. Though he held an eerie resemblance to the infamous
terrorist, the likeness vanished when a charming smile appeared across
his face.
His name was
Pablo Pizzaro and he had lived in this secluded valley for over thirty
years with his family. Their home was more than two days from the nearest
town and they ventured there only twice a year to stock up on supplies.
Otherwise, Pablo and his family were completely self-sufficient in their
secluded nook in the world. They raised pigs, sheep, cows and chickens
along with a scattering of crops. Pablo, his wife and four daughters
had seen no other people in almost two months and he was grateful to be
of assistance.
Pablo scouted
the river by crossing at different spots on horseback. |
|
|
| We watched
closely to determine the depth and only after he had crossed three times
were we able to plan a safe route across the wide, rapidly-moving river.
Pablo
and his daughters looked on as the first group entered the water with Nacho
once again in the lead and four others forming a train behind him.
“Step!”
the leader commanded as the group ventured deeper into the river. The waters
rose around them, past Nacho’s thighs and above his waist. The going was
slow and laborious, growing more difficult with each step. It appeared
the Nadis River had finally defeated our efforts. Then we noticed that
as Nacho moved the group at an angled direction towards shore, the water
level was decreasing. With each step, the group was making definite progress.
A short time later, we found ourselves cheering as the five of them stepped
onto the eastern bank of the river. |
|
|
Offshore
Resources Gallery
|
| Now gathered
safely on the opposite side of the Nadis River, Gabriel informed the group
that we had been invited to Pablo’s home. As we followed the trail to his
homestead, we marveled at the wonderful location. Situated on the banks
of the Nadis River, their farm was a scattering of small wooden buildings,
each built with Pablo’s own hands during their 30 years living in this
secluded spot. They enjoyed spectacular views of the Nadis River Valley
where patches of snow lingered on mountain spires and glaciers ran down
the spine of the Andes.
We were greeted
at the gate by Pablo and his family who sat looking on in mild amusement
at the group of gringos lugging heavy packs. Having been well over a month
since this family had seen other people; the sight must have come as quite
a surprise. Upon being invited into their home, five of us filled the
tiny cabin. We huddled together in a small living room around a table and
wood burning stove.
The stove was
brought to the home by horse during their first years in the Nadis Valley.
It
appeared almost ancient and especially heavy causing my eyes to examine
the other items in the home. Anything not built by Pablo had been brought
to this isolated location by horse from the town of Cochrane, a three-day
trip even in the best conditions. This put into perspective the great
lengths that this family had come to inhabit the valley.
A kettle of
boiling water that sat atop the stove was used to prepare yerba mate. Pablo
filled a small gord with the herb and then added the water before offering
to each of us. One by one we received the gord and finished its contents.
The heat of the water left my face flushed and red, my eyes watering as
I attempted to finish the traditional drink.
Pablo continued
to prepare the yerba mate while his daughters worked on baking biscuits
in the stove. The sight of plump, puffy dough stirred each of our appetites
and combined with the heat of the cabin caused us to retreat temporarily
from their home allowing others to enter and enjoy their hospitality.
Pablo offered
to prepare a traditional asado so we followed him to a pen holding more
than twenty sheep. Upon seeing Pablo approaching with lasso in hand, the
sheep began to scatter in hopes of avoiding becoming dinner. But
Pablo had already picked his target and in just one throw he lassoed the
largest sheep in the pen.
We gathered
quietly around the sheep as Pablo sharpened his knife. Moans and gurgles
were heard as the knife was thrust into the sheep’s throat and the jugular
vein sliced. The blood flowed cleanly and smoothly and we watched in
silent amazement as life crept from the sheep. It was then skinned from
nose to tail while Pablo and several members of our group worked not to
waste an inch of a good hide. Once the skin had been removed, Pablo gutted
the sheep and hung the remaining carcass over a creek. After being cleaned,
the sheep was quartered, placed on stakes and set next to the fire.
As the sun
began to drop below the horizon and the Nadis River Valley fell under the
light of a setting sun, we sat around a blazing fire and ate lamb straight
off the bone. Like savages we tore the meat from the bone, gorging our
faces with tender lamb and chasing it with mashed potatoes. Pablo tended
to the fire, his smile hidden by his beard and his face aglow in the light.
Though we were from worlds apart, we had weathered many trials to reach
this place and now we shared in the same rewards.
The following
article is Kyle's first article for the magazine:
-
New Zealand’s
Waitomo Caves ~ Explorations
-
Living A Dream
In The South Pacific ~ In
Fiji
-
A Child’s Tale
~ In
Peru ~ by Kyle Hammons
To contact Kyle
Click
Here
Return
To Magazine Index |
|
Article
Index ~ Chile
Index ~ |
Copyright 1996 -
EscapeArtist.com
Inc. All Rights Reserved