Patagonia Park

They call it the Future Patagonia National Park. ‘They’ are the workers, volunteers and interns working for Conservacion Patagonica, a charity established by Kris Tompkins, the former CEO of the Patagonia outdoor clothing brand (and wife of Doug); and ‘future’ because they are still creating it from scratch.

According to my map the Chacabuco Valley – a substantial piece of the prospective park – runs from the Carretera Austral in the west to the eastern mouth of the valley on the doorstep to Argentinian Patagonia. A 57 kilometre, single-track dirt road runs the full length of the valley eventually into Argentina (park this knowledge for the next blog!).

We are out for a day’s hike exploring the forests and mountains that overlook the nerve centre of the project – a curious combination of old estancia (farm) buildings currently serving as offices, etc., and brand new, stone-clad, copper-roofed constructions of high specifications, comfort and functionality and radiating, deliberately, an air of permanence. The buildings are sheltered by (introduced) poplar trees – characteristic of estancias in both Chilean and Argentinian Patagonia and planted as arboreal foils against the incessant winds descending from the Campo de Hielo Norte (Northern Ice Cap) to the west.

The impressive, new Chacabuco Lodge

Motley collection of buildings at the nerve centre of the future Patagonia Park, and a guanaco

Valle Chacabuco, view from the south

Some flowers

As we ascend, puffing and perspiring, through southern beech forests to the tree-line, the landscape slowly reveals its narrative. The forest is a mixture of small patches of mature woodland, large areas of young trees re-growing through the silver, horizontal corpses of their progenitors, and bare grassland with thousands and thousands of timber skeletons scattered like a giant’s matches. Looking back, the congregation of new and old buildings from where we have just walked appears miniscule in the broad, grassy valley of the Rio Chacabuco, guarded by impressive snow-capped mountains and contorted volcanic terrain. The valley relates in microcosm man’s misuse of the fragile lands of Patagonia. Just a few years ago the valley was once home to 30,000 sheep and 4,000 cattle, which out-competed the resident guanacos – the main food for the puma. So, the puma turned to eating sheep, and shepherds turned to hunting pumas. The diminishing grass cover laid bare fragile soil to erosion. The forest was cut and burned to provide more grazing – some of the fires burning unchecked or weeks – and 500 kilometres of fencing dissected the land and stymied the movement of wild animals.

Kate among forest remnants

Large-scale forest destruction viewed northwards across the Chacabuco valley

Conservacion Patagonica bought the 200,000 acre ecological disaster of the Estancia Chacabuco in 2004. Further lands have been acquired and accreted onto the Chacabuco empire. But why here?

The valley is at the heart of the transitional zone between the semi-arid Patagonian steppe to the east and temperate southern beech forests to the west, hence it has an important diversity of habitats and creatures in an ecosystem that is under-protected globally. The area is also home to one of the largest remaining populations of the endangered huemul deer. Also, the valley connects two nationally protected reserves. The intention is to combine all three areas and upgrade the overall conservation status from national reserve to national park – the Patagonia National Park – which it is hoped will become as internationally iconic as Yosemite or Torres del Paine. The visitors it will attract will under-pin a new economy based on tourism and more sustainable methods of farming and forest management.

Yours truly at the top

Most of the sheep and cattle have been sold off and Conservacion Patagonica workers are removing fencing, restoring grasslands and building trails for visitors, including the one we are now hiking. We are heading for a small, post-glacial lake for lunch. I am accompanied by Lisi and Jane, my two American Carretera soul-mates, and Kate, Matt and Jordan – interns on the project. (I suddenly realize that I am the only non-American in the group – and here we are in the middle of nowhere half-way up a mountain in southern Chile. Weird!) As the others head down to the lake I entice Jane to accompany me up a nearby peak of black rock off-set by a perfect blue sky and patches of snow. She is reluctant at first, until I promise a surprise at the top! After 20 more minutes of puffing and perspiring we reach the pinnacle of Monte Tamanguito. The 360-degree panorama of mountains, valleys, forests and lakes is jaw-droppingly spectacular. To the east – and Argentina - the dryness is apparent – and this is where I’ll be heading in a couple of days’ time. To the south, the glacier-collared, border straddling, 3,700-metre hulk of Monte San Lorenzo dominates the horizon and magnetically draws my gaze. We sit on a lump of old lava, out of the wind, and I dig into my rucksack to extract a large, unopened Christmas cake, which I bought in Coyhaique a couple of days ago. Jane appreciates the surprise and together we eat almost all of it!

View south to Monte San Lorenzoe or Cochrane on the Chile - Argentina border

The journey down is harder than the way up. My old rugby knee injury doesn’t do downhill, so I fall way behind and lose the trail. I can see where I need to get to though; I just have to fight through a dense thicket of young southern beech trees re-growing through the ankle traps of their fallen parents.

Lunch-time

After our picnic lunch sitting on rock watching wheeling Andean condors, we take a hypothermia-inducing dip in the lake. Post dip, we dress quickly partly to avoid the onset of hypothermia, but mainly to protect ourselves from horse-sized horse flies. But to no avail; the buggers even bite through our clothing – and they appear to love the taste of Yorkshire men!

We gradually descend through a natural adventure playground of unimaginable volcanic rock formations, forests, rivers and lakes. And the sun beams down kindly. Approaching the estancia we are aware that we are being watched. On a rocky outcrop above us, three guanaco sentinels check our progress, chattering urgently amongst themselves.

Guanaco sentinel

Back at the impressive Chacabuco Lodge, we settle in the luxurious dining room - come bar - come library, flooded by the mellow light of the setting sun. We are tired and relaxed and amazed by the story of this place and the lessons it offers. Over the next couple of days we will discover more about the landscape and its restoration and the dedicated people who work here. They generously offer us fantastic hospitality and their precious time to explain their work and their lives. This is a truly uplifting and inspiring place and I, for one, will be sorry to leave.