As a dedicated traveler, hiker, and camelid enthusiast Patagonia beckons on all fronts. Stanlynn Daugherty, commercial llama packer and long time buddy has been to Patagonia a number of times with Dr. Franklin and his research expedition as the director of Epicurean Delights. Hearing about Stanlynn's adventures in Patagonia, my own longings to see guanacos in their native setting, and a personal knowledge of Stanlynn's prowess in the kitchen created an irresistible desire to go. An invitation to work off part of my passage as Stanlynn's assistant clinched the deal. Not only could I experience the scenery and the camaraderie, have an opportunity to TTEAM train Bill Franklin (a long time dream) I could learn my way around a camp kitchen with Stanlynn. I had to go.
I was using mileage to fly to South America so I didn't join up with the rest of the group in Miami. Instead I was to rendezvous with a part of the group at the City Hotel in Santiago. I speak no Spanish but like most Americans expected that the rest of the world knows enough English for me to get by. NOT. I managed to make my way through customs and as I was planning in my mind how to do linguistics charades at the taxi stand when a very short (everyone in South America is shorter than I am) handsome young man walked right up to me and said what sounded very much like "Marty McGee?" with a Spanish accent. I figured what the heck he either said Marty McGee or "you want to come with me" I followed him. We no sooner got outside then another small dark handsome man came up to me and said the same Marty McGee sounding phrase-by this time I am thinking perhaps martymcgee means "hello you are some big woman" in Spanish. So I got in the car with them. As luck would have it, a second passenger already in the van was fluent in English. He helped me figure out I was not being abducted by small dark handsome aliens that knew my name. But, in fact had been met and was being personally escorted to the City Hotel in downtown Santiago compliments of DVM. Russell Hunter- fearless leader of the Santiago group, Bills old friend, and right had guy for the rest of the trip.
It is not easy to get to Patagonia. Albuquerque-Miami, Miami-Santiago, Santiago-Punta Arenas, Punta Arenas-Puerto Natales, Puerto Natales-Torres Del Paine National Park. Bill Franklin is a smart guy and plans activities a long the way so that you don't realize it takes three days of travel to get there- and that is part of the adventure. Santiago is exotic and busy and a fun place to shop. I bought the most amazing intricately carved match stick you have ever seen. We stayed over night in Santiago and flew out the next day, joined the remainder of the group including Stanlynn and Bill in Punta Arenas. Bill and Stanlynn's group were newly back to civilization after a week of camping and fishing in Tierra del Fuego. Nex,t a bus ride to Puerto Natales and an overnight at a very authentic Chilean Hosteria (sort of the Chilean version of a Bed and Breakfast x youth hostel.)
The group was a real mix. Eighteen expeditioners plus support staff. Among them two doctors, a nuclear physisit and his wife, a mother with her three sons, a fourteen year old girl on the trip without her parents, and a number of other dedicated and enthusiastic adventurers.
The next morning the group now completely assembled, we embarked on day long boat ride through the fjords to Parque Naciaonal Monte Balmeceda to see condors, penguins, glaciers, sea lions, and cormorants. Off the boa,t onto a bus and off to Tores del Paine National Park. The bus ride really gives you a sense of how far from every where and everything you are going. The anticipation of seeing the much photographed shear rock towers for which the park is named, the guanacos, and getting the first glimpse of our camp/home for the next twelve days kept excitement high. Periodically Bill would yell out- flamingos on the right , alpacas on the left, condor siting, pasture maggots (sheep) on the right .
This far south the days are amazingly long and don't you know after a seven hour boat ride and a four hour bus ride it was still light out while we selected our camp sites, set up our tents. The gods of wind gave us a break. The night we arrived was calm and warm. The thrill of seeing the guanacos meander around our tent sites, meeting the camp foxes, hearing the birds and smelling Stanlynn's soup was indescribable. I took great pride in finding a lovely tent site sheltered from the wind by a hillock and far enough away from the rest of the campers to give me an appropriate sense of isolation. With my tent opening directed at the mountains I had a view to beat all views. I got my tent up with a little help from one of the grad students, my gear unpacked, thermarest unfurled, sleeping bag and pillow in place, flashlight in the pocket near my head, headlamp for night time reading and wet ones easily accessible. I even organized my new duffel bag into a sort of campers chest of drawers and put out the clothes I thought I would need for my first day on the job. After dinner as we were making our final preparations prior to settling in for our first night Bill cruised around to tuck us in. He mentioned to me that I might want to move my tent-I am screaming to myself- MOVE MY TENT. MY CHEST OF DRAWERS MY HEADLAMP MY MY MY- Bill casually to Marty, "Yea the wind comes from this direction (he pointed toward the mountains) you have a great view but the wind is going to blow right in your tent." Marty to Bill "I thought the wind came from the lake" Bill to Marty -"NOT". I decided I had extra long tent stakes was too tired to move my tent that night and I would deal with it later. That first lovely calm night it was hard to imagine that it could make any difference, I mean we were talking about a quarter turn of the tent here and a lot of effort after a long day. Each night after that first one, as the wind raged and I lay in my tent I had visions of being blown tent and all into Lake Sarmiento never to be heard from again. My tent porch was smooshed by the wind each night and trying to crawl out the door in the middle of the night (more than once) to answer the call of nature was brutal. I ultimately learned to deal with this particular issue with the aid of a zip lock bag- I will say no more.
Several veteran Patagonites mentioned the noise.... as we were setting up camp that first night. "Marty, did you bring ear plugs, Marty, the noise wont be as bad behind a bush, you'd be amazed how much a bush can do to cut down the noise... I thought noise ? you don't have noise when you camp-camping is quiet. We are out in the middle of absolutely nowhere NOISE? ....... You can't believe how noisy a tent can be in a 30-40 mile an hour wind all night long. I thought several times during the trip (maybe several times a night) about changing the orientation of my tent-always in the middle of the night in a raging wind. By daylight with meals to fix and hiking and meals and campfires and adventures, I wouldn't think of THE TENT until that night when I would crawl into it exhausted. When you go to Patagonia....first- the wind comes from the mountains second, if Bill casually mentions you should move your tent.....MOVE IT.
The life of the assistant cook begins early, 7:00 am about an hour or so before the rest of the camp. Stanlynn always beat me to the kitchen and had hot water and coffee on before I arrived- what a woman! My morning job was to make the oatmeal and prepare lunch fixins while Stanlynn worked on the more exotic breakfast choices. We had really wonderful food especially the breakfasts: French toast, potatoes and eggs, pancakes, eggs cooked to order and of course Bill Franklin's specialty, Fried Mush! I will say no more about that either. Prior to my experience in Patagonia I had never made oatmeal for 25 people. Actually I had never made oatmeal at all, except to rip off the top of the package, add water, and turn on the microwave. This is not Stanlynn's idea of oatmeal and we didn't have a microwave. After a few days I learned how to make really fine oatmeal, with raisins or chopped dates cooked to perfection and served with brown sugar, or maple syrup and butter and milk.
Lunches were simple, PB&J's, tuna fish, salami, cheese, candy bars, yogurts, fruit once it was all sliced and set out everyone make their own. My kitchen duties were simple not easy.... slicing bread and cheese and measuring oatmeal may seem like pretty no brainer stuff. It is, however there is an art to doing it in a stout wind. A few Patagonia kitchen tips. Even if you never go to Patagonia you may find these useful if you leave your kitchen windows open....1. NO separation between the cup and the oatmeal box, better not to pour at all. Stick that cup measure right down into the box and be sure to act as your own windbreak when you transfer the oats to the pot. 2. Don't stir the rice unless you want it to look more like oatmeal than oatmeal. 3. Hold your coffee cup parallel to the ground when attempting to put instant coffee in it- the coffee blows right off the spoon into the cup, same technique applies to juice and wine if the wind is really blowing. 4. Don't wrap the two pounds of cheese and salami you just sliced and arranged on the platter in a plastic bag, the wind could catch it and blow it away. The plastic bag acts like the jib on a sailboat. Did I do that?
After breakfast, it is off to the field to catch and tag chulengos. On this particular vacation liking to hike is a good thing. The scenery is breathtaking and the terrain is pleasant and you walk a lot. Three to four teams of 4-6 people would set out each day for the areas of the park -the Vegas (pronounced Begas). These are areas of the park in which the guanaco herds spend a majority of their time. I don't know quite how to say this to those of you who have attended a TTEAM clinic and have taken what I say to heart. I didn't bring my wands, there are no catch pens and yes I confess I had my arms out stretched and I helped to grab them babies take them temporarily away from their mothers and hold 'em down. Actually on all of the captures I participated in, I ended up being the Momma Watcher. It was my job to keep an eagle eye on the mother. Mother Guanacos either run into a group of other mothers that of course look exactly like she does in which case it is a real challenge to keep track of her or she charges at the tagging crew in an attempt to spring her kid in which case keeping track of her is the least of your worries. An exciting job. Other groups would observe male behavior- doing "obs" or climb to the top of the conglomerate-the highest and windest point around to do "morts." Doing "morts" means tracking down any animals wearing radio collars. A radio collar that hasn't moved in an hour makes a different noise. These collars were almost always attached to dead animals although we did have a really hard sleeper once.
The expedition is planned for birthing season which also coincides with our Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is no small thing especially if you are part of the cook staff. We outdid ourselves. Including our crew and invited guests, Chilean park officials and members of two different film crews, (shooting nature films about Patagonia and the puma population) we fixed Thanksgiving dinner for 38 people. Salad, stuffing (with shitake mushrooms), cranberry and orange salad, potato salad, green beans, and for the main course tuna pasta. The main course was supposed to be lamb but the the poor thing arrived late in the day frozen solid. So we went to plan-B. No one seemed to notice much less mind. After dinner a rousing game of frisbee with the film crews and stories around the camp fire. Bill is a grand host and a very funny guy. It was mesmerizing to listen to Bills stories about his early years in the park and Hugh Miles (film maker for National Geographic) stories about habituating and filming Penny the Puma.
The weather on my expedition was according to all the veterans, the worst in memory. We woke up to snow more than once, the wind never stopped, we were only able to break out the shorts and T-shirts once or twice. About the 10th day of the expedition I woke up in a foul mood hoping for one warm calm day. I hadn't slept well. I had visited the zip lock bag numerous times in the night. It was cold. I didn't want to get up and make oatmeal again and my feet hurt. I knew from the temperature and the noise that it was really windy AGAIN. As I climbed out of my warm sleeping bag and into layers of gear I chanted I HATE PATAGONIA I HATE PATAGONIA I HATE PATAGONIA I HATE PATAGONIA I HATE PATAGONIA I HATE PATAGONIA. I unzipped the door to my tent to be greeted by a blast of cold wind and the most incredibly brilliant rainbow, perfectly perched over the most majestic mountains I have ever seen, with a young male guanaco grazing in the meadow in front of me. As I continued to climb out of my tent I said out loud to Patagonia...."And don't you try to make up!"
I cannot write down what it felt like to hike the land in the presence of these mountains with these animals. I was talking with Russ Hunter on the phone the night before I left for Santiago. As we were chatted about last minute details, I asked him what it was about Patagonia that drew him back year after year. For a few minutes he told about the majesty of the mountains and the animals, the campfires, the chulengos, the wildlife, the value of the research and then he stopped for a second and finally said, "In a few days you will know." I do now.... and I will go back.
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