Futaleufu, Chile

Driving out of the CRROBS base camp while the morning sun struck the dew covered jungle landscape and the song birds awoke to the start of the dry season; as flowers opened up looking forward to the grooming rays, I thought of how I was going to miss the tropics and my Tico familia. By leaving the jungle rivers, where monkeys run amok in the trees, alligators swim in calm waters and snakes slither around the high grass, I was about to enter a whole new environment; a land where mountains touched the sky with snowy peaks looming over glacier lakes, pine forests shelter massive blue cows, sheep and wild mountain critters, no bugs, and mucho frio. Was I ready for the powerfully beautiful Patagonia?

The long plane ride had me thinking of the last time I was in Argentina, seven years prior; a kid who had gone abroad in search of something he couldn’t grasp at the time. Leaving the luggage claim in the Buenos Aires International Airport I was surprisingly unaffected about my current situation… just 24 hours ago I had bought a one way ticket to Argentina from Costa Rica to visit a family I had not seen in seven years and return to a place I left shattered and without closure, where one of the most powerful rivers on earth awaited my skills in the wild Patagonia. It all seemed so normal as I rolled my bags along the airport floor. The sliding doors opened revealing the outside world to the plane-weary passengers. In the front of anxious families, patient wives and excited children was my entire Argentinean host family, looking the same as they did seven years ago. Hugs and kisses were given and stories began to be exchanged - did I mention how normal this all felt? The universe had let me slip back into their lives as if I had never left and with this seamless re-entry these strangers of seven years became mi familia once again.

The next few days were spent retracing my steps through forgotten barrios, new rooms and the fashionably Latin Buenos Aires. We ate empanadas, had asados, drank vino tinto, munched on freshly baked facturas and indulged in the metropolitan onda of the Paris of South America. It was a quick visit with the Lorenzos for I had to catch a long bus to Esquel and then hitch to Futaleufu where whitewater paradise awaited.

Awakening to the rolling hills of golden wheat, set among puffy white clouds in a blue sky, the Andes Mountains hid themselves in the distant background. I was in awe at what lay beyond my window. We were slowly entering the grandeur of northern Patagonia. Stepping of the bus in Esquel after 26hrs of constant travel my legs were stiff and my body felt stale from packaged food and filtered air. I grabbed a few empanadas then jumped on the next bus to Trevelin. From there I waved down a friendly taxi who took me to the Argentina & Chilean border. I waited on the Chilean side for my ride to Futaleufu. A van pulled up with a Doc from Back to the Future look-alike at the wheel. Just add some sunglasses, visor and tanned skin and I thought I was going to be taken through time; which was exactly was about to happen as we approached the quaint Patagonian town of Futaleufu.

Futaleufu sits across from its neighboring Argentinean Esquel, hidden among the snowy peaks and majestic river valleys. The town name means Rio Grande in the local indigenous language (mapuche). Known for its world class rafting, kayaking, good fishing, hiking and true Patagonian village feel Futaleufu was exactly what I had been looking for.

The following days were spent getting to know the various characters within the company and around town. The FutaEx team included three hilarious Chileans, one crazy Frenchman, a very serious but sometimes alegre Peruvian, myself and the legendary Old Josh. From the day I arrived we were on the river every afternoon, training on the mighty Futleufu, where big water waves swamped 16 foot rafts and kayaks disappeared in whirlpools. The beauty of the Futaleufu can only be truly appreciated when you are amidst the frothy waves, for the pictures show beauty but can not express the magic that you feel amongst it all. The river itself runs celeste blue through pine forests, bamboo groves, among chalk stone boulders, below granite cliffs that rival Yosemite, where turbulent waters pass over huge holes, produce himalaya size waves, and swirl in remolinos that can swallow houses. The water weaves inbetween canyon walls, eventually mellowing out, as snowy peaks touch the sky and the mighty Futaleufu becomes placid in Lago Yelcho. El Rio Futaleufu is not only a magnificent river but the valleys that surround it are full of hidden waterfalls, stout hikes, peaceful creeks, snow capped spires, and the wonderfully friendly huasos (cowboys) of southern Chile. And at the beginning of it all is the small town of Futaleufu where generations of farmers and local merchants have openly accepted the growing whitewater culture that is mixing together with their Chilean traditions and manera de vivir.

A couple of months have past by and life holds its same relaxed pace here in the Futaleufu Valley. The river is getting lower but spirits are high in anticipation for the first Futaleufu river festival at the end of February. My days are spent in a tranquil routine as I am awoken by the howl of the wind, taking breakfast on my porch looking out at the rolling mountains that surround the town. Caminando en la calle I encounter friendly faces at every turn as the local towns folk have come to know the blond smiley gringo that lives in town. The jolly baker greets me with a friendly wave, the old senoras smile, children say hola, the horse trotting cowboys give a kind head nod and on any given day a stranger becomes a friend. Every day is spent on the water in some sort of manera if it’s guiding rafts, safety catarafting, kayaking, or just bathing in the clear refreshing waters of the Fu.

The end of February kicked off with Futaleufu week as a new eruption from Volcan Chaiten brought ash clouds through the town covering everything in a layer of gray as night fell during mid day. The blackness engulfed the town turning this quaint Patagonian village into a ghost pueblo where the only flicker of light was the shimmer of various candles within the homes.

After an ugly eruption, cleaning and some quick noticias, the river festival went on as planned. Leaving town towards El Rio Futaleufu you suddenly loose the gray ash as the clean southern landscape escaped the volcanoes wraith. The festival kicked off with the boater cross where our team of local guides took second after a close finish with the Argentina national raft team. The next few days where spent paddling, competing in various events, spending time with river rats from around the world over afternoon mates, bonfires, corderos, and other festivities. Driving back from our crowd roaring raft performance in the mondaca rodeo where our little balsa out tricked the majority of the kayaks I noticed our van was full of a hodgepodge of international paddlers. Out of the 12 people in the van there were 10 different nationalities. This made me smile all the more after a great day of events, for not only was the Futa-Fest there to help promote El Rio Futaleufu but it was a gathering place for river lovers del mundo who truly hold this mythical Patagonian river close to their hearts. This love for the river and community was shown in how no competitor who won their specific event accepted a prize, it was all donated to a random raffle were locals had a chance to win gear to pursue a sport perceived to be dangerous and exclusive before the festival and now demonstrated as fun, exiting, and magical. The festival ended with smiles, congratulations, email exchanges, hugs, kisses and an overall buena onda. The next days saw paddlers lingering in town for some last boating with new friends before heading their separate ways.

The following week will be busy with river trips and goodbye asados as guides will be departing in early March to head back to their next season, let that be in their native country or a foreign land. I will say goodbye to this divine river in March with hope of returning to its mythical waters in the future. My travels will be more land based as a friend and I will head north to callous up our hands on Chilean and Argentine granite for two months. After the climbing trip my path will be decided on what I encounter along the way as the Patagonia wind might call me back or blow me away to another Tierra. Maybe guiding in Japan, teaching in Spain, running rivers in Australia, working on vineyards in Mendoza or climbing in the Middle East. As of now anything could happen and my heart is open to the next adventurous destiny that awaits my restless spirit.

“Learn to love through living a perpetually changing life, where those whom you encounter along your path forever impact your destiny” -AH