WHERE THE SEAS CLASH: THE LAND OF THE ANCIENT HAUSH, TIERRA DEL FUEGO

We did not have much time to explore during the hike because adverse weather might block us and if it did, our food supply might run out and we soon saw that guanacos were scarce, or perhaps "word" had gotten around among them, to keep their distance from us. Despite our concern about the weather we went "the long way", keeping as close to the coast as possible, where the Haush had usually camped. We also kept walking, one hundred and thirty-five kilometres approximately during the ten days' hike around the tip of the island; from False Cape (Policarpo farm on the Atlantic coast), to a small sheep farm called Puerto Rancho, at the entrance to Moat Channel, along Beagle Channel (see map). There we borrowed horses to our final destination. It rained almost every day and often at night. I discovered that one way to keep warm is to keep walking and one way dry your clothes (if it not raining) is also to keep walking. So we walked, some days twelve hours at a stretch, rain or no rain. Tino and his two assistants were always in the lead, Armando kept one eye on them and the other on me. Every so often, when I got too far behind, they sat down and waited for me. But as soon as I caught up to them, they started off again, so I rested less.

A herd of sheep in the distance followed by the members of the 169 expedition in the Donato Cape Region. Photo: Anne Chapman

I came to appreciate what it must have meant to the Haush to inhabit this zone, even though, except our twenty-two and matches, they were better equipped than we were, both materially and mentally. They knew every nook and cranny of the country-side and shore line and the habits of all the edible animals, and probably most of the plants. The inland area is not very inhabitable, nor was it for the Haush, who very probably kept to the coast as much as possible, though they undoubtedly went hunting the guanaco in the hinterland. It is a region of hills and valleys carpeted with some tightly knit forests, others are more open but swampy. Most of the forest ground is matted with rotting vegetation overlaid by fallen trees, thickly padded bushes and cut through by streams and waterfalls. However there are expanses of open terrain thick with reeds and high grass and some wide stretches of rolling moorland, which are usually covered with peat-bogs. While much of the coast is lined with cliffs or boulders which plunge directly into the sea, there are sandy, sheltered beaches, such as Good Success and Valentine bays where the Haush met the early navigators. On the shores of the latter we did find a few fragments of stone and bone utensils, probably left there by the Haush.

We had two maps of the region and several mountains to guide us in clear weather: Cerro Bilbao , named for the owner of the Policarpo farm ( because it is located there), Monte Béccar in back of Good Success Bay and Montes Campaña and Pirámide on the far coast, between Valentine and Aguirre bays.

Tino explored, to find just where we could advance. From the mountain tops he decided just where we were to head, even it meant going in the opposite direction from our objective, when there no direct way feasible, either because of precipices along the mountain sides or the very swampy fields. He did not have a pair of binoculars but he could distinguish the density of the vegetation from afar and judge the declines and the nature of the terrain by the play of light and shadows. His plan was to keep to the crests as much as possible so as to avoid the lower terrain where the underbrush of beech shrub made walking slow and tiring. The dwarf beech trees, mentioned above is one of three beech species, the Nothofagus antarctica, common in all of Tierra del Fuego. In this region is only grows three or four feet high, and thickly carpets much of the bottom land where we had to pass, and obliged us to walk on top of them and by so doing sink and stumble to ground every step or so. When entering or leaving a bay we had to penetrate the dense forest. We followed the guanaco trails when we could found them, otherwise, the men slashed the undergrowth with their machetes as we advanced, though often the five of us pushed through on "all fours". However the peat-bogs were not a problem, as we never sank into them below the boot level and the dogs did not sink at all. Several nights we slept on bogs. This time I learned, that as long as fire can be lit, one can sleep almost anywhere.

It was still light at the end of the first day when we arrived in Good Success Bay, some twenty kilometres from the Policarpo farm. We stood on the beach looking across the Strait of Le Maire, at the "Cordillera of the roots" which as usual, was emerged in fog. It seemed to rise from the depths of the sea, just as Angela had told me. She had been here once, on horseback. I paid a silent homage to the illustrious predecessors: Captain John Cook (l769 and 1774) and Charles Darwin (December of 1832) and to the ill-fated Haush who so cheerfully had welcomed the latter. We were grateful to the men who had rather recently built a shelter on the beach. Its remaining walls and roof protected us that night from the wind and rain. The two guanacos who had followed us, stood at a distance but within rifle range. As Tino walked slowly toward them they turned to flee but he shot one. Somehow, it seemed too easy. A few gulls were flying back and forth in the wind, perching now and then on the sand to peck at something invisible. But there were no other birds in sight. Empty sea-shells were scattered here and there on the gray sand. This bay has almost the form of square box with one side missing. A dense forest covers its parallel sides, which terminate at the beach with immense jagged boulders. The beach, quite wide at low tide, is backed by a swamp covered with tall reeds beyond which looms the forest which extends over the surrounding hills. The hills seemed crowded in together in front of the bay, as if to get the best seat for a view of the "Cordillera of the Root". A small stream meanderes across the sand and into the bay. It seemed an ideal place to camp, if one were a Haush. The waves splashing on the boulders and on the beach, accentuated the silence. I felt a strange anxiety there, as if the ghosts of the Haush or the dead guanaco had come to haunt us.

On the second day out, after we had left Good Success Bay, about one p.m., the rain turned to hail. We were passing over the slate rocks which cover the crests of Montes Negros (Black Hills) heading for Valentine Bay when the storm struck. It began as a cold wind sweeping up from the sea, was soon accompanied by rain and then strong blasts of hail. Tino shouted to Armando and me to look for a shelter in the ravine. As we began the descent we saw that the trees were almost at the bottom of a mountain of the Montes Negros. A while later we sat down among the scrubs on the mountain side hoping the storm would soon abate. But as it did not we continued down to the base of the mountain where, huddled under some large bushes. Tino spread out the canvas, lit a fire, and we dried our clothes, made coffee, and prepared to wait it out. It lasted three and a half hours. When we returned to the summit, the sun appeared and the entire atmosphere became transformed. The brilliance was extraordinary. The oblique rays sparkling on the wet slate reflected the light back into the atmosphere, creating a luminous scene which extended far beyond, over the smooth undulations of the heights, as fleeting black clouds raced toward the horizon and a soft breeze filled the void. It was as if, their rage spent, the elements had discovered secret attributes with which to caress these barren mountains and reveal their hidden beauty. These mountains are black only when seen from a distance.

A few hours later Valentine Bay lay below us. Its wide finely sanded beach is crossed by a winding river, Río Sud América. The blue sea spans out to Cape Horn and beyond, to the Antarctic. Perhaps the water and sand seemed all the brighter because of the dark forests and black rocky cliffs which surround the bay. The shores of this bay were certainly favourite camp sites of the Haush, who were first see here toward the end of the 17th century. The bay was rarely used by the European navigators and those who followed because it opens widely toward the south, and is battered by the strong Antarctic winds. We slept on the bogs in the forest and early the next morning arrived on the beach. Strolling along the shore we found a few scattered stone artifacts, roughly worked. But as the tide was rising rapidly covering the mouth of river we had to cross, we hurried on. Later, along the beach we suddenly came upon an area of massive black boulders, of various sizes and shapes, all smoothly sculptured by the eons of wind, rain and the storm tides. Some stood upright and others were reclining, many pierced with holes, large and small. All seemed at ease, if they were contemplating the sea. Henry Moore, with his passion for sea shores, had probably been inspirited by such natural monuments.

Tino guiding and followed by Armando as we approached Valentine Bay. Photo: Anne Chapman

The only potential danger, besides getting stranded in bad weather, was the wild cattle ( the bawales). The workers on the sheep farms along the Atlantic coast where we had passed on horseback had told me rather harrowing escapades with mad bulls and motherly cows. I was therefore rather tense when we sighted the first groups coming into Bahía Aguirre. They were quietly grazing in the distance. But this might be a bad sign as well as a good one, for they were known to charge suddenly.

Tino had seen them first and waited for Armando and me. He told us to go to the nearby cluster of trees, to climb one and wait until he and his two dogs had gotten beyond the danger line. Being sworn to obedience I did as he said but before so doing I asked him: "And what if they charge you? What will you do?" He replied: "Don't worry. If they come at me, the dogs will get after them and distract them until I can get away." I looked with renewed love at our skinny, panting companions, wagging their tails as if to acknowledge the praise. I did not ask any other questions. I knew he would not try to make use of his rifle as he had already explained that to wound a bawal would only further incite its rage and that it was virtually impossible to kill one with a twenty-two. He had given instruction that were we to be charged when no tree was close by, we were to lie face-down, and not move. but if there was a tree nearby to climb it. I had also learned to be less afraid of a bull than a cow with calf, and this was some comfort.

So I climbed a tree and kept an eye on Tino and his companions until they disappeared toward the shore of the bay. Armando did not climb a tree. He thought it premature. He was right. The cattle having been tested as non-violent, we set out to join Tino. Armando told me to carry by backpack on one shoulder so I could let it drop quickly in case we had to run. I did as he advised too. The days afterwards we came quite close to the bawal cattle. But I never climbed another tree and even began to loose my fear of them. They were all very considerate of us.