At 3:30 a.m. I hear the engine shut down, so I venture out onto the deck to see if we have arrived at our destination after taking the long way around. And in fact, we have arrived at Isla Pictón, the northernmost island of the grouping of Pictón, Lennox, and Nueva islands, and the last of our targeted areas for this year. Each of these islands still houses a naval outpost, left from a time in the 1970s when Chile anticipated Argentina would invade them. To this day, Juan feels pride in the fact that Chile defended these three islands and still holds them. On the downside, Chile also land-mined parts of the islands as part of their defense. This accounts at least in part for all the security and the hassles to get permission to visit them.
The ship begins moving in the early morning hours and the potentially rough seas never really materialize. I think for most of us it is instead like being rocked in a cradle. When we stop we are halfway up the north side of Seno Grandi. Our collecting site is along a large river that empties into a lake. About half of us go up the east side of the river, and the rest to the west. Although not cold or raining, a steady strong wind makes the Zodiac trip ashore wet and rough. As we approach the shore we can see quite clearly that the landscape is heavily disturbed. There are remnants of abandoned dwellings and piles of crab traps. It appears that beaver have caused significant damage to the landscape as well, and that the large peatland to the west of the river is courtesy of an ancient beaver dam.
We leave Puerto Inútil about 7 a.m. and arrive at Wulaia a half-hour later. This is one of the most famous sites in the region and one I have visited several times. Charles Darwin arrived here on January 23, 1833, 180 years ago–minus one day–today. The site has changed considerably since my last visit. There is now a metal dock for unloading cruise ship passengers, and a large, old slaughterhouse has been transformed into a museum which is open when cruise ships arrive. A plaque celebrating Darwin was put up in 2009 on the occasion of the 200th anniversary of his birth. There is also a plaque commemorating Robert FitzRoy, the captain of the HMS Beagle and a pioneering scientist in his own right.
In a nice change from the norm, we manage to leave the field station on time this morning. But that doesn’t mean we leave the harbor straight away. We load our gear back onto the trusty Don José Miguel and essentially move back in and then we do a little last minute grocery shopping. As we enter the Beagle Channel I am surprised by the rough seas. I look to the skies, which don’t look particularly threatening, and decide to blame the turbulence on our running perpendicular to the waves, rather than parallel. But, even when we turn west, into the wind, the choppiness continues. That said, it cannot delay lunch.
The author climbing a small tree with French climbing spikes.
One of the most beautiful arboreal observations I have made during my long career occurred during an ascent into a large tree, one that happened to be adjacent to a legume tree scientifically named Hymenaea courbaril–more commonly known as the stinky toe tree. It was given this repugnant name because of the similarity of its fruits to a malodorous human toe. While botanical literature had already reported at the time that this species relied on bats for pollination, I wanted to confirm this observation by climbing a nearby tree from which I could see into the canopy as night fell, just as nocturnal animals started to make their appearances.
I was especially eager to make this climb because one of my research focuses has been the interactions between bats and the plants pollinated and dispersed by them. This was a rare opportunity to observe the crown of this 115-foot-tall tree in full flower, and as my job was to document the species that occur in the lowland forests of central French Guiana, as well as to discover the interactions that the local plants have with animals, I could not pass it up.
Dr. Robert F.C. Naczi, the Arthur J. Cronquist Curator of North American Botany, at the New York Botanical Garden, delivered the following keynote speech at the School of Professional Horticulture, Class of 2013’s graduation, March 1, 2013. This post features photographs ofThe Orchid Show which this year has a scientific focus and is designed by Francisca Coelho, the Garden’s Vivian & Edward Merrin Associate Vice President for Glasshouses & Exhibitions and School of Professional Horticulture graduate.
The Critical Importance of Scientific Training to Today’s Horticulturist
Congratulations to you, the 2013 graduates of the School of Professional Horticulture! You have much to celebrate because you have achieved so much. First, you rose to the challenge of the rigors of the program. For example, in a little over two years, you took over 40 courses, and passed them all. Yes, I know first-hand from you that some of these courses caused you considerable pain, but you made it! You deserve praise, too, for completing a whopping 30 plant walks and all the quizzes that followed them. As well, you completed internships that were, all at once, innovative, demanding, and fulfilling. All through these activities and many more, you excelled at multitasking, delaying gratification, and working really hard. On top of all this, you kept your cool. Sure, each one of you shed blood, sweat, and tears, but you persevered.
It is good you persevered. For this is an exciting time to be a professional horticulturist. One of the aspects of your education in the School of Professional Horticulture that sets you above many other horticulturists is your grounding in science. Your foundation in science opens doors for you to a whole range of scientific advances, and will continue to open these doors. Today, I would like to address the promise and power of a scientifically-grounded education in horticulture, such as you now possess.
This is our last day on the north shore of Isla Navarino. The weather forecast bodes well for an ascent of Pico de la Bandera. As predicted, we get a slow start to the morning. Blanka and Laura are driven out to Puente La Cascada to see if they can find more interesting hepatics where they found the Lethocolea. Ernesto then heads to his 8:30 appointment with the naval commander to see about getting us permission to access the three islands east of Navarino; Pictón, Nueva, and Lennox islands. He then returns to pick up Blanka and Laura who have indeed found several additional interesting liverworts. Next, a stop to retrieve some laundry, then a stop to pick up lunches from a local store, and then finally we reach the trailhead for the ascent of Pico de la Bandera around 11:30 a.m.
The day breaks overcast and drizzly which is a sort of relief; at least now I know that some alien climate has not taken residence in Patagonia! Today is the first day we have to fix our own breakfast, which leads to a late start and only an hour and a half to collect at our first site, which, according to last night’s plan will be on the north shore highway. We now have to hope that tomorrow will prove better for ascending Pico de la Bandera.
It is raining only lightly when we head out, but soon the skies open and we drive through a steady rain all morning. Our first site is Vuelta de Perro, about 18 kilometers east of town. It is a very wet site with lots of downed logs. I had been here about 10 years ago and thought it would be a good place to take the group. Since I have been here before and collected extensively, I focus only on the small things, finding lichenicolous fungi and even a couple of fungi over bryophytes, all the while keeping an eye out for interesting mosses. The site proves a little disappointing when compared to our previous pristine sites. It has been heavily disturbed by tree cutting and grazing cattle. Plus, it’s our first day out in the rain.
I wake up at 5 a.m. and get out of bed. I know sunrise is around this time and that we will be arriving in Puerto Williams shortly thereafter. My early morning is well rewarded; the sunrise is gorgeous, increasing in intensity of pale yellows, pinks, and oranges all on a pale blue palette. The temperature is warm–I am comfortable standing on the upper deck in just my sleeping clothes. The captain and I wave at each other and both go back to our own thoughts. In the distance, on the left (south) shore is a small group of lights that I think must be Puerto Williams and when I point at them the captain confirms my assumption.
Several hours earlier I was up at 1:30 a.m., and to the north the whole coast was ablaze with lights over a large area: Ushuaia. Tiny Puerto Williams provides quite the contrast to Ushuaia. Puerto Williams’ population is around 2,200, which, in actuality, is the population of the entire province with the vast majority of those people living in this, the province’s only town. Puerto Williams is not only the provincial capital of Antártica Chilena, it is also the largest southernmost permanent settlement in the world (there is actually a very small town somewhat further south that is attainable only by ship and that we’ll visit later). It is also a navy town and run by the military for all practical purposes. I first came to Puerto Williams in 2000 and the town has scarcely changed in the intervening years. Indeed, it probably hasn’t changed much in a considerably longer time.
Today is our day to hit the northeast coast of Península Hardy. We moored last night in Bahía Tekenika and left for the peninsula at 5 a.m. We had been told it would take 3-4 hours to reach our first site, but we arrive at 7:30 a.m. Only Blanka and I are up and about. The day promises to be beautiful once again, with partly cloudy skies, almost no wind, and surprisingly warm temperatures. Everyone is complaining about how warm they are inside their rubber rain gear. It would be great if this weather holds up though, but given my previous experience, I cannot be too optimistic.
Our first site is Bahía Allen Gardiner (55°24’S, 68°19’W), named for an early British missionary who, while dying of starvation, maintained his diary and his optimism about establishing a settlement in this region.
At 3:30 a.m. I hear the engine shut down, so I venture out onto the deck to see if we have arrived at our destination after taking the long way around. And in fact, we have arrived at Isla Pictón, the northernmost island of the grouping of Pictón, Lennox, and Nueva islands, and the last of our targeted areas for this year. Each of these islands still houses a naval outpost, left from a time in the 1970s when Chile anticipated Argentina would invade them. To this day, Juan feels pride in the fact that Chile defended these three islands and still holds them. On the downside, Chile also land-mined parts of the islands as part of their defense. This accounts at least in part for all the security and the hassles to get permission to visit them.
