William R. Buck, Ph.D., is the Mary Flagler Cary Curator of Botany at The New York Botanical Garden. Every January for the last three years, Dr. Buck, a moss specialist, and a team of colleagues have journeyed to the Cape Horn region at the southern tip of South America, to document the area’s rich diversity of mosses and search for new species.
We left Coloane a bit before 8 p.m. yesterday evening. Navigating down the southwest arm of the Beagle Channel, we got our first opportunity to see the string of glaciers that crown the rugged peaks. Fortunately, the waters were calm and the temperature relatively warm, keeping many of us on deck to enjoy the scenery in the dimming light.
We awoke shortly before 7 a.m. when the ship’s engines finally shut down. Coming out onto the deck, we were greeted by Bahía Orange, the site where an early French expedition had stopped. We were anchored in Caleta Misión, the exact place where the French had sought shelter over a century ago. Although the sky was lightly spitting, the day promised pleasant weather, at least according to the rising barometer. I hoped this would mean we could get back to our original itinerary and head out to Isla Hermite, but the northeastern direction of the wind meant the seas would be rough. The captain, Ernesto, and I went over the maps to determine where we should go in the coming days.
Yesterday the engines started at 5 a.m., and we began our trip back to Isla Stewart, heading for the eastern end this time. Although the engines wound to life early, it is never quiet on the ship, thanks to the generator. It is always running, supplying power to the dryers we use to preserve specimens. Nevertheless, there is a significant boost in decibels once the main power plant starts up.
We were scheduled to leave Punta Arenas on January 7, but after waiting all day, we finally took our luggage to this year’s new ship at about 10:30 p.m. and weren’t underway until after midnight. The owner of the previous years’ ship had increased the price so much that we could no longer afford it. However, we were lucky to find a ship for the same price as last year, and we began settling into the Doña Pilar. We have a crew of four this year. Interestingly, the captain has the same name as our previous captain: Pato, short for Patricio. The new ship seems to have the same dimensions as our previous boat but with a different configuration. Unlike before, where we had a single large bunkroom, the Doña Pilar has four small bedrooms, each with a single bunk bed and a pair of small cupboards. The space under the bunks is open, allowing us to stow our luggage there rather than in the middle of the bunkroom floor.
Statue of the Portuguese explorer Ferdinand Magellan – Punta Arenas, Chile
After several years of shuttling to and from the far end of South America, this is to be our final expedition as part of this project to inventory the mosses and liverworts of the Cape Horn Archipelago. I have mixed emotions. Although I am sad to see the fieldwork come to a conclusion and, as a consequence, never again see this majestic landscape, at the same time I won’t miss the long, often exhausting flights down to the southern end of the world.
My flight out of New York was scheduled for the morning of Friday, January 3. Coincidentally, this was the day after a major winter storm had dumped eight inches (15 cm) of snow on the city, letting up only a few hours prior to my departure.
In contrast, the surrounding hillsides shone brown as my plane descended onto the airstrip in Santiago, Chile. It was obviously summer. Only a slender silver thread of water made its way along the valley bottoms, and I was glad that I found myself headed to a more verdant destination. Once inside the airport, I had expected to meet my Chilean counterpart, Juan Larraín, but he failed to appear by the time my connecting flight to Punta Arenas was ready to depart. The flight to Punta Arenas usually stops in Puerto Montt. While on the ground there, I glanced up from my reading to see if I could catch Juan among the boarding passengers, but to no avail. However, after the plane was in the air again, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see the person I was looking for. Juan had boarded in Puerto Montt after all. One more piece of the puzzle fell into place.
