Chris Moss 

The ultimate wilderness

The founder of the North Face clothing empire has bought a vast tract of land at the end of the world. Chris Moss goes to find out why.
  
  

Ice flow in Parque Pumalin, Chile
Ice flow in Parque Pumalin Photograph: Corbis

A trip to Parque Pumalín starts with a cruise - albeit a very utilitarian one - from Puerto Montt at the southern tip of the Chilean lake district. The cargo ships run by Transmarchilay have a few dozen seats and are ugly, functional vehicles, the maritime equivalent of an old backender bus. They are ploddingly slow, dragging out the 90-odd miles to about 10 hours. But winding down, you soon learn, is what it's all about down here and, with only skies and sea to look at, you might as well get ready for the unrushed rhythms of nature.

Sailing between the island of Chiloé and the mainland, you catch sight of Magellanic penguins, porpoises and the occasional seal frisking in the placid gulfs of the inland sea. The air is crisp and gaspingly pollution-free - the only fumes come from our funnel, and in a whole day you see nobody except fellow passengers out on deck for a guilty smoke. As dusk falls, and our destination town, Chaitén, nears, lights twinkle on the coast, hinting at the presence of a few farmers and isolated hamlets in the area known officially as Palena province.

It is the absence of people that has made this region so special - and it is the reason why American millionaire Douglas Tompkins, who made his fortune with the North Face and Esprit clothing companies, has bought more than a thousand square miles of it - an area bigger than Snowdonia and as big as Yosemite. Parque Pumalín, a private park open to the public, is now the main reason people come to Palena, and it is home to a beautiful - and largely unexplored - wilderness. Stretching from the Argentine border to the fjords of the Pacific Ocean, the land is far flung and was cheap when Tompkins started to buy in 1991; if it has not yet eaten up all of the $250m he amassed selling clothes, his chief ambition - to do absolutely nothing with the land - means Pumalín has to be one of the biggest challenges ever to face a philanthropic landlord.

Beyond civilisation it might be, but you can't build a park this size on the quiet, and some of the attention has been pretty negative. The Chilean government and media accused Tompkins of planning to found a secret cult, of threatening national sovereignty and of buying the land as a shrewd investment for the apocalyptic future when pure environments will be the only saleable commodity. But Tompkins and his wife Kristine (former head of the Patagonia outdoor-clothing brand), claim to be committed to Deep Ecology, a radically conservationist, holistic "ecosophy" first articulated in the 1970s by Norwegian mountaineer-philosopher Arne Naess. Eventually, the government toned down its nationalistic paranoia and accepted that Tompkins, who lives with his family on a ranch at Reñihué in the heart of the park, was sincere and the Pumalín project was legitimate and potentially very positive for the region.

Geopolitics and conspiracy theories apart, just why Tompkins bought Pumalín is self-evident to anyone who visits. The mists overhanging the forests of slow-growth araucaria, myrtle and dense "false beech" trees, the pristine mirror-calm lakes and glacial run-offs driving down the valley, the sheer walls plummeting into the sea on the coastal flank of the park all make this the lushest and most dramatic nature reserve in the region, as well as the least populated. In the undergrowth, native pudú deer scutter, lower than knee-height and wary of visitors; even shyer are the tall, elegant huemul deer, threatened almost to extinction and now only to be found high up the mountainsides. The ecosystem is unique and, to protect it, Pumalín allows only very restricted farming, including organic honey producers - who you can visit - and some cattle farming to feed locals. Small concessions have been granted to cater for incoming travellers, from luxury lodges and small hot-spring developments to simple but idyllic campsites.

Getting into and around Pumalín is easy. Regular buses run from Chaitén, the only town of any size (3,000 inhabitants) for miles around, to Caleta Gonzalo - a small administrative post on a tranquil inlet. A footpath runs from the cabins and rustic cafe to the Caleta Gonzalo cascadas (waterfalls) 90 minutes one-way up a twisting track. A few paces in and the bamboo canes and humid mossy trunks along the path close in to become a tunnel, and you hear only the creaking of wood and the fluting and rustling of woodland birds and insects. You can't help but think of the park's namesake, especially if you go alone - this is just the kind of place where, in your imagination at least, a puma might be waiting to spring out on a lone trekker. But as Nicholas La Penna, a local guide, reassures me, "Even if a puma is no more than a few metres away, you'd never know - and they don't normally attack humans."

Opened in 1997, the park has scores of other trails - marked by pretty wooden faux-rustic signs typical of US parks - through dense virgin forests of native trees, beside lakes, up mountains and even up to a volcano, the 2,250m Volcán Michimahuida, snow-capped and still active. Chile's great southern highway, the Carretera Austral, runs though the centre of the park - with hardly any traffic; it is legendary among Patagonian mountain bikers - and a few small settlements sell refreshments, cabins and fly-fishing licences. This is an anglers' nirvana, and the fast Andean streams are teeming with fat salmon and sea-run trout.

Ever since the first European, the Portuguese Fernão Magellan, rounded the Horn, travellers and fantasists have loved to speak of "the end of the world" - as Tierra del Fuego in the far south is also known. In fact, Chile's remotest region is here in northern Patagonia. History and geography have colluded to ensure that the area between Puerto Montt and Punta Arenas has remained as virgin as modern civilisation allows. From Pumalín southwards, the Andes range was flooded as a consequence of cataclysmic volcanic activity, so many mountains plummet directly into the sea and the coastline cracks up into an inhospitable chaos of sheer cliffs, islands and canyons. While the mainland port towns had a strategic role in colonial times, the inland coast, between latitudes 42 and 52 south, is hidden from the Pacific by the island of Chiloé and was of little commercial use to merchant navies or, indeed, the Chilean government.

Not so any more. For logging firms, the forests are a godsend and, since Tompkins showed interest in one of the few remaining sizeable rainforests, the nationalist-leaning Chilean authorities have concentrated on Palena province and have even allowed the energy firm Endesa to occupy a swathe of land that cuts Pumalín in two. Salmon is also a major industry in this region, and the waters off Pumalín are home to hundreds of massive offshore farms. Tourism may be a means of keeping exploitation at bay.

Tompkins recognises Pumalín's appeal to travellers. "Almost anyone seeing Palena for the first time is impressed with its landscapes - raw wilderness, spectacular scenery and dense forests. As a bonafide temperate rainforest, it is rare and special. Alerce trees - the southern hemisphere's version of the California giant sequoia trees - are being poached out all over southern Chile, and Pumalín holds a good reserve."

Size matters in these things, too, says Tompkins. "Pumalín is large enough to protect virtually all species in its ecosystem of flora and fauna." The alerce cypresses (in Latin, Fitzroya cupressoides after Captain Fitzroy who sailed the HMS Beagle down here with Charles Darwin in the 1830s) are the dinosaurs of the botanic world, reaching ages beyond 3,000 years. They stand tall and are impressively gnarled and weather-worn by centuries of exposure to the elements.

Nonetheless, just 10,000 visitors came to the park in the 2001-2 summer season, most of them Chileans - some no doubt curious to visit a place that has generated such controversy. Compare that to the thousands who descend on the Torres del Paine every day in January and February and you get an idea of the park's appeal for anyone who wants to escape talk, trekking queues, European confabs round the campfire, and the usual world traveller routine.

Granted, there are not the obvious photo-honeyspots here - the lakeside mega-glaciers, pinnacles and turquoise lakes that have made southern Patagonia world famous - but there's something wonderfully gentle and serene about Pumalín. The weather is part of the fun in this part of Chile, too. Tompkins himself says, wryly, "living in the temperate forest is, well, wet". The Pacific can send in over 3,000mm of rain a year - even Darwin winced at the all-too-English climate as he sailed through - but summer is drier and when the sun does come out, it's a major event.

It's hard to pin down Tompkins's real aims, personal or political - philanthropic he seems to be, but is such a project realistic and sustainable? He is sceptical about the term. "Sustainability? That's a word that has launched a million seminars. I'm not sure the Yanomami [the largest indigenous group in the Americas to live free of contact with modern society and according to ancient traditions which deem the environment sacred] are sustainable. I know of no business which is sustainable. An old-growth forest left untouched might not be sustainable. We've no such pretensions."

Ten years ago, Palena's natural wonders were barely accessible unless you owned a good boat, a 4x4 and had the orienteering skills of a Chilean border guard. Tompkins has, if nothing else, put it on the map for ordinary travellers, and while it might not last forever, there are certainly a few lifetimes of escapist outdoor holidays to be had in a land where the Andes tumbles into the sea and where there are still far more ancient trees than modern people.

Way to go

Getting there: Fly to Puerto Montt, via Santiago) using British Airways (0845 7733377) and Lan Chile (01293 596607) for around £950, or with Aerolineas Argentinas (020- 7494 1001) to Santiago from £469. From Puerto Montt, Transmarchilay (+2 234 1464) operates ferries to Chaitén all year round. Journey Latin America (020-8747 8315) offers guided cruises for groups, taking in Chiloé, the Pumalín fjords and park, from around £1,875pp for a five-day trip and £2,233pp for a 19-day cruise, inc flights, board and accommodation.

Where to stay: There are three entrances to Parque Pumalín, with information centres and cabin-type accommodation, at Hornopirén (065 217256), Caleta Gonzalo (1712 1964150) and in Chaitén (065731341). There are cabañas (wooden cabins) for groups of 4-5 people throughout Pumalín Park from £42 a night upwards. Campsites in the same areas charge £1.30pp and £4.50 for a fire pit. Reservations: pumalin reservas@telsur.cl. There are plenty of small hotels in Chaitén: Pumalín's own hostal - the Puma Verde - charges £20-£33 for doubles.

Further information: Parque Pumalin, Deep Ecology.
Country code: 00 56.
Flight time London-Santiago de Chile: 15hrs, Santiago-Puerto Montt 2hrs.
Time difference: -4hrs.
£1= 1,097 pesos.

 

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