I accept the challenge of traveling from the apartment I rent in Buenos Aires. Today is Saturday, and I’m eager to dip my feet in crystal-clear water, breathe pure air, and get my feet muddy with loved ones.
Mom believes that my love for nature is pure genetics, a result of her charitable expeditions in the rivers of Argentina, and, of course, my dad’s love for his role as a pilot, where he encountered thousands of green and crystalline landscapes. In my last astrological consultation, the brilliant Gaby told me that those with Pisces ascendants tend to have a deep love for the outdoors and water, and we are fanatics of spaces that seem limitless, like the ocean. My Sagittarius sun and Aquarius moon are great companions on this mission, loyal to adventure and detachment. My therapist never told me what she believes, but in the sessions I’ve had, I discover that I have a deep love for the outdoors as a result of my childhood, where every weekend we escaped to San Andrés de Giles, where my father flew gliders. I firmly believe that I desire and inhabit rural territories as a result of all these experiences, with a focus on my childhood once again, where I remember lying in the grass or walking through a forest holding my dad’s hand.
Today, as I was saying, I would like to be many years younger and travel through time and space. My destination: Riñinahue, Lago Ranco, Chile.
I do some research before setting off; Wikipedia tells me that Riñinahue gets its name from a term in Mapudungun, the language of the Mapuche people. Originally founded in what is now known as Epulafquen or Playa Riñinahue, it was a steamboat port that owed its existence to the timber boom and the needs of settlers moving into the mountainous area. I search for the main recommended attractions, and they invite me to Ránquil, Epulafquen, and Arenal, where you can take excursions to Laguna Pichi, the summit of Volcán Carrán, and the Riñinahue and Nilahue Waterfalls.
So, I open Google Maps, start with Laguna Pichi, and place my hands as if they were my feet in street view. It’s far from ‘estreet,’ I think and laugh. After a 360º exploration, I choose a noble and clear wooden pier and sit down to watch the water, the starring actress in a Greek amphitheater made of mountains that looks like a mirror. A rainbow peeks out on the side, and I wonder if it rained a while ago or if perhaps it was the forest’s humidity that caused it. From where I’m sitting, I hear the sound of water and see its co-stars, the fish, while I dip my feet. I do some research on the official Tourism website of Lago Ranco and read that the most abundant native fish species are: puye, carmetita, trucha or percatrucha peladilla, pejerrey del río, and among the introduced species are rainbow trout, stream trout, brown trout, and European trout. I close my eyes, sharpen my hearing, imagining and waiting for the chorus: the birds. Privileged, capable of having different views of that vast landscape, they create a beautiful sound. Curious, I return to the same spot and find that among the most common species, the Chucao, the Hued-hued, the Torcaza, the Choroy, the Carpintero Grande, and the Perdiz del sur stand out.
Now, I hear a woodpecker, and once again, I travel back to the base of my childhood, this time in Giles. It’s probably another variant of a woodpecker, but the sound is the same, and the feeling of calmness as well. I go back a few months and remember collecting blackberries for natural dyeing while a little bird incessantly pecked at a neighboring tree. And then I think of Cony, a mandala artist. The girls told me about Cony, and her story amazed me. She is a social worker, originally from Valdivia, the capital of the region, and she came to the Riñinahue territory to work as a volunteer with Servicio País, a government organization that operates in rural areas to provide assistance to communities, helping them access funds and providing necessary tools and materials. As she told it, she now lives there because she fell in love with the place as soon as she arrived. I wonder if she listens to the same bird when she works? I remember her story, and it moves me. In her feminist struggle, she has taken it upon herself to assist the women of that territory.
What moves me the most is that she is young and chooses to live in a rural space, reaffirming her ideals, building networks with other women, and celebrating her local artisan culture by creating mandalas, which for her was an immense healing space. Bold for staying in the territory while demanding feminist support and making room for her art. Brave because she inhabits a space of great collaborative need, and that not only doesn’t scare her but she continues to support and advocate, even when she encounters masked, abusive, and dishonest collaborative proposals along the way. Her desire to support, integrate, and empower women never wanes. Weaving women together. And I feel like meeting her and chatting and telling her my story, how we started dyeing with a friend as a refuge and escape in the midst of a complicated situation. And now, once again, I think of the network and the beautiful woodpecker that knows little about the time-travel adventure I’m sponsoring. I think that many times we feel like we are alone, but perhaps on the other side of the mountain, the same little bird is providing a musical backdrop to similar landscapes and issues. And what could be more beautiful than opening up networks, going on in-person or virtual journeys, getting to know each other, and sharing experiences.
The check-out rushes the time of the journey. The setting sun dyes the water a furious orange, and I feel my eyes moist. I take my feet out of the water, grab my flip-flops, venture into the forest without looking back, and say goodbye to the beautiful remote journey by the river and the beautiful story of Cony. I close my eyes, smile, and once again, back in my apartment, I plan my next destination.
