Man and Nature Aboard Sila

During my six weeks on board Sila, I had the pleasure of covering many thousands of miles of open ocean and visiting some truly amazing places with the great group of people which is the Barnes family. This adventure did more than teach me volumes about offshore sailing; it gave me the rare opportunity to experience cultures and places entirely different from those familiar to me. One aspect of our geographical and cultural exploration in the last two months that I found particularly captivating was  our journey along a diverse spectrum of human impact on the natural world. We started in a place of ongoing environmental preservation, visited a strange land of ancient environmental devastation, and landed where a booming industry threatens the future of a stunning landscape; the Galápagos Islands, Easter Island, and Puerto Montt, Chile, offer three distinct tales of the fragile and varied history of man's coexistence with nature.

The majestic Chilean coastline.

Before I even landed in the Galapagos, the commitment of the Ecuadorian government to the preservation of the archipelago's natural wonders was abundantly clear. My bags were searched for any plant or living organism that I could transport to the islands, and that could disrupt the delicate balance of their ecosystems. I paid fees and signed documents, all relating to the preservation of the islands and my agreement to adhere to all restrictions.

 A few marine iguanas basking in the sun in Puerto Ayora on Isla Santa Cruz, Galapagos.

When my small plane finally landed on Isla Baltra in the Galápagos Islands, my first impression was of how stark the landscape was. Mounds of volcanic rock littered the scarcely vegetated fields, and the sea was empty, save for a few dark and rugged islands. On the assorted bus rides that Molly and I took from the airport to Santa Cruz, what struck me was the feeling of emptiness emanating from the barren and inhospitable land. The towns were small and contained, and the land immediately outside of their borders was protected and undeveloped, as it had been for hundreds of years. Boats could only moor in certain harbors and tourists were not allowed to stray from the marked paths. At the wildlife centers, the employees seemed proud of their work and of the islands' unique wildlife, and displayed both with satisfaction. The Galapagos seemed to represent a rare tale of success in the story of environmental preservation, a result of long-held and significant restrictions on both development and tourism, and, perhaps most crucially, a lack of an indigenous population.

A land iguana in the Charles Darwin Wildlife Center.

Rabbit leads the way to the beach. 

Rabbit makes friends on a calm day mid-passage.

Albatross and sea lion on a dead calm day.

Our sail to Easter Island was my first experience with serious offshore sailing, and was a learning experience for me. What got me through my initial bout with seasickness was not only great company, but also the anticipation of our landfall on one of the strangest and most interesting places I could imagine. A microcosm of our world, the small volcanic island provides a model for the destruction that unchecked human activity can inflict on the land around us. Overpopulation and deforestation led to food shortages, erosion, and extinctions. The struggle to survive finally led to war and the eventual dissolution of Rapa Nui culture.

 Porter with Christopher and his Mahi Mahi catch.

The boys and me enjoying a mid-passage snack.

A few of many moai at "the nursery", the site of the quarrying and carving of the island's stone heads.

What remains today, while beautiful, is the scarred remains of an island which at one time boasted great diversity and density of life. The moai, in all their majesty, are the symbols of the tragic and complete collapse of a population and the land around it. Today, the protected areas on the island are well maintained and regulated, and it is evident that preservation is of major importance to the people who live and work there. I think we all enjoyed not only exploring the amazing remnants of ancient Rapa Nui culture, but witnessing the rebirth of "Isla de Pasqua" as a beacon of environmental stewardship.

Me with moai.

The final destination for my tenure aboard Sila was the city of Puerto Montt, Chile. As we sailed past the many islands surrounding the city, I think we were all taken aback by the vast difference in the landscape when compared to the Galapagos or Easter Island. Huge snow capped peaks loomed over the ocean, and lush, dense forests covered the small islands. Sheep grazed on steep green hillsides and small, colorful houses dotted the landscape. I had never visited Chile, and I was stunned by the natural beauty of the place--one of the few on earth that manages to combine big mountains with the ocean.

We saw a number of rainbows, especially on the second passage.

Christopher gets a close up shot of a hitchhiker on board Sila.

A group of dolphins led us through the Canal Chacao toward Puerto Montt.

Old trees above Puerto Montt.

Lago Chapo, Chile.

Beached fishing boat near Puerto Ingles, Chile.

One thing we immediately noticed, in searching for a place to anchor, was the amazing number of fish pens lining the coast. In seemingly every cove, the buoys were almost too thick to navigate through. Some larger bays seemed to be completely full of pens, shore to shore. In some towns along the coastline, huge, austere industrial buildings loomed, smelling like cat food from miles away, a scent we attributed to the production of feed given to the farm fish. I am certainly no expert on the practice of fish farming, but I do know enough to understand that the local impact of the pens can be devastating on the ocean floor. The accumulation of excess feed smothers the creatures on the bottom, and the dispersion of chemicals and antibiotics from the food makes the water untenable for most life. It was a sad thing to witness--one only hopes that the local fish farming industry can be controlled before the damage inflicted becomes irreversible.

The king of Marina del Sur, Puerto Montt.

For the most part, I was impressed by the commitment of the people of these South American places to protecting their surroundings. I also loved interacting with the people (my Spanish is a bit rusty, however), and discovering just how kind most strangers were in all three places. I felt like a tourist, sure, but never did I feel like an intruder. I don't think of myself as much of a world traveler, so the past six weeks certainly expanded my comfort zone!

I am so grateful to have been given the opportunity to join in on a bit of this great adventure of the Barnes family. It is not often that one has the opportunity to partake in such an epic voyage, and get to experience the wonders of the open ocean and such amazing places. All of this was made better by the willingness of Molly, Christopher, Porter, and Jack to welcome me with open arms and to immediately treat me like part of the gang. They are truly a special group, and are living the dream! Buen navigacion, Sila, to Patagonia and beyond. - Pete James

The gang at the end of our second passage. Will miss you all!