Ricardo Carrasco Photography

Imagenes de Nuestro Mundo

2006-01-10T23:45:00.000-03:00

Welcome to the official weblog of National Geographic photographer and writer Ricardo Carrasco, who specializes on South America.

Here you will find details about his stock list, who his clients are, read some of his articles, find out how to contact him, as well information on photo expeditions in South America.

STOCK PHOTOGRAPHY OF SOUTH AMERICA

RCSPHOTO is a growing collection of over 25 thousand 35mm slides of South America, duly classified and labelled by subject, location, season, and scientific name when applicable. All images are available for you to purchase for advertising, editorial, website, or personal use. In some cases we can also license an image exclusively. For more information about our archive, preferred format and delivery method please contact us.

EXPEDITION TO THE DEEP DESERT

Discover the forgotten secrets of the Great Atacama and the milenial remains of the peoples who mastered the desert.

A 10-day photographic expedition through Prehispanic roads, cultivation fields in the absolute desert and prehispanic towns in the middle of the apparent emptiness that tell us of the life that dared challenge the driest land in the world. Expertly planned and guided by our specialist in the deep desert, Mr. Pablo Canarte.

One in a series of photo adventures in South America designed by our specialists in the field. To reserve your space or receive more information on photographic field trips please contact us.

Secret Citadel of the Last Inca

2006-01-10T18:38:00.000-03:00

Lured by history and myth, this author trekked through dense Peruvian jungle to a remote stronghold once occupied by Manco Inca.Text and photographs © Ricardo Carrasco

Cuzco creates an immediate impression; the cradle of the Inca empire, where every street, every corner, every house bears witness to what was once the great city founded by Manco Capac and Mama Ocllo, children of the sun god. Their father had sent them to save mankind when he saw men living like animals, without law or order. The city and its environs bear the stamp of inspired Inca master builders, yet, despite this concentration of imperial magnificence, one can still discover lost citadels and marvelous treasures far from the well-traveled routes.

I am sitting in a restaurant in front of the Plaza de Armas in Cuzco, where hordes of tourists, who have come to visit the fortress of Machu Picchu and the sacred valley, stroll by. Sipping my bitter coffee, I browse through the yellowing pages of a book about the great revolt and the siege of Cuzco by Manco Inca, the brave young prince who was the son of Mama Runtu and Huayna Capac, twelfth monarch in the royal line that began with the founding of that great empire. The young Inca is famed for his skill and cunning in manipulating for his skill and cunning in manipulating the Spaniards and for his hard-fought battle against them. Riding at the head of hundreds of thousands of warriors, he launched the great rebellion of 1536 by laying siege to Cuzco, an unprocedented and glorious moment of resistance against the Spanish invaders.

At that time, arrows, clubs, and lances were the weapons used by Inca warriors. Amid the bonfires surrounding the city, these weapons, lit by burning tinder, rained down on the unfortunate conquistadors led by Francisco Pizarro. Gradually, over the course of months of fighting, a lack of food and the arrival of new Spanish soldiers began to weaken the Inca army, which was finally defeated at the fortress of Sacsahuamán and forced to flee, taking refuge in the cordillera of the Upper Urubamba.

Manco Inca and his men plunged into the deepest, most uncharted jungle of Perú, far from the Spanish blockade, where he established a centre of resistance known in Quechua as Vilcabamba, or sacred pampa. From that remote region he resolved to attack the Spanish positions in Cuzco. Yet, within a decade, he would be assassinated by seven Spanish fugitives to whom he himself had given refuge.

Hidden in the jungle fastness, the stronghold occupied by the last of the royal Incas, the remote and mysterious Espíritu Pampa, still survives. Reputed to contain over four hundred structures, most of which are buried, the fortress of Espíritu Pampa is, according to some anthropologists, greater than Machu Picchu itself. All of this excites me, and the hours pass swiftly as the city lights up and is transformed into a jewel, its many carefully preserved churches illuminated and dazzling as diamonds of light.

A few days later, my companions – a Peruvian anthropologist and a Zen master – and I are ready to depart on an expedition to the fortress of the last “Inca of Vilcabamba”. Three days of traveling will take us through the mountains to the lowlands and then into the deep jungle of the Upper Urubamba, a major tributary of the Amazon river.

Our route ranges from the scenic to the hair-raising: First, we must cross the gorge of the Verónica, a sacred mountain, or apu, nearly nineteen thousand feet high on the eastern slope of Machu Picchu. Our little microbus literally penetrates the clouds, and I feel as if in a dream, with the abyss disappearing in the mist beyond each curve. Slowly we descend, reaching the city of Quillabamba after a six-hour journey. This is an important coffe, cacao, and lumber center in the Department of Cuzco, where tropical fruits such as papayas, fragrant bananas, and custard apples restore our spirits.

We continue on the next day in another vehicle to the town of Kiteni, which, like many jungle towns, has only one main street and many improvised stalls selling fruit and chicken soup. We walk among the steaming, smoking stalls to the Kiteni Hotel at the end of the street, where we will spend the night.

Darkness falls as I sit on a small chair in my room, sensing the proximity of the jungle. I count more than fifty spiders trapping insects in the screenless window frames. This forest owes its abundance to the fact that the deep Urubamba and Apurimac River valleys separate the Vilcabamba mountain range from the rest of the Andean cordilleras, thereby isolating countless species of animals and plants. Scientists call this “the island effect”, which means that geographically marginalized populations are able to produce new species of plants and animals.

At four in the morning we clamber into a truck going to Chuanquiri, the last town before beginning our hike to Espíritu Pampa. It is full of Machiguengas, natives of the Urubamba, and we are obliged to find seats for ourselves on a wooden plank, since it is clear that we are not welcome there. Speaking in Machi, they stare at us as if they would like to throw us off. The anthropologist among us, who speaks several Peruvian languages and dialects, breaks the tension by telling them that we are going to Espíritu Pampa, whereupon they all begin to laugh, while some who appeared to be sleeping, smile, giving us to understand that we will never get there.

The truck stops suddenly, and, looking out over the canvas roof to find out what has happened, I see a river in front of us. My first thought is that we won´t be able to go any farther, but I am wrong. The driver turns off the engine and waits a couple of hours for the water level to recede. We listen to the rattling of small stones borne along by the current. It´s hard to believe, but the Machiguengas attribute the mishap to my presence (if anything goes wrong, as an outsider, I could be in trouble). Fortunately, after weaving around some large rocks in the stream, the truck manages to cross, and we are again on our way to the settlement of Chuanquiri.

Soaked from head to foot, I am holding tight to the roof of the truck as the sun comes out and illuminates one of the most beautiful and precipitous landscape I have ever seen. Escarpments disappear into the depths of the planet in an impenetrable tangle of humid, steamy blue jungle. At the bottom of an abyss, a river churning up a lather of mud creates terrifyng rapids that roar through the canyons. For one moment, I feel as though I am at the end of the world or perhaps at the beginning. The truck is speeding along a narrow, eroded track that threatens to vanish at every curve.

Finally we reach Chuanquiri, where our refreshments include enormous papayas. “Now the adventure really begins”, my anthropologist companion announces. He had been there thirty years earlier.

The settlement of Chuanquiri seems to have sprung up around an improvised soccer field; on one side there is a small school. I try to take some photographs of children, but they run away into the jungle, and I realize that I should have been more tactful with the inhabitants of such a remote place.

We begin our trek with a guide who has brought a pair of mules for the trip. We hike along the Koshireni River, which winds into the mountainous jungle. We come across rivers of giant ants carrying leaves in their jaws and enormous butterflies of rare shapes in brilliant orange, green, black, blue, and red. Flocks of yellow-rumped caciques, famous for their hanging nests that the local people use as bags, accompany us throughout the day. We also see the Andean cock-of-the-rock, a bird similar to the toucan.

After a six-hour walk, making a half-dozen crossings of the Koshireni, the turbulent Concebidayoc, and other streams, climbing and trying to protect ourselves from the incessant attack of gnats and Manco Inca Ruling from his usno Thronemosquitoes, we decide to spend the night in the hut of some settlers. Their diet consists of guinea pig with cassava or uncuchas, a starchy jungle potato that is a good accompaniment to meat. They fish for the local surcador, bass, common dolphinfish, and the gigantic mamury by tying baby chicks to their lines. They also plant and harvest coffee, which they sell in Chuanquiri for about twenty-eight dollars per hundred pounds.

The next day we take up the trail again, with the assurance of some Machiguengas that it is only a few hours to Espíritu Pampa. But for them time exists in another dimension, and we need to trek through the jungle for several more days, sleeping wherever the night finds us. We often come upon improvised stone and red-earth graves, for in the steaming jungle there is neither the time nor the taste for ostentatious tombs. Local people quickly solve the problem of those who leave this world by burying them beside the path.

At this point, inexplicably, our guide decides to return with his mules to Chuanquiri, and we watch him disappear into the trees. We continue in the company of some young Machiguengas, who offer to carry part of our gear, which is growing ever heavier in the intense tropical heat, for a short way. As we climb the muddly slopes we see such orchids as the common michi michi, the exotic wakanki, and the no less spectacular zapatitos.

Among the foliage of a lost path we find, to our great surprise, a splendid Inca bath, the first clear sign that our effort is being rewarded. We have reached the fortress of Espíritu Pampa. The bath, consisting of a main pool and three water spouts down which a thin stream still runs, was the place where visitors were obliged to wash themselves before entering the sacred citadel. Tired but content, we walk a little far fortunately, some Machiguengas had cleared with machetes a few days earlier to drive away predators. Seven kinds of venomous snakes are native to this area, among them the feared fer-de-lance.

Gradually, there emerge before our eyes houses and more terraces, as if a veil had been lifted. Though most of the buildings had been destroyed by roots or smothered by moss, some, against all odds, preserve their lintels -fine details of a skilled master sculptor- intact above the entranceways; and on the ground, undisturbed pieces of broken jars are scattered among leaves.

After this discovery, we sit in silence in the presence of such buildings lost in time, as if the jungle had swallowed our tongues.

For a photo gallery and the Spanish language version of this article please visit Ricardo Carrasco's official website, rcsphoto.net. Interested publishers can contact him to purchase reproduction rights.

Daughters of Clay

2006-01-10T17:20:00.000-03:00

In the village of Quinchamalí in central Chile, women carry on an age-old tradition that continues to model daily life.

Text & Photographs © Ricardo Carrasco

In early April, autumn takes hold of this region and transforms it with cooler temperatures and the yellow ocher colors that dominate the landscape. Thousands of leaves drift from the poplars and cover Loceras de Quinchamalithe roads, giving a decidedly pastoral feel to the scenery. This is the time when the people of Quinchamalí stream into the vineyards for the harvest.

This area if Chile is known for its fine stock of wines produced from the rulo, or dry farmed, vineyards. It is also famous for its cherries and for a host of other fruit like watermelon and tomatoes, known internationally for their aroma and flavor.

But inside the houses, another activity is going on. Like a jealously guarded secret, it leaves its particular seal on the people of this village. It is the work of the loceras of Quinchamalí. Loceras are potters, women who extract red mud from the nearby hillsides and dedicate themselves to the feverish creation of thousands of clay pots and figurines.

I arrive over muddy roads at the home of one of the loceras. Anjibda Smith Vielma. She is one of the oldest potters and one of the most respected among the small group of women who perpetuate this rLoceras de Quinchamali, Chileustic art. Her modest but welcoming home is on the outskirts of the village.

Though she could use her land to plant wheat or other crops, she says proudly that she prefers to “live from the earth, from the clay”. Accompanied by her husband, Don Floriano, she passes on to others what is today the noblest tradition of the region.

“I have a clay mine in my own backyard. You just have to know how to find the right kind, the clay you can really use”, she says as she throws her braid over her shoulders and digs out shovelfuls of dirt with a spade.

The aroma of fresh herbs –rosemary, mint, fennel- spread like a giant veil over the hills. Vielma carefully accommodates the reddish-black mud in the sacks that she has ready in her little horse-Loceras de Quinchamali, Chiledrawn cart. As she stops to catch her breath, she explains. “I´ve worked with clay since I was a little girl. It´s like I´ve always known how to give shape to the plates and platters I make. Before, in the olden days, my mother and I would go and sell our crockery in the nearby villages like Bulnes and Chillán. We traveled by horse and cart through the hills over the muddy roads and around the bushes to get to the place where we traded our wares”.

She moves forward several feet and unloads her precious, heavy cargo. This is women´s work by tradition, but Don Floriano labors alongside his wife, removing impurities from the clay and leaving it creamy and malleable so that she can work with it more easily.

My first visit is a short one. Most potters consider their work to be personal, almost private, and I want to be respectful. Perhaps their feeling is a vestige of the past when being a potter was considered less than dignified work, when the making of clay “trinkets” was associated with the lowest castes of the colonial world. The mestizos of the new world once said that it wasn´t seemly “to work with mud.” Today this has changed for many loceras, and visitors can even find workshops where they´re invited to observe pots being created. It´s value added for the tourist. But whether it is for reasons of professional secrecy or because of the stigmas from the past, the first approach with an artist should be made carefully.

I return a few days later and find Vielma sitting in a chair at the doorway of her house with a fistful of clay in her hands. This amazing woman is skillfully giving shape to a small object, casually pushing Loceras de Quinchamaliher long gray braid of hair out of the way from time to time as she works. The clay she is kneading has recently been removed from a plastic bag that has conserved its moisture. She is molding what looks like a little jug that will soon take the form of a mate cup. Sitting next to her, I can see how the fine clay begins to be transformed into a figure of ornamental value. Better yet, it´s useful, even as it maintains a profound aesthetic sense. It looks so easy, but an amateur would take hours to do this, and with far less desirable results.

“The first thing you have to do,” she explains, “is to clean the clay by stepping on it with your feet. After you make a piece like the one you´re holding in your hands right now, you let it rest for a few days. Then you polish it and scrape it with these tools. “She shows me a washbowl full of little stones of various sizes, knives without handles, seashells, and all kinds of metal instruments and wooden sticks. “A few days later, when the piece is set, you have to scrape it again. Then you make the decorative drawings and you put on the handles. You let it rest again, and then you get to the fun part. You have to put horse dung on the fire, and you have to cook the pot until it gets a good reddish hue”.

This part of the work turns out to be complicated, since we have to go into a small room where the smoke is so dense we can hardly see the pots that are just inches from the bonfire. “Now take theLoceras de Quinchamali pitchfork and bring out one of the bowls. Be careful and don´t touch it, because we don´t have a hospital nearby. “My eyes are stinging from the smoke, but I manage to move the bowl away from the burning fire and leave it on the floor. Soon it will be covered in straw, which will give the pot a black color as it burns. “If you just let it cool in the air, it will stay red, like the color of the clay,” she says.

After this instructive class, though my eyes are still watering and irritated, Vielma takes me into the heart of Quinchamalí to visit Buenaventura Ulloa, who seems to have been designated to tell others about the town´s culture. (She unfortunately died last November 2005). As we walk through her garden, shaded by a large wisteria vine, Ulloa tells me that this tradition of pottery making originated in the region´s Mapuche settlements. The tradition continued under Spanish colonial rule, when inhabitants began to make large clay pots for storing grain at harvest time. Some of these enormous crocks can still be found in the old storehouses scattered throughout the area. Initially, the loceras made kitchenware: bowls, pitchers, and plates. But as the years passed, the women became aware of a demand for decorative pieces. Today, the workshops in women´s homes in the hills of Quinchamalí are full of ornamental pieces in the shape of chickens, pigs, and turkeys.

In the memory of each artisan is a grandmother, a mother, or an aunt who labored daily with clay. The home, the workshop, the domestic space where they grew up gave them an early awareness of Loceras de Quinchamali the labor assigned to women. Little girls were to emulate the women they saw, dividing their time between making pots and fulfilling the reproductive duties of the household, raising and feeding children. It´s easy to see how the grandmother and the mother created and modeled not only clay figurines and pieces, but also the idea of what it meant “to be a woman” in Quinchamalí. As in other societies, the functions inherent in a role are not learned by listening to “rational” explanations. People learn by imitating others. The work is done according to tradition, because the mother, the grandmother, and all of the women in the past have always done it. Nobody teaches anyone to form a pitcher, to polish, or to paint. They learn it by copying body language, emulating gestures. “I learned to work by watching”, say Prácxedes Caro. “Your hands learn, really. It´s like learning toLoceras de Quinchamali read; if you have a good memory, you learn fast. I used to help my mother polish the post when I was ten or twelve years old. Then I told myself I was going to help her to paint, and I painted one. But I erased it quickly because I was afraid she would punish me. Later, she let me paint, and then I started to make the pots, too. I took the clay in my hands and I learned fast”.

Olga Vielma is another “daughter of clay”, as she calls herself. Her house is very simple, but her earthenware art may be the best of all. She is ancient. Her disfigured hands bear the mark of her labor; her fingers are cracked from the years of work with the biting dirt. With affection, she begins to show me some of her masterpieces. She disappears into her house, emerging each time with another pot to display in the light of the porch. She only makes crockery, since custom has it that others produce the ornamental pieces….

For a photo gallery and the Spanish language version of this article please visit Ricardo Carrasco's official website, rcsphoto.net. Publishers interested can contact him to purchase reproduction rights.

Chiloe's Seaside Sanctuaries

2006-01-10T16:34:00.000-03:00

Beautifully integrated into the environment, the stunning wooden churches of this Chilean island are monuments to the rich heritage and spirit of this nation.

Text and photos © Ricardo Carrasco

A rugged outpost near the continent´s end, the island of Chiloé is just the kind of place to test a person´s resolve. And it has, for centuries. Its residents endure a rainy, stormy climate that seems to drench the island and everything on it in a penetrating solitude. To the eyes of the person who traverses the pastures, slopes, and cliffs of this place -the largest island in South America after Tierra del Fuego- it seems that even its many churches and chapels begin to appear like lighthouses in the mist. It should surprise no one that sailors over the years have navigated their way along the wrinkles and folds of Chiloé´s coastline guided by the taller spires of some of these churches. Men of faith have always found their way to Chiloé.

More than eighty churches are situated along this island and archipelago of some 125 miles, the majority nestled in bays and inlets at the water´s edge, as if to never lose sight of the first fact of life Chonchihere, the meeting of land and sea. Most of them were first erected under the direction of the Jesuit missionaries who traveled and proselytized through the region in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, then saw additions and embellishments by the Franciscans in the nineteenth century. Recently, sixteen of Chiloé`s churches were designated part of the Patrimony of Humanity by UNESCO, cited as unique examples of religious architecture in wood, a vibrant melding with native materials and craftsmanship.

Tucked into the inland sea, the provincial capital of Castro is the first stop for most area visitors. Residents here affectionately refer to their church, which was built the same year as the town´s founding in 1567, as the “Catedral of Castro.” However, it was not always so well appreciated. In 1600, the Dutch pirate Baltasar de Cordes anchored his ship in front of the church and, after robbing the populace, launched an attack, setting fire to the church. It was soon rebuilt only to be razed once again in 1642, along with the entire town, by another Dutch pirate, Enrique Brouwer. Erected again in 1657, it was yet again destroyed by fire in 1772, at which point, a venerable Jesuit church became the main church of the community. That too was destroyed by fire in 1902. In 1910, construction on the present-day church was begun.

The next day, I headed out at dawn to a place set amid gentle hills stirred by a constant breeze off the Pacific Ocean. The mainland panorama could barely contain the looming curtain of the Andes CastroMountains. After a short drive, I arrived at the church of Nercón. In 1627, this place was an indigenous community of ragtag dwellings attached to the lands granted by the Spanish crown to Francisco García de la Torre. Around 1734, a chaped was built. I approached it through a well-kept, traditional garden, through which a cemetery climbed part way up a hill. Its summit boasts a fine vantage point for viewing the steeple, comprising two octagonal drums, apparently rounded so as to better weather blustery winter winds. The spire is covered with shingles hewn from the larch tree, and the arches at the entryway are also sheathed in wood. Over the nave, segmented arches rest on cylindrical columns painstakingly painted to resemble marble. The artisans who created this structure had to toil within the mechanical constraints and natural limitations of local wood in order to create arches, friezes, cornices, and columns that elsewhere are the product of stones or brick masonry. I could have stayed there for hours; the longer I stayed, the larger my sense of awe grew.

The following morning my attention was drawn to the height, virtually unrivaled in Chiloé, of the church steeple of Vilupulli, an intriguing name that in the language of the indigenous Mapuche means “the serpent´s hill”. Located in a small village facing the coastVilupulli, the church was constructed in the late eighteenth or early nineteenth century from cypress and coihue (southern beech), over a foundation, like those of many area churches, laid with locally quarried stones. Daybreak pierced the deepest recesses of the nave, revealing resplendent portraits of saints by local artists and columns topped with basket-handle arches holding aloft a flat ceiling.

All the churches are situated within a short distance of one another, so I soon managed to reach the church in the cove of Chonchi, at the island´s narrowest point, as the day´s activities had just begun. Descriptive geographical names, which might also seem to act as warnings, continue here –Chonchi means “slippery land”. But today its church sits fully in the morning sun, which has just vaulted the Andean peaks. The steeple, though, is gone, yanked off its base, I am later told, by a fierce storm. The pediment is meticulously embellished with sections of carved wood set over neoclassical arches that pose a striking contrast to the solemn interior. The structure has been restored several times, but one of the columns still sports a vestige of the original paint simulating a marble surface. An odd feature of the main sanctuary is the absence of parallel walls, with the front wall several inches longer than the back, thus, making the eye believe the structure is larger than its actual 150-foot length by 60-foot width. Along one wall rests a statue of Saint Anthony of Padua, renowned for his aid in recovering lost objects, mending lovesick hearts, and finding a husband.

It is a short barge trip from Chonchi to Lemuy Island, where as I arrived, a group of children were playing with dolls amid the columns of the church at Ichuac. Unusual star-shaped designs carved into the portal were the first feature to draw my attention. Solid single-piece columns bear five lancet arches. On the shingled pediment rests a steeple consisting of one square drum and one octagonal drum, both constructed with coihue, larch, and cypress. The simple sanctuary has no arches; its roof rests over square columns matching those of the portico. The building is not particulary well conserved, but it is attended to by a devoted congregation that, in addition to helping make repairs to the structure, is actively recovering bygone traditions, such as the singing of Easter Canticles and other celebrations.

A few days later I headed north to Dalcahue, whose church, with its portal of nine arches, is the largest of the archipelago´s places of worship. Even though work on the churchDalcahue did not conclude until 1902, records indicate that construction began in 1854, when this small but enterprising town was enjoying a growth spurt, thanks to an economic boom propelled by cattle ranching and lumber industries. Fortunately, successive repair efforts on the church have been kept up ever since. Nevertheless, members of the congregation point out that part of the floor, a side wall, the portico, and a section of the roof require prompt expert restoration. In the vestry, a wonderful museum features a collection of antique harmonium, artwork, textiles, and important church documents.

Quinchao Island is located within view of Dalcahue, and the barge trip to the island was over almost before it began. The church of Saint Mary of Achao was constructed in the mid-eighteenth century by a group of Jesuit priests using no nails, only wooden joints. Its rude, somber facade offers a stark contrast to the interior, which displays a series of baroque painted and sculpted motifs that cover the altars, pulpits, and walls. As the oldest church on the archipelago, Saint Mary of Achao is a source of pride to local residents who provide assistance to a committee of ten women with the unending work of restoration.

“It´s quite a job to keep up this church,” says Bernardita Oyarzún, a member of the church restoration committee. “We receive more than one hundred visitors every day in the summer season, and many break off pieces of the altars or the carved railings in order to get hold of a keepsake.” She points out some of the damage to me; much of the detail work reveals the hand of recent repair, notwithstanding the fact that the artisans assiduously manage to match the types of wood and the paint pigments and varnishes. They even use the same rustic tools as those that served the original builders so well.

Across from Punta Guantao, six miles south of Achao, is Villa Quinchao, home to a small fishing community and one of the largest churches in the archipelago. The roof over its enormous vault, fashioned from thousands of gray-colored larch shingles, can be seen from many miles away. Specialists and the public alike have wondered how such a small, isolated community came to possess such a large church. The answer is rooted in the nineteenth century when the Straights of Magellan constituted the only sea route between the Pacific and Atlantic oceans. It was at that time, when the passage of so many boats was bringing an economic boom to Chiloé, that this immense church was built. Worshipers in those days arrived in seafaring ships that berthed at the Villa Quinchao port. They often brought along their families, horses, supplies, and changes of clothing to spend the night. In heavy weather they did so inside the church itself, which is why the original building had large side galleries off the nave. Even the horses were accommodated inside. Completed in 1880, the church served as the model for many Chiloé churches. But a decade ago, unusually severe weather threatened it with imminent collapse, leading to rescue efforts to save this and several other churches in the region from destruction. Out of these recovery attempts the nonprofit Foundation of Friends of the Chiloé Churches was born.

A half-day´s journey along the twists and turns of dusty graved-covered roads took me to San Juan Cove, where I was welcomed by a pair of seagulls perched on the church cross. The sun, often a reluctant visitor in theseSan Juan latitudes, had drenched the nearby islands of Linlín and Punta Degar with an unexpected radiance, highlighting an offshore backdrop of salmon nets and the luminous pearly wakes of fishing boats. For its part, the church of San Juan seemed to ply the starry sea. In contrast to other churches in the region, San Juan has no arches; its pediment is simply sustained by one-piece pillars. The larch wood facade dates to the nineteenth century. Inside, the church reflects the diligent care of its community, which faithfully preserves its original appearance.

On the island of Caguach, in the inland sea, the ten-day Festival of the Nazarene of Caguach draws some ten thousand people each year to participate in Chiloé’s most popular festivities. By tradition, the Nazarene Festival begins at the seashore on August 23, with the townspeople bearing banners to the strains of passacaglias. A regatta representing the five islands of Caguach, Apiao, Tac, Alao and Chaulinec re-creates the intrepid voyages of the circulating religious missions of past centuries. The date of the church´s construction -1925- seems far too recent to jibe with such popular and deeply rooted traditions, until, that is, it is recalled that the original church was destroyed by fire in 1919, 185 years after its construction.

And this seems to be the story of Chiloé. To build, and then to rebuild, not only these seaside churches of wood –but also the faith-filled communities that have given them life.

For a photo gallery and the Spanish language version of this article please visit Ricardo Carrasco's official website, rcsphoto.net. Puslishers interested can contact him to purchase reproduction rights.

Flying Women of Totora

2006-01-10T16:21:00.000-03:00

In a unique aereal event, residents of this Bolivian town celebrate brides-to-be, fertility, and the return of ancestral spirits.
Text & Photos © Ricardo Carrasco

During the month of November, the colonial town of Totora is turned into a colorful fiesta, where hundreds of people carry out the Celebration of the Swings of San Andrés, perhaps the most original tradition in Bolivia. Once a year, the residents of the village gather to say goodbye to the souls of dead relatives and to celebrate the youth of women in search of husbands. To further this purpose, they set up gigantic swings on the cobbled streets, then decorate them and throw themselves a party that lasts for several days.

Inside the bus to Totora, I am accompanied by a great number of countrywomen in colorful attire. They talk to one another in Quechua and although I can make out some words, the ocher landscape through the window catches my attention. Small adobe houses scattered on the hillsides inevitably remind me of the scenery in Central Chile, but my mind abruptly comes back to Bolivia as the road becomes a rustic cobbled path, bouncing travelers from one side to the other.

After five bumpy hours from Cochabamba, we arrive at dusk in Totora, a small village known for its colonial architecture. Once off the bus, I walk along a narrow street where I meet Mrs. Olimpia Alba sitting in her small store. Fortunately, she speaks Spanish, and she tells me, “ You have arrived just in time for the Celebration of the Swings of San Andrés.”

Perhaps subconsciously, I had gone into the mountains looking for images and I had, serendipitously, arrived at the right place. A great party welcomed me.

The following day at sunrise, I am already taking pictures on the streets, which quickly become host to numerous visitors from Cochabamba and Santa Cruz de la Sierra. Many of the houses around town are in shambles. There I meet Ramiro Arispe, a geologist dedicated to the preservation of the town history, who has come to support its reconstruction. "Totora has 485 colonial houses, but after the 1998 earthquake (which measured 6.5 on the Richter scale), many were almost completely destroyed," says Arispe, looking around sadly.

We are walking among numerous young people in costume, and soon we find ourselves exploring a beautiful colonial patio. "The houses around the square used to belong to the coca entrepreneurs,” Arispe tells me. “That was a thriving business up until 1950.”

I climb up a narrow path, which leads to the cemetery, a good vantage point with a panoramic view of the village and its asymmetric architecture. From afar I see large wooden beams coming out of the roofs. These pillars do not belong to the great houses, but instead to the swings that throughout November rock the ancestral beliefs of the totoreños.

According to tradition, on November 2 the souls of the dead come down from the top of the mountain or hanacpacha (heaven or upper world). Then, throughout the month, the young women swing high in hopes of helping the spirits return to their celestial abodes, tired from wandering around in the world of the living. This is why the wooden beams are ornamented with ribbons, flags and streamers so that the souls go happily away, carrying good memories of the village and their descendents.

Many women, carrying their babies on their backs, have arrived from the mountains to see the "flying women". Belisario Rioja, an ornithologist who returns year after year to enjoy the festival, tells me, "Young women and some who haven't been lucky with love, swing with the belief that catching a basket with their feet will get them a boyfriend. Inside the basket, relatives put small gifts that symbolize the arrival of the rains, good harvests and fertility."

Meanwhile, two strong 'pushers' pull leather lines tied to the seat of the swing, driving the girls swiftly up in the air, so high that it seems they will almost touch the sky. "Flower that flutters, flower that flutters...!" they scream as they fly high in the Andean sky.

The sun sets in Totora and the women have already helped their relatives to go back to hanacpacha. The baskets slowly begin to disappear in the hands of their happy owners, who watch the luck of other swingers that follow or simply vanish through narrow side streets, shaking streamers from their backs, maybe to meet their long yearned-for suitors.

About Ricardo

2006-01-10T15:31:00.000-03:00

Ricardo Carrasco is a Chilean photographer who documents the peoples and ancestral cultures of South America. He also feels a deep interest in nature photography, Archeology and Paleontology, as well as in sports and adventure photography. He even feels comfortable in the studio, usually capturing images of nature or archeological artifacts and other finds.

"I am deeply interested in subjects dealing with man and its environment, the natural world and everything having to do with life outdoors. That's why I have travelled to remote places of Chile and some countries in South America, where the untapped nature is a challenge to the daily survival of peoples who have decided to make those places their home.

"I don't remember the moment I started writing about my travels, to prepare articles about the subjects that atracted me. It was perhaps that these sites produced emotions so intense that writing was a way of dealing with them. Like in the expedition to Espíritu Pampa, the last citadelle of the High Urubamba, in Peru: an Inca fortress where the great Manco Inca hid to later invade the troops of conquistadores who were surrounding Cusco.

Ricardo feel at home both in a long desert trek or in a journey in the kajak. “I like for expeditions to have historical reference. Not just the fact of navigating a lake or doing a certain route in the Andes. It is important to give a historical aspect to the photographs and texts; to transport ourselves in time and repeat the journeys that others, on a given time, guided by their dreams or their faith, and without high tech equipment, dared to embark on. Like the route of the Jesuits across Lago Todos Los Santos in Chile, where the cruzaders hoped to discover the mythic City of the Cesars towards Argentina, yet only found devastation and death".

Chile is a long stretch of land offering infinite possibilities to photographers. Consider the unique characteristics of the light that you find in the Andes mountains, so different from the light of the Puna, or of the one in the valleys and salty plains of the Altiplano. On the other hand the light of the cloudy rainforest or the frozen cordillera, or simply the light that is trapped in a spider web in the morning subjugates, making the challenge to be infinite.

Journey Back Through Emerald Waters

2006-01-10T15:10:00.000-03:00

Like the Jesuit explorers before them, this author and his companion are overwhelmed by the magical, forbidding environs of Chile's Lake Todos los Santos.

Text and photos © Ricardo Carrasco

They say when you visit a place, if you desire to return there one day, take a stone with you. I had to choose good stone that would capture the essence of this place and reflect its geography, an amulet capable of carrying in its interior the scent of humid vegetation and at the same time recall the wind and the sweet taste of these waters. A stone that transmits the sensation of purity and freedom of the elements that formed it. Barefoot, I walked the watery, sandy frontier where Todos los Santos (All Saints) Lake met the shore, until finally I found it, semi-submerged, with a small fresh water snail stuck to its rough surface. Meanwhile, my traveling companion meticulously packed the load within his kayak.

In 1670, a group of Jesuit missionaries set out from the rain-drenched city of Castro in southern Chile in search of the Ciudad de los Césares (City of the Césars) and the most direct route to points east and north. The City of the Césars was a fabled, remote place of great mineral riches founded by followers of Francisco de César, a member of navigator Sebastian Cabot´s Rio de la Plata expedition of 1526. Apparently, the Jesuits believed that they would find plenty of God’s work that needed doing among a ragtag group of conquistadors´ descendants, European refugees, and natives.

The fact that there was supposed to be gold in the area only made saving these lost souls all the more attractive. This intrepid group of holy men hiked through dense temperate rain forest and sailed in sturdy pirogues made by their native guides, but failed in their quest for the magical City of the Césars. What they did find, though, was an enormous blue-green glacial lake that they named Todos los Santos.

More than three centuries later, a friend and I traveled the Jesuits’ route, in kayaks, to explore the fabulous emerald waters. We left from Petrohué, a small port settlement on the western shore of the lake that was established by early pioneers and is today a commercial center for the region’s dairy farmers. Starting out, we knew little of the region’s splendors and couldn’t imagine its true vastness. Located inside the 626,000-acre Vicente Pérez Rosales National Park (Chile’s first national park, established in 1926), Todos los Santos is part of a chain of lakes linked by mountain passes between Chile and the Argentine pampas. Both volcanic and glacial, it is twenty-two miles wide from Petrohué to our destination at Peulla, the easternmost point.

Leaving the port behind, we follow along the shoreline, gradually growing accustomed to the weight and distribution of our equipment in the kayaks. Then, slowly, the water begins to take on a greenish tinge. We find ourselves paddling through scenery that could have been painted by Gauguin—reddish sky, green-black mountains, and emerald water. In some places the water is so clear that we can see large tree trunks far below on the rocky bottom. The effect is dizzying. We stop at several points to take in the scene before us, neither of us bothered by our slowing pace.

At dusk, near the lagoon at Cayutué (six craters), we set up our tent on a white-sand beach strewn with beech trunks. Eroded by the water and incessant wind, they have acquired a delicate velvety texture. This site, sheltered from the wind, with space enough for camping, might well have been one of the landing spots where the Jesuit explorers had taken refuge. Having failed to find a way through the mountains, they were obliged to take to the water in boats provided by the Huilliches, the “people of the south,” ancient inhabitants who dominated the area from the west and were thoroughly versed in its geography as a result of heavy trading with the Puelches, the “people of the east.”

Sitting on the lakeshore watching the sunset, we try to envisage those intrepid missionaries in their rustic canoes lashed together with lianas, guided through that immense space by Huilliches clad in wool ponchos. We watch them disappear into the swirling fog of night and history.

Daybreak brings the first summer rains, and everything is soon drenched. We leave the tent to gaze at a great wall of vegetation before us. The high forest humidity produces large clouds that combine with rocky ravines and steep walls to give the scene a dreamlike air. We continue our paddling into the teeth of the heavy rain.

Entering the lagoon at Cayutué, we find ourselves in magical waters. The beech forest, pines and firs mixed with hundreds of elms, and the imposing presence of the Puntiagudo and Osorno volcanoes overwhelms us. We decide to rest at the base of the Cascada del Encanto (the Enchanted Waterfall), where rainbow trout and perch congregate in the freshly oxygenated waters, nibbling at seeds and fallen insects. From a nearby branch, a kingfisher deftly snatches small fish from the water with quick thrusts of its beak and devours them on the spot. After a light, rather damp supper, we paddle out several hundred feet from shore to find a wider view of the mountains and a beach suitable for our second night in the open. From the middle of the bay, we marvel at the falls and at the ferns cascading into the lake like carpets hung from the very top of the hills. Finally, with the approach of night, we decide to cross the bay to a broad beach of volcanic pebbles shaped by the waves and strewn with driftwood. Above us, centered by the constellation Orion, the sky is already laden with stars. Bonete Peak dominates the land below and protects us from the wind.

The next day, full of birdsong and cataracts, we walk along a fantastical trail surrounded by red-barked myrtles and strewn with yellow wildflowers that appear like small spirits in the woods. We imagine the astonishment of the Jesuits as they entered these latitudes and the difficulties they must have encountered, such as the fearsome liguay, or giant leech. We come upon one curled up among some stones. The creature must be nearly twenty inches long.

We identify medicinal plants and herbs that the Huilliches used: pilpil voqui (Boquilla trifolata), undoubtedly carried by natives on their journeys for curing eye afflictions and swelling from insect bites; quilo or mollaca (Muehlenbeckia thamnifolia), a forest creeper whose roots and leaves were probably employed as a diuretic; and voqui colorado (Cissus striata), another vine that grows abundantly in southern Chile and serves as an astringent. Its flexible, resistant stalk is also used to lash together fences and make tools. There are other uses for local wild plants, such as the deu or matarratones (mousekiller) (Coriaria ruscifolia), which, as its name suggests, is still used to keep rodents away, as well as to dye cloth black. One also finds copihue (Lapageria rosea), a vine native to Chile, with large deep red flowers and edible berries. Also tasty is the fruit of the myrtle bush (Ugni molinae), very popular with German settlers for making traditional confections.

We return to the beach and quickly strike camp; a strong wind is stirring up whitecaps in the middle of the lake. With some difficulty we are able to push off from the beach and continue paddling. However, the wind blows steadily, and we are forced to land every so often to rest and secure our loads. Since we cannot make much progress, we poke around near the shore and end up spending another night on a small, well-protected beach. Before us, a thousand-foot waterfall drops like a slender silver strand from a large boulder.

At dawn we must paddle, literally, under water, as heavy rain continues. From time to time we leave the kayaks to rest, but this only makes the situation worse, as they continually fill with rain. Navigating in a landscape washed of color, through a world of obscure shadows and mists, we are exhausted. Before us a small port appears, and we decide to tie up in the hopes of being invited in to dry our sodden cargo.

Before we know it, we find ourselves with plates of spaghetti bathed in spicy ají chili and freshly baked bread, guests of Don Rolando Muñoz, who lives here with his family. Muñoz is the first person we have spoken to in days, and he is so friendly and companionable that we feel immediately at home. That night, by candlelight, he tells us of attacks by pumas on his animals and of his wild boar hunts, showing us photographs and the remains of tusks as sharp as knives.

By the next morning the storm has blown over, and with our spirits restored, we set out paddling along the northern mouth of the Río Blanco, named for the volcanic sediments washed down from a nearby Volcán Tronador. Rising in the distance, past bends and turns, we catch a glimpse of that giant peak, at 11,350 feet the highest in the Patagonian Andes. Its harsh summit boast three colossal crests-the Argentine, the Chilean, and an international peak that splits the massif in two. A thick layer of ice easily a hundred feet deep encompasses the Alerce, Frías, Casa Pangue, Negro, Castaño, and Overo glaciers. The name Tronador, which means thunderer, is well deserved; the roar of falling ice is continuous.

All at once, we encounter a curious phenomenon, the meeting place of the emerald lake and the turbid waters of the Río Blanco. Because the two do not readily mix, they form a bi-colored waterway similar to the junction of the far-off Amazon and Negro rivers. Along part of this route, gigantic elms, well over a hundred feet high, catch our attention. A profusion of immense white flowers rise majestically from the morning mist, like phantoms of the cold, evergreen forest. Suddenly we find ourselves caught in rapids and touching bottom, which we cannot see because of the turbidity. It’s time to get back on course.

In these high-altitude lakes, there is a rule of thumb that the lake has already taught us well: Boxed-in winds from the cordillera canyons create heavy waves late in the day. Still, the force of this phenomenon surprises us as we cross the Blanco to the small town of Peulla, our last stop. The waves are so high that they completely wash over our kayaks. With our hearts in our throats, we arrive at Peulla, exhausted. There the lake ends, lost among the cattails bordering its banks.

The Jesuits continued to seek the mythical City of the Césars by this route for decades, but then abandoned it in the early eighteenth century when several of them were killed at the mission at Nahuel Huapi, northeast of here. Then the awe-inspiring trek through Todos los Santos was forgotten for nearly two centuries before it was rediscovered by German settlers in the late 1800s. Perhaps the Spaniards didn’t take a stone home with them.

Master List of Chilean Species

2006-01-10T14:25:00.000-03:00

Source: Dr. Roberto Schlatter, Lista Patrón de Aves Chilenas.

VEGETABLE SPECIES / ESPECIES VEGETALES

Polypodiatae
Magnoliatae
Liliatae

BIRD SPECIES / LISTA DE AVES

Podiciformes
Pelecaniformes
Ciconiformes
Anseriformes
Falconiformes
Gruiformes
Charadriiformes
Columbiformes
Psittaciformes
Strigiformes
Caprimulgiformes
Apodiformes
Coraciformes
Piciformes
Passeriformes

LISTA DE MAMIFEROS / MAMMALS LIST

Marsupiales
Quiropteros
Lagomorfos
Roedores
Carnivoros
Arciodactilos

LISTA DE ANFIBIOS / ANPHIBIOUS LIST

LIST OF VEGETABLE SPECIES

Polypodiatae

Quil-Quil	Blechum chilense
Helecho	Blechum mochaenum

Magnoliatae

Aliso negro	Alnus glutinoso
Margarita del pantano	Aster vahlii
Chilca	Baccharis racemosa
Verbena de 3 esquinas	Baccharis sagittalis
Temu	Blepharocalyx cruckshanksii
Huenchecó	Callitriche terrestris
Suspiro	Calystegia sepium
Centella	Centella triflora
Naranjillo	Cissus striata Voqui
Flor de la Piedra	Crassula peduncularis
Canelo	Drymis winteri
Yerbecilla	Elatine triandra
Siete camisas, Lun	Escallonia revoluta
Chilco	Fuchsia magellanica
Lengua de gato	Galium leptum
Contrayerba	Gratiola peruviana
Pangue	Gunnera tinctoria
Tembladerilla	Hydrocotyle chamaemorus
Malvilla	Hydrocotyle marchantioides
Tembladerilla	Hydrocotyle volckmannii
Hierba del chancho	Hypochaeris radicata
Chinilla	Leontodon taraxacoides
-	Leptostigma arnottianum
-	Lilaeopsis macloviana
-	Limosella australis
Alfalfa chilota	Lotus uliginosus
Clavito de agua	Ludwigia peploides
Arayán	Luma apiculata
Pata de lobo	Lycopus europaeus
Maitén	Maytenus boaria
Poleo	Mentha pulegium
Quilo, Mollaca	Muehlenbeckia hastulata
Pitra, Petra	Myrceugenia exsucca
Pinito de agua	Myriophyllum aquaticum
Rucachucao	Nertera granadensis
Nenúfar, Loto	Nymphaea alba
Siete venas	Plantago lanceolata
Duraznillo de agua	Polygonum hydropiperoides
Hierba mora	Prunella vulgaris
Botón de oro	Ranunculus repens
Zarzamora, Murra	Rubus constrictus
Romacilla	Rumex acetosella
Sauce Llorón	Salix babylonica
Sauce cabruno, Gatito	Salix caprea
Sauce mimbre	Salix viminalis
Senecio	Senecio aquaticus
Lampazo	Senecio fistulosus
Trébol blanco	Trifolium repens
Bolsita de agua	Utricularia gibba

Liliatae

Chépica	Agrostris capillaris
Llantén de agua	Alisma lanceolatum
	Alisma plantago-aquaticum
Cortadera	Carex brongniartii
	Carex riparia
Ritru	Cyperus eragrostis
Luchecillo	Egeria densa
No conocido	Eleocharis macrstachya
Rime	Eleocharis pachycarpa
Peste de aguas	Elodea canadensis
Orquídea	Habenaria paucifolia
Pasto dulce	Holcus lanatus
Junquillo rojo	Juncus bulbosus
Calaf-Calaf	Juncus dombeyanus
Junquillo	Juncus lesueuri
Junquillo	Juncus microcephalus
Hierba de la vaca	Juncus procerus
Canutillo	Leptocarpus chilensis
Calle-Calle	Libertia elegans
Canehuín	Potamogeton berteroanus
Ahuiranque	Potamogeton linguatus
Huiro	Potamogeton lucens
Carrizo	Phragmites australis
Lengua de vaca	Sagittaria montevidensis
Totora, Tromé	Scirpus californicus
No conocido	Scirpus cernuus
Can-Can	Scirpus inundatus
Hierba de la paloma	Trigolochin striatum
Vatro	Typha angustifolia

LIST OF BIRDS

Podiciformes

Huala	Podiceps mayor
Pimpollo	Rollandia rolland
Picurio	Podylimbus podiceps

Pelecaniformes

Yeco	Phalacrocorax brasilianus
Pato lile	Phalacrocorax gaimardi
Pelícano	Pelecanus thagus

Ciconiformes

Garza cuca	Ardea cocoi
Garza grande	Casmerodius albus
Garza chica	Egretta thula
Garza boyera	Bubulcus ibis
Huairavo	Nycticorax nycticorax
Huairavillo	Ixobrychus involucris
Bandurria	Theristicus melanopis
Bandurria gris	Theristicus caerulescens
Cuervo de pantano	Plegadis chihi

Anseriformes

Cisne de cuello negro	Cygnus melanocorypha
Cisne coscoroba	Coscoroba coscoroba
Pato anteojillo	Anas specularis
Pato real	Anas sibilatrix
Jergón grande	Anas georgica
Jergón chico	Anas flavirostris
Pato colorado	Anas cyanoptera
Pato negro	Netta peposaca

Falconiformes

Jote de cabeza negra	Coragyps atratus
Jote de cabeza colorada	Cathartes aura
Aguila pescadora	Pandion haliaethus
Aguilucho	Buteo polyosoma
Vari	Circus cinereus
Peuco	Parabuteo unicinctus
Tiuque	Milvago chimango
Traro	Polyborus plancus
Cernícalo	Falco sparverius
Halcón perdiguero	Falco femoralis

Gruiformes

Pidén	Pardirallus sanguinolentus
Tagüita	Gallinula melanops
Tagua	Fulica armillata
Tagua chica	Fulica leucoptera
Tagua de frente roja	Fulica rufifrons

Charadriiformes

Queltehue	Vanellus chilensis
Becacina	Gallinago paraguaiae
Playero de Baird	Calidris bairdii
Zarapito	Numenius phaeopus
Pitotoy chico	Tringa flavipes
Gaviota dominicana	Larus dominicanus
Gaviota cáhuil	Larus maculipennis
Gaviota de Franklin	Larus pipixcan
Gaviotín piquerito	Sterna trudeaui
Pollito de mar rojizo	Phalaropus fulicaria

Columbiformes

Torcaza	Columba araucana
Tórtola	Zenaida auriculata

Psittaciformes

Choroy	Enicognathus leptorhynchus
Cachaña	Enicognatus ferrugineus

Strigiformes

Lechuza	Tyto alba
Chuncho	Glaucidium nanum
Pequén	Athene cunicularia
Nuco	Asio flammeus
Concón	Strix rufipes

Caprimulgiformes

Gallina ciega

Caprimulgus longirostris

Apodiformes

Picaflor

Sephanoides galeritus

Coraciformes

Martín pescador

Ceryle torquata

Piciformes

Pitío	Colaptes pitius
Carpinterito	Picoides lignarius

Passeriformes

Churrete	Cinclodes patagonicus
Churrete acanelado	Cinclodes fuscus
Colilarga	Sylviorthorhynchus desmursii
Rayadito	Aphrastura spinicauda
Trabajador	Phleocryptes melanops
Tijeral	Leptasthenura aegithaloides
Chucao	Scelorchilus rubecula
Hued-hued del sur	Pteroptochos tarnii
Churrín	Scytalopus magellanicus
Churrín de la Mocha	Eugralla paradoxa
Diucón	Xolmis pyrope
Dormilona tontita	Muscisaxicola macloviana
Run-run	Hymenops perspicillatus
Fío-fío	Elaenia albiceps
Siete-colores	Tachuris rubrigastra
Cachudito	Anairetes parulus
Viudita	Coloramphus parvirostris
Rara	Phytotoma rara
Golondrina chilena	Tachycineta meyeni
Golondrina dorso negro	Pygochelidon cyanoleuca
Golondrina bermeja	Hirundo rustica
Chercán	Troglodytes aedon
Checán de las vegas	Cistothorus platensis
Zorzal	Turdus falcklandii
Bailarín chico	Anthus correndera
Chirihue	Sicalis luteiventris
Chincol	Zonotrichia capensis
Mirlo	Molothrus bonariensis
Tordo	Curaeus curaeus
Trile	Agelaius thilius
Loica	Sturnella loyca
Cometocino patagónico	Phrygilus patagonicus
Diuca	Diuca diuca
Jilguero	Carduelis barbata

LIST OF MAMMALS

Marsupiales

Monito del monte

Dromiciops australis

Quiropteros

Murciélago común	Tadarida brasiliensis
Murciélago oreja de ratón	Myotis chiloensis

Lagomorfos

Liebre

Lepus europaeus

Roedores

Coipo	Myocastor coypus
Lauchita de los espinos	Cryzomys longicaudatus
Ratoncito común	Akodon olivaceus
Ratoncito lanoso	Akodon longipilis
Guarén	Rattus Norvergicus
Rata negra	Rattus rattus
Laucha común	Mus musculus

Carnivoros

Huillín	Lutra provocax
Lobo de mar	Otaria flavescens
Zorro chilla	Dusicyon griseus
Chingue común	Conepatus chinga
Quique	Galictis cuja
Güiña	Felis guigna
Visón	Mustela vison

Arciodactilos

Pudú	Pudu pudu

LIST OF ANPHIBIOUS SPECIES

	Eupsophus vertebralis
	Eupsophus roseus
	Batrachyla taeniata
	Batrachyla leptopus
Sapito de Darwin	Rhinoderma darwini
Sapito de cuatro ojos	Pleurodema thaul
	Hylorina sylvatica
Rana grande	Caudiverbera caudiverbera

Guided Field Trips

2006-01-10T13:24:00.000-03:00

Join us in our next workshop on the field! Learn photography and writing techniques on a variety of exciting subjects alongside expert guides such as Pablo Cañarte (photo), specialist in the deep desert; Cristian Hip, specialist in coastal flora and fauna; and Cesar Vivanco, antropologist and specialist in the Amazon jungle. The following is a sample of guided field trips available. To receive more information or to request a schedule of photographic expeditions in South America please contact us.

ROUTE OF THUNUPA

One of the sons of Wiracocha, the Andean god of creation, Thunupa was the civilizer of this area of the Puna and the deserts under the influence of the Tiwanaku Empire, lasting over a thousand years.

Thunupa adavanced from Lake Titicaca towards the Pacific Ocean, creating Civilization. Our route will follow the road of this special civilizing god and its most important landmarks. We will follow the traces of the myth of Thunupa from Bolivia to Chile (Lake Titicaca - Puna - Salar de Thunupa - Uyuni in Bolivia - Tarapacá Desert - Chilean coast).

Duration: 11 days
Difficulty: Average
Altitude: Critical altitude at 4,000 meters (13,000 feet) above sea level.
Expedition Lead: Pablo Cañarte

ALTIPLANO ROUTE

We follow the roads that descend from the Altiplano to one of its most beautiful places: the Laguna de Huasco, where we will admire the flamingoes, suris, guanacos, llamas, alpacas, condors and vicuñas, among other species.

We will traverse the oasis of the desert and arrive to the coast by a road marked out by milenial geoglyphs.

Duration: 5 days.
Difficulty:
Altitude:
Expedition Lead: Pablo Cañarte

PREHISPANIC ROADS OF THE ATACAMA DESERT

We depart from San Pedro de Atacama to Lake Chungará mantaining and average altitude of 3, 700 mt., admiring magnificent natural landmarks such as the Geisers of Tatio, the Valley of the Moon, Geotermal Field of Puchuldiza, Salt Lake of Surire and the Lagunas of Cotacotani. This route will make us deeply familiar with one of the most beautiful and astonishing places on Earth.

Duration:
Difficulty:
Altitude: 3,700 mt (11,500 ft), with a peak of 5,000 mt (16,400 ft)
Expedition Lead: Pablo Cañarte

VERTICAL ATACAMA

An intense trip across the different ecological levels of the Great Atacama, the only 'vertical' desert of the planet; from the Highlands to one of the coasts with the richest biodiversity in the planet. We will admire the beauty of the landscape to the warmth of History and Archeology. In the Highlands we will enjoy the Aymará culture absolutely alive, the same that has “domesticated“ each of these ecological levels keeping a perfect armony with Nature.

Duration: 11 days
Difficulty:
Altitude: From 0 to 5,000 mt. (16,400 ft), with 3,000 mt (9,850 ft) average.
Expedition Lead: Pablo Cañarte

EXPEDITION TO THE DEEP DESERT

Discover the forgotten secrets of the Great Atacama and the milenial remains of the peoples who mastered the desert.

Prehispanic roads, cultivation fields in the middle of the absolute desert and prehispanic towns in the middle of the apparent emptiness tell us of the life that dared challenge the desert.

Duration: 10 days
Difficulty:
Altitude: 1,500 mt (4,920 ft) average.
Expedition Lead: Pablo Cañarte

Ready to Join Us on our Next Trip?

Reserve your space as soon as possible for 2006. Spaces are going fast!

If you know someone who'd like to photograph in South America, you can email this link to them

Contact Us

2006-01-10T13:18:00.000-03:00

If you have any questions or comments about the archive send e-mail to: blog@rcsphoto.net.

Ricardo is available for assignments. Call +56 (0)9 458 9562 or e-mail: assignments@rcsphoto.net

Ricardo Carrasco Photography
Casilla 595
Chillan, Chile
ph. 09-458-9562 (Chile)
ph. 56-9-458-9562 (International)
fx. 1-206-984-9517

Foreign Agencies

Photographers Direct (England)
ph. +44(0)20 8541 5147

Topics

2006-01-10T12:57:00.000-03:00

Extensive coverage of Argentina, Bolivia, Chile, and Peru, in the following topics:

ARCHEOLOGY

Artifacts
Atacameno
Ceramics
Diaguita
Inca
Mapuche
Mummies
Museums
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2006-01-10T12:48:00.000-03:00

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In the Fold of Sacred Summit

2006-01-10T12:46:00.000-03:00

A trekker on a little-known route to Ausangate mountain in Peru's southeastern cordillera marvel at the natural wonders and serenity of daily life.

Text and photos © Ricardo Carrasco

As we hike through the high mountains‚ large turquoise-blue and emerald lakes gradually come into view‚ bringing the otherwise barren landscape to life. Huge rocky mesas thrust up out of the depths of the earth like weird fingernails scratching at the sky. Sturdy masses of perpetual ice‚ nearly 7‚000 metres high‚ form one of the most imposing cordilleras on the planet. This is the Vilcanota mountain chain‚ where Ausangate and Cayangate‚ two sacred apus‚ or ancestral mountains of Peru‚ dominate the life of the Andean people.

Romario Huamán Quispe‚ my guide‚ has a forthright and open gaze. He can make a hot fire with thatching grass and manure when the afternoon turns cold and prepare a variety of meals. Early the next day‚ squatting by the fire with my hands outstretched to its warmth‚ I look around the interior of Romario’s rustic house. The small windows are mere vents‚ the walls covered with countless clippings from newspapers and magazines. The main room‚ built of stones‚ clay and plaster‚ contains some basic cooking utensils‚ home-made ropes and a table carved from a large piece of local stone. Even on a bright sunny day‚ houses in the high Andes are dark‚ their only light coming from a stove and some oil lamps.

Romario’s mother‚ kneeling‚ cuts up potatoes and prepares food for her family. Like the vast majority of older generations in the altiplano‚ she speaks only Quechua. The firelight illuminates her wrinkled face. A playful guinea pig rests his furry head on my knee‚ while others chase around the pots‚ never imagining they will one day become a meal. Romario laughs: “They’re the pets of the household. We bring them from Tinqui and feed them until they’re big enough for the pot. They taste better than rabbit.”

It is not yet light‚ and as we wait for the dawn we drink a tea of coca leaves to prevent altitude sickness. At last it is time to begin our journey to Comercocha‚ or Green Lake‚ one of the many marvels along this little-known route. It would take us four or five hours to walk there‚ all depending on the condition of the path. “Last year there were landslides and several footpaths were cut off‚” my guide says as he lashes the load to one of his mules. “Sometimes the animals are frightened when they can’t see the road in front of them and they run back home‚ leaving everything scattered all over the mountainside.”

With my numbed hands wrapped around the tea for warmth‚ I look out upon a scene of supreme calm and harmony. The silence of the Andes freezes my ears‚ while the crystalline sky still shows a waxing moon even as the first rays of the sun appeared. Against this panorama‚ the massive Ausangate slashes the sky in two‚ like a gigantic‚ sharp diamond piercing the firmament. Although this spectacle is familiar to Romario‚ still he speaks of its beauty. “This is the loveliest mountain in the world‚” he says‚ taking a sip of tea and scanning the mountaintop. “We have everything here: food‚ pastureland‚ and the Ausangate to watch over us.”

Life in the high country moves slowly and inexorably. In the pasturelands‚ the people of Pacchanta are leaving their huts to begin the daily chores. Alpacas are their main source of subsistence‚ providing them with meat‚ skins‚ manure for fuel and wool‚ which they use to make much of their colourful clothing and rope for harnesses. They also keep mules to carry sacks of food or transport animal fodder.

Romario brings up his mule‚ Villafuerte‚ to begin our trip. Ahead‚ we would circumnavigate a series of lakes‚ reach the base of an enormous glacier‚ and visit a gypsum mine‚ the source of the raw material the local people use to paint their fresh white houses.

As we climb up a rocky ravine covered with short grass‚ we discover many herds of alpacas. The females‚ accompanied by their inquisitive young‚ come to meet us. There are more than three million such animals in Peru adapted to wetland pasturage. The ever-present vizcachas‚ large rodents‚ observe our serene progress from their vantage point on top of the rocks. The few birds that can be seen at these altitudes include raptors such as eagles‚ eaglets and chimangos‚ but it is the condor that dominates the heights.

Villafuerte is a fine mule‚ but after several hours on his back‚ one needs to stop and stretch. We have arrived at the famous Comercocha‚ enfolded by the snow-capped Cayangate‚ which provides it with a handsome backdrop and nourishes it with melting snows. Romario opens a small leather bag containing food suitable for a high-altitude meal: dehydrated fruit‚ toasted corn‚ cold potato‚ a goodly amount of tea and some slices of cooked guinea pig.

We continue our Andean crossing through canyons eroded by ancient glaciers that had scoured out the stone. The steady pace of the mules brings us slowly along our way to Morococha‚ which‚ according to my guide‚ had been created by a gigantic meteorite. Yanacocha‚ a small translucent lake‚ is teeming with tadpoles. Next comes Alcacocha‚ a strange elongated tri-coloured lake‚ where Romario decides we should camp. Bone tired‚ we await the arrival of night‚ which falls like a great dark blanket. But we are awakened from our sound sleep by a muffled noise and an eerie vibration of the ground. I sit bolt upright in my sleeping bag and run out of the tent in a panic. Romario explains that the sounds are avalanches on Ausangate‚ but that our only problem now is to retrieve the animals‚ which have fled in the direction of home. It is not an easy job; we run around for more than two hours to catch them in the darkness.

By dawn we return to our camp and continue our journey‚ planning to meet up with Clarimir‚ a distant uncle of Romario’s‚ near the gypsum deposits. He lives at the foot of Sibinacocha‚ an enormous high-country lacustrine pit. As is the Andean custom‚ we exchange provisions and anecdotes. Clarimir‚ his broad forehead furrowed by the sun‚ explains to me‚ by gestures and signs‚ that he is going to Pacchanta‚ where he will find the forage that is in scant supply in the bleak tableland where he lives. The condition of his animals underscores the importance of his trek‚ for their ribs seem to stick to their spines. They hurry on down the mountain as if they know they will find their just reward on the plateau.

We continue on to Ocacocha and Uturungo‚ the latter the smallest of the lakes but no less beautiful. At Azulcocha‚ or Blue Lake‚ a thick layer of ice reflects the mountains. Romario presses on with a somewhat sorrowful expression. “This is the most dangerous place‚” he says. “A while back we lost twenty alpacas because they walked out onto Azulcocha without realising it‚ looking for something to eat. We found them after the ice had melted.” That heavy loss meant years of additional work for Romario and his family. Finally‚ we reach the last lake on our journey‚ Queluacocha.

In the late afternoon‚ as majestic Ausangate turns a reddish hue and mist begins to rise‚ we come to the last corral of the Huamán family. A small hut has been built of stones mixed with clay and covered with tall grasses gathered from the lakes themselves. The stove‚ a necessity in such outposts‚ consists of a clay cavity with two holes on top for pots and a side opening for the hot-burning alpaca manure.

Later that night‚ smoke from our evening fire rises up and through the opening in the hut’s roof‚ which proves equally useful for observing the stars and dreaming on the wonders that tomorrow will bring.

Woundrous Wetland, Crucial Currents

2006-01-10T11:40:00.000-03:00

A journey on Chile´s Cruces River reveals a long-protected sanctuary where tranquil waters may meet a disturbing future.

Text and photos © Ricardo Carrasco.

The serpentine tongue of the Cruces River becomes visible from the air a few minutes after take-off from the city of Valdivia. At first glance it appears lifeless, only a dismembered extension of flooded marshlands. But as you move closer, the crisp, clean air that precedes the characteristic southern rainstorms allows a clear view of the life in these great wetlands. Details appear slowly. If you look closely, you can see hundreds of black-necked swans, small white spots on the water. Herons cross from one shore to another in sleepy flight, stopping occasionally to rest on a branch. A rowboat from the village of Punucapa etches a fine trail through the placid water.

The Cruces River Nature Sanctuary, or Carlos Anwandter Sanctuary, is fifteen miles long and just over a mile wide, with a total surface area of more than twelve thousand acres. Over the years it has become refuge for more than ninety species of birds, numerous mammals, fish, and insects, and an impressive number of colourful wildflowers. Native forest is still untouched in some areas.

The site of ocean deposits and sediments since the Tertiary Period, the Cruces River basin has a temperate, warm climate, with a dry season of less than four months, making it an ideal place for many aquatic birds. Precipitation levels can reach nearly eighty inches a year. May, June, and July are the wettest months, making the winter seem interminable and the arrival of spring a blessing.

As I snap some photos through the window of the small plane, the pilot mentions that the last time he flew over the area on what was otherwise a completely clear day, he had gotten lost for a few minutes in a dense layer of clouds formed by evaporation from the Valdivian rain forest. These clouds penetrate the inner valleys, crouching low around Oncol Peak, the highest peak of the coastal mountain range at 2.460 feet above sea level. In the Mapuche language oncol means steep mountain, and the rain forest here is home to a wealth of trees, like the giant coigues, robles, maitenes, olivillos, ulmos, lumas, pitras and arrayanes, to name just a few.

But the diversity of fauna is best appreciated from the water, and a kayak is ideal for moving smoothly and silently among the abundant aquatic plants. We set out from the historic San Luis de Alba Fort−two hours north of the city of Valdivia. It turns out to be a good place to begin our journey. Leaving the fort behind, we paddle through a narrow corridor lined by willows. The soft current takes us slowly toward the place where the Cruces meets the Calle-Calle River, about thirty miles downstream. Swan feathers drift over the blue surface of the water. The profound silence takes a while to get used to. Butterflies flutter on the banks among thousands of wildflowers, coming out as if to greet passersby and then disappearing among the willows.

One of the most common butterflies found among the sanctuary´s flowers is (Colias vauthieri). They decorate the landscape with their joyous colors, the male shows bright orange wings and the female greenish white. They prefer flatlands and tend to visit wild plants like the lion´s tooth. They can also be found in alfalfa fields. In the sanctuary´s meadows you can easily observe the playful courtship that makes them the most common lepidopteran insects in Chile.

The zigzagging flight of the (Ahesna diffinis), better known as the dragonfly, is another frequent sight. This insect of Paleozoic origin appeared on earth 250 million years ago and has barely changed its form and structure since then. Since its wings do not fold over its body and its feet point forward, it is unable to walk and only able to grasp smaller branches. The butterfly is adapted for catching and eating its prey in full flight. The females, a dull green color, usually hide in vegetation along the sanctuary´s waterways. Their suitors approach them in a search-and-find mode, flying over and over the same area. Any female that flies by will be pursued by a male, attempting to grab her firmly behind the head with the pincers located on the end of his abdomen. The male that finds a mate will stay with her after copulation until she deposits her eggs in the water, initiating in this way, a new generation of aquatic nymphs. After a year or two, they become the new aerial population.

Bees, on the other hand, can´t usually be seen, but you can sense their presence in large swarms in the brush. Local people extract delicious honey from the ulmo (Eucryphia cordifolia), a native tree that grows primarily in areas of high humidity.

We return to our kayaks, and suddenly a cool breeze raises up small waves that put an end to the tranquility. We have to paddle more vigorously to maintain our course, but it´s a south wind, which brings good weather. The landscape also changes from here on. The river widens, and we leave the narrow fluvial corridor behind. Thousands of half-sunken tree trunks emerge from the water, giving the place an eerie feeling. They are a reminder of the 1960 earthquake −one of the world´s largest, at a 9.5 magnitude −which flooded enormous areas of land. The emerging trunks are mute witnesses to the fact that cattle grazing lands existed here years ago. Now they are eroded by time and serve as resting places for passing birds like the white-necked heron (Ardea cocoi), which sits immobile, stretching out its long neck like an arrow, waiting patiently for a fish.

The sanctuary is home to Chile´s largest reproductive colony of this magnificent bird. The white-necked heron is accompanied by the white-faced ibis (Plegadis chihi) and the snowy-crowned tern (Sterna trudeaui), both endangered species. The coscoroba swan (Coscoroba coscoroba) is another surprise. Nine individuals have stayed in the area for at least three seasons, giving experts hope that they will stay permanently.

A south wind pushes us towards the bulrushes (Scirpus californicus) that are so abundant in the Cruces. There, in the quiet cloak of aquatic vegetation is a many-colored rush-tyrant (Tachuris rubrigastra). Known in Spanish as the siete-colores, or seven-colors, the rush-tyrant is a small marsh bird that builds its nest among the bulrushes and seems to fracture light like a diamond.

This protected area has also become habitat for the southern river otter (Lutra provocax). It only allows rare glimpses of itself since humans have hunted it nearly into extinction.

A white band appears on the blue horizon like a mirage: slowly hundreds of black-necked swans (Cygnus melanocorypha) come into view. They swim over a floating seaweed that they like to feed on and a huge profusion of white water-lily. Several reproducing bird colonies have also established themselves in the area, the black-necked swans being among the most numerous, with as many as 250 nests in the northern part of the sanctuary.

In the summer of 1990, the number of black-necked swans in the area suddenly jumped to seven thousand, up from the typical average of two thousand. This attracted the attention of experts who estimated that approximately four thousand of the birds had come into the sanctuary from Argentina because of a massive drought in the southern cone area. As the years have gone by, the swans have returned to their original habitats. Higher numbers of swans are seen in the summer and early fall when water levels begin to drop significantly. The Cruces River Nature Sanctuary still has the largest known reproductive colony of these swans in Chile.

Red-gartered coots (Fulica armillata) have also found the sanctuary to their liking, breaking the silence of the waters with noisy races among their nests. The last survey showed nearly ten thousand individuals.

We continue our journey. The wind has suddenly kicked up waves over a foot high, forcing us to paddle on the edge of the flow to keep from getting soaked and to look for a place to spend the night. It is dusk by the time we are on land, and as we set up camp our lights attract the attention of some night insects; my own is drawn to some nocturnal butterflies alit on ferns near my tent.

The next day, we keep paddling and encounter a curious South American sea lion (Otaria flavescens) just a few feet from our kayak- snorting air in and out on the surface of the water- an unusual site, since these mammals don´t usually come this far upstream. We continue exploring riverbends and bulrushes. We visit a colony of hundreds of neotropic cormorants (Phalacrocorax brasilianus) who, along with some cattle egrets (Bubulcus ibis), have found a good refuge here from located predators like the South American grey fox (Dusicyon griseus) and the puma (Felis concolor), both of which are protected by the National Forest Corporation (CONAF) but have been greatly reduced in number by local farmers who see them as a threat to their livestock.

An extraordinarily curious marsupial, which we almost forgot, appears as well: the “little mountain monkey” (Dromiciops australis). The pudu (Pudu pudu), the smallest deer in the world, is another inhabitant of the reserve. Its small size and inability to speed away from its prey, however, has made it a favorite catch of pumas and kodkods (Felis guigna). Today, dogs introduced to the area are the pudus´ newest nightmare, but humans, who hunt them for their fine pelt and excellent meat, have turned this delicate creature into the scarcest and most difficult to observe animal in the area.

Over twenty years ago, the Chilean government declared this area a sanctuary, ratifying the RAMSAR Convention on Wetlands in 1981. By a presidential decree, the sanctuary became Chile´s only protected wetlands area and the first protected temperate area of the southern hemisphere, helping it to gain additional international recognition as one of South America´s premier wetlands ecosystems. In spite of these protections, however, the Cruces River Nature Sanctuary is currently facing a crisis.

According to Terram (the Foundation for the Promotion of Sustainable Development), a Chilean nongovernmental organization based in Santiago, the sanctuary is in danger from the recent construction of a giant pulp plant on the upper Cruces, less than fifteen miles upstream. While some negative effects are already present −noise and an offensive odor thirty miles away− when it is in full production, the factory will extract a significant volume of water from the river, which means that during summer or periods of drought the marshlands will be dramatically affected along with the nesting places of many species. Though a tertiary treatment plant is being considered for the waste and residuals emptied back into the river, water temperature will also play a fundamental role. Oxygen levels in the water are likely to drop, with disastrous consequences for the local fauna.

Replacing the Valdivian rain forest with monocrops of pine and eucalyptus (both raw materials for making pulp) not only brings concern for the aesthetics of the area, but also causes serious problems for the stability of life in the wetlands. As trees are cut and transported with heavy machinery, an increase of sediment and mud runoff can be expected. Lowering evaporation levels and consequent changes in vegetation are both of serious concern, as are factory discharges into the river.

The Cruces River wetlands, and the Nature Sanctuary in particular, possess a biological diversity and productivity unique to the region: a place for refuge and nesting for an enormous variety of flora and fauna, including migratory birds.

Up ahead in the distance, to the south, I can make out some of the tallest buildings of Valdivia, where the Cruces meets the Calle-Calle. But here, as the afternoon fades and the temperatures descend, Chilean swallows (Tachycineta meyeni) skim over the waters in search of distracted insects and perch by the dozens on little sticks that emerge from the water, enjoying their dinner or preening. As the sun hides itself in the mountain mist, I hear the mournful cry of the grebes and coots on their way to their nests.

This trip into the Carlos Anwandter Nature Sanctuary, an estuary by the city of Valdivia in Chile and one of South America's most biologically outstanding wetlands, took place before the ecological disaster that devastated the area in 2005.

For a photo gallery and the Spanish language version of this article please visit Ricardo Carrasco's official website, rcsphoto.net. To inquire about publishing rights please contact us.

Pablo Cañarte

2006-01-10T03:22:00.000-03:00

Gestor Cultural y Director de Emprendimientos Ecoturísticos, actualmente dirige el Primer Proyecto de Protección Patrimonial sobre Huellas de Dinosaurios en el Desierto de Atacama y en Chile además del Laboratorio de Ecoturismo Municipal de Iquique destinado a generar habilidades de Emprendimiento Sostenible en estudiantes de Turismo de escasos recursos en esta ciudad.

Creador de la Consultora “In Situ” orientada a Proyectos de Educación Patrimonial y Desarrollo Sustentable en el Desierto de Atacama.

Miembro de la Red “ Puna Sustentable “, un observatorio de conflictos ambientales sobre el tema hídrico en el Gran Atacama, trabaja acciones en defensa del Agua en el Altiplano Chileno junto a Comunidades Indígenas Aymarás, Quechuas y Atacameñas junto a otros ciudadanos preocupados de los frágiles equilibrios ecológicos en el Desierto más seco del Planeta.

Se ha especializado en el conocimiento de los distintos pisos ecológicos del único Desierto Vertical del mundo (El Gran Atacama), Arqueología, Antropología y Ecología en las Regiones de Tarapacá y Antofagasta. Tiene estudios de Historia y Geografía en la Universidad de La Serena, Chile y Antropología Cultural en la Universidad Católica de Bolivia, Sede Cochabamba.

Ha realizado cursos de especialización en Desarrollo Local en la Universidad Arturo Prat de Iquique; de Emprendimientos Ecoturísticos Sostenibles en La Universidad Andrés Bello en Santiago de Chile, y Didáctica aplicada a Museos y Protección Patrimonial en la Universidad de Verano de Teruel, Aragón, (Universidad de Zaragoza), España. Actualmente termina su Pasantía sobre Enseñanza del Patrimonio Paleontológico y Ecológico en la Patagonia Argentina (Proyecto Dino en Neuquen y Ecocentro, Puerto Madryn, Chubut).

Gran conocedor de las Zonas Desérticas de las Regiones de Tarapacá y Antofagasta ha participado en diferentes expediciones en estos vastos y bellos territorios:

Exploraciones a los Yacimientos Paleontológicos de la Formación Chacarilla en la Región de Tarapacá.
Rutas Caravaneras Prehispánicas Milenarias Altiplano-Costa en la I Región .
Descubrimiento de Campos de Geoglifos en la Comuna de Pica.
Exploración de Rutas Costa-Altiplano-Salar de Uyuni Chile-Bolivia.
Exploraciones y guiado a Salares Altoandinos y sistemas ecológicos de Altura en Los Andes.
Exploraciones a los antiguos asentamientos de nitrato en las Pampas Desérticas y Cordillera de la Costa de la Región de Tarapaca.

Gustosamente le proporcionaremos mas informacion sobre expediciones fotograficas en terreno organizadas por Pablo Cañarte.