Darwin Slept Here - Eric N. Simons [82]
Should I offer to buy the land before letting anyone else know?
Darwin slept here. The thought took a minute to register. The jungles of Brazil, the beaches of Uruguay, the plains of Argentina, the mountains of Tierra del Fuego, the forests of Chiloé all flashed through my mind, all as glorious steps on the way to this little adobe hacienda in the middle of the Chilean desert. It was a strange place to end up and yet a perfect one—a remote place, surrounded by mountains. Our day’s journey had been an entire voyage in miniature: literal ups and downs, being chased by mining trucks, led on by random strangers, braving the elements, and huddling in the car until the elements had passed. Without the frustrations and false leads and hours spent coughing up dust and looking for the right path to the summit, there’d be no satisfaction in reaching the finish line.
In the last few lines of The Voyage of the Beagle, Darwin offers a summary of his journey. He wanted to encourage fledgling naturalists—a category he no longer belonged to—to strike out immediately for parts unknown. “In a moral point of view,” the effect of traveling “ought to be, to teach him good-humoured patience, freedom from selfishness, the habit of acting for himself, and of making the best of every thing,” Darwin wrote. “Or in other words contentment.”
It’s an exhortation just as true today as it was in 1836. A journey—of any kind, whether a daytrip to a local park or a year-long backpacking tour of the world—teaches contentment. It teaches the value of friendship, the kindness of strangers, the beauty of nature, and the exaggerated dangers of playing chicken with mining trucks on narrow roads. Traveling connects us to the world and renews our capacity to wonder.
“It’s great to actually see something like that after looking for so long,” Josh said, as we left.
“Absolutely,” I agreed, slowly emerging from the misty mental images of 1835. “Still, they ought to have another sign out front.”
“What’s that?” Josh said.
“Darwin Slept Here.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Darwin noted near the end of The Voyage of the Beagle that it’s fairly well impossible to run off and travel without receiving generous and unconditional aid from a host of people. That’s as true now as it was in 1835.
My own voyage started with encouragement from my parents, who displayed total enthusiasm for the project and also had the patience not to wonder (out loud) when I was going to get a real job.
In Rio de Janeiro, I was incredibly fortunate on my first day of traveling to run into a fabulous forest guide, Jean Marx Muñiz Belvedere, whose knowledge of nature and inspired hill-hopping set the tone for the rest of my travels. In Salvador da Bahia, Silas Giron was considerate to a fault and a perfect illustration of Darwin’s maxim about depending on the kindness of strangers. Thanks also to Julia Hack-Davie for the introduction and the advice.
In Argentina, I owe particular thanks to Port San Julian historian Pablo Walker, for good conversation and a tour through San Julian’s rocky history. Natalie Prosser Goodall and Thomas Goodall, the ranchers at the end of the world, were most helpful in answering my questions about life in Ushuaia. Monica Silva provided great directions to get me to the top of the Cerro Tres Picos.
In Chile, Roberto Pardo and Oscar Urbina Valdes helped us to a fascinating day in the mines, all without any advance notice. I’m still amazed that they let us through the security gate. Emer Mencilla Díaz jumped right into the spirit of things to lead us on two wonderful, dripping tours of the Senda Darwin. And Don Carlos Aguilar Cardenas and Antonio Gia patiently related the complicated mythology of Chiloe, and repeated it all about four times until I managed to understand.
In England, I was fortunate to meet with