Author’s note: To get the most out of this story, I recommend you first read the previous blog about the place. Thanks!
Six scientists in a small outboard boat approached the island of Santa Inés in Chile’s Southern Patagonia. They motored into a deep fjord surrounded by rocky cliffs patched with trees, shrubs and tufted grasses. Thick clouds covered the highest pinnacles. The lip of a glacier extended to the water. Sea lions cavorted around their boat.
Tying the boat to a spindly tree next to the glacier, they hiked up the ice and battled hurricane-strength winds to reach the top of a hill. From there, they watched in horror as the winds ripped their boat from its mooring and sped it across the water toward the center of the fjord.
The winds kept up. In order to escape certain death from hypothermia, the group – five men and a woman – struggled down the opposite side of the hill toward the center of the island. There they hoped to find a protected spot in which to wait until other members of the expedition noticed their absence and came to their aid.
For hours they crossed an inhospitable landscape. Breathing became difficult; they often fell and struggled to rise. Ahead rose tiers of gray ridges dusted with snow. They scarcely had the energy to climb the first one.
As they descended, the woman, Sara, gestured the others to stop. She pointed. “Doesn’t it look greener to the left, in that valley? Or am I hallucinating?”
The others saw it as well. With renewed energy, they headed for the valley. It displayed a lushness they hadn’t seen elsewhere. Temperatures rose: they began to feel warm in their parkas, and their skin tingled painfully as it returned to life. Taking off the outerwear, they left it in a pile. Farther up the valley, the forest became tropical. Tree ferns lorded over bananas and oranges.
“If this is a dream, may I never wake,” said Ethan, the medical expert.
They soon came upon a lake, sapphire-blue, and on the banks of the lake a single log cabin and half a dozen primitively made wooden boats. A man sat in a rocking chair on the cabin porch. He appeared old, with lizard-textured skin laced in wrinkles and a mound of matted white hair. His shirt and pants were hand-sewn.
“Hello!” Ethan waved to the man as they approached. “Do you speak English?”
“I do.” He spoke with an accent. “Not much though. Visitors are rare here.”
Introductions completed, the old-timer, whose name was Cayenne, explained he had discovered the valley decades earlier. Finding everything he needed, he never made an effort to leave.
“And no one else has come here?”
Cayenne shrugged. “A few. It is a desolate region. Most avoid it. None have stayed.”
Cayenne offered to make them tea. While he was in the cabin, the others spoke among themselves.
“What an astounding find.”
“A paradise at the ends of the earth.”
“Can you imagine establishing a research center here? Warm temperatures, water, fresh fruits and vegetables, yet a stone’s throw from the unexplored regions of Southern Patagonia.”
“Or a camp for extreme sports enthusiasts? People would pay big money for such a set-up.”
A curtain in a cabin window fluttered back in place. Cayenne appeared with a pot of tea and seven cups hewn from local gourds.
“Tea from leaves in the valley,” the old-timer said as he poured.
“What a beautiful lake.” This from Sara.
“The water is warm. You must try it after your tea.”
“Why so many boats?” another member of the expedition asked.
Cayenne observed the boats. “You can never tell when you might need an extra one. There are many fish in the lake,” he added by way of explanation.
Sara looked with longing at the water. “Can we take one out?”
“Of course.” Cayenne’s eyes turned to slits when he smiled.
After they finished their tea, the five dragged a boat to the lake’s edge. Sara dipped her fingers in the water. “Ooh, it’s as warm as a bath.”
Cayenne retrieved a pair of oars from the cabin and brought them to the boat. “If you row toward the center of the lake, the water is even warmer. A perfect place for a swim,” he told Sara.
They rowed across the lake. The old-timer was right: the water became warmer. Soon it began to roil, and the steam had a distinct smell of sulfur.
“The water is boiling!” Ethan shouted. “Turn back. Quick.”
Before they could, scalding water began to seep in.
“The resin holding the boat together is melting. We’re going to sink!”
“We’ll burn to death!”
On shore, Cayenne sat in his chair and rocked for a spell, watching as the boat and its occupants slipped beneath the water.
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