The Bio Bio River was the place to be when I was starting my career in river running thirty-five years ago. A big river with big rapids in a stunning landscape; the Bio Bio didn’t need a dam threat to draw boaters from around the world. But it had that too. Despite widespread protest, the Pangue Dam was completed in 1996, drowning much of the Bio Bio canyon. In 2004, the Ralco Dam just upstream further inundated the river. I missed the era of the wild Bio Bio, but its lore made an impression. When Govi and I arrived at the lower river on a scorching hot Christmas Eve, we wasted no time getting on its dam-released water.

The Queuco, a Bio Bio tributary, became our mission on Christmas morning. Working from an old description written by the late John Foss, we completed a shortened version of Foss’ 25km run. I knew Foss from the Idaho paddling scene in the 1990s. He also explored some Arizona rivers that I later paddled and wrote about in Paddling Arizona. Foss was working on a guidebook to Chile’s rivers when he drowned through one of the most inexplicable accidents in whitewater history. Paddling with his description in mind, my thoughts were on John as I weaved through the boulders of the Queuco.

Foss explored other small tributaries farther upstream along the Bio Bio, and some of them sounded perfect for us—class IV creeks. But our first glimpse was discouraging. “It’s pretty stout,” Govi reported as I approached the bridge over the Lomin River. Indeed, the Lomin was high and frothing, but the Chaquilvin, entering just downstream, looked low and playful. By evening, we were enjoying a burrito Christmas dinner along the banks of the splashy Chaquilvin.

Leaving the storied Bio Bio canyon, I was sorry that we hadn’t made an effort at paddling some of its remaining rapids. Between the Ralco Dam and the Pangue Reservoir, the big river tumbled in ribbons of white—a glimpse of what once was.