On the flight from Dallas to Santiago, my seatmates were a couple who lived in Chile during winter, Wisconsin during summer. He was a Cheesehead. She was Chilena. She barely spoke any English. He barely spoke any Spanish. They seemed quite content.

I thought maybe the Cheeshead’s wife could translate a message from my BnB host, but what I understood as “tractor” was actually “speed bump.” Thus, it took the kind assistance of a neighbor to steer us toward our accommodations in suburban Santiago.

John Govi and I eventually found our way to Los Quenes, an idyllic tiny town at the confluence of the Teno and Claro Rivers. At Chilean Adventures, we met Parker. It took about two minutes to learn that he is the nephew of our Flagstaff friend, Andrew Shalcross, of Moenkopi Riverworks. With Parker’s directions, we were on our way to the clear Claro.

Packrafts neatly stowed in our backpacks, the mile-hike down a gated road to the river was barely a bother. Class III rapids and one sheer-walled gorge delivered us to our first river camp in Chile. Conifers silhouetted against a dusky skyline at 9 pm. Our fire crackled. The river hummed. Hello summer.