The river was too big to read and run. By the time you might see a line, or not, you were committed to the middle of the current. There would be no last second eddies. And so we began the tedious process of pulling ashore at the top of each rapid and hacking through the forest to find a viewpoint, and hopefully the next eddy. It was first descent style boating, even though the first descent here was 40 years ago. That exploratory was spearheaded by Phil DeReimer and the late Lars Holbek, friends of mine who I profiled for Kayak Session magazine.

This was the Futaleufu at high water. Only Aniol was running Inferno Canyon, a few parties were doing the Terminator section that we were on, and everyone else was running Bridge to Bridge. Most days, we opted for a gorgeous Futaleufu tributary, the Azul.

Five weeks of kayaking had me longing for a hike into the high country. Fortunately, the Futaleufu Valley has that too. Laguna del Toro is reached at the apex of a steep 3,000 foot trail.

Many of my ilk make Futaleufu their seasonal home. No wonder, the beauty of the place is stunning. But it’s more than that. The pace of life, in the Futa valley and throughout the Andes corridor of Chile and Argentina, was something Govi and I longed for the second we landed back in the familiar ‘ol USA.

Where had folks’ openness gone? What was the rush? Why the worry? I’ve got my theories, but a sociologist should answer that one, not me. No, better for me to dwell in the energy of the giant alerce tree we visited just before flying home; ancient, stoic, powerful—like the Andes, and the Futaleufu.