We arrived on a cold winter day, directly from Brussels, Belgium, to
settle on the shores of the immense Lago Buenos Aires, the second largest
lake in South America (after Lake Titicaca). An imposing, bottomless
(around 4,000 ft.), sapphire-blue sea in the heart of Southern Patagonia,
at the foothills of the Andean Mountain range.
We had decided to leave the Old European World, family and friends. It
was a once-in-a-lifetime decision to start again all over from zero in
the Patagonian "South of the South", living a completely authentic
lifestyle, growing ecological and organic produce and fruits, semi
self-sufficient, - just like in one of Jules Verne's novels: creating it
all with your own hands. The dream of many.
The ranch Estancia La Serena, which we had bought several months earlier
in 1988, was comparatively small at about 4,500 acres, but it has about
three miles of lakeshore and absolutely breathtaking views. We pretty
much knew that we had to do pretty much everything again here, as it had
been "investment land" for the last twelve years, almost abandoned and
without any services. There were no more irrigation canals, which is bad
news in this area of low rainfall, and the rows of poplars which protect
the crops from wind were dying of thirst, so were the fruit plantations.
As to the conctructions and buildings, there was no main house (which is
the main residence in any estancia); we found two sheds, an adobe house
in really bad shape and a small house made of bricks but ruined: floors
split open by nearby tree roots, no windows or glass, the roof all
cracked up. Great.
We had arrived finally, and despite the situation we found ourselves in,
without running water, electricity, natural gas, telephone, TV or radio,
we were extraordinarily happy: this was our land, our choice for our Lost
Paradise, we were standing on our own soil ... at the end of the world
and with this unbelievable natural spectacle: the fabulous lake at the
foothills of the Andean Cordillera and that strange orange colored ridge
contrasting with the deepest possible blue.
So we moved into the small house, my husband Michel, my daughter, a huge
bat-like dog, a somewhat philosophic cat, and myself.
The first thing we did was to re-dig four miles of irrigation canals by
shovel. Michel is an engineer, and after studying the terrain, we changed
the course of a small stream that runs through the property. It was a
colossal piece of work, but there was no other way to make the water go
past the existing poplar lines and in doing so, save them. Evenings we
worked on the small house, cemented new floors room after room while we
all lived in one of them. Dog and cat insisted in leaving interesting
foot prints in the fresh cement during the nights, which future
archaeologists may find interesting to study. We rebuilt the roof and
windows and heated the house by open wood fire, first, later - a
shameless luxury - with two smallish gas heaters.
The main problems to be solved were obviously water and electricity. For
almost a year, I walked to the canal with two buckets. It felt a bit like
the Middle Ages, and we were missing the shower, oh yes, we were missing
it. At first, Michel invented a system whereby while I went hauling the
buckets of water, he lifted them with ropes onto the roof into a tank and
-voila- le showeehr!
After a while we got tired of all that hauling and drove the 20 miles to
town to rent a room - with daughter, dog and all - WITH PRIVATE BATHROOM
PLEASE, for about an hour. We were really successful, it was THE scandal
of town. So this is part of the history of our place, some 12 years ago.
Later we bought a heavy duty diesel generator of some 20KVA to supply the
future tourism complex, and Michel went up into the higher parts of the
land and cut some trees to get the posts for running the electricity to
the different buildings, too, alltogether more than two miles of
storm-proof wiring.
With spring looking over our work, a few months later, construction of
the Hosteria consisting of six bungalows of 270 sq.ft. with private
bathrooms, natural gas heating, large windows overlooking the lake and
each one with private views, as well as a 500 sq.ft. restaurant adjacent
and integrated into the bungalows with an open fire place for the
parrilladas (grills) and an American kitchen.
We have hired masons and carpenters. Ourselves, we have worked over these
years as: project director, architect, electrician, plumber, carpenter,
roofer, glass cutter, chimney maker, ranch hands, garbage collectors,
cooks, cowboys, assistant sheep inseminators, dog and other assorted
animal breakers, fence builders, fishermen and life savers of a whole
bunch of people, and even clowns.
Anyway, we still had that dreadful problem with the water by not having
any. So we built a concrete 1,500 gallon tank on a small hill of the
property, water-proofed it, put in valves and overflows and dug the 1,600
feet to link all the buildings, then got the water heaters for each
bungalow and the restaurant installed.
One year after our arrival on this land the Tourism Ranch of La Serena
was born. We opened our doors to the public in December of 1990. We were
so proud, so happy!
Our first tourist season wasn't bad at all, despite the fact that at that
time it was practically the only rural tourist ranch in that area, a
novelty for the province of Santa Cruz. Nowadays, there are over thirty
tourist estancias in Santa Cruz alone. This is to our advantage, because
Southern Patagonia is now well represented with its ring of tourism
estancias.
We didn't take much of a break really since then, having our economic
part of the undertaking assured by the profit of our complex's 22 beds,
we now went ahead with even more drive and enthusiasm towards the
contruction of our own residence. This was to include a sector for
visitors as well, large salons and an air that would lend it to seminars,
reunions and the like. It was an ambitious project, about 6,000 sq.ft.,
with plans from two architects, an Italian, Bruno Stoppa, and an
Argentine, Marcelo Minces.
It is a house built around a Roman patio: all the salons, dining hall and
library face towards the inner patio and offer the unique view over the
lake and the mountains at the end of the patio, while the bedrooms face
the lake and mountains directly.
The land itself could not to be left untended, either. We rebuilt
corrals, sheep bathing pools and fences. We changed the sheep that we
started out with first for cows. Our land, despite being rather small for
this area, turned out to be excellent for animals because it has natural
pastures and springs.
I had to learn quite a few rather unusual things for a born European
citizen, like that the only wether worth the trouble has four teeth. For
years I heard this among the neighbors and folks and never had the nerve
to ask if this was due to the fact that the fourth tooth had just grown,
or it was only four of them left. One day someone passed the information
on to me: it was the fourth tooth that just broke through, and if the
animal had all its teeth - boca llena (full mouth) - it wasn't worth
anything anymore. This continued to be used between my husband and me
when we wanted to hint at at person's utter uselessness by calling that
person full-mouthed.
This area where we are has a very benign microclimate that is especially
good for growing fine fruit. So we planted with our own hands thousands
of raspberry, cassis, red and blackcurrant plants, and hundreds of
cherry, plum, damascus and peach. Today we run our own brand of jams,
result of the pastime of one winter's strategy against boredom.
Nowadays, after quite some efforts, we have a mono channel telephone line
with repeaters, and a satellite linkup for TV and radio. We have all the
conveniences of the city, really, but created by our own work and
striving. Despite all the time that went by since our beginnings, I
can't stop thinking about my husbands' efforts in changing the course of
a stream and digging 500 yards of canalization for us to enjoy the luxury
of a hot shower. I'll just be forever grateful, and the miracle of
turning the faucet and have running water is present always.
We have a good time looking back at where we came from and how we
started. This area has developed and changed in important ways during the
last twelve years. Where before, you had to have things like wooden
electricity poles brought all the way from Buenos Aires (at 1,500 miles
distance) or make it yourself with the present natural materials, these
things are now readily available in the area. Twelve years ago we gambled
brazenly on the future of this place, and won. The local ecological
tourism has developed enormously since we pioneered this in Southern
Patagonia ... and the coasts of the Lago Buenos Aires are to our eyes the
most beautiful of all Patagonia. And the world.
Geraldine Cressonieres de Decker
July 2001, Southern Patagonia, Argentina
