The summer February sun was shining on the crowd of international rafting and kayak enthusiasts in the Chilean Patagonia town of Futaleufú . They have come together for Futa Fest, and the event’s director, Mitch Sasser, gets their attention by talking through a bullhorn. In between explaining the day’s agenda, he makes clear the overriding purpose of the weekend festivities – protect the river. “Let the river flow!” he declares in Spanish.  These words are received with great enthusiasm from this audience, with someone yelling back “Patagonia without dams!” 

 

Coming from France, Brazil, the United States and diverse other countries, they are here for a weekend whitewater competition but are well aware that the powerful and magnetic turquoise blue Futaleufú  River – called by many the world’s best river for kayaking and rafting - has joined the ranks of the threatened. 

 

Outside this town of 2,400-persons there is a welcome sign that boasts the message: “A landscape painted by God.” For sure, the mountain scenery is idyllic here with lush green forests, Andean condors soaring from towering cliffs above the mighty river, and an authentic Patagonian huaso culture prevalent throughout. But the quickening pace of change that has come with the arrival of modern technology, better roads, and increased tourism over the past two decades, and most important, the prospect that energy companies are now pursuing large-scale dams on the river, has led Futaleufú to a crossroads.  

 

Located in Chile’s Lakes Region, Futaleufú is just 10 km (6 miles) from the border with Argentina and 153 km (95 miles) from Chaitén, the nearest port.  The town has rich ties to agriculture and cattle ranching, though its history is relatively recent.  The Futaleufú valley was not officially declared part of Chile until 1881 after much dispute with the Argentine government.  In 1912, the first settlers arrived via Argentina.  The area’s colonos, or colonizers, relied on trade with Argentina for goods, though that reliance lessened in 1955 when Futaleufú built an airstrip and the Chilean government started to ship products to the town by plane.  It wasn’t until 1982 and the arrival of Chile’s Carretera Austral, or Southern Highway, that Futaleufú’s connection to other parts of Chile began to really improve.  

 

 

In the mid-1980’s, a few kayakers caught wind of the spectacular roiling waters of the Futaleufú  River and made the sojourn south. One of the earliest paddling pioneers was Chris Spelius. A former kayaker for the U.S. Olympic team in 1984, Spelius, like many of the elite paddlers at the time, was first drawn to Chile by the Bio Bio River, then considered the best whitewater river in South America before a series of dams were later built. It was not long after that he heard about the Futa, which his American friends Phil DeRiemer and Lars Holbek, who had made a first kayak descent on the river, told him was “in another league.”

 

Spelius, a tall man with a chiseled face that looks like someone who would be more comfortable in a wrestling ring than sitting snugly in a sleek kayak, had been coming to Chile since 1980. Still, his first journey to the Futaleufú  in 1985 was a life changing experience. At the time, he says, Futa had no electricity, no phones, and with no bridges was virtually accessible only by ferry. For Spelius, it was the holy grail of rivers, and its distance from the clutches of modern society made it even more awesome. Eventually, he bought land and built a home there, married a Chilean woman, and began to introduce the “big river” -- the meaning of Futaleufú  in the indigenous Mapuche language -- to a steady stream of rafting and kayak enthusiasts from around the world. 

 

Spelius was at the forefront of the burgeoning tourism industry in the far flung Futaleufú.  The modest residenciales in town began to buzz with dusty-haired backpackers on shoestring budgets while fly fishing lodges outside town cropped up to cater to the tastes of wealthy anglers.  Companies like Bio Bio Expeditions and Earth River Expeditions joined Spelius and his Expediciones Chile early on, offering multi-day rafting trips and ushering in the river’s rise to prominence among the international whitewater community.  The crowning moment arrived in 2000 when Futaleufú  hosted the biannual World Rafting Championship. 

 

Tourists also soon began to realize that Futaleufú has more adventure to offer than just a river.  The stunning landscape is perfect for multi-day backpacking trips, horse packing trips, canyoneering, and much more.  Nowadays, people are beginning to embrace Futa’s other assets. There is the nearby National Futaleufú  Reserve, a protected area with dozens of miles of hiking trails. Mountain biking is gaining popularity and the Futaleufú Municipality hosts a mountain bike race called the “Route of the Valleys,” a 31 km (19 mile) ride that attracted 74 competitors from 5 countries this year.  

 

Still, twenty-eight years later, Spelius seems almost remorseful as he considers Futaleufú . He has misgivings. When asked about whether the river’s present popularity might actually contribute to doing some good like keeping the Futaleufú  River flowing free of dams over the long-run, he nods in agreement with a hesitant, “Yes…”  He says that he also understands why the locals are happy with all the new comforts of daily living such as cell phone service, Internet connection and more. He admits it seems like things are getting better when you look at it from such a glass-half-full perspective, but with a long pause he ultimately declares: “I don’t think things are better, and I think I am right about that.” He adds with a knowing look, “I think we were all better off when nobody knew about this place.” 

 

People who’ve spent time in Futaleufú agree that its beauty lies not just in the magnificent landscape, but also the richness of a culture steeped in camaraderie and hardship.  Sharing a mate, roasting a lamb Patagonian-style, traveling about on horseback -- these are just a few of the many colorful and ingrained traditions of the region.  But many people are concerned that just as the river is in danger of being exploited, the unique character of Futaleufú could be lost. 

 

To encourage pride and knowledge about local culture, one group, Patagonia Sur Foundation, has begun a “Rescue of Local Trades” program that promotes the preservation of traditional weaving and knitting.  The foundation’s executive director, Daniela Diaz Morques, says they provide support to local knitters, including helping the women sell their products in new markets. “This project has been a close collaboration,” she said. “The knitters have a very valuable ancestral knowledge and we have tried to help them with design and innovation, without them losing their identity.”  

 

Several of the old-timers in town are also wary of the cultural changes.  Mario Moran, 91, was appointed as the town’s first political representative to government officials in the provincial capital of Chaitén  in 1948. Today, he lives around the corner from the plaza and laments the loss of town unity among today’s generation. “Before, people had to sacrifice a lot more to earn money,” he says. “But life here before was more tranquil. We raised our cattle and livestock and did not lack for food.” Moran adds that the community had a close bond. “Someone would say, hey, tomorrow I need help with building a corral for my horses. The next day, we were all there to lend a hand.” 

 

Tired of the hard, rural life, and with opportunities seemingly available elsewhere, some of the original residents of Futaleufú and their offspring are anxious to sell their campo, or land, to whomever offers the right price. 

 

But not Angel Bernardo Vallejo Saavedra. Born in Futaleufú in 1927, he now resides in town at the home of a friend because of declining health. He remembers that as a kid his family was so poor they had to make his shoes from the leather hides of cows. Over time, however, he acquired 500 hectares (1236 acres) of prime real estate at Espolon Lake that he vows to never sell.  With no formal schooling, his only option was cattle ranching and he has no regrets about his path. Though he feels like his children often forget him, he constantly yearns to be at his “Las Rosas” ranch and its pastoral natural surroundings. “I would not want to see a dam on the Futaleufú  River,” he says with a quiet, almost trembling voice. “Why ruin the river and risk a mistake when now we have all that we need in Futaleufú .” 

 

No development project in Futaleufú goes without controversy.  The development of new roads to rural sectors is one such source of contention; rural residents eager to have better access to town and emergency services welcome the new dirt roads, while others concerned about aesthetic changes and associated environmental impacts look on with dismay.  

 

Other conflicts include a fence built in the Las Escalas area that some complain discourages horseback riding and ecotourism. In 2006, a road was built near a highly valued section of the upper canyon of Futaleufú  River that rafters and kayakers call “Infierno Canyon.” River outfitters say the road construction caused several tons of debris to fall into the river below, ruining the rafting on this important stretch of world-class whitewater. In the Rio Azul sector, the municipality replaced an iconic hanging bridge in 2011 with a World War II-styled army bailey bridge, prompting complaints about scenic decline and the lack of an environmental impact assessment.

 

For years, the Futaleufú River has been lauded for the quality of its fly fishing. Now, critics blame lax control by Sernapesca (Chile’s national fishing service) for overfishing and a lowering of the fish population.  Anglers have been clamoring for the government to promote a “catch and release” ethic at the river to conserve the fishing opportunities.  

 

Most worrisome, three years ago, William Horvath, an American kayak guide and biochemist, discovered the presence of the invasive algae bloom called Didymo on the Futaleufú.  A well-known plague on several rivers throughout the Northern Hemisphere and in New Zealand, Didymo has sparked alarm in Patagonia.  This microalgae, which looks almost like wet paper or cardboard, can spread in no time causing the displacement of aquatic species. At the moment, the front line of attack is to prevent further expansion of Didymo through decontamination centers and by educating tourists and fishermen that they must promptly remove, clean and dry their gear or clothes if they have been in contact with the water.

 

The direction in which tourism and the physical town develops is also a pressing issue.  To their credit, town officials are considering implementing new regulations to ensure safety in rafting on the river and land-use zoning policies are under discussion. Still, two large hotels have gone up on the outskirts of town in the past two years with no local guidelines to ensure sustainable tourism development or preserve landmarks like old oxcart tracks. The continuing concern is that uncontrolled growth could damage the rustic charm of Futaleufú, something few residents want.

 

Adventure travel is fast-growing and lucrative; worldwide it is increasing by an astonishing 17 percent a year. Shannon Stowell, president of the Adventure Travel Trade Association (ATTA), the international authority on adventure travel with more than 900 member businesses in over 60 countries, told Patagon Journal that popular destinations such as Futaleufú must be careful. “It’s important to consider carrying capacity,” he said. “To control the growth and make sure you are not sacrificing your town or your culture’s soul for the sake of a few dollars, because it won’t be worth it in the long run.” 

 

Adds Stowell: “There are places where adventure travel destroys local communities so I do not think it is a silver bullet. It has to be done responsibly. Typically that means making sure that local people are involved in the decision making, and they are also beneficiaries of whatever is going to be done there.”

 

Near the Espolon River -- a major tributary of the Futaleufú  River, and a cherished spot by fly fishermen in search of brown and rainbow trout -- Canadian mining firm Kinross Gold and U.S.-based Geocom Resources have acquired a formal mining claim on 3,800 hectares (9,390 acres) to build an open-pit gold mine. They began exploratory work in 2005, and though plans were put on hold after the Chaitén volcano eruption, as gold prices rise it’s expected they will try to move forward. 

 

Though some Futaleufú residents are interested in the jobs that a mine might bring, most are prepared for an outright fight. Ten years ago, just across the border in the Argentine city of Esquel, an historic public referendum to turn down a similar gold mine was passed overwhelmingly by almost 80 percent of local residents.  The most serious environmental problem associated with gold mining is cyanide heap leaching - the process almost all large-scale mines use to dissolve microscopic bits of gold out of low-grade ore. The leftover cyanide-laden rock is difficult to dispose of, and is sometimes dumped into rivers.  

 

Another top concern is acid mine drainage. According to Geocom’s May 2007 report on their explorations at Espolon, in addition to discovering an almost 2-mile long stratum of rock that contained highly valuable gold deposits, it also contained a “massive sulfide layer.” The tons upon tons of debris produced to extract gold from the ore are called mine tailings. Those tailings would include sulfide metals that break down into sulfuric acid and dissolve accompanying metals, such as lead, zinc, cadmium, selenium, arsenic. The gold mine at Espolon would likely include a dam to store the tailings, which remain toxic for centuries. But according to the United Nations Environment Program, on average, at least one major tailings dam failure occurs each year, and most pertinent for rainy Futaleufú  - the accidents at tailings dams are mostly due to heavy rainstorms and floods. 

 

The toxic, yellowish-orange liquid that seeps from tailings known as acid mine drainage has a sordid history at gold mining projects of leaking into streams and groundwater and killing any fish and vegetation in its path. In May, Canadian mining firm Barrick Gold’s high profile, $8.5 billion dollar Pascua Lama project in Chile’s northern Atacama region was shut down and fined by environmental regulators for that very reason. Among the 23 environmental violations, authorities found that rains had increased acid runoff from rock debris that the company had hastily generated without a proper storage site yet in place, and they were cited for an illegal discharge at their acid treatment plant; thereby contaminating the Estrecho River in the valley below that is used by locals for agriculture and drinking water.

 

The big money to be made from gold mining is believed to be one of the motives driving a push for new infrastructure: adequate roads and sufficient energy are needed to operate a big mine. Though Futaleufú is already well-connected with Chaitén  and the Carretera Austral, a plan is in place to build a new, more scenic road along Espolon Lake that connects Futaleufú to the town of Termas de Amarillo. Proponents claim the road is not for a potential mine; rather it shortens the journey to Chaitén by 50 km (31 miles) and connects isolated residents in the Espolon area. 

 

Perhaps even more pressing than a gold mine is the threat of dams on the Futaleufú  River. With the Italian-Spanish Endesa energy company and Chile’s Colbun planning to build an electric transmission line from their HidroAysen project in the Aysen region through Palena and northbound to Santiago, dams on the Futaleufú  suddenly become a more interesting business proposition for energy moguls.

 

Endesa acquired water rights on the Futaleufú in 1993 to build dams. Since then, the specter of possible dams has always hung over the river’s future. But late last year, Endesa announced to its shareholders that part of its portfolio of projects under development this year is the “concept design” of a 1,367 MW hydroelectric project on the Futaleufú that would entail three dams, and could become the second-largest project in the Patagonia region after HidroAysen. 

 

The alarm bells have sounded throughout the environmental and whitewater communities worldwide, and in Futaleufú.  A new environmental group has set up in town, Futaleufú  Riverkeeper, which is affiliated with the international Waterkeeper Alliance headed by American environmental lawyer Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.  Last March, several local businesses, environmentalists, and even the mayor’s office, together publicly voiced their opposition during events in Futaleufú to celebrate the International Day of Action for Rivers and against Dams, organized every year by the Berkeley, California-based International Rivers Network.  

 

That said, ever since water rights were snatched up by Endesa, some have been preparing for this moment. Among them are American Eric Hertz, co-owner of Earth River Expeditions and his Chilean partner Robert Currie, both widely credited with the first rafting descent down Futaleufú’s 80 kms (50 miles) of Class IV and V whitewater. Hertz says with great regret that they arrived too late to save the Bio Bio River from Endesa dams, but quickly learned from that experience and recruited a group of conservation-committed individuals to participate in an Earth River Land Trust that has bought some 50 hectares (124 acres) of the most valuable stretches of property along the river, including strategic spots that would be needed in any hydroelectric venture, to conserve the river and its surrounding valley in perpetuity. 

 

Several others are moving to purchase land in the Futaleufú valley, too, and not without controversy. Last year, a crew from Chile’s Television Nacional headed up by Chilean investigative journalist Santiago Pavlovic came to Futaleufú to do a story and stumbled upon a hornet’s nest of discontent in Puerto Ramirez, located 48 km (30 miles) from Futaleufú and another strategic spot for any eventual hydroelectric project. More than a dozen families, mostly colonos, or original settlers, have lived for numerous decades in the area, but some are facing potential expulsion from their homes in a conflict with a real estate investment group called Agricola Auchemo, which has been buying properties in the area since 2004. 

 

Evo Soto, 84, tells of how he left Osorno in 1952 after his father sold his family’s land there and as a 23-year-old arrived in Futaleufú intent on building his future here. He squatted on his land, and after decades of legal pursuit, finally got his land deed in 1999. Under Chile’s laws on adverse possession, if you can show that you have lived on otherwise unoccupied land for more than five years and improved the land, such as building a house on it, the occupier has priority claim. The other colonos assert that just like Soto they also applied for land titles to Chile’s ministry of national property, and at least a decade before Agricola Auchemo appeared on the scene, but are still waiting for some pronouncement from the government.

 

Cecilio Ganga’s parents migrated to the Futaleufú valley from Argentina in 1920, clearing dense native forest on some 85 hectares (210 acres) to establish a livelihood raising livestock.  Outside his humble home, next to a fenced garden and a patch of pasture where sheep graze, Ganga, 67, points to a giant, non-native alamo tree planted by his parents. He estimates that the tree is now around 90 years-old, and says that, just like that tree, “I was born here. I want my children to live here when I am gone.” Speaking with clear anxiety about his future, he talks about the threats he has endured to intimidate him into abandoning his property. Ganga, whose land likely has tremendous worth but his bank account does not, says he cannot afford a lawyer while his counterparts are more than ready. 

 

Several people with interests in the Futaleufú valley express fear that behind the aggressive attempts to force the colonizers off the land, much like the land grabbing that preceded Endesa’s arrival on the Bio Bio River, there is a plain and simple land speculation scheme. If Endesa does win approval to dam the Futaleufú, the company will be forced to pay dearly to owners whose land is expropriated, flooded and destroyed.  Real estate prices are also skyrocketing in Patagonia. For example, just outside of another booming southern Chilean resort town, Pucon, some property values have increased by a factor of 20 over the past two decades. 

 

In an email interview, Roberto Edwards, a Chilean lawyer in Santiago who both represents Agricola Auchemo and is a key investor in the venture, said that he has also been buying land in the area with partners under the business names of Agrícola El Olivar  and Agrícola San Rafael, among others. Now possessing nearly 100,000 acres (40,000 hectares) between Futaleufú  and Chaitén, Edwards stated that he would not be interested in later flipping some of the properties to Endesa, and that he moreover is against building dams on the river.  Edwards said in addition to some tourism projects, his intention with these investments is to “conserve the lands for future generations preventing an indiscriminate exploitation of them.” 

 

With presidential elections in November, there is some hope that if center-left candidate Michelle Bachelet wins she will reinforce her statements in a June political debate that HidroAysen is “not viable” and kill that project. Before she left office in 2010, Bachelet’s government also did use a “water reserve” clause in the nation’s water code to issue a decree  that 11 watersheds, including such beloved rivers as the Cochamo, Petrohue and Palena rivers, must be protected for their high conservation and tourism value, in effect putting off-limits hydroelectric dams. The Sebastian Piñera government later reversed the decree, calling it illegal in the context of Chile’s ongoing fire sale of its water courses to the highest bidder. 

 

In most any other country, a globally-cherished river like the Futaleufú River would be protected with maximum care as a national park. But during the Augusto Pinochet dictatorship, Chile privatized all of its water resources, the only country in the world that has done so. Still, with support from all sectors, Chile could amend its water laws to allow for conservation and even park status for some rivers, or outright nationalize them. Just as it would be unthinkable today to destroy the country’s renowned Torres del Paine to build a big dam, Chile’s leaders must act with foresight and preserve Futaleufú and several other iconic rivers for future generations. 

 

At his small office in Futaleufú, the affable town mayor, Arturo Carvallo, defends the river against dams and gold mines before he is even asked. Mayor of the town since 2000, he has been speaking out against such projects in Futaleufú for a long while. Carvallo reiterates that tourism is the lifeblood of Futaleufú’s economy now and in the future.  He says the town is worried. He says a gold mine would lead to certain disaster and dams would kill the river, and with it, the local economy. 

 

“Nature, above all virgin nature, is our greatest wealth. This is what attracts both Chilean and foreign tourists here,” said Carvallo.  “I believe this is a problem of national policies. How is it possible that a company can do what it wants with our country’s rivers simply to make more money?”

 

Carvallo looks firmly ahead, then says: “People always ask me, don’t you want development?  But if development only means goods and capital and all of that without protecting our surrounding environment,” he says, “then this is not development.”