Song of the Bio BioChile's largest river-and the people and wildlife living on it- may be silenced by dams by Michael Shapiro Just another day on the river: a couple guides casually rig their boats, some guests nurse cold beers and a raging game of kayak polo creates waves in a big eddy near camp. It's a scene that's commonplace on many of the world's whitewater rivers, the post-exhilaration rituals that boaters enjoy after a thrilling day of running the rapids. Yet the relaxed scene belies the controversy that this river is creating. This is Chile's Bio Bio, one of the world's most alluring river canyons, and the scene is View Camp, named for its stunning panorama of a nearby volcano. Due to the planned construction of a series of dams, the fortunate few on this recent trip may well be among the last river runners to enjoy the stunning pleasures of the Bio Bio. But the Bio Bio is more than whitewater, and a trip on it much more than a rollicking river ride. It's an opportunity to see a relatively unspoiled natural wonder, a living ecosystem of wildflowers, willows and red-backed buzzards; to soak in natural hot springs; and to gaze upon spectacular waterfalls, some plunging more than 100 feet into the river. It's also a chance to witness a culture that is closely linked to the river, a culture whose very existence is threatened. Our trip's leaders, a quartet of guides from El Cerrito, Calif.-based Mountain Travel Sobek, deeply love the Bio. Yet they say they'd give up running the river if that would preserve it for the native people. "We know it's not our river," says John French (known as Frenchy). His statement reflects the deep respect he has for the local people, yet it's not completely accurate. In a sense, during almost two decades of running the Bio Bio, it has become-in a small but significant way-his river as well. Just as the local people who live along the river call themselves the Pahuenche (the people of the pine nut trees, one of many Mapuche tribes), Frenchy and his co-leader, Butch Carber, have become the people of the river. The Bio Bio, with charms as subtle as the song of the Chilean Elaenia bird (which sings "bioooo-bioooo," the source of the river's name), has worked its way deep into the hearts of these men. Butch and Frenchy are both in their mid-40s and are among the most respected guides at Mountain Travel Sobek. "We're on the down side of our careers," Butch said. "But it's a shame that future generations won't get to do the Bio." Though Butch has led about 30 expeditions down the Bio Bio during the past 12 years, he's still inspired by it. "Every trip I see something new. I can't say I know it as well as I want." And he probably never will. In 1992, Endesa, Chile's national power company, nailed the first spike into the river's heart when it began construction of the Pangue Dam near the end of the prime whitewater run. Pangue shut its gates in 1996, inundating about 17 km of the river, drowning the Canyon of a Hundred Waterfalls and wiping out the roller-coaster rapids of the Royal Flush. "Those rapids were great-you couldn't have designed them better," says Frenchy. Adds Butch, "That was the last waltz. It was big and technical and exciting. You had to be right on. It was a great way to end the trip." Today the 10-day journey ends with a short float on the lake created by the dam. During the bus ride back, Butch sits on the right side of the bus to avoid seeing the devastation the dam has wrought. As the bus bumps over a rutted dirt road, Butch sits silently, stunned by what has been lost. "You can never bring it back, at least not in our lifetimes," Butch says. Some guides chose to work other rivers after the dam went in, unable to enjoy the Bio Bio after the river had been so brutally scarred. But for those who aren't accustomed to its past glory, the Bio Bio still offers a tremendous river trip, and Butch wants to share
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