1st October - and not a fresher in sight.

When I heard Kelly get up this morning it was already light and the cockrels were making their usual racket, however since I knew that Kelly and Libby were going off earlier to do behavioural observations I managed to ignore it all. I dreamt about whether I should be getting up interspersed with ‘cock-a-doodle-doos’ and the need to itch my flea bites. As people who have ever lived in a room next to me will know, I have a very loud cockerel alarm clock that was a present when I went to Uni to ‘remind me of home’. I now have a super-sensitivity to crowing noises in the early morning leading me to jerk awake in a panic several times before sunrise each day. Why can’t somone tell those bloody birds that they’re only supposed to crow when it’s time to get up, and while you’re at it how about persuading them not to do it right outside my window. Grrr.

Eventually Erin stuck her head in the door – “Erm, I didn’t know if you...” – I sat up and looked at my watch: It was 07:55 – five minutes before we were supposed to be leaving. I half stood trying to leap out of my sleeping bag and crashed into the celiling. Bunk-beds. I sat down again and wriggled. I have always prided myself on the fact that I once woke up at 8.55am in my first year and still made it to a 9 o’clock lecutre before it had started (this is where living really really close to your department comes in handy). So I launched into my usual super-speed get-ready which involves eliminating all unnecessary hygeine and tidiness. Erin told me that it was ok, I had time for breakfast so I grabbed the instant oats, sugar, milk, the coffee and the thermos of hot water. In a moment of inspiration I decided to combine all of these in a bowl. I mean, you know porridge? And you know coffee? Is there really any need for two separate items? Turns out yeah, there is.

When Chupa arrived I managed to say “Sorry – I to sleep” in beautiful Spanish which seemed to confuse him. He and Erin left and I grabbed my things and followed them out the door around ten minutes later. Due to the fact that they both walk ridiculously fast this meant I would not reach Plazoleta until at least 20 minutes after them, but luckily this didn’t matter so much for the nest-measuring we were doing. I located them in the forest just in time to help pull Chupa up a tree so all was well. I want to describe to you what it’s like here so I think I’ll start with the walk up to Plazoleta – it’s not the most beautiful one we do but we do it a hell of a lot. I’m proud to say though that it now takes me less time than when I started (or at least it seems shorter to me)!

So, let’s start out on our porch: raised wooden slats for kicking dirty boots against – and from there hard reddish mud in every direction (including under the porch and under the house where we hang our washing). So I go out the door and climb up onto the wider smoother area of earth that constitutes a lane, past numerous chickens (grrrr), a dog, and a couple more raised wooden houses on either side until I run out of road. I pick my way up and down between abandonded planks and small pine trees through a sort of in-between town area of nothingness until I come out onto another path. This one has stones and everything! On my left is a loud but invisible narrow mountain stream and beyond that a Eucalyptus-covered hill. Occasionally I may have to step over a rope tethering a horse or mule grazing on the verges. The path passes the last isolated house (home of ‘handsome man’ who we like to spy on from our window sometimes) and enters the park proper – marked by a wooden arch which reads:

Bienvenido

Parque Nacional Arch Juan Fdez

That’s the Juan Fernandez Nacional Park in case I haven’t mentioned this which is a UNESCO world biosphere reserve or something due to the high numbers of endemic species found here. It includes most of all three island of the archipelago – Crusoe, Selkirk and Sant Clara.

Anyway – having come out of the trees in town I now have a clear view of the mountains again. The slope that the path is climbing comes up from the sea, past our house, and merges into the base of the mountains where it finally loses the cover of Eucalytus, Conifer and Pines planted around the town. The native woodland has been pushed out of the valley so it sits in pockets at the bottom of the mountains, creeping up the slopes until not even the smallest plants can cling to the sheer rock faces. One great castle of rock sits directly above the town – wiry looking bushes clinging on where they can find a hold on its near vertical sides. On the narrow plateau on top, which is often hidden by low clouds, larger plants are able to live. On the crests of many of the ridges around the valley, one can see the sillhouetes of isolated palm trees sticking out into the wind looking completely out of place. I can’t think how a large palm seed would get to such a precarious position – and until relatively recently there was not much on the island big enough to transport them there.

As the path heads downhill slightly again it finds a park campsite, set surrounded by pines. Apparently there are enough visitors here in the summer months for many islanders to earn money from tourism; this time of year though, tourists are very rare. Past the campsite is a suddenly jungle-like swamp of enormous Gunneras, their giant leaves looking like a suitable backdrop for dinosaurs or Carboniferous insects. My imagination doesn’t take into account that angiosperms hadn’t evolved at that point. Past the jungle is a tiny idyllic meadow filled with forget-me-knots; the carpet of small blue flowers may be another introduced species but they smell heavenly. Finally I reach the narrow path, lined with stones, that winds in an arc through the forest. The most abundant tree here is the luma, which is the only species in which the native hummingbirds will nest. For this reason we spend a lot of time training our binoculars on clumps of leaves and scanning for the small green and brown bowls. I say small, but the Juan Fernandez firecrown is actually one of the largest species of hummingbirds and so their nests are noticibly larger than those of the continental Green-backed Firecrown. The nests are woven with moss, and those of the endemic species are speckled with dots of white spider’s web – though why they go to all that trouble I cannot figure out.

There you have muchos description - it's not so exciting but hopefully it gives you more of a feel for where the hell I am. The next topic shall be about the work to cover the 'what the hell am I doing' side of things. Oh the excitement - can you even wait?