The work has been almost entirely removing fences. So that actually means, using little hammer/plier mutants called Pico de Lotos (Parrots beaks) and larger bolt-cutters to pull out staples (humorously called Grampas en Español), while another team rolls the wire and wood post fences. The fences have 5-6 wires strung through about ten little posts between the big posts. The big posts are about 10 inches in diameter, weigh 60-90 pounds, and are sunk 3 feet into the ground. After the staples are removed from the big posts, and the wire and post fence is rolled, another team comes through with big steel pikes and pries the big posts from the ground with a combination of leverage and manpower. Pulling staples is the resting position. Pulling posts is hardest, but comes with long periods of rest between posts and lets all of the teenagers feel like real men in front of the one to two girls who are volunteering. Rolling fences is the least favorite job, since it requires lots of continuous forearm and upper body strength, tons of patience, and really taxes your lower back, and it really doesn´t get any rest periods - there is always more fence. Rolling has become significantly easier over the past two weeks however. Technique has improved slightly, but the body and especially the forearms have really just woken up.
The day-in, day-out of volunteering here isn´t really very exciting. Lots of manual labor, you´re tired and hungry, the scenery doesn´t really matter much when you´re staring at the ground rolling fences for hours on end. But the experience on a bigger level is really amazing. I mean I got to ride a horse (mostly out of control) through the Patagonian backcountry; I´ve eaten sheep slow roasted over a large open pit fire in the traditional style; Jon, Justin, and I rode in the caged-in bed of a pickup across an almost otherworldly landscape on the way back to the Estancia yesterday; I´m quickly learning a foreign language and even beginning to think in Spanish despite my measly vocabulary; and I´ve learned tons about other countries and cultures scattered across the globe (UK, NZ, Switzerland, and Holland).
I started reading a book for pleasure on one of our travel days this last week. I´m reading Lifelines by Stephen Rose - it´s dense theoretical biology with an English vocabulary that often leaves even 3 college-graduate native-English speakers using context clues to deduce meaning. It´s sooo... luxorious. I have barely beat an intellectual eyelash since graduation, but reading this book just leaves me nearly intoxicated with thought. It has probably been the best test so far for my noggin following my explosive bicycle accident in June - I´ve been somewhat anxiously awaiting the moment I find out that some crucial bit of knowledge was dislodged upon impact with the asphault - but it seems like my biology, at least, is still hanging in there. Similarly, I´m not sure I had mentioned before how amazing it is to listen to your own selection of music on an ipod after having not heard music for a week. I didn´t listen to any music my first two weeks down here, but the ipod has slowly crept back into nearly daily use as a general relaxer now. Who needs Chilean wine, when you have music. And on that note, even the terrible boxed wine is good down here. $13 bottles in the states sell for under $2 here. We haven´t caught a whiff of civilization since hopping off the bus at the unmarked intersection of two dirt roads two and half weeks ago though. So don´t get your hopes up about us having a merry old time on local beverage down here. This weekend though the the big festival for the nearest town, Cochrane. One of the staffers who spend the most time with the volunteers is supposedly going to be in the rodeo-ish-thing, so we´re all going to pile into some vans to get down there on Saturday. It´ll be exciting to even see a grocery store or gas station. Exciting like it was on the bike trip, in the middle of South Dakota, 90 miles from the last gas station and 25 miles since you last had any water to drink. The American national urge to ´consume shit´ (in the words of Chris Beeler) has been terribly stiffled here. I suppose it´s sort of like living in a comunist utopia, where there is no money just toil and food. There will be money at some point though. At some point they´ll ask for $15 per day; but til then it´s really pretty cool, espeically as an American, to go so long without touching or even feigning consciousness of money.
Anyway time for dinner. I´ll probably next be back online in another week or ten days. ¡Chao!
17 of us or so, following René to one of his favorite spots, a mountain lake Puma Paradise. He has been tracking the puma here for the last three years. He pulled out the antenna every 30 minutes or so on this hike to check the location of the pumas to prevent us from encroaching on the pumas. We also walked in silence and in single file so as to leave the smallest possible footprint on the flora and fauna. 
The white stone beach of the mountain lake we hiked to.
dinner at camp 3.
View from the hike with Justin from Camp 1. This is Lago Cochrane.
A view heading the other direction. The whole area looks like Wyoming or maybe Utah on steroids and about 80 years ago. There is just no sign of life, even from such a high perch with such an amazing view.
I wish that I had made this photo bigger (maybe click on it?). This is the Asado we had on our first full day in the Valle Chacabucco. It´s a whole bull sheep, splayed on an iron cross and slow roasting to a delious feast. 
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