Françoise Dutheil is Living Her Dream
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I was born in Paris and our family lived there through the years of the Nazi occupation of France.
After the War my father, who was a doctor, came to work for the Argentine Red Cross in Buenos Aires, bringing his family with him. We were all grateful to be able to leave Paris which held so many terrible memories for us. In B.A., I met and married an Argentinian psychiatrist and we started a family. Sadly, he died very young and I was faced with the prospect of widowhood in a foreign country, with two children to support. Somehow, I managed to survive in Buenos Aires until they were able to fend for themselves.
During those years I also travelled extensively through this huge and beautiful country. I soon began to appreciate that the Andes mountains and the Lake Districts of Patagonia, which straddle the borders of Argentina and Chile, are supremely beautiful. I thought "one day I would like to live there on my own, away from the poverty and violence of city life."
One summer, I was travelling through the mountains, hiking and on horseback, with a friend of mine, a native of this area. She told me, "I'll take you to the loneliest and most beautiful place here." She brought me to the tiny Island of the Bandurrias, located a couple of hundred meters from land in the huge Lago Las Rocas. I knew immediately that this was where I wanted to spend my life.
It was very difficult to track down who actually owned the island, which was completely uninhabited, but eventually we did. To my joy it was for sale! But, as part of the bargain, the purchaser would have to take the derelict mainland farm that went with it. The price was so cheap that I couldn't resist. Thus I became a Chilean farmer, miles from anywhere, with the only outlets to the outside world being, basically, by walking there, and with no means of communication.
I made myself a sort of rudimentary shelter in a derelict building on the farm. I had some chickens, fresh water from the stream, and I could make a fire from the fallen wood in the forest.
One day, after I had been living like this for several months, a man from one of the hill farms, who was a skilled carpenter, came to see me. He had heard news (as one does in even the most isolated communities) that I wanted to build a house. I think he thought I wanted to rehabilitate one of the derelict buildings on the farm, but I told him I had set my heart on making a cozy little house on the island.
I also said I wanted to use only the materials to be found in the area. This surprised him a bit, but we started the work soon thereafter. After about three months we had constructed enough of the house for me to be able to inhabit, or at least find shelter. Gradually, as the work proceeded, I could he was losing heart. One day he came out with it: "How is it possible to construct a house with timber that has no straight lines?" He didn't last long after that! And I found another builder to help me finish the job.
In all the house took about eight months to build. It's a very comfortable little place, warm and friendly and personal. We are, of course, entirely "off grid". We have solar panels for electric lighting, water power to generate power, our own water from the little stream on the island that produces generous amounts of absolutely pure water, found wood for heating and cooking, and eggs, milk and vegetables from the farm.
Normally, I work at my loom during the winter, to sell something to the guests who come to visit in summertime. I use only the wool that comes from our own farm or from my neighbours who live in the hills. I spin most of it myself and use vegetable dyes to produce various harmonious colours.
About six years ago my daughter, Catherine, came to join me from Buenos Aires.. Like me, she found city life unconducive to happiness, and she could not find work that interested her.
We decided we would try to set up a small tourism business. We thought maybe we could make a place that would be ideal for adventure holidays in Chilean Patagonia and Argentina. The island is ideally placed for such an outpost, being right on the border of both countries.
It was very difficult, at first, to get people here. There are no metalled roads here (and we don't want them!), but gradually we have developed a system to get people here by car, ferry and horseback (or hiking) from Puerto Montt in Chile, or by boat from Puerto El Bolson in Argentina. Cathy now has 12 horses on the farm, and we have trails through the valley that are truly stunning for our guests to explore during their holiday.
We have built a comfortable guesthouse that can sleep eight people (or ten at a squeeze), and there's a spare double bedroom in my house as well. The business has grown under Cathy's stewardship until now we run a booking and tourism services agency for visitors to our part of Patagonia.
After thirty-one years I remain deeply in love with the island. My life has a wonderful balance, I think: I treasure my winters alone here, and welcome the interesting conversations with guests who come to visit us from all over the world in summer. Here, I have all I need and love.
READ RICHARD JOHNSON'S MAILONLINE ARTICLE
