Conservation Tales: The Race to Find and Protect Patagonia’s Native Fishes
“One… two… three… four… five…” I need to stay calm, I can feel my chest getting tight as I force one agonizing paddle stroke after another. “Ten… eleven… twelve… thirteen…” How long has it been since the motor-boat dropped us off in the fjords, maybe twenty, no thirty minutes? “Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three.” My lungs are burning, but I know if I stop paddling, the wind and the tide will pull me even further towards the sea, away from the rest of the team.



















