The Araucaria araucana, known locally as the pehuén, does not hurry. It is a tree of immense patience, growing a mere 5 to 8 centimeters each year. For Javier Grosfeld, a specialist at CONICET Patagonia Norte, this slow pace is the primary challenge. While the native pehuén takes a quarter of a century just to produce its first seeds, invasive pines and rosehips spread with aggressive speed, suffocating the ground where the ancient giants once stood. Without the intervention of human hands to clear the brush, the native forest cannot find the light.
The work in the park is a labor of precision and physical memory. Volunteers move through the groves, their hands pressing the small, green spikes of saplings into the earth beneath the shadows of gnarled, ancient trunks. They are not merely planting; they are weeding out the intruders. Grosfeld moves between the groups, advising on soil density and monitoring protocols, ensuring that these 15,000 trees are placed where they have the best chance to endure the centuries.
This landscape is the historical heart of the Pehuenche people, whose very name identifies them as the "people of the pehuén." For generations, they have gathered the piñones, the heavy seeds that fall from two-kilogram cones, to sustain their communities. But the fires of 2013 and 2021 left vast grey voids in the forest canopy. The current restoration effort, backed by Fundación Proyecto Pewen, is a bridge between the scientific rigor of the laboratory and the traditional knowledge of the mountain.
As the sun dips behind the Andean peaks, the volunteers leave behind a hillside dotted with small wooden markers. These saplings will likely outlive everyone present today, a quiet gift to a future they will never see. It is a slow victory, measured in millimeters and decades, won through the simple act of clearing a space for a tree to grow.