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Who are Barney and Joan?
They are the nicest people you can imagine. (We won’t hold it against them that they are Americans - living in California).
Barney worked for Simpson Timber in California and was transferred with his family to manage the entire logging and sawmill operation in Contao, Chile.
Ramiro’s uncle, who was the manager of the maintenance shop for the heavy duty equipment got Ramiro a job at the age of 16 as helper of Harold Carrasco.
He moved up as the radio operator, the secretary of a manager named Hector Lisboa and finally he became the supervisor of the parts department.
Through his job he came in contact with management including Barney.
This is where Ramiro met his future wife Blanca, who was a teacher at the local school.
To make a long story short, Ramiro expressed the desire to emigrate to the US and after the Americans had already left Chile, he was put into contact with Barney who at that time worked for Simpson in Canada. Barney suggested it would be easier to come to Canada and from there move to the US.
Once Ramiro and his family managed to emigrate to Canada, Barney and Joan helped the family a great deal and they became close friends, almost like family.
When Barney was in charge of starting a sawmill operation in Whitecourt, Ramiro had an opportunity to work there and the rest is history.
Barney and Joan moved back to California, where we have visited them several times. We have kept contact all these years.
Barney and Joan are very anxious to hear what has happened to the company, the town and it’s people. The information following is for Barney and Joan in particular.
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Ramiro has been anxious to visit Contao; As we approach the village, we see the first signs of the sawmill he once worked at: The old empty, wooden building was once the maintenance shop. Adjacent to that are signs of a concrete foundation, part of what once was a large sawmill, this is all what's left of a large operation more than 30 years ago.
Nothing remains of the company offices and buildings of what once was called BIMA, which Ramiro vaguely recalls to stand for Bosques e Industrias Maderas Sociedad Anonima.
The air strip which was once used to fly in and out of Puerto Montt is apparently still in use.
Next to the airstrip was once a port, from where company boats would depart or arrive. There are large bulldozers reclaiming the material for road construction.
Once lunch time is over, families with small children and teens make their way to the beach to enjoy the rest of the afternoon.
There are two small beaches, one on each side of what once was the port. The one we visit has a small paved costanera with benches and garbage cans.
The land around us was originally owned by a Mauricio Hitchcock, who sold it to the BIMA. During the early sixties the village and the houses in it, was built by BIMA, including the original school, which has since been expanded.
Most of the BIMA employees, including Ramiro, lived in company housing.
There was one big company store, where you would buy staples and groceries on account and have the total amount deducted from your paycheck.
In the village itself, there is no sign of former company houses nor the store. Newer homes have been built and more are currently under construction. A small church and a modern looking plaza have replaced all of what Ramiro remembers to be there before. Even the roads have been rerouted.
The wood and cable hanging bridge over the river has been replaced by a concrete bridge. Both, the new bridge and the former logging road are now part of the Carretera Austral.
We take the back road up the mountain where Ramiro recalls management homes were at one time. One of which was Barney and Joan’s and the other Ed Griffith’s, also an American.
We take the small entrance road up the hill and face a wooden gate which seems to be locked. I am determined to take some pictures and find a way to enter the gate.
There are more building than just the two homes, but the area is completely abandoned.
I can only imagine, what a nice place this once was. It has a lot of potential. With a little work, (well, a lot actually) this could be a nice vacation home with a magnificent view off the ocean.
We want to take another road, leading to the volcano and once part of the logging road. But the road has been eroded by the rain from the previous days and we are not able to pass.
Ramiro has a name of a person he tries to locate; Honoria Zuñiga. She once worked for Barney and Joan. He asks around and is told she now lives 14 kilometers south. We passed by there this morning, but agree that while I spend some time at the beach, practicing my Spanish verbs, Ramiro drives back, hoping to find her. He comes back an hour later, disappointed that no one was home. He left a note and took a picture of the house.
Many other family members of Honoria apparently live in Contao and know her; We may still find her.
It is sad to see that nothing of this large operation and the places Ramiro once was familiar with still exist. Most of the locals do not recall much of the history other than that BIMA once operated here.
It’s still early and we debate if we should find a place for the night here or move on. Ramiro really likes to hang around a bit longer. But there is no restaurant and only two homes offer Hostel. We prefer a cabin, where we have more privacy and are able to cook our own meal. We view the room at the Hostel; a large house with many rooms and only one bathroom. Not exactly what we have in mind. Then they offer us a room in a separate building with a private bathroom. We agree and tell the lady we are going for a drive to explore the area and will be back around 9:00 pm. “Should we register now?” "Not necessary" we are told. “I will reserve your room”. After we walk through town we decide to drop off our luggage, but someone else is in the room we booked. “You did not register so I wasn’t sure you would be back” the lady tells us when Ramiro asks her why our room is taken.
Ramiro registers for the room in the house with the shared bathroom. I am not happy at all. I suggest we go for a drive and don’t come back until it is bedtime.
Ramiro wants to drop off some of the luggage; I don’t agree. I know something he doesn’t know. Well, my instinct tells me to keep all our belongings with us; I keep my foot down. (wooden shoes, wooden head, wouldn't listen).
We continue north along the coast and about 6 kilometers out of town I see a sign. “Supermercado Cabañas”. “Ah, Cabañas” I say with enthusiasm. “No, it’s a grocery store” Ramiro replies. “Then why is it called Cabaña?”. I ask. Sure enough; A beautiful Cabin, with a patio and a view of the ocean. Leather couch, large dining room, a kitchen. Everything we need. Well, almost everything; No Internet. (Day number five without).
There are pigs and cows all around us. it’s like being on the farm.
Happy hour is very special today, with the perfect view of the ocean.
After a home cooked meal we go for a stroll along the beach and are treated to a beautiful sunset.
Ramiro is still thinking about his registration at the Hostel and is afraid they will come looking for us. Well, she was not fair to us, when she rented it out to a larger family, off which she could make more money. We deserve a decent place and some privacy. It was meant to be.
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