In this episode, we explore the ways in which we’re working together to help one another and get things done, despite the significant obstacles and social-distancing restrictions presented by COVID-19.

Today, in part one of this episode, we’ll hear a story from Brazilian biologist Diana Bertuol Garcia. In this story, Diana and her research group are alone in the Patagonian fjords when they receive word of the pandemic and must find their way home.

After Diana’s story, our host interviews Athena Aktipis, professor of psychology at Arizona State University, and co-Director of The Human Generosity Project, about her research into how we’re cooperating during the pandemic.

Stay tuned for part 2 of “Cooperation” on Monday, Nov. 23!

Story Transcript

It’s March 13, 2020. Me and my group are part of a probably very small percentage of the world population that does not know there's a pandemic going on. So in case you don't remember, the pandemic was declared like two days before that.

Sure we know about COVID, we know it's already in a lot of places, but it seems like a very far away disease that has nothing to do with us. Why? We're in the middle of the Patagonian Fjords in Chile at a local forest service shelter. So it's a seven-hour boat ride from the nearest town and a 10-hour drive from the nearest airport.

So this is one of the most remote places on earth. It's a landscape carved by glaciers. Steep fjord walls covered by temporate rainforests, icebergs in the water with the glacier on the background, and maybe on those few lucky weather days when the sky clears, you can see the southern ice field in the back. So you can imagine why COVID was not on our minds.

So we're there to do a population census of the Southern Andean deer. They are this beautiful stocky deer native to the region but they are super endangered they have suffered like 99% reductions in population size and only 1500 individuals remain in the wild.

The fjords around us have one of the largest remaining populations so it's a high priority for monitoring and conservation. This is my third time coming to this place and it's just my favorite place of all the amazing places I was lucky enough to get to know while working in Patagonia. It's just something about being here in the middle of the fjords and seeing this large population of a disappearing species that makes me hopeful for their conservation, for the conservation of the region.

So I'm here to coordinate the research but also as an instructor for four students. Our group actually involves me , a co-instructor, the students and two park rangers, and we're all part of a larger group of staff and students that remain in what we call our base camp which is a three‑hour drive from where we got on the boat. And right now they're doing a different research project.

We have about 20 students and all of our students are in the second or third year of college and they've come from the US to Patagonia to spend one semester with us learning about the region's ecology, culture and conservation. Throughout the semester, we all live in tents. And when we're in base camp we share a small shelter with a table in an improvised kitchen. So in these rustic conditions you really get to know each other.

With me now in the fjords there's Max, who's always calm and positive and paints beautiful watercolors. Seth, who's always super excited about everything and often takes the lead on organization. Anna that has a spot-on acid humor that you can never tell if she's joking or being serious. And Laura, the youngest. Super sweet girl but always looking for something that she lost or misplaced. Anyway, here in the fjords, Max, Anna, Laura and Seth are mostly just excited to see this elusive deer we've been talking so much about.

So we're starting to cook dinner. The next day, we plan to leave for a backpacking expedition to count all deer we can see and service some camera traps. When I go to send our daily ‘Everything's good’ message on the inreach, I see that we have a received message from base camp. Something like things have taken a turn for the worse. Call us on the satellite phone.

I don't even give myself time to figure out what this means. I just grab my satellite phone and I go outside. And it's raining so I know the connection will be bad, but I managed to place the call anyway.

And from the other end, all that they are able to tell me and I can understand is something in the lines of pandemic declared, program canceled, you have to get back as soon as possible. Students are going back home to the US. That's it. So satellite phones are just not made for longer conversations.

I have so many questions that I didn't get time to put into words, like when and why was the pandemic declared? Why are we canceling the program if there are no cases in our region? Are there new cases in our region now? How should I tell the news to the students? What about the deer monitoring? How should I tell the news to the park rangers who drove us on the boat all the way here just a few days ago?

I don't want to get back. I want to count some deer and see some glaciers. And it's a lot of work to get here so it seems like a waste of time and resources to go back now. But mostly, I don't want to be the person responsible for telling the news to the students and the park rangers and end everyone's fun.

But it was not my decision to make, so I tell them. And of course everyone's upset. The students don't want to end one of the best experiences of their lives. Anna tells me that this decision doesn't make any sense and that she will not go back home to the US but she'll travel around Chile before.

Seth cannot stop talking about all the future possible scenarios of the pandemic.

Max, on the contrary, is silent. Goes for a walk outside to process everything.

And I let them be. I feel like there's not much I can say or do.

The park rangers are also not happy. They don't want to get back without doing some research. And I agree with them, but even without much information I have to set my foot down that we need to get back.

So we start our journey back and it's a crazy journey because our plans keep changing all the time. First, not even like 15 minutes into our boat drive, we hear the news that Tortel, the town that we were going to with the boat, is in quarantine because a cruise ship that stopped in town had had a COVID case. So if you set foot in Tortel, we can't leave for 14 days.

So we change plans. We decide to go to another place, another dock where a lead staff from base camp will come with a car to pick us up. And as we're driving to base camp, we had to change plans again because we heard the news about suspected cases of COVID close to base camp and maybe some quarantine there too. So we decide not to stop there and just drive ten hours straight to the town near the airport.

Then finally during that long drive, finally we get some time to get caught up on the world news. So we learned about the increasing cases, the health system collapse in Italy, the whole thing. We also learned that US closed its borders to Europe so we are all starting to understand the decision to cancel the program and that we need to go back home now or we might not be able to go home at all. I even hear Anna call her family and start arranging her flights back home.

So after that long day of boating and driving, we arrive at the hotel where the rest of the group already is and I just go to bed thinking a good night's sleep will solve everything. But I'm woken up the next day with the news that Chile is closing its borders in two days from now and a lot of students come to us telling us that their flights have just been cancelled. So the pandemic is just not giving us a break.

Anyway, a couple moments later, the rest of the staff is out doing some errands and I'm alone with the students who are all connecting to the Wi-Fi trying desperately to book or re-book their flights back home.

Then the hotel owner appears and he yells from far away, “Your group cannot stay here. I know you were in the town of Tortel.”

And it takes me a while to figure out what he's saying. I don't understand why he thinks we're in Tortel so I get closer to talk to him. Even though most students don't speak Spanish and we're speaking in Spanish, I don't want them to think there's something wrong.

But as I walk toward the man, he takes a few steps back and he yells, “Ma’am, I have to ask you to stay away.”

And then it hits me that he thinks I might have COVID. Tortel is the town quarantined and it’s all over the news. Okay, I think. Well, I just have to explain to him that we actually never set foot in Tortel after the cruise ship arrived, so none of us have been exposed to COVID so there's nothing to worry. And I do, calmly.

And the man answers, “I know you were in Tortel. You have to get out.”

So now I'm so angry. “What do you mean you know we were in Tortel? From where? From your imagination? Because I actually know for a fact that we never set foot in Tortel.”

At this point, the students are all looking at us. They know something's wrong. But I get my act together and explain to him again. But the man just won't change his mind. He keeps saying that he knows apparently better than us where we were. And I try to explain to him again and again, but I get angry and angry every time that I try to explain, and at some point I just give up.

So we got kicked out of the hotel. Now I'm alone with the students on the sidewalk with no Wi‑Fi and no place to stay. In less than 24 hours, I got out of the Patagonian fjords and I land in the middle of this global pandemic, have to take care of my group of students and make sure they get on their flight's home before our boarder is closed.

I'm totally desperate. I have no idea what to do. I'm almost crying. But apparently, my students know what to do because they see me clearly in distress and they come to me and they calm me down.

Anna, who speaks Spanish so understood everything that happened tells me that that guy was a jerk and she knows I did my best.

Seth tells me not to worry. That things are going to be all right. And I'm comforted by the fact that they are calm even though I don't still believe things are going to be all right.

But the fact is that they are right. Not long after that, things begin to settle and the rest of the staff actually finds us a place to stay.

So when we arrive there, I stay inside the car thinking about everything. I've been mostly holding everything together up until now, but being alone for the first time in the past few days I just suddenly feel all the weight of it and I just burst into tears. I cannot stop crying. The last few days have been so overwhelming I don't even know what to make of it.

But then I look outside the car and I see that students are helping each other with packs. They're making lunch. Spirits are high. They're enjoying some of the last few moments we all have together as a group.

And I'm still crying, but it's for a different reason now. I'm no longer worried so even with my puffy eyes I get out of the car and I join them for lunch.

So in the next few days, everyone managed to book their flights and I say goodbye to a few students every day. The last group, including me, leaves the day before most flights in Chile are shut down. So less than a week after I received the message in the fjords, I'm in my family's home in Sao Paulo, Brazil and I'm missing our group. But I'm so grateful for our last few crazy days together. I also miss the glaciers and the deers, but I bet they're enjoying some peace now during this global pandemic.