Kris Tompkins has been instrumental in establishing seven national parks in Chile, with another on the horizon.

In April 1994, while on a month-long camping trip through Chile’s Valle Chacabuco, Kris and Doug Tompkins paused under the shade of poplar trees, surrounded by blue lagoons and towering Andes. That night, nestled in their sleeping bags, they pondered: Wasn’t this valley stunning? Wouldn’t it make a fantastic park? Doug, a cofounder of North Face and Esprit, had committed to environmental conservation in 1990 after leaving the business realm, while Kris served as the longtime CEO of Patagonia. They were not ones to dismiss a great idea.

A decade after their initial inspiration—in 2004—the Tompkinses acquired 174,500 acres in Valle Chacabuco and dedicated the following years to restoring its natural beauty: allowing the land to heal, collaborating with local communities, and reintroducing native wildlife. (Though Doug passed away in 2015, Kris has carried on his legacy.) In 2018, their organization, Tompkins Conservation, gifted the land to the Chilean government, leading to the creation of a national park. To date, they have helped conserve 15 million acres across Chile and Argentina, with ongoing efforts through their initiatives, Rewilding Chile and Rewilding Argentina.

On May 21, 2024, Patagonia will release Patagonia National Park: Chile, a book that delves into the narrative of Patagonia National Park. Before its launch, Dinogo engaged in conversation with Kris about conservation, rewilding, and the future of Tompkins Conservation.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

What excites you the most right now?

We recently signed a protocol agreement with the [Chilean] presidency for Cape Froward, a new national park. This is thrilling because we’ll be designing the master plan for its infrastructure. It’s located in a beautifully wild area, right on the Strait of Magellan, the southernmost point of the South American continent, not too far from Cape Horn. This will be the first park we’ve established since our donation in 2018, which feels like ages ago.

You were recognized as a Dinogo Vanguard in 2019 and discussed the initial challenges you encountered working in South America during the 1990s: remote regions, limited roads, poor phone service, and local skepticism. What are the main challenges you face today?

The political landscape remains consistent regardless of who is in office; we know what it takes to collaborate with sovereign leaders to establish new parks. Previously, we focused on one species at a time, but now we manage all initiatives simultaneously, which presents its own challenges.

The urgency we feel seems to be our greatest obstacle. How can we achieve enough? This is where a relentless mindset becomes crucial. You find yourself in a challenging spot, pushing forward as quickly as possible. It’s not a straightforward process, and I don’t want to imply that it is. I truly believe in learning through experience, whether I was launching Patagonia or starting [Tompkins Conservation] with Doug in the 1990s. It’s trial by fire, which, for my personality, is the most effective education—much clearer than sitting in a classroom. While unexpected challenges arise daily, the stakes feel heightened; I see the freight train of climate issues, extinction, and geopolitical instability rushing toward us.

As global communication accelerates, we aim to amplify our impact. We need to work more swiftly, and we all recognize that the pace we maintained 25 years ago simply won't suffice today.

I’m interested in your thoughts on community engagement and partnership as vital components for success.

Jaguars can return, and deer populations can thrive in Chile. However, I believe the sustainability of any park hinges on involving local communities—viewing these parks as integral to their territory. We must demonstrate that conservation can serve as an economic asset for nearby communities. It's essential to create real opportunities for these communities to benefit from the parks.

A town of around 3,500 residents lies adjacent to what is now Patagonia National Park in Chile. In 2005, shortly after acquiring 180,000 acres of this estancia (private land), we visited that town. We gathered at the community center to share our vision, but it was challenging. Gaining the confidence and trust of the local community, being a good neighbor, and fulfilling all the necessary roles took time. In March of this year, I returned to that same center, and it was overflowing with people. I was moved to tears as I said, “Twenty years ago, I stood here, and now this park belongs to you.” This reflects the journey of a project that began with nothing and evolved into something significant, with the community playing a crucial role.

Expanding on that thought, I truly believe that parks exemplify a model of democracy.

To be completely transparent, in the initial years, we were unsure if we could actually create national parks. But once we realized it was possible, we began to wonder, What if we just donated land to the state?

I firmly believe that the only way to inspire people to protect something is for them to first fall in love with it. That connection comes from knowing it, experiencing it, and walking through it.

As we deplete the unprotected areas, the pressure on parks will inevitably increase—and it already has. I strongly advocate for making parks places of beauty and wonder, open to everyone.

Explore the parks. As I often say, embrace the discomfort. Get soaked in the rain, buried in snow. What are we doing? But those will be the stories you cherish when you're 95.

How do you approach the challenge of encouraging people to visit these precious locations while also being mindful of the environmental impact of that travel?

The first thing I acknowledge is: That’s absolutely true. It’s a significant conflict. However, if you’re determined to see a place, then you must also commit to helping protect it.

When I began visiting Antarctica, I would set aside the monetary equivalent of the trip—no small sum—and donate it to a conservation organization. It’s not about being virtuous; it’s about recognizing that I can’t be careless: Oh, I just want to go here. Those days are behind me. So, if I’m traveling to a place I’ve dreamed of for 45 years, I ask myself: how can I contribute to it? What will that contribution look like?

Climate and nature are interconnected, right? So, how does rewilding contribute to alleviating the impacts of climate change?

I focus on building healthy ecosystems by reintroducing species, which supports larger ecological systems. Overall, conservation efforts can make a significant impact. I prefer to approach it step by step, species by species; we can clearly articulate how each species enhances ecosystem health.

Tompkins Conservation was founded in 1992, just over 30 years ago. What do you envision for the next 30 years?

I have a clear vision. I’m thrilled you asked. We’ve accomplished a lot, and I take great pride in that, but it’s simply not enough. We discussed this recently—it’s not happening fast enough, it lacks the necessary urgency, and it doesn’t have the impact required given the rapid changes we're witnessing.

Instead of viewing our efforts as, Here’s a vast area, and we’re rewilding here and there, let’s approach it from a continental perspective. Let’s connect the southern cone of South America with the rest of the continent. How do we engage with Brazil, Paraguay, Bolivia, and Uruguay to ensure these species can disperse? While we may not work in every region, we can share our rewilding expertise through carefully selected partnerships in these countries.

As someone approaching 74, I realize I won’t see the completion of this project. That realization brings me immense joy, as it means that future generations of leaders—third and fourth—will be able to build on the foundation that Tompkins Conservation has established and continue to grow it.