This story taught me more than 100 articles, and I almost missed it.

Débora Coronado was born and raised in Puerto Cisnes, a very small town at the top of a fjord in Chilean Patagonia.

Growing up, she felt trapped and isolated in her hometown. She’s always wanted to travel and see the world.

She was a really good student, and so she managed to get a scholarship to go to college in Utah (US), where she studied marketing and business.

After college, she struggled with stress and lack of purpose. She decided she needed to come back home. That was three years ago, and she says, “It’s been the best three years of my life”.

Today, she’s one of the leaders of the AG Turismo Náutico y Conservación de Cetáceos, a local ocean conservation group funded by her own family.

About 80% of people in Puerto Cisnes work directly for the salmon farming industry. The rest are still indirectly very connected to it – restaurants, guest houses, and transportation services.

“Without the salmon industry, there would be no town”, she tells me.

Débora’s goal is to do whatever she can to ensure that the salmon industry can coexist in harmony with the community and the local environment.

It’s not easy being in the middle, being a champion for ocean conservation in a town where so many of her friends work for the industry. But she feels that she has gained the respect of both the town and the industry.

Salmon farming here began in the late 1980s and rapidly expanded. In the industry's early years, there was little to no regulation and law enforcement, which severely impacted its reputation.

Now, Débora says things are different. It’s a lot better, and it’s improving still. Not only is there more regulation, but there is also much better communication.

For example, when Débora’s group finds waste on the beach, left/lost by the industry, she contacts them directly, and they come out to clean it up on the same day.

“The industry wants and needs to have a good relationship with the community because ultimately we are all connected. The kids of the farm managers go to the same school as everyone else. They are part of the same community. I know them.”

“The mentality is changing. In the 80s, people were just trying to survive. They were extremely poor and in the middle of a dictatorship. These days, a lot more people are educated, and they won’t tolerate malpractice.”

“It’s a complicated coexistence, but by keeping a good relationship and with good communication, things will work out a lot better than starting a war with them”.

The group aims at educating the community on the value of the ocean ecosystem. It shows them the beauty and importance of what they have.

One of the projects managed by Débora’s group involves taking school kids out in the ocean to learn about the local ecosystem of birds and marine mammals.

Over the course of the project, about 400 kids, between 5 and 14 years old, will participate. The kids very rarely get the opportunity to go out on a boat otherwise.

“This is always an eye-opener for them. It will impact their family because they’re going to go home and tell them what they have seen. And hopefully, they’re going to be more conscious about the ocean when they are older – we know they are the future”.

Débora has also been invited to speak about her group at the local radio in two days. She says everyone in town listens to it, so it will have a lot of impact.

I didn’t know Débora until yesterday. We struck up a conversation at the guesthouse she manages, which led to her inviting me to join her group for today’s tour.

Now I’m listening to her story as we are sat inside the boat her grandfather built many years ago. The boat she’s spent her childhood on.

We are making our way out into the Puyuhuapi fjord when suddenly, we are interrupted by the kids shouting, “Delfin! Un delfin! Mira!”.

Time to run outside.