San Pedro De Atacama

Chile

March 2007

San Pedro De Atacama
8th to 12th March

How unfortunate! That we would be seated on a night bus directly behind, quite possibly the loudest snoring man on earth. What are the chances that he would be on this here bus and more unlikely in close proximity to our lug-holes. Sarah was getting rather emotional by about 2am when it hadn't let up one bit and she was getting tired and irrational. I knew this because of the way she was kicking the back of his chair and hitting his head with a pillow in a lame attempt to wake him. I found it hilarious as I was not at all tired and was happily reading and watching the night sky. It got so loud at one point I had to peer over the top to check it was in fact a man and not an escaped Kango Drill from Power Tools Rentals Ltd. For those of you who know a man called Steve Callaghan..... Steve's like a church mouse compared!

We realised it was bad when even his own travelling partner gave up and pillow in hand, retreated to the back of the bus, squeezing in to the one empty seat leaving Sarah no such option. Several times Sarah managed to clip him just hard enough to tempt him from his deep slumber, but only long enough for him a let out a mumble, twitch and shift a little before resuming his drilling expedition. Hilarious! Not a wink of sleep was had in seats 8 and 9, so you can imagine our rage when at 6am he finally found whatever he was drilling for and woke, yawning and stretching, looking recharged and contented, like only a man can after eight hours of deep beautiful sleep. In seats 8 and 9 it was a different story with us looking rather disheveled and a little black around the eyes. Oh well, justice will prevail and he'll never hold down a long term marriage with a hooter like that. LOL.

Anyway I have digressed and I'm sure you'd rather here about where we were heading. We were in fact bombing our way further North up to the top right hand corner of Chile, to the massive desert known as Atacama. Drier than a rhinos armpit, the Atacama has regions that have not recorded rainfall for over fifty years. Not a single drop! Sloping arid landscapes, reflecting hues of yellows, browns and orange, backed by the high hard peaks of the Andes as the sun rose. It was very stunning indeed and although it looked very inhospitable you could not help but admire its beauty.

We arrived in San Pedro around midday and stepping from the climate controlled environment was a big shock to the system after twenty hours of being super cooled. Saying that, we soon realised that although it was pretty darned hot, it was a nice heat, if there is such a thing. Not at all humid or stuffy, with a gorgeous but deceptive breeze, but if you weren't careful you burn faster than Michael Jackson's gel soaked barnet. The town was so so small. Just a handful of narrow roads, with desert dust for tarmac. It was like what I imagine Jerusalem to have been like back in the day when that famous bearded carpenter rode in on his donkey with his lady friend. Lined with short single storey buildings, that after closer observation we knew to be made of adobe bricks (straw and mud), it made you feel rather tall.

Once night fell these streets took on a new feel, dimly lit with lanterns and each window glowed with the roaring fires within. We liked it very much. There were a lot of stray dogs, each with his own character and personality, and to see them congregating on street corners, made them seem like little people. There were cocker spaniels, beagles, bassets and other expensive breeds alongside some of the weirdest looking cross breads you've ever seen or dreamt possible. But strange or not, they were so much more streetwise and well behaved than the spoilt mutts back home. Woof.

Once again Hostelworld had helped us in finding a great place to stay for three nights. A very nice clean room on a large piece of land just two mins from the main stretch, if you can call it that. We slumped in to bed for a well deserved siesta and without Kango man in the area we had no trouble nodding off.

Stomachs rumbling and fresh from our sleep we crept up the pitch black lane, torch in hand, in search of dinner. For some reason, we thought that being in the middle of the desert and in such a small place the food would be terrible but how wrong could one be. It was fabulous, every single meal we ate was a dream dish. The ambiance in side these small inn like structures was also perfect. The fire and scattered candles provided a light so correct, that you could have been dining opposite Thora Heard and thought her the prettiest lady alive. Coupled with subtle chillout sounds and we felt right at home.

That night I sat on our veranda and watched the night sky, hoping to spot a shooting star. In the space of one hour, I was very very lucky and witnessed no less than six of these pieces of space junk come in to our atmosphere. Four of them were the quickest flashes, so fast in fact that you almost doubted yourself about whether or not you actually saw anything. But two of them were most spectacular, like a rocket on firework night, and lit up the sky as they streamed across it before being obliterated. With a cricked neck and a smile on my face I left the veranda and rushed to tell Sarah of what she had missed.

Saturday morning arrived and with nothing planned we ate breakfast and I pulled up a chair in the sunshine and immersed myself in another great Bill Bryson epic. It was a grassy area, which was rare for this region, and the plants seemed to attract more than their fare share of dragon flies. In between chapters I sat and watched these agile creatures darting around with more control over their flight path than the most sophisticated helicopters. They can turn at right angles, stop, spin, dive and amaze you with mid air acrobatics. Now this is not something you usually get time to sit and watch back home but luckily I did for then the most unexpected thing happened. A cute little red ladybird landed on my book. I tempted it to crawl up on to my finger where I studied it for about ten seconds before its wings opened and it fluttered away. It took off directly in front of my eyes, in clear view, when a dragon fly swooped in with deadly effect and carried the poor helpless ladybird off to be eaten. It all happened so fast that I was gobsmacked and had to sit there and go over it in my mind to accept what I'd seen. I told Sarah and of course it sounded cool but unless you saw it you had no idea. I could sit out on that chair for another thousand hours and probably never see anything like that again. Shooting stars and micro murder...... in less than twelve hours....superb.

Late that afternoon, we headed out on a trip to the desert to see the volcanoes from afar and to visit the salt flats close up. Now Mother Nature must be the mother-in-law from hell to Chile as it has precariously been placed on one of Earths fault lines. Add to that over one thousand volcanoes, 150 of which are still active and you have a dangerous place. Now San Pedro, the poor thing, must have really pissed her off for she has only gone and laced their drinking water with arsenic. Nice lady. But she has given them some very dramatic views which all help to pull in the tourists, who keep returning so long as you keep them on bottled water.

The salt flats were not exactly what we were expecting. You'll remember we visited such a place just over the Andes in Salta, Argentina and hoped that these would be the same. It was again a vast amount of salt but this time instead of being totally flat and smooth it had christalised in to a very strange bubbly unwalkable surface. We were told about how the volcanoes supplied this region with many minerals and the most abundant was Lithium. This is used in every day batteries, helps to power certain space craft an dis also crammed in to happy pills for the depressed.... so next time you feel down, suck on a Duracell!

We stayed to watch the sunset and observed flocks of pink flamingos. before heading back for more great nosh. Early to bed for we had an early start on Sunday morning in order to get up and go see the geysers, high up in the mountains. Our alarm blipped and beeped at a horrible 4am, and by 5am we were out by the gate in the freezing cold waiting for our pickup. Half hour passed and no sign of them so we waited some more. I assumed there had been soem delay and maybe we were last to get picked up. At 6am, another couple crept out of their room and came to join us. 'Going on a trip?' I asked... and soon found out they were too going to see the geysers. 'But its 6am I said, you were supposed to be out here at 5am?'. Then the truth was out... it was in fact only 5am! The clocks had gone back last night and no bugger had told us. We were so cold that we couldn't summon up the energy to be angry so we laughed it off and put to the back of our minds the extra hours sleep we had missed. How unlucky that the only Sunday of the year that we not only find ourselves in Chile, but we are up very early for a tour and it just happens to be the day they change their clocks. Right there we vowed not be caught out by daylight saving or timezone querks ever again.

Once on the bus we laughed with others when they heard of our mistake. Next we pulled up at another hotel to pick up the last three. The driver got out and through the window we could see much pointing to watches and negative body language, so we thought, he heee they must think its 5am too! Once they boarded we realised why they were so annoyed. Their hostel had in fact told them that the clocks went forward, so they had not been standing out there in the freezing cold for just one hour, but indeed two... Hilarious!!!! The clear moral here, is quite simple: The is always someone worse off than you!

Our laughter was soon halted when we found ourselves on a very cold minibus heading up the mountains, in the dark on the bumpiest road ever. Had they not heard of the ingenious invention known as the steam roller.... It was like some kind of torture and went on for over two hours, jolting and bumping you around so you had no chance of sleep. Later it turned out that our rear suspension was shot and that's why it had been so bad. A mechanic on board had heard it break soon after we left town and prattled on about the boring technicalities of it. Now I'm no mechanic, but I could tell he was a dipstick!!! (Private note: Thanks Kate!)

We finally reached the steaming Geysers Del Tatio just after sunrise. These not the biggest volcanic water fountains in the world, that award goes to Yellowstone Park USA, but they are the highest. Soon the driver had a plastic bag full of eggs bubbling away in the hot pools and cartons of milk too. We dined on hot chocolate, strong coffee, cheese sandwiches, biscuits and of course boiled eggs garnished with salt and pepper. A feats fit for a king at such an altitude.

Fed and watered we ventured around the region on foot, being careful not to get too close to the unpredictable boiling spurts and also not to fall through the thin crusty surface. Many stupid people just don't think and have been know to fall back when taking a photo and getting a sharp wake up call when they water takes them. Grim.

All the Germans stripped and jumped in to the controlled spa whilst we stood watching wrapped up in several layers of jackets and our Peruvian hats. Crazy Germans. Getting in to the nice warm water would of course be great... but had they thought about the getting out again!. The sun crept up over the mountains creating great beams of light through the steaming environment. We enjoyed it very much and probably just enough to warrant the hour wait at 4am and the four hours of bumpy roads to get here and back. We been privileged enough once again to witness one of natures truly unique wonders, whilst you back home were probably scurrying around Tescos or watching the Vicar of Dibbley. Get out here at once you silly sausages!