The Atacama, the Altiplano, and the Andes
At 12,500 feet, Cathy’s bag of Lay’s papa fritas burst, sending a fine spray of potato chips over the back seat of our rented Peugeot 207. At 14,500 feet, vicuñas grazed and flamingos waded through a shallow lake in search of brine shrimp. At 15,400 feet, the road stopped climbing, but the peaks still soared above us. We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto!
Topping out at 15,400 ft
As we flew the 2600 km from Puerto Montt to Calama we watched the trees give way to cactuses, and then the cactuses give way to the gravel and sand of the Atacama Desert. Always, the Andes to the east kept us company.
When we stepped off the plane in Calama it was hard to believe we were in the same country we’d left a few hours earlier. The lifeless grey flats that bordered the airport gradually merged with the distant grey hills while, overhead, not a speck of cloud marred the arching blue sky. I liked it already.
Atacama Sky near San Pedro de Atacama
From Calama we drove southeast for a hundred kilometres to the small town of San Pedro de Atacama. As we drove, we wondered how anyone, or anything, could live in such an unforgiving place. For most of the way, we didn’t see so much as a blade of grass. The only signs of life, if you could call them that, were the occasional columns of dust rising in the far distance signalling that a vehicle was travelling to some remote mine or tiny village.
But San Pedro de Atacama is different. It has water. Brackish water perhaps, but water nonetheless, allowing trees and flowers and people to thrive. For thousands of years people have lived in San Pedro and the surrounding area, and have used the water to turn the desert green.
Even though San Pedro sits at an elevation of 8,000 feet, it is considered precordilleran, that is, before the mountains. Looking east from San Pedro one can see why. From as far as the eye can see to the north, until the last volcanoes vanish in the haze to the south, great peaks rear up into the sky. The view east from San Pedro is dominated by the 19,409 ft Volcán Licancábur.
Moonrise over Volcán Licancábur
The other thing you notice when looking east towards Licancábur is the sliver of road that climbs steeply up the volcano’s shoulder, and then disappears into the altiplano beyond, to eventually cross the Paso Jama and enter Argentina.
We drove the road to the Paso Jama, marvelling at the altitude, the mountains, and the vistas. It was somewhere there, at about 12,500 feet, that Cathy’s bag of potato chips threw in the towel.
Altogether we spent a week in San Pedro de Atacama and the surrounding area, extending our stay twice because there was so much to see and do.
Laguna Miscanti at 12,500 ft
One of the places that we returned to several times was Laguna Chaxa, a saltwater lagoon at the bottom of a great salt flat in the Reserva Nacional Los Flamencos. There we spent hours watching the flamingos, avocets, plovers, and sandpipers go about their avian business. The sometimes shockingly pink or orange flamingos looked the most incongruous as they waded about on their spindly legs, their heads moving from side to side to strain the water through their bills, while all around them, and for kilometres in every direction, the air scintillated over the snow-white salt flats.
Flamingos Landing
Flamingos
On another day, we joined a tour that left San Pedro at 4:00 a.m. to reach the Tatio Geysers at sunrise. (We opted to join a tour because it would have been very difficult to find in the dark, and because the road is very rough.) It was perhaps just as well that it was dark as we hurtled along the bone-rattling roads, and bounced down the four-wheel-drive tracks to the geysers. It was only on the way back that we saw the precipitous drops, and the shrines to the people who had taken a corner too quickly, or who had dropped a wheel off the edge of the road and ended up hundreds of metres below.
The geysers put on a great show, steaming, and bubbling, and hissing in the cool morning air. You might even say that it was breathtaking, but perhaps that was because the geyser field is at over 14,000 ft.
Tatio Geysers
Our guide told us to take it slow and easy. It was good advice. Even at that, a young woman on our tour fainted. Cathy went to assist her but quickly decided that the normal routine of letting a fainting victim lie there for a few minutes, perhaps with the legs elevated, wasn’t going to cut it. The woman had fallen on a small fumarole, and was in danger of burning her backside. Cathy and the guide helped the woman to her feet, and back to the van.
Right near San Pedro de Atacama was the Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon), an area of tortured and eroded rock, salt, and cobalt skies. We walked a kilometre or so down a road made up of salt blocks that led to a salt mine. If you were quiet you could hear the salt cracking and snapping in the heat. Even the abandoned mine buildings were made of salt blocks. We got the distinct impression that it didn’t rain there very often. (I know they were definitely salt blocks because I licked them. It was only after I was describing this, and mentioned how I identified the block’s mineral content to our new acquaintances on our wine tour that it crossed my mind that perhaps normal people do not lick buildings! The looks on their faces gave me the non-verbal cue. –Cathy)
Building made of Salt Blocks, Valley of the Moon
Like deserts everywhere, there were hidden nooks and crannies that held treasures that were both surprising and delightful. Again, not far from San Pedro, there is a “cactus forest”where saguaro-like cactuses grow in profusion above a small watercourse that cleaves its way between two steep, rocky slopes. The air in the small canyon was surprisingly cool, and the green of the bushes, shrubs, and grasses contrasted with the surrounding red and grey rock.
Cactus Garden
Eventually we bid San Pedro goodbye, and began the 1700 km drive through more of the Atacama Desert and back to Santiago where we were to meet up with the rest of our group for a Chilean/Argentinean wine tour. It took us a week to drive back as we meandered through several national parks including Pan de Azúcar and Fray Jorge, as well as Reservas Nacionales Pingüino de Humbolt. (Penguins and cactuses, very strange! –Cathy) Until almost to the outskirts of Santiago, the desert was a constant companion.
Pan de Azúcar National Park
Sunset, Pan de Azúcar National Park
After a great wine tour (which we’ll describe in another entry), we flew north again to the city of Arica, to continue our exploration of the Atacama, the altiplano, and the Andes. From Arica we drove 150 km east to the town of Putre which, at 11,600 ft is, like San Pedro de Atacama, still considered precordilleran. At “only” 8,000 ft we hadn’t felt the altitude much in San Pedro, but we could certainly feel it in Putre, not the least of which was because it was freezing cold at night.
We spent a couple of days in and around Putre, and then drove up to Parque Nacional Lauca which sits up against the Bolivian border. Lauca is a high altitude landscape of towering volcanoes, lakes, and coarse grasses where vicuñas graze, and where flamingos add their own special brand of colour to the scene. We also visited tiny Parinacota with its whitewashed 17th century colonial church. (Gord seemed to tolerate the altitude better then me. I joined the local dogs of the village, and sat in the shade of the church tower, nursing an increasingly severe headache (no alcohol involved). It was there with the local mutts snoozing around me that I looked up and saw the incongruous sight of the old church tower and the community satellite dish that brings high speed internet to this village! –Cathy)
Volcanos Pomerape and Parinacota
Church at Parinacota
Oh, and the other thing Lauca has are the strange little slit-eyed viscachas that looked like chinchillas with tails, or perhaps some type of mutant rabbit.
Viscacha
Merry Christmas and Best Wishes for the New Year!
