San Pedro De Atacama - Lunar Landscapes and Swimming at 4,000 Metres

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By the time of my departure from Salta I had begun to take long bus journeys for granted. At worst they were an enervating, necessary evil. At best they were comfortable, an excuse to switch off and read. I had no reason to amend this assessment ahead of the journey from Salta to San Pedro De Atacama (San Pedro). We left Salta in darkness at 7 am and for the first few hours followed the same route as a couple of days earlier; up to the start of the Humahuaca gorge and then west into Pumamarka. It was mildly interesting to recognise places we'd seen before - Tumbaya, the locals now dispersed, presumably back to the mountains; the 7 coloured hill at Pumamarka. However, it was only when we passed Pumamarka and entered terra incognita that the journey began to be interesting. The bus climbed on up the valley, through a seemingly endless sequence of hairpin bends. Before long the valley was a dizzying distance below, buses beginning their ascent looked toy sized. Each bend opened out onto yet more bends as we climbed to an ear-popping 4,000 metres. Finally we crested the pass and ahead of us was spread out the flat plain of the plateau.

The panorama was vast. Mile after mile of flat land stretched out to the very distant mountains on the horizon. My seat was at the front of the top deck. I hadn't given it much thought when I sat down but now this was transformed into the best seat in the house. Mile after mile of apparent emptiness stretched out to the border with Chile and beyond. However, as we drove through it the landscape resolved itself into detail. Far from being empty the arid, desert shrubland contained families of vicuna (a camelid, from the same family as the llama but smaller and more slender) and llama. The desert was interspersed with stretches of salt flats, glaringly white in the harsh high altitude sun. But above all it was the immensity of the horizon that really impressed. The mountains and volcanoes on the horizon could have been 50 or 100 miles away. There was no way to tell by eye. We crossed over into Chile and eventually after more hours with the mountains growing imperceptibly closer began our careful descent down to San Pedro, the curves of the bends occasionally bearing testimony to drivers who had not been so careful.

San Pedro is a small town on the border with Bolivia. Judging by the phalanx of tour companies that line its streets it exists largely to meet the demand for tourism, either to travel North to the Bolivian Salt Flats or south to the Atacama Desert. That said it was pleasant enough with an attractive, shaded square and plenty of restaurants to feed and water the hungry tourist. The first thing that struck me about San Pedro was the ferocity of the sun. At 2,400 metres in altitude it felt a good deal closer than I'd been used to. Time to break out the sun screen and comedy hat.

My hotel seemed nice. I had a big comfy room and the hotel was within easy walking distance of the town centre for dinner. After freshening up I repaired to a local restaurant. After the carnivorous excesses of Argentina it was a great pleasure to be able to order and eat a greek salad and vegetarian risotto (Notwithstanding the camera issue I mentioned earliest, I presume the food police will forgive me for not including a photo on this occasion.)

My first day trip was to a place in the just outside San Pedro called the "Valley of the Moon". The Valley of the Moon is a curious, possibly unique combination of limestone, sand, salt and volcanic debris. It is very young rock that was once the bottom of a lake, which was then exposed to the air very suddenly. As such it has a brittle, half formed quality, making it extremely prone to erosion. Despite being on the edge of the driest place on earth, this area does get some rain (currently the average is once every 3 to 4 years!) and when it rains it does so with some ferocity. This rain has been largely responsible for carving out the lunar landscape that gives this area its name. The sand and the salt have done the rest.

We had a reasonably brief guided tour of the Valley. It is an undeniably spectacular setting - craters of red rock, crusted with salt or covered in sand stand in stark contrast to the backdrop of The Andes, their mountains alternating with perfect cone shaped volcanoes. Within the Valley itself the rain has chiselled out bizarre natural sculptures. I would have liked the opportunity to go off on my own but in an effort to potect this fragile environment this was discouraged. Failing the chance to explore it would have been nice to have more time to soak in the environment but we were on a tight schedule in order to make a local viewpoint in time to watch the sunset cast shadows over the Valley of the Moon and change the colour of the Andes.

The sunset was lovely, very photogenic and it was a great chance to try and take some nice photos. As promised the Andes turned red and then purple, the Valley's moonscape looked just as strange and compelling from above as it had at ground level. However, it all felt just a little superficial. A nice day out and a beautiful thing to see but lacking the contrasts or compelling narrative of other recent excursions. Perhaps in truth it just wasn't long enough. Scary thought but perhaps I had become habituated to the 12 hour excursion.

The 4.30 am start for Day 2's excursion made sure that the trip out to see the geysers at El Tatio would feel suitably onerous. I'd been warned it would be cold and thought I had dressed accordingly, wearing my thermal baselayer and icebreaker fleece, however, once I got on the mini-bus and heard people speculating whether it would be -10 or -12 it dawned on me that I may have seriously under-clubbed. It's a 2 hour drive out to the geysers and a climb to 4,200 metres (hence the cold). The early start is required in order to see the geysers at dawn, which we were told was when they were at their most impressive.

Stepping out of the mini-bus onto the geyser field it was hard to know whether it was the temperature or the altitude that took the breathe away. The altitude meant that anything above a gentle walk left me panting and breathless - jumping up and down to keep warm was definitely out of the question. Fortunately it was a dry cold without any wind so whilst it felt freezing, and removing your hands from your pockets to take a photo needed careful planning, it wasn´t unbearable. (I have since been told that a phenomenon of the thinner atmosphere at altitude is that you feel the cold less intensely.) We were given a tour around the main geysers. The volume of steam visible in the half light, the popping and bubbling as water rose to the surface and the range of colours formed by mineral deposits made it a memorable experience. However, the highlight came after the sun had risen and we were given the opportunity to swim in a thermal bath. I´d declined the opportunity to take the "polar plunge" when I´d been in Antarctica and, having seen how much those who had taken part had enjoyed this experience, I´d promised myself that I wouldn´t pass up any similar opportunities.

Getting changed into swimming trunks in sub-zero temperatures was not for the faint-hearted (although the steaming water provided plenty of motivation and it was as nothing compared to the outright trauma of leaving the pool), but to lounge around in the warm, bath-temperature water, to feel yourself thawing out, all the while glimpsing mountains and geysers through the steam, made it more than worthwhile.

On our way back to San Pedro we stopped at a very picturesque Coya village, that despite being on the tourist trail had retained many of its original features - small houses made with red bricks from the volcanic rock and thatched roofs of reeds. The church, the only building above one storey, was particularly attractive. Small and unimposing but still feeling very much at the heart of the village. Despite the fact that nowadays only tourism keeps the village alive it had managed the trick of being on the tourist trail without seeming in anyway touristy. It rounded off what had been a memorable day out.

All in all I had a bit of an equivocal reaction to San Pedro. It was a necessary stopping off point for the Altiplano and Bolivian Salt Flats and both the excursions I went on were spectacular, however, on the debit side it had been expensive and perhaps too tourist-orientated to have much charm of its own. My mood was not much helped by losing my data cable or by paying a heavy price for eating that Greek Salad. It was only when my stomach started cramping that I remembered the advice about not eating uncooked food that may have been washed in tapwater. I´ve learnt my lesson and will stick to the meat diet from now on.

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Comments

[D MJ Binkley]

Chile
Life is about the journey and yours is terrific. Eager to read more.