The Atacama Desert

Miners' houses on hillside

I flew into Antofagasta, one of the northern coastal cities around which many mines are located; Mineras Escondido operates the world’s largest copper mine southeast of the city, with another open-pit mine nearby. Gold and silver are also found in the area, along with the ghost towns from when the precious metals were first discovered. Riding the bus west across the desert to Calama and then to my final destination, San Pedro, I saw grim evidence of mining: ramshackle clusters of miners’ houses, large tents filled with mattresses and blankets, rails for trains leading to processing plants, and dirt roads criss-crossing the dry mountainous landscape.

Quinta Adela

Arriving in San Pedro after a comfortable but inexpensive three-hour bus ride, complete with reclining seats and leg-rests, I dragged my wheelie suitcase through the dusty, unpaved streets until I found the hostel, Quinta Adela, an old country home that an retired couple had turned into a bed-and-breakfast. It is still run by two of their adult children who were helpful and attentive. I walked around the ‘one-horse town’ and booked three tours for the next three days, although I could have booked two per day. Because of the altitude, however, I wanted to take is easy and relax as well as see the desert.

Cactus-wood stairway

San Pedro is on a high plateau near an oasis and was populated in pre-Columbian times by the Atacameños whose basketwork and pottery are still seen in present-day handicrafts. Its white adobe colonial church, built in the 17^th century by the Spanish, has curving weathered floorboards and a cactus-wood ceiling. When I heard the bells chime, I went in and stayed for evening mass. An altar girl was busy directing the altar boys and and a group of young men from a prep school in uniform sweatsuits sang the hymns.

Algarrobo

Algarrobo trees with huge knotted trunks adorn the plaza near the church, and the buildings of the town are made of adobe, a mixture of clay and straw, that reflect the soft, warm brown of the hills of the antiplano. It absorbs heat during the day so that houses are warm inside by evening, and then cool by morning. When I got back to the hostel every night, although it was chilly, my room was relatively warm. There were thick blankets on my bed so I slept well, but when I got up in the morning, I could see my breath.

Salt lake

On the way to the salt flats on the afternoon of the first tour, our guide told us about the volcanoes' names in the Domyeko Range and their meaning to the indigenous peoples. Many of the peaks are extinct or dormant volcanoes - although some are still active, the ones with vapors floating on the top. They vary between 2000 and 6000+ meters (6,500 to 20,000 feet), which is why it's wise to take it easy the first day or two rather than risk the symptoms of altitude sickness, which range from shortness of breath to headaches and nausea.

When we got to the Lago del Cejar, most of us stripped down to our bathing suits and waded into the cold water. It was easy to float because of high concentration of salt. When it was time for the sun to set, we had to rinse off the salty crust with fresh water before putting on our clothes. The guides set up tables with snacks and bottles of pisco sour, so we watched the sun set behind the hills, toasting an enjoyable afternoon with new-found friends.

Antiplano lake

The next tour to the antiplano lakes started at 7am, and we rode through the desert surrounded by hills with remarkable rock formations – tufts of brown meringue, spiked or rounded, with shades ranging from purple gray in the shadows to sandy red in the sun. We arrived at the shallow lakes of Miscanti and Miñiques where we ate the breakfast the guides set before us, walked around the lakes, and enjoyed the mountain views. It's hard to believe that these salt flats contain a quarter of the world's lithium supply, and that between the mountains, hidden from tourists' viewfinders, stand the production sites.  

Flamingos feeding

Our next stop was the Luguna de Chaxa, where waterbirds, especially flamingos, stop on their migratory paths to feed in the salt water on algae, plankton, and tiny crustaceans. The lakes are surrounded by crusty formations on which the flamingos nest and lay their eggs. Nesting season was over so we only saw about a dozen flamingos culling the water with their beaks, along with other waterfowl. Then rode down into a valley to an indigenous town to see an adobe church with a cactus wood interior, llamas raised for wool, and artisan goods for sale.

Fumarolas

The final tour started at 4am, and it was hard to get up and dressed in the cold and wait for the tourist van in the dark. But when we got to the Geysers de Tatio a few hours later, it was worth the hardship. Before the sun rose, the steam wafting from the holes in the ground was both magical and mystical. When the shafts of light illuminated the hills above us, slowly lighting up the surrounding geysers, we drifted between them taking pictures, engulfed in the steam from the boiling water rising from holes, breathing the sulfurous gases. The air temperature was below 30ºF, while the water was above 200ºF.

Thermal bath near geysers

We again were served breakfast by our guides and then allowed to wander around at will or bathe the natural thermal pool where natives had been going for centuries. Of course I opted for the bathing, thinking that thermal waters might restore my youth, but despite the mythological properties of the water, it was just plain fun taking off most our clothes in the freezing temperatures and then sliding into hot springs in the morning sun with people we had just met, a delightful experience!

Valley of the moon

Riding back over the desert to Antofagasta to take the plane back to Santiago, watching the glorious hues of sunset-drenched earth change from red to brown to light-dotted darkness from thousands of meters up was a satisfying end to my journey. The tiny tourist town of San Pedro, the small restaurants I had eaten in, the comfortable hostel I stayed at, and the people I met on the tours were all fantastic, better than a dream. I felt I knew another side of Chile very different from the lake region of the south and the coastal towns of the center. This long narrow strip of land had acquired yet another dimension in my mind and experience.

Llama

Alpaca

Vicuña
[Click on photos to enlarge]