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| Sand meets sea in the Atacama desert |
We left Valparaíso with trepidation – ahead
of us
lay a 2000km bus ride through the driest desert in the world – 30+ hours
on an overfilled bus without functioning air-conditioning, a reeking loo, and
herds of over-heated, grizzling children. It was every bit as horrible as we
imagined, but also 100 times more spectacular that we had dreamt. The Atacama Desert
has to be seen to be believed. Some places have not felt a drop of rain in more
than 20 years, and there is not a scrap of life to be seen – not even the dried
remains of a dead bush or two - just steep, rocky, barren hillsides rolling on endlessly
before plummeting suddenly into the sea. Our bus hugged the coastline most of
the way north, and we were treated to the crazy experience of having infinite
views of the driest desert in the world to our right, and the tempestuous blue
waters of the Pacific Ocean to our left. A parched sea of sand and rock meets
the hostile ocean – and in between not a drop of drinkable water. I have never
experienced such emptiness, such absolute barrenness, and at the same time so
much surreal beauty. We were enthralled, and annoyed when it got too dark to
stare out the window any longer.
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| Absolute barrenness as far as the eye can see |
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| Highland desert landscape in the Atacama |
The next day we arrived in the dusty port
of Arica, a rough-and-tumble town hugging the beach and trying hard to ignore
the encroaching desert looming large behind its back. We staggered out of the
hot tin-can that had been our home for two days and a night and were greeted by
34°C heat and a hot, dusty wind – we welcomed it like a cool spring breeze
after the stale, old-feet-and-underarms air in the bus. J We spent a sticky night in Arica, complete with a cool beer and a
spectacular view of the sunset over the Pacific from the roof of our (slightly
dodgy) hostel.
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| Sunset over the Pacific from the roof of our hostel in Arica |
The next morning we picked up our rental car (a little 2-wheel
drive Chevy) and left the shelter of the coast to face the intimidating desert
on Ruta 11, the main highway between
Chile and Bolivia. Within 5km the road started to climb, and climb, and climb.
It seemed we were never going to stop climbing. Our poor little car had to drag
itself, groaning and moaning, up the winding, dizzyingly steep roads beside
drop-offs that took our breath away. We passed dozens of Chilean tanker-trucks
carting fuel to Bolivia, and Bolivian road-trains lugging massive containers of
goods to be shipped at the port in Arica. All of them drove their 40 tonne
death-machines like Indian taxi drivers on the narrow strip of bitumen beside
the 1000m abyss. And we soon realised the reason for the brightly painted signs
adorning many of the trucks ‘I travel
with God, but if I should nevertheless not return home, look for me with Him’ - the highway was littered with the crushed and
battered remains of trucks the road had gotten the better of. We saw countless shipping
containers in the valleys below the road, or hanging precariously on the
hillsides, obviously having literally ‘fallen off the back of a truck’. We even
passed fresh accident, a truck rolled onto its side (luckily having stopped
short of the gaping void below), its contents spread over the road and being
hurriedly re-loaded into another vehicle by a bevy of helpers.
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| Passing one of the numerous 'dangerous, explosive' fuel tankers on the way up to the park |
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| Another one bites the dust - one of many rolled wrecks lining the winding road |
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| One of the many lost loads we saw along the way |
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| Recent accident - luckily the truck stopped before going over the edge |
We gulped and
drove even more carefully, onward and upward, until we finally reached the tiny
town of Putre, 3500m above sea-level
in a miniature green, terraced valley. We checked into our lovely little hotel,
the ‘Terrace Lodge’ on the edge of town, and it soon became apparent that we
would have to have an early night, as Mic started feeling the effects of
altitude sickness. Having gone from zero to more than 3km above sea-level in
less than 3 hours, his body rebelled. He struggled through a night of explosive
headaches and nausea before the symptoms finally started to abate the next morning,
allowing us to start exploring one of the most spectacular parks in Chile - the
Lauca National Park.
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| Our little hire car resting after its long haul up to 4000m |
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| Cruising in the highlands |
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| The 6000m+ peaks of the volcanoes Parinacota and Pomperape, the centerpiece of the park |
Situated at elevations ranging from 3200 to
more than 5000m above sea-level, the park is dotted with snow-capped volcanoes
(many more than 6000m high!), dazzlingly blue lakes, hot springs and ragged
mountains in a fascinating range of colours. And the best bit of it all – there
are hardly any people there!! We spent two wonderful days exploring (mostly by
car, hiking at that altitude is almost impossible for non-highland people like
us), sometimes going for more than 6 hours without even seeing another car on
the winding, dusty roads. We stopped frequently to sit and simply stare at the
amazing views in absolute solitude.
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| Lake Chungará in the shadow of Parinacota |
One day we spent a couple of hours sitting
on the lush green shore of Lake Chungará
in the shadow of the twin volcanoes Parinacota
and Pomperape, watching the antics
of the Giant Coots, Grebes, Flamingos and Andean Gulls. And as if that wasn’t enough,
we were soon surrounded by a grazing herd of curious llama who obviously found
us as entertaining as we did them. The setting was like something out of a
glossy tourist brochure – llamas grazing in the foreground, a sparking alpine
lake behind, and everything dwarfed by the twin towering, white-capped
volcanoes. Perfect!
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| More than 5km above sea level! |
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Getting ready to cross a small river - the little
town-car had the trip of its life :) |
Another huge highlight was taking a drive 50km north of the
main road on a spectacular gravel road snaking up and up and up to height of over
5000m (that is 5km high!! Half as high as most commercial airlines fly!! A
crazy feeling) then down through a narrow, gorge-like valley and up again into
a shallow bowl-shaped valley called Suriplaza
with a small lake in the middle, surrounded by a ring of barren hillsides in
the most amazing range of ochres, reds, oranges and browns. We spread out our
mats and sat there for hours, having a picnic and watching the play of shadow
and sun constantly changing the breathtaking array of colours and patterns on
the slopes surrounding us. In the evenings, sated on wonderful views, we
returned to our lovely hotel and sat bundled up against the cold in the wooden
garden pergola watching the dramatic sunsets ignite the towering peaks. So much
beauty to soak up – just breathtaking, and not only because of the thin
mountain air! J
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| Wonderfully colourful Suirplaza - a perfect place for a picnic |
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| The amazing mixture of colours was surreal |
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| Sitting in Suriplaza - we couldn't stop taking pictures! |
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| Our lovely little 'lodge' in Putre |
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| Sunset setting the sky on fire over Putre |
Apart from the spectacular landscape,
the park also has a huge range of wildlife to offer. In addition to the over
140 different bird species that inhabit the area (Mic was in his element), the
park is also home to a variety of different camelids which we had great
difficulty telling apart at first. But we finally worked it out, and as you can
see below, we spotted not only lots of llamas
(the bigger ones with the funny faces), but also the smaller, fluffier alpacas and the funny, skinny-necked vicuñas. We also spent a lovely
afternoon sitting in the middle of what was obviously prime vizcacha territory, watching the funny
curly-tailed animals playfully hopping over the tumbled boulders around us.
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| Lovely baby llama sticking close to mum |
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| Llamas are the kings of pulling funny faces :) |
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| Alpacas are short and very fluffy |
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| Vicuñas are skinny and very skittish |
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| A baby donkey with still-wobbly knees taking a stroll in Putre |
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Vizcachas look like large rabbits,
but use their long tails for balance when
hopping, bit like a wallaby. When they are
sitting, they curl their tails up in a roll. |
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White-washed 17th century church in tiny Parinacota
(4400m above sea level) |
Also,
on the less wild side, we met an extremely adorable baby donkey taking a stroll
through the tiny town of Putre. J Putre itself
was a quaint little mountain village surrounded by terraced fields which date
back to the pre-Inca times. While we were there the inhabitants were celebrating
carnival with a volume and enthusiasm that belied their small numbers. It was a
challenge to walk through the main street without coming back covered in multi-coloured
powder and streamers. We also visited the even smaller, white-washed village of
Parinacota, home to around 30 wind-and-sun browned and very smiley highlanders
and a beautiful old church.
Lauca National Park was so amazingly
beautiful - we were so glad we made the
effort to hire a car and go off the beaten track – the mixture of the dizzying
altitudes, stunning views, abundant wildlife, extremely friendly locals and
lack of tourist hordes make this part of Chile absolutely breathtaking in more
ways than one.
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Endless, empty roads to explore
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And steep curves make for exciting driving
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| Lovely little lakes support so much birdlife |
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