San Pedro de Atacama

Sunday 24th April 1988

Dawn broke and the temperature became comfortable again and with a sigh of relief we arrived at Calama Station. It was 06:00 hrs. which was 13 hours late. We got up and stretched, loaded up our bags and squinted as we entered the bright sunlit day.

Together with a Dutch girl and her Chilean companion we all bundled into a taxi to the TRAMACA Bus Station. Here we checked in our baggage, found out that the bus to San Pedro de Atacama left at 11:00 hrs. and went out in search of some breakfast.

A brief walk-about ascertained that there was nothing open at 08:00 hrs. on a Sunday morning apart from a café that was serving “lunch”. We returned to the Bus Station for coffee and bought some rolls which we filled with our last tin of tuna.

There were only two tickets left for the San Pedro de Atacama but a huge number of gringos were accumulating and the company laid on another bus. Bill and I went for a walk around the town. It was very European in style with some delicatessens which we gaped at in mouth-watering awe.

We walked out to the dry, sandy outskirts where a distant column of smoke pin-pointed the huge copper plant of Chuquicamata. We walked back to the bus depot passing a place where the military were setting up speakers blaring out music for some event later that day.

Bill and I jumped on the 11:00 hrs. bus and dozed most of the way through the barren desert scenery to the oasis town of San Pedro de Atacama. The road was smooth and tarmacked, unaccustomed luxury!

It is said that the high quantities of quartz and copper in the region gives its people positive energy, and the good vibes of northern Chile's number-one tourist draw, San Pedro de Atacama, are sky high.

The popularity of this adobe precordillera oasis stems from its position in the heart of some of northern Chile's most spectacular scenery. A short drive away lies the country's largest salt flat, its edges crinkled by volcanoes (symmetrical Licancábur, at 19,409 feet/5916 metres, looms closest to the village). Here too are fields of steaming geysers, a host of otherworldly rock formations and weird layer-cake landscapes.

San Pedro itself, 66 miles (106km) southeast of Calama via paved Chile 23, is quite small, but it attracts hordes of travellers. Despite the high prices and tourist-agency touts, there's undeniable allure to this desert village with its picturesque adobe streets, laid-back residents and music-filled eateries.

We arrived at the village by the solid old white church beside the village square. Soldiers and 4-ton trucks were there in abundance, but they appeared to just be moving out. We booked into the Pension La Florida for 600 Chilean Pesos per person and reserved beds for the girls who were coming in on the 11:30 hrs. extra bus. When they all arrived we had a substantial almuerzo in the hotel restaurant, a four course feast.

In the afternoon Bill and I went out the check out the famous museum at the corner of the plaza. The Padre Le Paige (Father Le Paige) museum has around 4.000 skulls, innumerable mummies, weapons and utensils in exhibition. Its history is included with the arrival of the jesuita priest, Padre Le Paige, who was deeply interested in the study of the prehistoric atacameñan culture. He began a study in the places inhabited by this culture and got collected a great number of species of an incalculable value of great beauty and history.

Located towards a corner of San Pedro de Atacama's main square. It presents a complete exposition of the evolution of the atacameñan culture in its 11,000 years of history, selected between the vast collection that reach the 450,000 archaeological objects and 100 ethnographic objects.

The personality of Father Gustavo Le Paige occupies an outstanding seat of honor in the development of Chilean archaeology and particularly, in the directed workings to reveal the roots of the northern man of our country. He founded the Regional Archaeological Museum of San Pedro de Atacama on January 6th, 1963.

Housed in a modern hexagonal complex we browsed amongst the displays of Indian relics, stone age tools, materials and human remains which had been well preserved in the arid desert soil around this region.

There were mummies of Indians buried in a sitting position with their knees drawn up to their chests. They were wrapped in woven blankets and many sported head gear which reflected their rank in life. One was buried in a huge earthenware jug.

Most people took a photograph of “Miss Chile” who sat in her glass case resplendent in her headband and luxurious black plaited hair.

Back at the Pension La Florida I had just sat down to do some writing when Bill came in with a Spanish lady who was recruiting more people to make up a trip to the Valley of the Moon. In a few moments there were too many takers.

Eventually, seven of us clambered into the Tourist Office jeep for the sunset excursion for 1,000 Chilean Pesos each. We drove along a dirt road to an area where a few weird and wonderful shapes had been left by the erosion of the salt and gypsum mountains.

According to the tour guide we begin our journey with the blessing of the Three Marys of quartz and granite that guard the entrance to the valley. Around these sculptures, the salt hidden in the sand shines like fragments of stars and the absolute silence makes us believe at times that we are transported to the natural satellite that every night accompanies our sleep.

We walked about the crusty salt flat picking up clear blocks of crystalline salt. As the shadows started to stretch, we drove to a huge sand dune. Finally, eager to contemplate the Valley of the Moon in all its majesty, we head to the Great Dune.

We are lucky because we arrive right at sunset when the salt mountain range transforms into a dance of colours, shadows and lights that moves us deeply. We clambered up, sliding in the loose cascading sand to a high point on a sandstone peak.

From here we watched the sunset in an ever-changing contrast of reds, pinks and blue skies amongst the rugged desert mountains. We snapped away merrily with our cameras until it was too dark and slithered down the great dune as the last band of red sunset faded behind the black sawblade of distant hills.

We stood around the jeep and pondered the stars, the constellation of Orion and the Southern Cross being clearly recognisable in the clear sky. Eventually we drove back to San Pedro de Atacama along a rocky trail.

Back at the town square we were given a slide show of the other local attractions, geysers and the extensive salt flats of the huge Salar de Atacama. Bill and I were keen to try the famed Chilean wine. The press in the UK had said if Chile ever get their act together the French wine trade will suffer.

We bought a bottle of red wine to wash down some llama and onion pasties in a friendly restaurant on the corner of the plaza. Returning to our lodgings we couldn’t resist the temptation to indulge in another bottle. We drank this while chatting to the Irishman who was sharing our triple room.

We got in bed for an early night, the wine making sure that we fell asleep immediately after we lay down.