San Pedro de Atacama, 2005, Jason

From MemoryArchive

Who: Jason Eisen
What: A trip to San Pedro
When: September 2005
Where: San Pedro de Atacama Chile

Flying in to nearby mining town Calama does not prepare one for the shock they are about to recieve. As you meander the bustling streets of Calama you can't help but thing, "I sure hope this isn't what everywhere in the North of Chile is like." It only takes about an hour to realize that this could not be further from reality. The first bus arrives and you board it towards San Pedro de Atacama, what is only about an hour bus ride transports you from a regular city in a South American desert to a place of a style that should have disappeared 300 years ago.

The bus carries you swiftly down roads planted in the middle of the the sweeping dunes and massive craters of the Atacama desert, the world's driest place. You start to think that you might be in that place you keep hearing about from everyone you tell that you are going to San Pedro, what's it called again? Valle de la Luna? Moon Valley? You later realize when you actually go to Moon Valley that the sights from the bus were as earthly as any other place but that the real moon valley, is of another world entirely. We rode bikes through a 10km dirt road to arrive in time for sunset. Waking at 4am in complete darkness and setting out by headlamp on bike through the desert is perhaps one of the most surreal feelings I have ever known. Perhaps it is only surpassed by the realization that there were so many stars in the sky that the headlamps were unnecessary even in the "supposed pitch dark" of the night.

I digress, San Pedro itself is a town that never left the 18th century. Constructed almost entirely of adobe bricks and earthen materials, no building stands more than two stories. The main attraction of the town is a 17th century church in the middle of the main plaza. Don't get the wrong idea though that the existence of a main plaza mandates the existence of a substantial city. Perhaps there are blocks on either side of the plaza. These blocks are lined with restaurants, note that the concept of "restaurant" often signifies a family who puts and extra dining table in the front room of whatever space they own and invite people to come in and get lunch as they cook it in their kitchen. Lunch is served when the family eats and the menu usually includes two options, a large portion or a small one. By the end our stay in San Pedro, 4 whole days, we had befriended what seemed to be half of the population, which as we are told is only about 900 people or so. Its disorienting to walk down a street in a town after 4 days and greet and be greeted by name every shop owner and restaurantuer.

The desert that surrounds the town is as vast as the town is small. Within it lies precious secrets that no foreigner would ever find without the assistance of a native. We contracted a local person with pickup truck to drive us to a lake we had heard about. We set out on the main road, from which we turned on to a dirt road. About 30 minutes later, at a seemingly indistinguishable point in the desert, (perhaps at most there was a funny shaped cactus) we turned right; not onto a road or even a path but just right, making our way over shrubbery and tumbleweed. A few minutes later we veered left, again without the benefit of sign or landmark. About twenty minutes later the desert opens up and a vast lagoon of pristine, clear, turquoise, and dark blue salt water appears in front of you. Over 90 feet deep the water is nearly freezing and saltier than the dead sea, that is if you are brave enough to jump in. We did so, realizing the instant the first bit of skin touched the chilled water that we had made a big mistake. The time it took to swim from our point of entry into the water back to the edge where we jumped from was plenty for us. Luckily in the middle of the desert you dry off pretty quickly, even if the salt from the lake dries onto you turning your skin white and instantly molding your swimsuit to whatever position it took as you exited the water.

I suppose what I am really trying to say is that San Pedro de Atacama is a place like no other, worth whatever price it takes to get there.