Day 20 - 25/2 - Part Two - Bones of the mountain

After lunch and a short break, we were back with Carolina for our afternoon excursion: a hike in the geologically-special Domeyko mountain range. As well as knowing history, medicinal uses of plants, and the local legends, it turns out Carolina is a huge geology enthusiast. We drove across the hot flat barren Patient Valley - so called because the miners driving bulls to work in the mines had to be patient to be able to cross it - and along tracks that had been made in the desert by dragging huge tyres the size of cars to flatten the route (the tyre itself was still lying there).

This trip was us plus a couple from Washington, Mary Beth (a lovely lady and a cautious hiker), and Steve (very quiet, very into landscape photography). Carolina did her usual excellent job of inspiring and informing - we learned about the four different mountain ranges in the area, dating from 120m years ago to c20m years ago; that the Andes is still growing a few cm a year; and she pointed out all the different types of rock: grey basalt (actual lava), a pink-red rock that was volcanic ash, a greenish-rock that was cold lava that had come out in a volcanic eruption, sedimentary ie clay. She pointed out white threads in the clay which she called the bones of the mountain, as it was calcium just like the calcium in our bones - there’s something about being so far from “civilisation” that really helps you feel a connection with the landscape, and I loved this idea that we both have bones.

And it was very beautiful. At one point we turned a corner and came upon a high curving rock face striped multi-coloured vertically with different minerals: blue, green, grey, black, pink - stunning, and such an impact discovering it out of nowhere. It was like best real-life geology lesson ever.

Carolina also made it fun for Jemima - she asked her to be the leader, then gave her clues as to how to find our path: follow the dragon scales (little spines of calcium sticking up out of the clay); or think like water finding your way downhill. Sometimes we were walking through high-walled canyons; other times over rolling ridges; but thankfully only once uphill - with the altitude (c3500m), even a short uphill stretch was hard work.

The most fun/ challenging bit of the walk was getting down three dry waterfalls in a row - sudden drops in a narrow rock passageway. It was a team effort, especially to get me and Mary Beth down (Carolina said Jemima was like a mountain lion) - but we did it! And then had a few minutes silent contemplation cradled by the rock, in the middle of absolutely nowhere, with only the wind and the thunder to listen to.

Because there was thunder. And there was lightning, crackling repeatedly on the horizon - it didn’t feel that far away… I asked Carolina, do we need to be worried?! “No, it’s moving away from us” was the response. “But if it comes closer, find an overhang, throw away your walking poles, and stand on your backpack”. Life lessons…

After a couple of hours we emerged, unscathed, from the canyon to find our van waiting for us, with some congratulatory drinks to enjoy - I’m not normally a beer-drinker, but it was very welcome. We drove back to the hotel feeling very satisfied - a physical, mental and emotional workout, and a really bonding experience. 

And knackering - I didn’t actually manage to stay at dinner long enough to eat the dessert I’d ordered - I HAD to go to bed. More adventures tomorrow!

Drop off in the middle of nowhere:

Follow the dragon spines:

Like water flowing downhill:

Bones of the mountain!:

Geology lessons:

Hard work uphill:

Face in the rock:

Mineral stripes (they looked so much more vivid in real life!):

Checking out a lightning shelter:



Waterfall climbing:

Happy to have survived!:

We didn’t get struck by lightning!:

Rainbow and evening light back at the hotel (no filter):

Day 20 - 25/2 - Part One - Hot springs and heartbreak

Breaking news: a llama is not always a llama. 

Our fantastic guide this morning, Carolina, explained there were originally two wild species of camelid in South America (ie part of the camel family): guanacos, larger animals that live from sea level up to c3500m, and vicuñas, more fragile and with really soft fur, that live at altitudes higher than that.

There’d been people on this area for 12,500 years, but 3,500 years ago the indigenous people bred llamas from guanacos to be pack animals, and alpacas from vicuñas for their fur (because they live at such high altitude vicuñas have proportionately enormous hearts, and they have heart attacks if they’re scared, ie if you try to shear them). Llamas and alpacas are only domesticated - they aren’t found in the wild. So most of the animals we’ve seen so far have not in fact been llamas…

But the arrival of the llama changed this part of the world forever: it created the Andean civilisation, because for the first time people could travel in llama caravans right from the south of Colombia to the bottom of Argentina. (San Pedro, where we are, was an important re-fuelling stop as it’s an oasis in the desert.) For this reason, once a year farmers give thanks to their llamas in a ceremony, covering them with incense, and attaching brightly coloured pom-poms to their heads. 

(You can also get interbreeding between wild and domesticated camelids but I got confused there…)

We learned this on the drive to our morning’s excursion: a hike through the Puritama Reserve, owned and managed by this hotel chain. After a bit of a scramble down through scrubby rock, we ended up in an incredibly beautiful red-cliffed canyon entirely floored with giant pampas grass, growing alongside a river that you could hear but not see. (Incidentally pampas grass arrived with the Spanish in the 16th century - it was looking very at home.) Massive blue dragonflies danced in clouds; the sun glinted off the feathery pampas fronds waving way above our heads; there was barely a cloud in the sky, and no other people around - it was wonderful.

And extra-special for me: this canyon had been part of the old llama caravan route. Carolina showed us a cave in the rocks where two mummies had been found and still lay (with only 15% humidity, everything is preserved). We went inside low rock walls built as overnight shelters, with stone rings for their fires; and she even found bits of pottery - one piece from 200AD, another c4000 years old - you could tell because the core wasn’t properly fired - they hadn’t learned good techniques yet. I held a piece of pottery that was 4000 years old! You don’t get to experience that every day.

But at the end of the walk was the main prize for the day: a series of 8 rock pools going down the mountain, fed by water heated by the nearby volcano. 

As the hotel managed the nature reserve they had exclusive access to the top pool, where the water first surfaced above ground. It was incredibly beautiful: a rough circle of slightly blue, crystal clear water, at around 35 degrees, with a gravelly bottom, encircled by shading pampas grass. Completely heavenly. 

They’d built a little concrete jetty to access this pool, reached by a red wooden walkway. More of these walkways led you to the other pools - I followed them down, and you could see the water cascading down in little waterfalls from one pool to the other - some larger, or shallower, or with a waterfall you could go beneath. It was so beautiful it was almost impossible to imagine it was natural - but there was a 300 year old mud brick house right there, used by locals when they’d come up for a bit of hot spring R&R. (Maybe the llama caravans did too.)

We floated in the warm water, slightly soft from all the volcanic minerals - Carolina told us we would all feel “recharged” as a result. And (despite a short term panic when we couldn’t find Jemima’s sunglasses or Kevin’s watch), we did.

On our drive home, Carolina asked Jemima if she’d like to hear a legend from the local area. She pointed out one of the many volcanoes in the area, and said once upon a time, he was the king of the volcanoes. He had a beautiful daughter volcano - the only female one (I can’t remember her name sadly). She and Licancabur, the volcano sacred to the people from San Pedro where we were (the classically triangular one that dominates every view), fell in love. 

But the king didn’t want her to marry Licancabur, so he organised a contest between the volcanoes to find her husband. Licancabur had a twin who also loved her, and they fought long and hard, until Licancabur managed to knock off his head. (The volcano next to Licancabur is weirdly flat-topped, and there is a rock in Bolivia, which borders very near here, which is known as the twin’s head.)

The king was so angry at this that, rather than allow her to marry Licancabur, he exiled his daughter - she now sits far away from the other volcanoes, on her own. But once a year, on the morning of the winter solstice - which is celebrated locally by people climbing the volcanoes to make offerings - the shadow of Licancabur falls over her, so they can be together for that day.

Each half day here is about a day of normal life, so I’m going to pause here! (I also have to get ready for our next excursion!) Our afternoon adventures will follow next…

Dawn from our room:

Heading into the canyon:







Finding out about llama caravans:



The holes in the rocks where the Incan mummies still are:





Inside a llama caravan shelter:





4000 year old pot!:



Carolina with more bits of pot on the stone shelf:



Heading down to the pampas grass-lined river:









Hot springs!:







Beautiful water:

300 year old cottage:

Our pool and decking area from a distance (you can just see Jemima’s white cap through the pampas):



Exploring the other pools:

Final view of our pool with the walkway and mountain behind:

Day 19 - 24/2 - Salt Mountains and salt flats

The sun was just rising over the distant snow-capped volcanoes when we staggered to breakfast, ready for our first excursion into the Atacama Desert - the driest place in the world. 

We’d had very strict instructions on what to bring: this area also has the highest UV Index in the world (today was 15, literally the top of the scale), so hats and sunglasses were obligatory. We’d each been given a named water bottle in our rooms to fill up at the meeting point, where they also provided special extra strong suncream.

It was just us three with a guide, Palu, a Chilean lady who now lives in San Pedro, and Adrian our driver (presumably not spelled like that?), who was one of the indigenous people from the area. Our destination was the Salt Mountains, which we reached driving on rough tracks across a barren wasteland. 

When the car stopped Palu led us through a pass in the mountains. What she called “precipitate” was lying on the ground like snow - because of the salt and gypsum in the mountains, this happens whenever it rains. 

The rocks sparkled in the sun - Jemima picked up flakes of gypsum which were completely translucent, which you could scratch with your fingernail. The salt, in contrast, was much harder. We licked our fingers and touched them on the salt patches exposed in the rock - yes, they were really salty! 

At one point Palu threw a handful of sand at a rock face with lots of exposed salt patches, and it made a pretty tinkling sound. In another place we stood in front of a rock face that had previously been mined for salt, and you could literally hear the rock making cracking noises as it warmed up in the morning sun - like it was alive. But between those, there was complete silence - something I’ve never experienced. Not a distant car, not a bird, no wind in trees - nothing. This place was so hostile nothing grew, and nothing lived there.

She showed us an abandoned bus that had been used as a shelter by the salt mine workers, now turned into a slightly bemusing tourist attraction, and then led us up a hill to a mirador, or viewpoint. It was like an alien landscape - a row of giant red rocks in weird curving shapes like worn down teeth jutted up to our right. To the left, a huge sand dune (used in The Mandalorian apparently). In between, the barren plain. And all around, you can always see the distant volcanoes - apparently today we were probably seeing 150km because it was quite hazy. On a good day you can see 450km - that’s further than Norwich to Cardiff. Mind boggling.

After lunch at the hotel, Jemima and I ambled down to enjoy the pool until our next excursion left at 5pm. The hotel is lovely, but slightly odd, with a very confusing layout - corridors and walkways everywhere. The pool area was at the end of a series of wooden pathways, part over a wild flower field: four pools in a row, only one of which was heated (guess which one we chose). It was glorious but we didn’t stay in for too long - I was paranoid about that UV.

We met some enthusiastic young Americans (from Nashville) down there.  After a brief chat, Jemima told me that if I was American, with my levels of enthusiasm, I’d sound psychotic…

Then it was time to take my enthusiasm on the second excursion. There were 7 of us this time, with Freddy as our guide - another hugely knowledgeable Chilean who also spoke perfect English (and French, and Portuguese, it turned out). 

We drove through a completely different landscape: flat, and much more green with scrubby plants, and even in some places, trees. The desert is punctuated with literal oases where rivers flow - often underground, but occasionally coming into the open. We drove through a little village based around one of these points: in the middle of all this bare scrub, there were fruit trees and crops, plus people swimming in the river. Such a contrast. “Water is life”, the guides keep saying.

Our destination was Laguna Chaxa, part of third biggest salt flat in South America (Jemima and Kevin had been to the second, in Las Salinas Grandes). This was very different - rather than the flat whiteness they’d seen, the salt was grey, about a foot thick and wind-carved into shapes that looked like coral (it was extremely windy there, with that hot hair-dryer wind). It still tasted like salt though! And it surrounded the edges of a lagoon filled with krill, which was being feasted on with determined concentration by flamingoes - I literally saw only one raise its head the whole time we were there.

We spent a while admiring the views, watching the flamingoes and other little wading birds, and spotting tiny lizards that were scurrying about at the edge of the water. We were hoping to see the flamingoes fly together - apparently they can fly 300 miles a day, which surprised me - but only one obliged. It was a weirdly wonderful place. Then, as the sun started to set, we got our van back to the hotel.

The idea of the day, when we planned it, was to give us an experience of the contrasting landscapes in this area - and it certainly did that. More tomorrow…

Salt Mountains - gypsum:

Erosion!:



Salt sparkles in the rocks:





Salt! (We licked it, it was very salty…):



“Precipitate” all over the ground:









The random bus:





The creaking rocks:







View from the mirador (that first one is the Mandalorian sand dune):

Lunchtime (Peruvian chocolate 3 ways):

Pool time:





Kids swimming in the river at the next oasis (on the way to the salt flats):



Salt flats:

Krill (food for the flamingoes - what turns them pink):

Flamingoes!:







Head up!:







Flying:





Sunset on the way home: