Valle de la Luna
Another to be added to the list of "things I've learnt on this trip" - San Pedro de Atacama is utterly dead on a Monday morning, at least before 10am. Normally, this wouldn't bother me, as that's about when I would get up, but I had actually made an effort to be out and about a bt earlier to try and sort out getting myself on a jeep to Bolivia the following day with the company I had had recommended, Estrella del Sur. Unfortunately, as well as the quality of their tours, the other thing they appeared famous for was the fact that their office was never open when you expected or wanted it to be. After finding it closed again in the morning, I headed to the Tourist Information office, where they keep a book of comments by tourists on any of the companies in San Pedro, and after leafing through the descriptions of the companies (one had a history of occasional breakdowns and poor accommodation, another had a history of drunken drivers...), I felt reassured that my determination to go with Estrella del Sur (which, incidentally, means Southern Star) was the correct one. So I did the only thing I could think of - I set up on their office's doorstep and waited for someone to appear.
Amusingly, I wasn't the only one in this situation - there were two American girls, another couple from the States and an Anglo-Canadian couple all also waiting for the appearance of the elusive man from the company. And eventually he did appear, an hour or so after the office was supposed to open at 10, at which point we all took the oportunity to get ourselves booked, confirmed and paid for. The next challenge for the morning was to get hold of some Bolivianos, the Bolivian currency that is nigh-on impossible to find outside its native country. After being turned back by around half a dozen places loudly advertising "Cambio - Bolivianos" with the dreaded No hay (literally "there isn't any"), I finally managed to get some. After that, I booked myself onto a tour to the nearby Valle de la Luna (Moon Valley) for the afternoon, and then bought myself a new towel to replace the lost sarong that may well still be decorating the end of a bunk in Jujuy, before going and having a sandwich for lunch at the Coyote Bike cafe (anywhere that advertises itself using Wile E Coyote is good in my books...).
Having taken advantage of the surprisingly rapid internet in San Pedro (albeit at high cost) to upload a bunch of my photos to Facebook, I headed off on my Moon Valley tour. I was joined on this by the two American girls, Ness and Lauren, who were also on the Estrella jeep to Bolivia, and there was a further North American presence in the form of a Californian by the name of Brandon and a Jamaican-Canadian named Tania. Our guide for the afternoon was a very garrulous Chileño by the name of Dani, who helpfully did all his commentary in both Spanish (and at a comprehensible speed rather than the machine-gun babble for which Chile is renowned) then in English, giving those of us with some Spanish a good chance to brush up a bit without missing out on any of the info. Our trip took in a mirador (viewpoint) over the Montañes del Sal (a range of low depressions rather than mountains, with heavy salt content), followed by a trip to the Valle de la Muerte (the Valley of Death - a rather melodramatic name for a relatively pretty bi of the landscape) and then the Valle de la Luna itself.
The valley gets its name not for any astronomical reasons but because the terrain there is believed to be similar to that on the moon, though I don't know if that was ever checked with Messrs Armstrong, Aldrin et al who could have actually told them. We saw a rock formation known as the "3 Marias", although to be honest I agreed with Brandon that the 1st Maria looked more like a rabbit than anything else, and then took a quick walk over to a small old salt working and the ruins of the accommodation in which the miners stayed. Dani also informed us at this point that the Atacama, as well as being one of the driest places on the planet (no rain ever recorded in some places), has the biggest thermal differential in the world - it can go from around 40 Celsius in the heat of the day to around -15 in the middle of the night in the space of less than 24 hours. After this, we took a walk through a canyon in the valley and then, as sunset approached, joined all the other tour groups in the park by climbing up a convenient dune to catch the sunset and, more importantly, the lighting effects thereof on the Andean range in the background. It was here that I caught up with Simone, my German companion from the bus in the previous day, who was with a New Zealand lass who caused much hilarity for the rest of us and howls of indignation amongst our Yank contingent by voicing the generally-held belief that American tourists are grand exponents of the "fanny pack" (better known our side of the pond as the bum bag).
Still, we all remained on speaking terms on our return to town, where Ness, Lauren, Tania and I went to the Empanada stall in the local market - I've been to a few places with quite a wide range of the pastries before, but this one had a book of over 200 different options, which they cooked to order. I had a Pato Picante (spicy duck) and the classic Piño (beef, egg, olive and onion), both of which were very pleasant. After this, Ness and Lauren went back to finish re-packing, and I went to grab a beer with Brandon and Tania. It was over this refreshment that I found that Brandon had even more aggressive views on Islam than my old flatmate Tristan (who at least was often starting arguments just to wind me up), and the combination of this and my need to stock up on essentials (bottled water and loo roll) and grab a shower before the hot water at my hostel went off meant I said my goodbyes after just one beer. I had also been planning to pop online again for a bit, and maybe swap some books, but unfortunately I was thwarted in this by a power-cut. It seems these happen frequently enough that many of the restuarants and more upmarket accommodation places have emergency generators, but alas this does not apply to the internet centres, so I had an earlier night than I'd planned.
Amusingly, I wasn't the only one in this situation - there were two American girls, another couple from the States and an Anglo-Canadian couple all also waiting for the appearance of the elusive man from the company. And eventually he did appear, an hour or so after the office was supposed to open at 10, at which point we all took the oportunity to get ourselves booked, confirmed and paid for. The next challenge for the morning was to get hold of some Bolivianos, the Bolivian currency that is nigh-on impossible to find outside its native country. After being turned back by around half a dozen places loudly advertising "Cambio - Bolivianos" with the dreaded No hay (literally "there isn't any"), I finally managed to get some. After that, I booked myself onto a tour to the nearby Valle de la Luna (Moon Valley) for the afternoon, and then bought myself a new towel to replace the lost sarong that may well still be decorating the end of a bunk in Jujuy, before going and having a sandwich for lunch at the Coyote Bike cafe (anywhere that advertises itself using Wile E Coyote is good in my books...).
Having taken advantage of the surprisingly rapid internet in San Pedro (albeit at high cost) to upload a bunch of my photos to Facebook, I headed off on my Moon Valley tour. I was joined on this by the two American girls, Ness and Lauren, who were also on the Estrella jeep to Bolivia, and there was a further North American presence in the form of a Californian by the name of Brandon and a Jamaican-Canadian named Tania. Our guide for the afternoon was a very garrulous Chileño by the name of Dani, who helpfully did all his commentary in both Spanish (and at a comprehensible speed rather than the machine-gun babble for which Chile is renowned) then in English, giving those of us with some Spanish a good chance to brush up a bit without missing out on any of the info. Our trip took in a mirador (viewpoint) over the Montañes del Sal (a range of low depressions rather than mountains, with heavy salt content), followed by a trip to the Valle de la Muerte (the Valley of Death - a rather melodramatic name for a relatively pretty bi of the landscape) and then the Valle de la Luna itself.
The valley gets its name not for any astronomical reasons but because the terrain there is believed to be similar to that on the moon, though I don't know if that was ever checked with Messrs Armstrong, Aldrin et al who could have actually told them. We saw a rock formation known as the "3 Marias", although to be honest I agreed with Brandon that the 1st Maria looked more like a rabbit than anything else, and then took a quick walk over to a small old salt working and the ruins of the accommodation in which the miners stayed. Dani also informed us at this point that the Atacama, as well as being one of the driest places on the planet (no rain ever recorded in some places), has the biggest thermal differential in the world - it can go from around 40 Celsius in the heat of the day to around -15 in the middle of the night in the space of less than 24 hours. After this, we took a walk through a canyon in the valley and then, as sunset approached, joined all the other tour groups in the park by climbing up a convenient dune to catch the sunset and, more importantly, the lighting effects thereof on the Andean range in the background. It was here that I caught up with Simone, my German companion from the bus in the previous day, who was with a New Zealand lass who caused much hilarity for the rest of us and howls of indignation amongst our Yank contingent by voicing the generally-held belief that American tourists are grand exponents of the "fanny pack" (better known our side of the pond as the bum bag).
Still, we all remained on speaking terms on our return to town, where Ness, Lauren, Tania and I went to the Empanada stall in the local market - I've been to a few places with quite a wide range of the pastries before, but this one had a book of over 200 different options, which they cooked to order. I had a Pato Picante (spicy duck) and the classic Piño (beef, egg, olive and onion), both of which were very pleasant. After this, Ness and Lauren went back to finish re-packing, and I went to grab a beer with Brandon and Tania. It was over this refreshment that I found that Brandon had even more aggressive views on Islam than my old flatmate Tristan (who at least was often starting arguments just to wind me up), and the combination of this and my need to stock up on essentials (bottled water and loo roll) and grab a shower before the hot water at my hostel went off meant I said my goodbyes after just one beer. I had also been planning to pop online again for a bit, and maybe swap some books, but unfortunately I was thwarted in this by a power-cut. It seems these happen frequently enough that many of the restuarants and more upmarket accommodation places have emergency generators, but alas this does not apply to the internet centres, so I had an earlier night than I'd planned.
posted by Pat at 12:00 pm
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