The driest place on earth

Chile | Anno 2015

 

Wednesday, July 22 | Bolivian border – San Pedro de Atacama

Thursday, July 23 | San Pedro de Atacama

Friday, July 24 | San Pedro de Atacama – Calama

 

 

Wednesday, July 22 | Bolivian border – San Pedro de Atacama

A rickety barrier across the gravel road blocks our way. Next to it is a guardhouse and a few container offices. Together, they embody the solitary Bolivian border post. You can't expect more in this barren, desolate landscape at 4 350 meters above sea level. The Chileans haven't even bothered to set up a border post at this altitude. They're waiting for us further down, more than forty kilometres away and nearly two thousand meters lower.

Driver Marcos is waiting for us on the Chilean side of the border with a Mercedes Benz Sprinter van. Our luggage is transferred from the Bolivian jeeps to the Chilean van. We say goodbye to drivers Alfredo and José. In a cloud of dust, the jeeps disappear on the eastern horizon.

As insignificant as the border post may seem, the border formalities are taken very seriously here. Half an hour later, they're completed. With an exit stamp in our passports, we leave Bolivia behind and set our watches forward by one hour. The time difference with Belgium is now back to five hours, the same as in Argentina.

Even Nicolas becomes lyrical when he describes the perfect shape of the Licancábur

Licancábur (left) and Juriques (right)

To our right, the Juriques and Licancábur volcanoes stand out beautifully against the blue sky. Four kilometres further, the gravel road merges onto an asphalt road. Two road signs succinctly lay out our fundamental choice – Argentina to the left, Chile to the right.

Ahead of us lies a descent of more than two thousand meters. Unlike the dizzying death roads of Peru or Ecuador, where the road winds along a mountain flank from one hairpin turn to the next, this is a broad, comfortable asphalt road that leads straight down the barren, rolling slope, without a single significant curve.

Suddenly, a magnificent view of the Atacama salt flat unfolds before us. There too, the region is bursting with raw materials – copper, lithium, borax, and of course salt. In the distance, the Cordillera Domeyko rises, with Quimal as its highest peak. At 3 710 meters, it's relatively modest, but as Marcos explains, it’s a sacred mountain because so many rivers originate from its slopes. Water is a precious commodity in this area, which is considered the driest in the world – at least outside the polar regions, as the Dry Valleys in Antarctica are even drier. As a result, all settlements here have developed around oases.

The barren slope to our right may seem innocuous, but it's not. It's a literal minefield, a lingering remnant of the Guerra del Pacífico. Between 1879 and 1884, Chile wrested this coastal strip from Peru and Bolivia. This was formalized in a 1904 peace treaty, in which Bolivia not only lost a region rich in valuable resources but also its only access to the sea. Nowadays, Bolivia’s 5 000-strong navy guards Lake Titicaca, in the hope that Bolivia will one day regain access to the sea. The Chileans maintain these mines to prevent any potential invasion – because with the resentful Bolivians, you never know, Marcos adds.

No dizzying death road like in Peru or Ecuador

At exactly two o'clock, we arrive at the Chilean border post. We get our passports stamped and have our luggage scanned – Chilean law prohibits bringing in fruits and vegetables. The thermometer now reads 23 °C (73 °F), so two layers of clothing are more than sufficient.

Just twenty minutes later, we drive into San Pedro de Atacama, an oasis in the desert, 2 433 meters above sea level. Checking into the hotel proves to be quite the hassle, but after half an hour, we finally make it to our rooms and immediately turn off the heating.

 

San Pedro de Atacama

In the streets, there is the typical bustle of a provincial town that has quickly grown into the main tourist hub of the surrounding area. Tourists stroll along the paved streets between the whitewashed houses. Souvenir shops are plentiful.

 

San Pedro de Atacama…

…with the Licancábur and the Juriques in the distance

Our first concern is exchanging money. Bolivianos are swapped for pesos. At the exchange offices on Toconao, we get 700 Chilean pesos for 1 euro.

The sun-soaked Plaza is also bustling under the rose pepper trees. Children play with hoops and balls, old folks sit on benches, a dog lies stretched out in the sun.

 

San Pedro de Atacama – Plaza

In and around the adjacent Iglesia de San Pedro, craftsmen are busy with the church's restoration. The plastered facades are being finished, decorations are meticulously carved in wood, the cobblestones around the church are carefully relaid.

 

Restoration of the Iglesia de San Pedro

Wood carvings

Eva is a professor of social sciences. Between her restoration work, she leads tourists around, earning some money for the project.

This is one of the largest churches in the Chilean Andes, she explains. It dates back to 1744 and was declared a historic monument in 1951. Before that, there was another church here, built by the Spaniards on the remnants of an animistic altar. The first mass was held around 1570 by a priest who had mastered the language of the indigenous Kunza.

Experience shows that such a structure is earthquake-resistant – in this region no unnecessary luxury

The walls of the church are at least a meter thick. They are built with adobe bricks, made from soil that was first worked on the field, then mixed with horse manure and straw, and finally diluted with water. Once in place, the adobe bricks are coated with plaster. Experience shows that such a structure is earthquake-resistant, says Eva. In this region, that is no unnecessary luxury.

The church door is made of algarrobo wood, a hard and durable species well-suited to dry areas. The door is not attached to the door frame with hinges but rotates rather primitively on a conical protrusion.

 

Iglesia de San Pedro

We enter the spacious interior of the church. Half a dozen life-sized wooden statues adorn the altarpiece. Restorers are diligently working with wood chisels and paintbrushes.

 

Restoration in progress

Roof of cardón cactus, algarrobo wood and llama leather

The roof is still built according to centuries-old tradition. Planks from the cardón cactus rest on a framework of algarrobo wood, tied together with strips of llama leather. Unfortunately, the original stone floor is hidden beneath a recent wooden floor for unclear reasons.

In a side chapel, a baptismal font made of stone and tin stands prominently. At the back of the church, a large clock from 1600 stands unused. The wooden church organ was tested for the first time a month ago. With success, we may assume.

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Thursday, July 23 | San Pedro de Atacama

After all the beauty we saw in Argentina and Bolivia over the past few days, we expect our brief stay in Chile to be nothing more than a weak dessert after two fantastic main courses. But that would be underestimating Nicolas, an Argentinian who has been living in Chile for six and a half years and whose infectious enthusiasm raises our expectations to new heights.

Eagerly, we board the Hyundai van driven by Patricio. The skyline that unfolds against the eastern horizon during the ride is impressive. We marvel at the parade of volcanoes on the edge of the puna, almost two kilometres above our heads – somewhat like toddlers gazing up from the floor in delight at Nutella jars on the edge of the kitchen table.

Even Nicolas becomes lyrical when he describes the perfect shape of the Licancábur. He calls it an iconic school book volcano. Within the volcano, there is a crater lake, with a diameter of about 80 meters. For almost the entire year, it is covered with a layer of ice.

There is quite a difference of opinion here on how to define an international border. Between Chile and Argentina, the border is defined by the watershed. Mountain slopes that drain toward the Pacific Ocean belong to Chile. Mountain slopes that drain toward the Atlantic Ocean are part of Argentina. However, between Chile and Bolivia, the border is determined by the imaginary line connecting the highest peaks. You can see this, for example, at the Juriques, where the border neatly follows the eastern edge of the crater.

The paved Ruta 23-CH takes us south, away from San Pedro, the city that owes its existence to the presence of trees such as the carob, the chañar, and the rose pepper tree. Soon enough, these disappear, and we are once again left to a desolate desert landscape. Still, there must be enough underground water to allow some sparse vegetation to survive – provided it has adapted to the high salt concentration of that water.

San Pedro had only a thousand inhabitants in 1990, Nicolas continues. In 2000, that number had doubled to 2 000, and now it is already 8 000. However, agriculture here is a thing of the past. Almost everyone works in the service sector – specifically in tourism – because it is much more profitable. So, all food has to be brought in from elsewhere. To the extent that any farming is still practiced, it is purely for personal use.

All food has to be brought in from elsewhere

High on the slope, Nicolas points out a faint white spot. Those buildings are part of the highly advanced observatories that the European Space Organization has been developing in Chile since the 1950s. For astronomers, this region is a godsend. It has everything to do with the bone-dry atmosphere, the crystal-clear air, and the absence of light pollution – three factors that make razor-sharp observations possible.

What we see on the slope isn't even the actual observatory. The Atacama Large Millimeter/submillimeter Array or ALMA is located deeper in the mountains. Specifically, on the Chajnantor Plateau, 5 100 meters above sea level. It’s a colossal structure, with no fewer than 66 dish antennas ranging from 7 to 12 meters in diameter. These operate together as one telescope, allowing for measurements of unprecedented precision.

The buildings we can observe on the slope are only 2 900 meters high. They serve as the centre for administration and data processing. The ALMA antennas were extensively tested here before being permanently installed. After all, one is not allowed to make heavy efforts on the plateau.

Suddenly, we find ourselves among trees again. It’s a plantation of tamarugo trees from the 1960s. Nicolas doesn't think much of it – no one knows what the intention was, he sneers. Yet the tamarugo is a very peculiar tree. It only grows in the north of Chile. In an area where almost no rain falls, it manages to survive by drawing saltwater from the ground with its deep roots. No other tree can do that.

Rain is indeed extremely rare here. If 15 mm of rain falls in a year, that is considered a wet year. For comparison – Belgium receives an average of 800 mm of rain per year.

Ten-year-old children had never seen rain before

For nine years, from 2001 to 2010, not a single drop of water fell from the sky. It wasn’t until February 2011 that it rained again. When that happens, they call it a Bolivian summer. Ten-year-old children had never seen rain before.

When rain does fall, it doesn’t come from the nearby Pacific Ocean, but from the distant Atlantic Ocean, all the way on the other side of the continent. The precipitation falls in the form of snow on the eastern side of the mountains and flows down to this plain via rivers, but also underground.

That water contains an enormous amount of minerals, Nicolas warns us. If you were to drink it, you would definitely get diarrhoea. So, let the minerals settle first, then skim off the upper layers, and boil the water before consuming it.

As rare as they are, these rains must be watched carefully. It’s not the abundance of water that’s the problem, but the debris carried by the water – mud, stones, and boulders. A mudflow like that can cause quite a bit of damage. Still, people aren't entirely blameless. Without knowing the local situation, newcomers from the city build houses here and there, with all the consequences that entails.

Thirty explosions in the last thirty years. It’s no coincidence that its name means Tongue of Fire

A small plume of smoke hovers above the Láscar. It’s not harmless. The 5 592-meter-high volcano is the most active in northern Chile – 30 explosions in the last 30 years. It’s no coincidence that its name means Tongue of Fire. The most recent eruption was in 2006. In April 1993, the ash from the explosion even drifted as far as Buenos Aires and the coasts of Brazil.

Despite the bone-dry climate, villages have sprung up on the edge of a few oases. Toconao is one such example, one of the oldest villages in the region. Many houses here were built with liparita, a volcanic pumice stone from a nearby quarry. Hence the name – Toconao means Place of Stones.

 

Toconao – Traditional house made of liparita stone

Nicolas leads us to some traditional houses, though they are largely in ruins. The walls, made of grey liparita stone, support a wooden framework topped with a roof of clay and grass. The liparita provides good insulation in both winter and summer. Additionally, the floor is about half a meter lower than the ground level, so the house doesn't catch too much wind.

 

Toconao – Irrigation channel

San Pedro de Atacama is situated in a relatively flat area. So it should come as no surprise that the Río San Pedro has sometimes changed its course after an earthquake. In such case the town had to follow the river to its new location. In Toconao, however, this never happened. The village of 800 inhabitants is located on a hillside. The Río Jere is trapped in a deep ravine that runs through the town and has never been able to relocate.

Archaeological research has shown that people were already present in this area around 8000 BCE. The Spaniards appeared on the scene in the 16th century. By the 18th century, they had turned it into a Spanish town.

 

Irrigation sluice

Pomegranate

In terms of lifestyle, Toconao and San Pedro differ significantly today. Real agriculture is still practiced here, Nicolas explains. He guides us to a small irrigation canal embedded in the stone footpath. The water is drawn from the Río Jere. Through a clever system of manually operated valves, the water is alternately directed to all adjacent plots. There we see, among other things, pomegranates and pomelos hanging in the trees.

However, the water supply is sometimes threatened by mining activities. Copper, lithium, iodine, borax, and salt are extracted in this region. This is of great economic importance to Chile, but processing these resources consumes a lot of water.

In the jungle, plants don’t hesitate to develop gigantic leaves. In a bone-dry environment like this, that's unthinkable because the plant would lose too much moisture through evaporation. Nicolas shows us the tiny leaves of the chañar tree. They are minuscule. In winter, the tree sheds these leaves, and in summer, it can even drop them if it gets too dry. The small, orange-red fruits of the chañar are used both in culinary and medicinal applications, particularly as sticky syrups for coughs. The fruits of the carob tree, on the other hand, are used to make animal feed and liqueurs.

While we might consider this as weeds, Nicolas is justifiably proud of it

In the square in front of the San Lucas Church, a palm tree surprisingly grows amidst rose pepper trees. Blades of grass have taken over the flowerbeds. While we might consider this as weeds, Nicolas is justifiably proud of it. Just imagine – grass and a palm tree in this bone-dry environment.

 

Toconao – San Lucas church

The bell tower is also located in the park, just a stone's throw from the church. For Nicolas, the separation between these two buildings symbolizes the syncretism that defines the spiritual life here. The church embodies Catholicism, while the tower represents local tradition. However, the two are inseparable.

Europeans are associated with donkeys here

This blend is also evident in the way religious festivals, such as the feast of San Lucas in October, are celebrated. In the morning, everyone attends mass in the church, and then a procession begins. At the front of the procession, the images of Catholic saints are carried, followed by a parade of folk culture with local music and traditional clothing. Afterwards, everyone returns to the church.

 

Door…

…and spiral staircase in cactus wood

To the left of the church door, a donkey is depicted on a small panel, and to the right, a llama. Together, they symbolize the mixed European and South American origins of the local population. So Europeans are associated with donkeys here. The door itself is made of cactus wood. The vertical slats are bound together with leather straps. Only churches are allowed to be equipped with such cactus wood, as these cacti grow only one to three centimetres per year. Cutting down a cactus is therefore legally prohibited.

We continue our journey southward across a barren, slightly sloping plain of brown earth with only a few stones. The unpaved road is of reasonable quality because it is also used by the mine and is therefore well-maintained.

It looks like a giant crumb cake

Laguna Chaxa with Láscar (right) and Aguas Calientes (far right)

This ends as soon as we take the turnoff to Laguna Chaxa. The landscape also changes now. As we descend toward the centre of the salt flat, the smooth, brown surface gradually transforms into a crumbly crust covered with a grey-white salt layer – it looks like a giant crumb cake.

Just before eleven, we stop in the Atacama salt flat, which covers only four percent of the Atacama Desert. Only its centre is comparable to the Uyuni salt flat; otherwise, you have to make do with this crumb cake. On the far side of the salt flat, lithium is extracted – 24 hours a day, as Chile accounts for no less than 40 % of the world's lithium production. Lithium carbonate is produced here, as well as potassium chloride, potassium sulphate, and boric acid.

Nicolas is eager to explain where all that salt comes from. In fact, this salt flat is located in a long basin between the Andes in the east and the Cordillera de Domeyko in the west. Both ranges exhibit volcanic activity, but only in the Andes does this still lead to eruptions.

The basin's bottom consists of impermeable volcanic material. Water flowing down from the Andes, mostly underground, gets trapped between the two ranges. Along the way, this water picks up salts and minerals from the slopes. Once in the basin, these sink to the bottom, where they have formed a layer up to 1 450 meters thick in some places over the centuries.

In this extremely dry environment, the brine evaporates, leaving behind the salt and minerals, leading to the crumb cake we see around us. This is nothing more than sodium chloride, crystallized in the form of halite or rock salt – essentially common table salt, but with a different crystal structure and an unappealing colour. The reason this rock salt isn't pure white is due to the wind constantly blowing sand over the surface, while there's no rainwater to wash away impurities.

Brine water continues to rise through fine tubes and cracks from the underground to the surface – capillarity, you know. The evaporation process continues there, so salt is constantly being deposited on the surface. Nicolas picks up a piece of contaminated rock salt that has a pristine white spot. This pure white deposit he calls a very recent evaporita of salt, upon which the contamination has not yet taken hold.

Essentially it is common table salt, but with a different crystal structure and an unappealing colour

Puna plover

Recent evaporita

In the centre of this salt flat, there are indeed pure, smooth surfaces like those we have come to know in Uyuni, complete with the typical hexagons of crystallized salt.

Alabalti! Welcome! This is how we are greeted in the language of the indigenous Kunza at the start of a 400-meter walking loop through the crumble cake landscape. Just to taste the flavour, we take a sip of the salty water from a narrow crevice.

Scattered across the crumble plain are several salt lagoons, where Andean and Chilean flamingos can be found. James's flamingos are absent. There is no systematic seasonal migration, according to Nicolas, but flamingos from here are occasionally spotted in Florida.

Barely visible in the Artemia pond are the tiny, pale white brine shrimp. This is the flamingos' favourite food, which gives them their pink colour. The birds' droppings are full of diatoms or silica algae, a type of microalgae. These, in turn, form the food for the shrimp. It is a symbiosis of two species in a delicate balance.

What makes these brine shrimp special is that they have developed a strategy to survive long periods of drought. As soon as the lagoon starts to dry up, they lay eggs – also called cysts – with a hard outer layer that can withstand extreme conditions. This way, they can remain in a sort of hibernation for decades until the conditions are favourable for hatching.

This way, they can remain in a sort of hibernation for decades until the conditions are favourable for hatching

Flamingos do not just visit the lagoons to feast. Forming a pair, even temporarily, is also high on their agenda. Males flaunt their beautiful pink colours, and females choose a partner based on colour and, therefore, health.

 

Flamingo

Andean avocet

If the courtship leads to a successful outcome, the result is exactly one egg, which both partners take turns incubating for 27 days, each for twelve hours at a time. All chicks in the lagoon are born within the same week. They are then placed under the care of older siblings, allowing the parents to go foraging. Once the chick is self-sufficient, the parents separate.

 

Andean avocet, Láscar (middle) and Aguas Calientes (right)

Flamingos soar high above our heads through the sky, their red-black wings sharply outlined against the purple silhouettes of distant volcanoes. Closer by, an Andean avocet with its characteristic long, upward-curved beak forages in the water. Shallow, alkaline lagoons like this are its favourite spot. Just a few meters from our feet, a puna plover fearlessly walks along the waterline, picking up its meal.

 

The eternal bond of love between the female Quimal and the male Licancábur is consummated each year during the winter solstice

In the mirror-like water of the large lagoon, the majestic silhouette of the Quimal is reflected. The Kunza people have long known that there is an eternal bond of love between the female Quimal and the male Licancábur. They also knew that this love is consummated each year during the winter solstice. At that time, the shadows of their peaks meet, allowing them to fertilize the earth.

 

Donkeys, Licancábur (left) and Juriques (middle)

It’s around 12:30 p.m. when we leave this strange but enchanting place behind and head back to San Pedro de Atacama for lunch on the covered patio of the Solinti restaurant.

In the early evening, we have the fascinating landscapes west of the city on the agenda, culminating in a sunset over the mountains. Patricio drives us westward along the comfortable Ruta 23 through the Cordillera de la Sal – the Salt Mountains – before suddenly turning right. The heavily loaded van struggles over rocky terrain, clearly unsuitable for such a two-wheel-drive vehicle.

 

Valle de la Muerte

But the effort is worth it. Ten minutes later, we are gazing down at the stunning Valle de la Muerte, the Valley of Death. A patchwork of jagged ridges and cones in red-brown and ochre lies at our feet, the result of centuries of natural forces in the form of temperature fluctuations, wind, and earthquakes. Untouched sand dunes further highlight the bizarre texture of the eroded rocks. In the vertical walls of the ravine, several geological layers of volcanic dust are sharply outlined.

A dirt road runs through the valley, next to what appears to be a riverbed. Rain is rare here, but when it does occur, an innocent stream can turn into a catastrophic mix of water, stones, and earth.

When it rains here, an innocent stream can turn into a catastrophic mix of water, stones, and earth

Several theories circulate about the origin of this valley’s strange name. One suggests that in the 1950s, a Belgian priest compared this landscape to the planet Mars. However, his reference to Marte (Mars) might have been misunderstood as Muerte (Death). Another theory is that human bones were found during the construction of the road through the valley.

 

Valle de la Luna

From Mars to the moon is just a small step in this region. Fifteen minutes later, we find ourselves at the Mirador Piedra del Coyote, overlooking the Valle de la Luna, or Valley of the Moon. The origin of this name is clear and somewhat more prosaic. Until 1994, salt was mined here, and the place was aptly called Salinas. The copper factories were the primary consumers of the salt. When they no longer needed it, the salt market collapsed, and the area was abandoned.

This changed when it became apparent that passing visitors showed more than a usual interest in the bizarre structures. The site was then developed under the name Valle de la Luna, and a tourist attraction was born.

From our vantage point, we look down on reddish-brown eroded structures that seem to stretch to the horizon. However, there is a notable difference from the Valle de la Muerte. Some structures appear to be covered with a grey-white frost-like layer. This is evaporita, according to Nicolas, the result of the rains in February 2011. If we had come here before 2011, this landscape would have been uniformly brown. The rainwater has since evaporated, leaving the salt behind. This salt is so fragile that it disappears when you step on it, which is why walking on it is legally prohibited.

It is therefore even legally forbidden to step on the salt

Valle de la Luna

In both the eastern and western directions, Nicolas can point out a snow-capped peak approximately 150 kilometres away. Such visibility is unheard of in our region – you could easily see the Big Ben in London from Calais if we had this kind of visibility. No wonder they continuously install telescopes in these arid heights.

You could easily see the Big Ben in London from Calais if we had this kind of visibility

Las Tres Marias

Cars, cyclists, and even walkers venture into the Valle de la Luna. We also drive into the park to explore the valley from within. Three heavily eroded structures on a natural stage draw special attention from visitors. Las Tres Marías, they are called. It takes a lot of imagination to see human figures in the man-sized columns, but a creative priest must have once found the name fitting.

 

Valle de la Luna

It is quite busy here, but Nicolas has a destination in mind where no one will disturb us. At half-past five, we stop at an abandoned mining site. A miners' cabin serves as a reminder of a not-so-distant past. The roof has long since disappeared, as have the doors. The walls are made of volcanic stones, the window has bars but no glass. The walls and the surrounding rocks are largely covered with grey-white evaporita.

 

Miners' cabin of volcanic stones covered with evaporita

Nicolas leads us along a narrow path to the actual salt mine where the salt was extracted. Dynamite was used to expose the underground salt layers. This is quite an expensive process, so it’s no surprise that it quickly became unprofitable. We peer down into the deep, cylindrical pit where the holes for the dynamite are still visible. There’s even a ladder ready, should we feel the urge to get to work. It is so quiet here that we can hear the salt layers crack as they shrink or expand under the influence of temperature fluctuations.

It is so quiet here that we can hear the salt layers crack as they shrink or expand

Rock wall with salt layers

Mine shaft

Valle de la Luna

Valle de la Luna

 

The sunset is approaching. Just after six, we begin the climb to the top of a ridge. Almost all the tourists in the area seem to have the same intention. There are hundreds of them, all lining up along the same narrow ridge.

However, Nicolas has a surprise for us. While nearly everyone gathers on the right ridge, where the western horizon is clearly visible, he leads us further up to the left. For this sunset, it’s not about the west, he explains. There, you’ll see little more than a sun disk disappearing abruptly behind a mountain range. It’s the east where the real light show takes place. And you can only see it from this height, over the surrounding mountains.

And he’s right. On the eastern horizon, the snow-capped peaks of Láscar, Aguas Calientes, and many other mountains stand out against the pale blue sky. A fascinating spectacle unfolds on the jagged slopes leading down to the valley. Continuously, new shades of colour emerge in the dimming evening glow, ranging from brown to coral red, from vermilion to purple. Dark shadows glide over the ridges and crevices, stretching and then disappearing again.

 

Waiting for sunset

Just before seven, the sun has disappeared behind our backs. But the rosy enchantment still holds us in its grip for a long time. A ranger approaches to gently urge us off the ridge.

 

Láscar (left) and Aguas Calientes (right) in the evening glow

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Friday, July 24 | San Pedro de Atacama – Calama

The geysers of El Tatio are at their best before sunrise. We, however, are not, but that’s beside the point for now. So, at exactly 5:45 a.m., we swing our legs out of bed.

Patricio heads his van north along the unlit B-245. It is a climb of almost two thousand meters, as the geyser field is located 4 320 m above sea level. The ride will last exactly 80 kilometres and will take us through an area that is virtually uninhabited.

With more than eighty active geysers, El Tatio is the third-largest geyser field in the world, according to Nicolas, following Yellowstone in the United States and Kamchatka in far Siberia. In fact, he adds, it is the largest in the Southern Hemisphere. This geyser field has been active for twelve thousand years and currently hosts ten percent of all geysers worldwide.

A breakdown is not exactly what you want to experience on this road, in total darkness, far from civilization. Yet that’s exactly what a Chilean is facing with his car. The diagnosis is a lack of water, but Patricio quickly comes to his aid and resolves that issue. Not even fifteen minutes later we encounter another vehicle in trouble – this time a minivan. We appear to be the Chilean roadside assistance.

In the east, it begins to glow cautiously. Just before eight, the first white plumes emerge in the half-darkness – El Tatio. Several tourist minibuses are already present; we are far from the first arrivals.

Minus eleven, Nicolas announces with a wide grin as we step out. Given the humid atmosphere, the perceived temperature is likely even lower than –11 °C (12 °F). There are patches of ice on the ground here and there. Our six layers of clothing come in handy.

Old man who cries translates to tata-iu in the Kunza language. El Tatio is a Spanish corruption of that name. These are true geysers, as what we saw the day before in Sol de Mañana in Bolivia were nothing more than mud pots, Nicolas sneers. The name geyser comes from the Icelandic Geysir, the mother of all geysers.

Minus eleven, Nicolas announces with a wide grin as we step out

El Tatio geyser field

There are over five hundred geothermal phenomena here, in a dozen different types, Nicolas explains as we stand shivering at the edge of the 10 km² area (26 square miles). However, he doesn’t want to make it too complicated for us and focuses on the textbook example of a geyser.

Deep underground, there are closed magma chambers with temperatures of around 1 000 °C (1 832 °F). These transfer their heat to the rock layers above. Cold water seeps down from the earth's surface, comes into contact with these rocks, and is heated. This forms a layer of water at the bottom of the geyser chamber that becomes increasingly hot. However, the water layers above do not heat up because convection in the narrow channels is not possible.

The bottom water layer gets hotter – even above the boiling point – because it cannot escape. The cold top layer keeps the hot water in check, much like a lid on a pressure cooker. This cannot continue indefinitely. Eventually, the hot water breaks through, resulting in a jet of boiling water at the surface. The process can then begin anew.

 

That is why we are shivering in the morning chill

This activity continues all day, but it is only spectacular in the morning. The colder the water, the longer it takes for the hot water to break through; the greater the pressure, the more vigorous the eruption. That is why we are shivering in the morning chill. During the day, the temperature difference is too small to build up significant pressure.

Gradually, we climb higher over the geyser field. The water temperature here can rise up to 86 °C (187 °F), warns Nicolas – the boiling point of water at this altitude. So we must be careful; we should never stray from the paths. Medical help is not readily available if you fall into the boiling water. The nearest hospital is three to four hours away in Calama.

 

Andean gulls at the geysers

White steam clouds billow above the bubbling surface of the hot water pools, reaching heights of ten, fifteen, or sometimes more than twenty meters. Here and there, Andean gulls scavenge for food.

In the middle of some pools, a pockmarked rock has developed. Very old geysers have built up a real tower over time, while young geysers still have to make do with just a few layers in which the minerals are deposited. It’s a mix of minerals, Nicolas remarks, not just sulphur like in Sol de Mañana. He can’t help but tease the Bolivians.

Patricio drives us to the second group of geysers, a few hundred meters further. A drone zips high above our heads. It’s undoubtedly wealthy Brazilians at the controls, Nicolas guesses, wanting to capture the geothermal site in a spectacular way.

In this region, attempts were made in the 1970s to produce geothermal energy. Without much success, as the process was too expensive. Recent initiatives have been more successful, resulting in a decline in ordinary thermal activity. Since this site is one of Chile's most important tourist destinations, that was not immediately met with applause. Since then, it has been legally prohibited to produce geothermal energy in this area.

 

Geyser eruption in progress

Thermophiles at work

Nicolas guides us to a pedagogical geyser, one so small that we can follow the cycle of its activity step by step. First, we see cold water bubbling up, pushed upward by the hot water in the underground geyser chamber. Then, steam bubbles begin to rise through the cold water – the pressure from the hot water gradually takes over. Suddenly, boiling water erupts with a loud roar into the air.

 

Andean gull (f)

Here, it’s not minerals generating the colours as in the Argentine quebradas; rather, it’s extremophiles responsible for it. These are organisms that thrive in extreme conditions. In this case, we’re talking about thermophiles, bacteria that thrive at temperatures between 84 °C and 103 °C, Nicolas explains (183 °F to 216 °F). If hot water is unavailable, they enter a sort of hibernation until conditions become suitable again. Thermophiles are likely among the oldest life forms on Earth.

Medical help is not readily available if you fall into the boiling water

Watch where you step

Gradually, the sun appears over the mountain ridge. Our hope that the temperature here will become bearable begins to take shape. But a second reason becomes clear as to why the geysers are so spectacular at this early hour. The rays of the rising sun skim low over the slope, illuminating the white steam clouds in an eerie light. It seems as if the Apocalypse is unfolding before our eyes. Human figures navigate like dark silhouettes among the steaming mists and bubbling pools.

 

It seems as if the Apocalypse is unfolding before our eyes

 

As enchanting as it is, this nature remains unpredictable and merciless. New geysers frequently appear, even on the paths. Nicolas recalls that the gravel road for cars had to be rerouted because geysers emerged. A geyser that hadn’t erupted in years suddenly reappeared through a different channel. Creating safe paths becomes a difficult task under such conditions. It’s undeniable that not all visitors are aware of this fact. Occasionally, an unwary individual ventures into the unsafe zone of a pool.

Our surprise is great when we arrive at the parking lot to find Patricio and Nicolas preparing a warm breakfast for us. On a grill equipped with a gas canister, they are toasting bread and cooking scrambled eggs. They’ve even placed cartons of milk and chocolate milk in a geyser to warm up. Toppings and cake complete the food supply.

Bringing raw eggs on this journey was unthinkable just a few years ago, Nicolas chuckles. The road was so bad back then that no egg would have survived the trip.

It’s a feast, especially at this freezing temperature. The Andean gulls seem to think so too. A little further away, they gather expectantly, rightly anticipating that something will be up for grabs shortly.

 

Andean gull (m)

Patagonian sierra finch

A Patagonian sierra finch shares that sentiment as it sits on the lookout. This striking bird features a black head, greenish-yellow breast, and brownish-yellow back. During the summer months, this little songbird will migrate south. But that's a concern for later; for now, it needs to find some scrambled eggs to snatch up.

 

With more than eighty active geysers, El Tatio is the third-largest geyser field in the world

Just after ten, we begin our journey back. The landscape that was shrouded in darkness this morning now reveals its grandeur. Brown, barren mountain slopes dominate the scenery, with no vegetation growing higher than the knee.

Alongside the road, a group of vicuñas is grazing among patches of paja brava. Nicolas identifies this as a bachelor group, typically consisting of 10 to 12 young, sexually mature males. In contrast, a family group is led by one dominant male who presides over a harem of a few females and their offspring, totalling seven to ten animals. Members of a bachelor group are always looking to challenge a dominant male and take over his harem. It’s no surprise, then, that there’s a third type of group – old males who have been ousted from their family groups by a young male. Sometimes in groups, sometimes alone, they try to make the best of their celibate state.

Both vicuñas and guanacos still live in the wild, whereas llamas and alpacas have been domesticated. This domestication likely occurred around four thousand years ago, with llamas descending from guanacos and alpacas from vicuñas.

 

Vado Putana

Where the Río Putana flows into the wide valley, a unique stretch of marshland, the Vado Putana, has developed. This is a much-needed oasis for birds. Andean geese, with their white plumage and black tails, shuffle over the ice on their red legs.

 

Andean geese

Giant coot

Black giant coots are searching for food along the shore. Such high-altitude water bodies in the Andes are their favourite habitats. Being relatively heavy, these birds cannot fly. They are territorial and form lifelong pairs.

Across the valley, Nicolas points out the Tocorpuri, an active volcano. Even from this distance, we can see the white plumes of fumaroles against the steel-blue sky.

 

Machuca – Church

As we drive back towards San Pedro de Atacama, a charming, authentic church on a hillside comes into view. The adobe walls are whitewashed, and the roof is covered with golden paja brava. Two bells dangle in the tower's windows, and a man-high adobe wall surrounds the small church square. At the foot of the hill, a handful of reddish-brown adobe houses try to give the impression of forming a real street.

This is Machuca, a tiny village roughly halfway between El Tatio and San Pedro, the only sign of human presence along this route. Originally, the village's livelihood depended solely on agriculture. When the mines opened, they became the main source of income. Now that tourists on their way back from the geyser field are eager to soak up some authenticity, tourism has become an important source of revenue as well.

 

We owe the fact that the church is open to San Santiago, whose feast day is celebrated today

We are fortunate today, as the church is open, a rarity that we owe to the feast day of San Santiago being celebrated today. Inside, there's little room for the faithful on the blue benches. More than half of the small space is occupied by an altar, a table with a few saint statues, and some candlesticks with burning candles. No sooner have we left the church than the door is irrevocably closed.

 

Roof of paja brava with solar panel and cross

Protecting a padlock against moisture and frost

Some of the village houses are built from natural stone, with roofs of paja brava. This grass needs regular replacing, as it is not very durable. Often, a wooden cross wrapped in colourful strips of fabric crowns the roof. But solar panels are also a common sight, and one house even boasts a satellite dish. Metal padlocks on the front doors are often wrapped in textile coverings to protect against moisture and frost.

 

Machuca

A little after noon, we arrive back in San Pedro de Atacama. We are surprised to learn that a Belgian Jesuit played an important role in this region's history. Gustavo Le Paige, originally from Tilleur (Belgium), arrived here in 1952 and soon began focusing on everything related to the culture of the Atacameños, a collective name for peoples like the Kunza. Initially, Le Paige displayed these artefacts in his rectory, but later, in collaboration with the Universidad Católica del Norte in Antofagasta, a full-fledged museum was established in San Pedro.

We are surprised to learn that a Belgian Jesuit played an important role in this region's history

Today, El Museo Arqueológico R. P. Gustavo Le Paige houses no less than 380 000 artefacts. It's quite overwhelming, but fortunately, not all of them are on display. The museum is freezing inside, much colder than the sunny outdoors. The presentation of the pieces is a bit outdated, and the collection has much more potential. Little did we know that the museum will be closed for renovation starting in September and will not reopen until late 2016.

We learn that human habitation in this area dates back 12 000 years. Initially, these were hunter-gatherers, but from 4 000 BCE, they began settling around the scarce oases and domesticating camelids. Both of South America's major civilizations, the Tiwanaku and the Inca, once ruled over this region. In between, local warlords held sway. Eventually, the Spaniards took control.

In 1991, eleven years after Le Paige's death, the museum was enriched with a fortified treasure room, where precious gold artefacts are attractively displayed. The mummies, once the museum's most famous exhibit, were removed from public display in 2007. A 45-minute film explains why – essentially the same reasoning that led to the removal of Egyptian pharaohs' mummies from public view: respect for the individual, even after death.

With the same reasoning that led to the removal of Egyptian pharaohs' mummies from public view – respect for the individual, even after death

A little before five, Patricio and Nicolas pick us up for our very last trip. The comfortable Ruta 23-CH takes us smoothly over the 3 300-meter-high Cordillera de Domeyko to Aeropuerto El Loa, the modern airport of Calama, for our flight to Santiago, the capital of Chile.

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Jaak Palmans
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