23, It's starting to get Chile

We spent the night with the roof stowed, the wind was so strong that the neck pain from crouching and the headache from forgetting every five seconds that the roof was stowed was a price worth paying for a peaceful night sleeping. Our only company the snowy peaks, llama relatives (vicuna we think..) and flamingos! What a weird crowd we made. 

Descending into the desert the scenery changed quickly; again. The road was painted atop the dunes so we rollercoastered our way into the driest place in the world, the Atacama Desert.

Despite sand being the nemesis of our overweight 2wd van, with some commitment and desperate hope we tracked along a ravine to set up in the midst of this crazy and barren landscape. Nothing lived here, the only trace of life was the thousands of tyre tracks littered across the dunes having dislodged the oxide red rocks sat atop the beige sand. We made our way up to watch the sun dip below the clouds, turn everything golden and then promptly set over the distant horizon.

As time continues, the salt will continue to be our nemesis but this battle we narrowly won. Just before it was too late Steve noticed a tiny wet patch on one front wheel bearing housing, a little seepage from a hole is nothing unusual for a van getting on in years except usually it is grease but this looked like water. It was water, salty water. A 2 hour full bearing tear down and re-grease was completed in a windy sandy desert. Where better to expose vulnerable greasy bearings than in these conditions?

Question: Should Steve and Jenjen buy a 4x4 bigger bus, like pictured below, convert it into a home on wheels and travel forever and ever and ever and ever? Also, what is this bus and where do we buy one?

We have seen tonnes of shrines beside the road, some small, some massive and all are there as a memorial to someone who lost their life on the road. But what better way to commemorate them than to include the vehicle in which they lost their life? None, there is no better way….

Deeper into the driest desert on the planet we descended, towards a town called “San Pedro de Atacama” which had just the week before been evacuated because of flooding. Hang on, what? Well apparently there’s been some crazy and unprecedented rainfall recently and things aren’t quite the way they usually are. The rains that never happen happened.

Making use of this extra water, Steve got a cheap car wash by doing it himself, only he spent an entire hour attempting to blast more salt from poor Westy Rick much to the dismay of the attendant who expected our not too dirty van to just be given a quick once over. Lucky the price was agreed upfront! Well we did leave a tip by adding to the soil collection on the ground.

Having quickly had enough of this hostel infested, puddle covered and notorious for vehicle break in town we headed to the old, but now closed, back entrance of “Valle de la Luna”, Valley of the Moon. We are still in an area rich in salt, in seeps out of the ground the same way it seeps through the metal under our van. After a battle with the road, which we will talk about on the way out, we made camp against the gate and walked up the hill admiring the spectacle all around. Looking back we had a huge sand dune on our left, a crazy mud/salt mishmash on our right and a huge sandstorm blowing in the distance with menacing storms clouds overhead.

Heading to the top of the hill the whole expanse was indeed other worldly, like a celestial body that would orbit a planet perhaps. All the rain that never happens that had happened here meant the mud was a little tricky to navigate hygienically.

It is not unusual to find us driving along with the heater on full blast and the driver’s window cranked wide open. We each have a somewhat different perception of what is nice and warm and what is friggin’ cold. This is nicely demonstrated below where Steve is wearing a vest and flip flops whilst Jenjen is wrapped up in half a dozen layers, and still cold.

We were expecting clear skies and amazing stars out here, but no such luck tonight.

The road to this spot used to be a smooth, simple and painless gravel road. But the rain that never happens had taken its toll and torn huge washouts into the mix. Big drops down into soft sand. Just what we can’t handle. Our way in was a touch easier than our way out due to the intricacies of gravity and nuances of sand.

Steve gets out the trowel and gentles the way down, and the way up. As you may be able to see in the video below, on the way across we find out we have insufficient approach angle when the nose smacks the ground, then we find out we have insufficient breakover angle when the middle smacks the ground followed by insufficient departure angle when the back smacks the ground. Wheels spinning, van bouncing, we make it across and find out what we don’t lack is commitment or a reckless disregard for our poor van’s wellbeing.

Well we do have some respect for this the poor old bugger, so it’s time to finally get the wheels pointing in the perfect direction on a true laser alignment machine, and not a teenager with a big ruler, or a couple of Bakers with a tape measure. Lacking somewhat in trust, and completely unashamed of being a complete prick Steve watches every step of the process lording over the poor workers with the workshop manual and a pencil in his gringo hands. Surprisingly the tape measure whilst lying on the road in the middle of Cusco alignment was actually within specification, Steve still insists there be some adjustment to make sure these people know who holds the biggest book and the sharpest pencil around here.

The skies are starting to clear and the sun is beating down. To find some respite we bounce on down to a river flowing through this desolate landscape. The transformation is incredible, all along the banks actual living plants grow and live their happy lives unaware of the deadness that surrounds them in every dimension except the one in which the water flows. The sun sets again and we finally get some stars in the sky.

Having had enough of living things, we return to the desert to find an abandoned ghost town, ohhhhhhhh scary. This place of which the name escapes us and the book with it written down in is out of reach was founded in 1931 and abandoned in 1996 serving as a mining community with thousands living there during the functional years.  

We swung by the football pitch on the outskirts where rusty fencing rattled spookily in the wind and the stands sat empty.

Next stop was the creepiest of all creepy ghostly scary places, the hospital. Ancient American washing appliances greeted us and thousands of patient notes still packed in bags on the floor. Well mostly packed, plenty were scattered around for casual perusal against all protocols.

Now for some spooky culture at the theatre. Putting on a show wasn’t the same without an audience but we did our best Grease Lightening.

And a school, which turned out to house the creepiest of all the creep.

Children’s toys, hanging from a tree that once would have been watered and happy with green leaves giving shade for the children, but now dead for 20 years and with the leaves gone the toys scorched by the intense desert sun are now warped, bleached and hanging from dead branches. Creepius Maximus.

We’re told that Chile’s wealth comes largely from copper mining and most of that happens up here in the north. Usually the machines are far away and look tiny. Turns out that up close they are quite substantial, not like those toy diggers you had as a kid. Be warned, there is a pretty graphic illustration of how you might hurt yourself near one of these diggers.

We reached Antofagasta, a well-developed and clean seaside town where it hasn’t rained for over 18 months and the temperature is almost always between 18 and 23 degrees. A pretty ideal climate, and right on the Tropic of Capricorn. We came to meet up with a friend of a friend, Joe, who grew up in Salmon Arm, Canada, where we were living but has been in Chile for getting on 30 years. We were spoilt. Even Westy Rick made it into the garage for safe keeping and vacuumed out for the first time in 6 months! We were treated to our first BBQ since Canada, fed beer and had great chats till 3am. Two nights flew by and despite feeling at home, we reluctantly we had to leave to continue our travels with our water tanks full and our laundry finally clean.  Thanks again Joe, see you back in Canada soon.

For some reason someone built a concrete hand in the desert, and for some reason everyone takes a photo next to it. So we did too.

Cutting back to the coast for the scenic drive we carved down through a canyon aware that we still don’t really like beaches, but it’s more photogenic than dead desert so we’re doing this just for you. You’re welcome.

And photogenic it was, a gorgeous deep blue ocean filled with jellyfish crashing against rugged rocks with no-one in sight. Well not until some kind French overlanders showed up to join us. But they asked first, we said “oui” because we are basically trilingual now.

Not much lives down here on this shore, a number of ramshackle shacks are scattered along the coast housing fishermen or kelp gatherers. And these aren’t snow-capped mountains jutting out into the sea, they are shit covered mountains but the effect is much the same. From afar.

We are still not exactly beach people, but we did find one we warmed up to just a little. Ok, well it was coastline perfection the type which would contain millions of deck chairs and screaming children were it where you live. We set ourselves up high above this perfection in a campsite dubbed “Wild Love” on our iOverlander app. Some artful types had tastefully decorated the area with inspiring messages on rocks, spiral pathways to nowhere and a collection of sticks and bones. We could feel the energy mannnnn.

We explored.

The sun set on this paradise, and we only had two fishermen to share it with who conveniently added to the photogenicism.

Our time in Chile thus far has been extremely comfortable. It is kind of like the Goldilocks of countries, perfectly hot in the day and refreshingly cool at night. Minimal litter, friendly people and almost no flies/mosquitoes/pests of any kind. The scenery is gorgeous, the roads smooth and we have never been more relaxed. Sometimes we wake up, look out the window at miles of sand dunes, or waves rolling in on the clear waters of the pacific and wonder how will we EVER be content to live a normal life? We’ll see.

Map link.