San Pedro de Atacama

Turbus rolled us into the small dusty station, the reliable avocado-coloured carriage parking up and disgorging the latest band of desert tourists.

The arid, sandy road shimmered in the distance with a heat haze, and the air was breathless - altitude and a baking sun both taking their toll on us. We'd strapped on our bags and were walking out to Los Abuelos campsite. Tired from our rushed Santiago departure, and with my 31st birthday approaching, we couldn't wait to relax by the pool and fire up the barbecue grill again. We'd need our energy to cope with the array of activities that San Pedro offers.

For us that meant horse riding, a trip to the salt flats, and probably the highlight - an early morning bus to the high altitude geyser fields. We booked our geyser field tour pronto, with a 4am start giving us only a flicker of hesitation. We also scanned the offerings for horse-riding on my birthday. Since a young age when a massive horse dumped me unceremoniously on the ground, I have admired caballos from a distance only. When another beast dumped my mum and broke her spine, I took a couple of steps further back and admired horses from an even greater distance. And so the challenge to man up and mount up on a desert steed seemed like a good birthday treat, with that element of fear thrown in free of charge.


After touring various options, we went with our gut - an outfit that ran itself out of a dusty courtyard where the smell of leather and muck lingered in the air, while worn and wearied kit hung from roughly set-up spars and poles. No tour agent here with a computer and an Excel booking form, taking Visa and MasterCard. Insead a sweaty but honest-faced teenager took out a grubby notepad, wrote the date for 12th January and took our deposit then gave us our instructions - 'aqui, ocho y media el mañana'.

So we were booked - horse riding the next morning for the 12th, then an early start on the 13th for the geysers. Wandering back through the town, I picked an airy restaurant for a birthday dinner too. For the rest of the day we chilled out by the pool - and I took the entire chicken I had to the grill, dismembered into drumsticks, wings and breast to barbecue with lemon and garlic. The night's meal was a feast of white flesh for me, while we both savoured the Neyen bottle of wine that we'd brought up from Colchagua. A fitting end to three decades on the Earth, I think. I went to bed with no trepidation or fear. Ageing is inevitable, and I could have no complaints - being with Mhairi in the stunning Atacama desert is as good as it gets. Far better than waking up to work and getting the office-organised birthday cake celebration at 3pm...

My birthday sun broke through the dawn horizon, and it saw us preparing to head out to the horse riding tour. At the courtyard, a few skinny but well-kept horses troughed at a massive pile of hay, while a cowboy came out and handed us helmets (obvious), saddlebags for water and camera (foolproof) and chaps (uh-oh). Asked how much experience we had, we honestly answered, None. But just to demonstrate the point, I took my chaps and put them on upside down. While laughing at my error, Mhairi checked her own and found a problem - they were on back to front. The cowboy laughed and knew he was in for a slow, dead-slow, ride around the desert.

It was our first real contact with the desert surrounding San Pedro. The rock formations loomed large as we passed over the scorched Earth, cracked from the lack of water just like you imagine. Our slow amble in the lazy heat was only broken by my nags occasional, unbidden trot to catch up with the bigger horses that Mhairi and the cowboy were on. The quiet landscape with only the sound of hooves gave me ample time to think about 2013. We still had Peru, Bolivia, Western US and Vancouver to come. We had plans to hit the ground running in London with changes to our accustomed habits and new projects to expand. And we had a nice stock of friends we were keen to catch up with and share these experiences with. Altogether , 2013 was going to start well and the forecast post-travels was sunny. It seemed churlish to harbour any downbeat thoughts of adding a year to my age. Almost immediately, some of the good stuff happenned as the canyon we'd come through opened out into a wide dune-filled valley - Valle de la Luna. Our horses struggled through the sand as we turned our heads like owls to try and take it all in. Yes, this was definitely worth it. The Valle de la Luna gave way to the rocky riverbed of Rio Seco, and then we turned back through adobe alleyways of the San Pedro oasis, taking in luscious cultivated land that sustained the local people. By the end of four hours our knees ached with the pressure of sitting in the saddle and inner thighs were raw from rubbing against the leather. Back at the ranch my horse bolted straight back to the hay it had been forced to abandon beforehand. The beast at least stood like a rock while chomping away, oblivious to my ungainly dismount. Mhairi and I thanked our cowboy leader and walked John-Wayne style out into the early afternoon sun.

A relaxing afternoon was broken up in the evening by a strong pisco sour and then dinner at L'Estaka. Friendly staff in this adobe-walled restaurant opened up a bottle of Chilean Carmenere, and took down our orders for steak (me) and salad (Mhairi). Already out of Argentina, the steak was good but not great and I knew that we'd left the pampas cows behind. The whole experience however was lovely as we talked late in the evening about the year past and things to come...

The morning of the 13th came first, of course. In Mhairi's opinion it was still the night of the 12th - no glimmer from the dawn's rays had yet penetrated the eastern sky. Instead the stars shone noiselessly to light our way to the main gate of the campsite. True to form, minibuses busily ploughed the street back and forth to pick up early risers for the geysers. It was only when the clock struck 5am that a sinking feeling took hold of us. By 5.15 it was clear - we hadn't been picked up. The road had deadened, the traffic had stopped. It was just us and the stars again.





Not being picked up was one thing, but a 4am wake up was worse, particularly as we'd cut short my birthday evening to get an early night. We reluctantly disrobed and crawled back into our sleeping bags but by 10am we were out pounding the street for answers at Cosmo Andino agency. They charge more than other agencies based on their excellent tours. To have fallen at the first hurdle - picking us up - was incredible and we were ready for a fight. In the office, the agent's shock was palpable. A manager came out and had the whole issue relayed in rapid Spanish. The result - the instant offer of a full refund, and free spots on the tour going out 15th January. Cosmo Andino really IS the best outfit in town it seems. We both felt good that we were satisfied with the result, without venting any anger.That meant that we had cash to play with. We paid up for the tour to the salt flats the next day and reconsidered our options for another barbecue dinner. We whiled away the rest of morning in the square with some coffee and eggs, with a free show by the prettiest alpaca we've seen on our trip. Then after a few admin tasks done in town we retired to the campsite's pool for sunbathing and swimming.



It was clear we were packing a lot in to San Pedro, but along with Mendoza and Macchu Picchu, it was one of the three highlights we'd promised ourselves in South America where we knew our budget could be blown to make sure we were doing it right.

So we gave ourselves a mini-hike up to Pukhara de Quitor the next day, where pre-Incan fort ruins dominate the hillside. With the arrival of the Spanish, the ancient locals had converted to Catholicism as part of the conquistadores advance, but their desire for autonomy was not respected by the invaders looking for the mineral rich territory of the altiplano. True to colonial form a bloody battle ensued where the local tribes were wiped out. A touching monument to the dead stands on the high hilltop above the ruined citadel. The whole of the San Pedro oasis laid itself out before us, the stunning view our own - no other tourists in sight.

The afternoon's activities of salt flats were just a blast on the other hand. We floated in salty pools before leaping into the fresh water Eyes of the Desert. Our final salt field saw us walk on the flats like snow, and watch a stunning sunset. The scenery of the Atacama is incredible, but it is the variety that keeps your jaw dropped to the floor. From desert dunes, rocky canyons and mountain views onto oases, the salt flats presented another totally different environment to explore. And the Atacama wasn't finished with us yet. At 4am the next morning, we got up for the geyser field and were picked up by David of Cosmo Andino, a chirpy Canadian who would go on to be one of the most fun and informative guides of our whole trip...

The geyser field in the morning is full of sulphur and steam: plumes of vaporised water rise lazily, while jets of boiling water spume out of deep hollows or roiling pools. The Earth's crust thins to 25cm at points, and the ground hums beneath your feet as the steam vigorously bubbles up, scorched by an obsidian plate beneath, that in turn has been heated to 350degrees by the magma churning further down in the depths of the world.

As the sun crests the mountains, the sub-zero temperatures rise swiftly and light floods the valley. From a dark and forbidding landscape, the geyser field becomes vibrant and fantastical. Mineral deposits sparkle white in the sun, while algae breeds in the lower temperature waters: salmon pink and rusty orange run together with a jaundiced yellow, while greener varieties range from bright toxic slime to dark, swampy hues.

At the Assassin's Geyser, shadows of onlookers fall across the steam column and a halo effect encircles the head. The rainbow corona reveals the aura of anyone standing there. All the geyser has asked in return for its favour is the sacrifice of 3 European tourists in the past 20yrs,all of whom have slipped accidentally into its boiling lagoon, to have the skin scalded from their bodies.

Deeper into the field are other incredible sights - boiling mud pools that look temptingly like chocolate fountains; puffing geysers that have built their own mounds by depositing salts and minerals from their effluent; temperate lagoons home to unique species of frogs; and finally a thermal bath where humans disrobe and bathe in the warm waters, mindful of the scorching patches of lake bed where hot springs bubble up.

The benefit of the Cosmo Andino tour is seeing a lot of these wonders with fewer tourists, a boatload of information on what you're looking at and a second half - flora and fauna of the Atacama micro-climates.

After watching the herd of endangered vicuña wander through the hellish landscape, we piled into the bus and headed off to our first port of call where wild geese, flamingos and the amusingly named giant coot nest in hyper-coloured marshland formed by the snow melt of a nearby volcano. The fecund delta itself sits as a natural miracle amongst the surrounding rock desert landscape, where some tiny "villages" can number only 1 family, or in one case, one inhabitant. Our second major stop saw llamas grazing on a pasture, the grassland supported by the same river delta but with sturdier soil to give the mammals lounging space in the warming sun. Finally our last stop was cactus canyon. Here the river is formed by a hot water spring, and the relative humidity is mana to the spines of the cactus plant. Spiky towers jostle for a space of flat ground on the steep valley walls, their thirsty spines sucking up moisture from the air that 100m away is bone-dry and sun-parched.

The term desert conjures up images of lifeless and sandy terrain. It is a false vision. Such is the panoply of nature that where water can force its way in, life begins, no matter what the hardship. The Atacama displays life at the extreme of the Earth's climates:suffering just to survive. Reflecting on the will to exist that nature shows in that region, I can't help but think that my physical hardships - of broken sleep on a bus, a dodgy knee and shoulder and the rest of my discomforts both incidental and recurrent - are insignificant compared to the luxurious, luscious and temperate environs that I inhabit most of the time which give me succour and shelter. My life is easy and my niggles are nothing. Perhaps more importantly though, it is in the Atacama that you see the edge of life. As the global climate warms, these stunning habitats will be the first to turn back to the dust that surrounds them.

Our time in Atacama at an end, we put out finely honed traveler skills into action and took three buses and a remise taxi, with a border crossing included, to complete a sub-20hr overland trip from San Pedro to our first Peruvian stop-off: Arequipa.