This is the first in a series of trip reports sent to the
Beetle by Globetrotter Steve who is travelling around South
America and Easter Island, the lucky chap! So, if you
are planning trip to Suth America or are interested in
knowing more about it, you may find Steve’s trip
reports of interest.
Life has it's ups and downs. On Tuesday I started the
journey with a tour to the Altiplano National Parks.
There were just three of us in the group, myself and two
Germans. We went first to the local farmer’s
market to stock up on fresh vegetables and fruit for picnics
on the trip. Then we headed inland for a view of
ancient petroglyphs showing herdsmen and llamas. There
was a tomato farm nearby where we bought fresh produce,
exceptionally huge tomatoes.
The next call was a Hari Krishne monastery where we had lunch
and then started to climb. It was the main road to La
Paz and there were some heavy lorries on the road, one of
which had started to roll backwards and had come a
cropper. We called at a fortified site over 2000 years
old where the entrance to a fertile valley was guarded by a
series of semi circular walls. The countryside was now
very dry and we climbed through an area of cactus found only
in that area of Chile. Near Socompa we went for a short
walk down an Inca roadway and we started to see the first
wild guanaco and llamas in the fields. We entered the
village of Sacompa and looked at the very old church with its
squat detached tower. From there we climbed to Putre
where we were to stop for the evening. Unfortunately
for me I was unable to eat the evening meal as I was feeling
light-headed and wasn’t hungry. I had a very poor
night’s sleep and was sick in the morning.
Nevertheless I set off with the group up to Lauca National
Park. There were spectacular views of the volcano
across the lake and vicuña to be seen. The group
went for a walk but I wasn't feeling well enough to go
and so stayed with the vehicle. In fact I slept most of
the time they were away. When they returned I was unable to
keep fluids down. We returned to Pucalpa as planned but
once there the group leader took me to a doctor who said my
blood pressure was dangerously low because of the altitude
and I needed to travel down to sea level immediately.
They tested my blood pressure before oxygen, while breathing
oxygen through a mask and then again after the mask was taken
off. It immediately fell to very low levels. And
so the tour leader drove me down to Arica immediately and the
tour carried on without me.
The next day my appetite returned a little. I got a bus
to Iquique and booked into a hotel for a couple of nights
there. Iquique is a very strange city. It is set
at the foot of cliffs that must be above 3000 feet
high. An enormous sand dune extends into the Southern
part of the city. The old downtown area was very run
down and poor, but right next door are two large sandy bays
and a lot of quite wealthy looking seaside developments – a
casino, sailing club and smart hotels. In the old town
is one long street of big houses built when the city was
wealthy from the nitrate trade. This extended from an
Opera House where Caruso sang to the sea. The whole
street is listed and the buildings, built of timber shipped
from Oregon in the 19th century, are being restored. It
has all been pedestrianised with timber side walks, Victorian
era lamp posts and street furniture installed and a new horse
tram route is being constructed. Apart from these
features it was quite a dull place and so yesterday I boarded
another bus and spent four hours twisting down the
spectacular coast with cliffs and mountains on one side and
the Pacific on the other but nothing growing and no
settlement. The road then turned inland past the Santa
Elena Nitrate plant and an enormous copper mine to Calama
where I changed bus and travelled the last hour to San Pedro,
through the desert, as the sun set and the mountains glowed
in oranges, reds and gold.
As the bus pulled in I saw one of the Germans who had been on
the National Parks tour and chatted to him. I found
myself a pleasant hotel and then went out for a good dinner
in a restaurant with live musicians where I bumped into a
retired Irish teacher from Maidstone who I had met in Arica.
After the problems of the Andes, San Pedro proved a welcome
change. I took it easy on the first day, just going to
the wonderful museum. I chose the same time as a SAGA group.
What has happened to adventure travel? One member
of the group was so overweight she wasn’t able to
manage the whole museum tour and commented that the thin gold
used for face masks looked as though it had been made to
cover chocolate.
The next day I was feeling more adjusted to the altitude and
walked out to a pre-Inca fort 3km from town. I arrived
shortly after the SAGA party. The fort is built on a
steep hillside where the river leaves a gorge and forms the
oasis. The stonework was interesting, similar if cruder
than Inca work. There was a maze of rooms, passages and
who knows what leading up to an excellent viewpoint.
The SAGA group didn't get there. The area has
an interesting history. The Incas were only dominant
for 60 years. The local people just submitted to them
so were not defeated. However when news came that the Spanish
had defeated the Incas the community leaders decided they
weren't going to be dictated to about changing their
names to match a new not understood religion. They
therefore rebelled and retreated to their 11th Century fort.
The Spanish, with horses and assisted by some local
antagonistic neighbours defeated them in short time and
executed the leaders. San Pedro de Atacama then became the
sleepy backwater it remained until recently.
Next day, feeling full of confidence, I joined a tour to the
Salar de Atacame to see the birds. The Salar looked
like thawing snow, a grubby white and crunchy underfoot, with
surface water in places. In the distance the distinct
shape of the flamingos could be seen although even with
strong binoculars you couldn't tell what species of the
three found there were in sight. When they flew they
looked even pinker and had an unusual Concorde profile with
the wings far back along their bodies. In the distance
Volcano Lascar steamed. It erupts every four years, the
last time being 2000! It seems it throws out ash, not
lava, and the winds always take the ash into Argentina.
So that was alright.
The next stop was the isolated village of Socaire which had a
very small stone church and tower. The church had
become unsafe and so the community built a replica on a new
town square but were now repairing the original. Around
were terraces used for growing vegetables but slowly going
out of use. Local men work in the Lithium extraction
plant at the Salire and so the local economy is becoming cash
based.
From the village we ascended to the deep blue Lakes of
Miscanti and Miñques at above12,000 feet. We
walked along a ridge from one to the other with stunning
views and then back close to the shore. It was an
important site for the flamingos to breed.
They’re poor parents producing one chick which
they will abandon if disturbed. It was the breeding
season so we had to keep back from the lake shore. I
was pleased to manage the walking without breathlessness or
losing lunch!
The final stop was the village of Tocanao which is at the end
of a gorge with a stream flowing through it. The stream
is used for irrigating figs, quince, grapes and other fruit.
The contrast between the arid highlands and the deep
green of the valley was outstanding. It reminded me of
Dovedale with surreal colour enhancement. Walking along the
valley was a real pleasure after the heat and exertions of
the rest of the day.
San Pedro de Atacama has an odd mix of visitors. There
is a 'hippy' Chilean element, European gap year
students, young European Professionals and elderly Islington
or Baden Baden types having an alternative retirement
holiday. The restaurants are a little more expensive
than usual in Chile but have some adventurous combinations on
the menu and the wine is delicious.
Well, I moved on to Antofagasta. Antofagasta is lack
lustre. It's just a busy city and a bit down at
heel. I decided to spend half a day looking at an
industrial museum a little out of town. At the bus
station this morning there were several ticket windows with
bored staff sitting behind them and closed signs firmly in
place. I went to the enquiry desk where three men were
assisting one customer. After a while one broke away to
see me. Can I have a ticket to Bacquedano I
asked. I was told to get on the bus already in the
terminal quickly and buy a ticket from the conductor.
After half an hour the bus left. (Why the hurry?)
“Bacquedano” I said to the conductor.
“Calama?” he replied. “No,
Baquedano.” I said. “Maria Elena?” he said.
“No. Baquedano,” I said firmly and pointed to it
in heavy print in my guide book. “Ah, Baquedano”
he said, “$1 000”. I paid.
The museum was hopeless, uncared for, vandalised and
derelict. I nosed around, did a sketch and went top the
village for lunch. I had a tasty empenada and a cola
for about a pound and then asked where was the best place to
get a bus back to Antofagasta. The cafe owner said they
were every half hour and you could flag them down infront of
the cafe. He would bring me a chair so I could sit in
the shade. As he was telling me this a bus went past.
I sat in the shade for an hour before the next bus
came. I waved. The driver and conductor waved back and
drove past in a half empty bus. I decided to walk up to
the police check point at the entry to town were all buses
and trucks have to stop. After half an hour of standing
in the early afternoon heat a bus came and I got on. He
then stopped and picked someone else up outside the cafe
where I had been sitting half an hour earlier.
Back in town I felt I deserved a coffee and lemon pie.
After quite a while the waiter returned with the coffee
but said there was no lemon pie. I’m going to
treat myself to a nice sea food dinner and white wine.
Wish me luck.
Next Steve goes to Easter Island.
Becky introduces me to my host, Mr Sijaona. He is a
small wiry man with a purposeful stride. He welcomes me into his
house. I gaze around at the crumbling walls and the total lack of
comfort. But then he says in halting English that his other house
is better, (two wives, therefore two houses) – so I pick up my
suitcase and follow him down the dusty street.
We are sorry to say that Mac is not very well, but he is still
e-mailing strong and recently sent the Beetle a collection of
travel reminiscences about Australia, camels which takes us to
India and then back to Australia.
