A Journey Through The Desert

Tuesday 30 January

The car was waiting for us with Ivan our guide and Pato our driver, by the time we arrived in reception at 07.15. Today we were going to be driving over 500 kms to Arica on the Pacific coast in Chile – back to sea level for the first time in nearly a month.

The porters and men in reception were very effusive with their goodbyes, as if we were long-lost friends. We then escaped La Paz – the morning rush hour just building up - and El Alto – still as chaotic as ever, with vehicles going in all directions and pedestrians dicing with their lives as they raced across the road, causing brakes to squeal, horns to toot, and our driver to wipe his brow a few times. This reminded me of our tour of La Paz, where we were almost caught up in a demonstration outside the Parliament Building in the main square (I forgot to put that in the blog on Thursday). We had visited the cathedral, situated in the main square as usual, with its beautiful stained glass windows all round (not quite sure how the Prefecture - Governor of the City - managed to get in the window above the altar with the saints and Virgin Mary!). Next door to the cathedral was a small room decorated with frescoes of Simon Bolivar and other battle heroes as well as past Bolivian magnates in politics and education on two other walls. There was a huge metal coffin of Andreas de Mendez (I think that was his name) in the centre who had helped Simon Bolivar and his cronies win the battle for independence, and was guarded by two men in the uniform of the Bolivian Army in the 19th century - red coats and white cross-bands, red and black pillbox hats and carrying rifles.

The Parliament building is next door to this “mausoleum”, and outside a crowd of people had gathered, waving flags and banners. A television crew was filming their antics. There was a lot of shouting and chanting, and as we tried to skirt round them, a man emerged from the centre doors, surrounded by his own contingent of body guards, and everyone surged to surround him. Luckily we were still on the edge of the crowd, or we would have been sucked in too. Apparently the main man was the ex-Minister of Education and the crowd was made up mainly of students, fighting for more places at the universities, and fairer costs. The man appeared sympathetic to their calls, but as an ex-Minister, he was probably powerless to help. Theo thought he had probably been to see the President and given another Ministerial job – lower down the scale. As I said, going through El Alto, reminded me of being almost surrounded by a noisy crowd.

At first the road was the same one we took to Tiwanaka last week, but this time we just kept on going. We crossed the plateau and climbed into the pre-Andes mountains. The landscape here was still very green, and the crops – the usual potatoes, corn, barley and quinoa – were all growing profusely. Families were out in the fields on this beautiful sunny day, and it was a bit like a warm day in the country at home – just the ladies’ dresses were different and we saw eagles soaring overhead. We started to climb into the Andes itself, and could see the crater of the Sajama volcano, the highest point in Bolivia - far into the distance, snow covered and looking like a large ice cream cone above the other mountains. The top is over 6,400 metres (about 20,000 feet) above sea level. To the side of the crater were two other, slightly lower craters, also snow covered, that are known locally as the “Brothers”, one is in Bolivia and the other in Chile. Ivan told us that the road would take us to the border crossing, situated between the two craters. They seemed a long way off, but as time passed we got closer and closer.

As we got higher, the landscape had changed to scrubby pasture where animals grazed, and much fewer crops grew. The settlements were pre-Incan style – probably dating from Tiwanakan times - in that all the houses – square and round adobe walls with dried grass roofs - were spread out, each farmer working the few fields around his home, and the church was somewhere nearby – not in a central square with the houses clustered close together as with villages influenced by the Spanish. We passed some burial chambers situated on the tops of hills, like those we had seen pictured on Sun Island – large rectangular adobe columns rising ten or more feet in the air, with a hole about five feet off the ground, where bodies or remains of high officials like priests and leaders of the community, were placed and venerated. We stopped and climbed the hill to look inside a couple and saw skulls and human bones, still lying at the base. These chambers have supposedly not been used since the 15th century.

We continued on, getting closer and closer to Sajama which dominated our view. The surrounding land became more and more bare of vegetation, but there was still the odd farm trying to make a living in this arid and brown countryside. We stopped at the closest point to Sajama, and gazed up towards the crater. Icicles could be seen hanging over a steep cleft. Apparently experienced climbers come here in September each year to attempt to scale the heights, but it is considered a very difficult climb. The road continued to go higher and we could feel the altitude affecting our breathing, as we felt we were often gasping for air, and needed to keep drinking. Eventually we arrived at the point where the road turned between the two snowy peaks and we reached the border crossing.

We were taken to a small “hut” where our passports were checked and the green permits removed – we were moving out of Bolivia and another small section of our venture was over. Back in the car, we were surprised to find that the Chile immigration post was 9 kms through the mountains from the Bolivian post. We passed a braided stream, separated by green patches of spiky grass where lots of llamas, alpacas and vicunas were grazing, thriving at this high altitude – we were now at nearly 5,000 metres. At the Chilean border we had to take all our luggage out of the car, and put it through the security check, fill in more forms and get our passports stamped – when mine was stamped there seemed very little ink on the stamp, so the man tried again – neither were really readable, but supposedly will be considered enough if they our passports are ever checked. There was a whole coach load of local people in front of us, with huge bags and sacks of clothing, many of which were searched by the zealous guards, but ours went straight through. We piled the luggage back in the boot – there hadn’t been much room when left La Paz and now we had to accommodate a large cardboard box and a huge cool box as well – which contained our lunch. With a bit of manoevring we managed it. We drove on just a short way and found the highest lake in the world – almost 5,000 metres above sea level – but not navigable. It covers an area of about 31 sq kms and is absolutely beautiful, surrounded by snowy peaks – a real picture postcard scene. There were lot of ibis, Andean geese and pink flamingoes, wading around the shallows, with moorhens, coots and other ducks swimming and diving out in the deeper water.

About ten minutes further on we stopped at a picnic spot, with wooden tables and benches set out in stone niches. Ivan and Pato sorted the food and drinks while we watched the wildlife at the lakeside. Lunch was a feast – so different to some of the lunch boxes we have had in the past – in each bag was a foil container of mussels and crabsticks with seafood sauce, thick and creamy zucchini (courgette) soup, sandwiches of cheese and mustard and cheese and ham in both white and brown bread, a hard boiled egg, a pack of sweet jammy biscuits and a huge nectarine – really sweet and juicy. To drink there was red wine, water, and tea or coffee. As we sat down to eat we spied a weeny mouse darting back under the rocks and I tempted him out again with some sandwich, which he grabbed and ran back for cover. We would definitely need a siesta after all this food.

Back in the car, Ivan told us it was all downhill now. This was probably just as well, as Pato now seemed to be suffering much more than us from the altitude, and we needed him to drive. He was panting and gasping for air during lunch, and seemed to find the heat over-poweringl. Of course, he and Ivan come from Arica on the coast and are not used to the altitude They had driven to La Paz yesterday, in order to pick us up today, something they do a couple of times a month. I think Pato was glad to be back in the car and on the move again. We carried on across the top of the Andean plateau, where we could see lots of cones of volcanoes, most, but not all, now inactive – but we didn’t see any smoke rising from the tops today. We stopped to see Andean rabbits sunning themselves on the rocks and more mice (the mice apparently are good at sending out warning signals of danger, recognized by the rabbits, so the two are often found together). The rabbits seemed quite oblivious of our close presence. They were very cute, brown with ginger bellies, longish floppy ears, and a long curling tail, similar to those we had seen near the Colca Canyon a few weeks ago. We were descending, but very slowly at first and it wasn’t till we reached the pre-Andes again that the road started winding round the mountains towards the valleys in more hairpin bends, that we could see winding below us, as the road crossed the divide between valleys to move on to the next mountain. We were often very adjacent to the edge, although at the steepest parts of the curves there were barriers. We stopped a couple of times to look down on towns and villages in the valleys, green oases in the brown landscape – just a few hardy plants and lichens are able to survive up on the mountains. As we went lower, the vegetation became even less, and at one point, the only things growing were candelabra cactus trees, dotted all over the mountainside. We stopped another time to look down on Cochaquilla Canyon. We could see farms, each with their own small reservoir, growing fields of greenstuffs – potatoes, beans, corn and onions. At the top of the hill, near to where we were standing, were the ruins of a fortress, where those in the valley had fled to at times of attack, in the Tiwanaka civilization. About 25% of these ruins have been excavated and restored, but evidence of an even earlier settlement has been discovered, so further exploration has stopped until after the “rainy” season – at the end of March.

From here the landscape became completely brown and bare – not a living thing could been seen on the mountains – we had now passed into the Atacama Desert. The sides of the mountains were huge, completely smooth sandy slopes, as if someone had plastered them like a wall. There was the just occasional land slip which had resulted in a jagged line through the sand with hollows below. It had a very “unearthly” feel. Later the road turned alongside a green valley – Judah Valley – another green oasis, this time stretching 58 kms to the coast and Arica. The green fields stretched across the wide valley floor to the point where the mountains started to rise. It was like wall-to-wall carpeting – with nothing growing on the walls. The river here never dries up, and allows an abundance of potatoes, corn, onions and beans to be grown. The whole valley is divided into small fields, checkered with the different crops like a patchwork quilt. There were several villages along the way, and we stopped at one to look at the church and large cemetery behind. The church was not at all Spanish in style – it was a large adobe rectangle, painted white, with a new wooden roof on which sat two bell chambers – all very simple. The inside was not the usual accumulation of gold and elaborate decoration we have been used to seeing all over South America – just a simple altar with a few statues. The only rather unsettling thing about this church was that in a side “room” there were life sized figures of Mary Magdelene and Peter beside Christ hanging on a cross. As you entered the church, this room was hidden, and it wasn’t until you walked up the aisle that you became aware of the doorway. Another party came in while we were looking around and one girl screamed – I know how she felt, as the sight had startled me too. The cemetery behind the church was a haphazard collection of hundreds of crosses, all decorated with “silk” flowers – which are apparently renewed in November each year. Some were simple wreaths styled on local flowers, but others had huge ornamentation in the form of mirrors, pictures, and a veritable garden of flowers, with a shelter over the grave and seats, where the family could come and gather to remember the person. It was an extremely colourful scene.

We were now very close to Arica, and it was not long before we got our first view of the Pacific ocean, since leaving Easter Island at the beginning of the month. Where the road met the coast there was an area of dunes that was a wildlife sanctuary, with lots of birds flying over the grassy wilderness, out to sea and back. Ivan told us that there was a battle going on at the moment to stop developers moving in and taking over this land, but he didn’t know when a decision would be made. Further along the coast (apparently this beach is 60 kms long and Arica is at one end) we saw what looked like low rectangular boxes, painted in blocks of sunshine yellow, duck egg blue and mint green, that were houses completed just three months ago – now a suburb as Arica expands. We made our way into the town, where there were just a couple of high rise buildings, the rest no more than double storey, clustered around the end of the bay. We could see the port built out from the headland, with lots of large old fashioned container ships, looking quite rusty, with cranes and gantries soaring overhead. The beach here was crowded with holiday makers, and many others were jumping in the rolling waves – not big enough for surfers, but quite large with lots of white foam. We rounded the headland and continued along a dual carriageway for about half a mile, before we turned off into our hotel.

We said “goodbye” to Ivan and Pato (who was looking a lot better now he was back at sea level), and after booking in, were shown to a tiny room – two single beds pushed together with just enough room to get to one side of each, and a “sideboard” style shelf with the television and a chair. The bathroom was small, but adequate. We couldn’t help but compare to the sumptuous room we had just left in La Paz – but we can’t have luxury all the time. We had a wander around the hotel – we could see the pool and the ocean from our window – around the corner of another room in the hotel – but found the dining room and that dinner was served between 20.00 and 01.00! Very strange hours. There is nothing with information about the hotel generally such as meal times. We later found out there was a games room and a gym. By now it was nearly 19.00, so we decided to claim our “welcome drink” in the bar – it turned out to be a “pisco sour” minus the whisked egg-white (obviously how the Chileans drink it). The drinks were served with two small dishes of crisps and one of olives. We had a second drink each – which again came with more crisps and olives – we wouldn’t want any dinner at this rate. But the menu was quite interesting, offering things like octopus and roasted goats cheese for entrees and conger eel and oxtail for main courses. While perusing the menu another dish of crisps and olives arrived at the table! We both ended up ordering steaks with mashed pumpkin and salad, after sharing a dish of octopus, and the food was delicious. We decided to celebrate our return to sea level with a bottle of wine. By the time we came to coffees and teas Colin was feeling a little the worse for wear – and I could sense a “virus” coming on. I knew I was right by the time we had staggered back to our room! Just hope a good night’s sleep makes him feel better – at least we are not under any pressure to get up early tomorrow morning, as we have the day to ourselves.