Let's back up a bit: San Pedro is kind of an oasis (or maybe outpost) in the Atacama desert (the world's driest) that seems to exist mainly for the purpose of selling tourist services--hostels, meals, tours, handcrafts--to people like me who want to see geysers in the desert at 6 a.m. or pink flamingos on the salt flats. But you'll hear about all that in another posting.
Today I just walked in the desert--but since it's all desert around here, you can't help it. First to Pukara de Quitor, about 3km from San Pedro, which is a kind of fortress that the Atacaman people used to defend against their enemies around the middle of the last millennium, something that was put to an end when the Spanish arrived and chopped off a few hundred heads.
The ruins are terraced up the side of a hill. You can walk up to the top in about 10 minutes. It looks like a place whose inhabitants must have been impressed with at the time, until the Europeans came by with their guns, germs, and steel. My peace was disturbed somewhat by a large school group that I knew were on their way up after me, so I didn't tarry long at the top.
Back at the bottom again, I noticed there was a path up to a mirador (look-out point). I can never resist a mirador. This trek wound its way up the side of a hill and took a bit longer to complete, maybe 20-25 minutes, but I wasn't really trying to motor. There were a couple of stopping points along the way, one with a monument in which was inscribed a poem by Gabriela Mistral, another that looked like it might have been intended to be a fountain. Perhaps a fountain in the desert wasn't going to work out, though I assume there are ways of conserving the water. At the very top there were four large yellow concrete crosses positioned in a square, with the line "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" in Spanish, Portuguese, and two other languages that I either forget or didn't recognize. Behind the crosses there was a shaded place where you can sit, so I did, perhaps to contemplate forsakenness. I descended at around noon. Here is what San Pedro looks like from the top:
I knew there was at least one village beyond the Pukara, about 4km away, so I walked in that direction. Here is some interesting grass from along the road:
About 1km along I came to a fork in the road promising, to the left, a tunnel, some rocks, and another thing I didn't understand. How could I resist? I took the road less taken. After a half hour or so I started wondering if there was anything up there. A passing cyclist on the way down confirmed the existence of the tunnel, so I plowed on, and duly arrived. Unlike the other tunnel I walked through on this trip, I could see the other end from the opening. An engraving in the keystone indicated that it had been built in 1930, presumably to get from one side of the hill to the other. It took maybe four minutes to traverse. About halfway through there was a large boulder almost blocking the way. My guess is that it had simply fallen there, but I didn't check the roof for a gap of similar size. The tunnel wasn't bright like in this picture: my camera must be doing some kind of "correction".
On the other end of the tunnel there were more hills and a vague kind of trail but no signs or you-are-heres or Usted-esta-aqui even, just a vague kind of trail formed by bike and tire tracks (and the odd bit of horse dung) that led...somewhere. Up for a small amount of adventure and uncertainty, I kept going, and going, and going. I took a lot of pictures, but I was getting more and more skeptical that the path actually led anywhere (ideally, to the village that I originally set out for).
The lack of wisdom in setting out with only a relatively small amount of water and a chocolate bar also became apparent. I was either stunned or else expected to arrive at the town, where more could be procured. The sun was hot but not scorching, but still, the body has needs.
By 3.45 I gave up on the idea of reaching anywhere except sweet bugger-all by continuing on this route. I also wanted to get back to San Pedro before it became either dark or cold. So by this time I was hungry, thirsty, and my hips ached. But, as they say, worse things happen at sea. If whole armies (to mix military metaphors) marched on empty stomachs, I could manage it too. The way back was a bit of a pain but I made it back to San Pedro three hours later. If I had paid closer attention to the map that had been posted just beyond the Pukara, I would have realized that I wasn't going to get to any damn town (in fact, according to the map, if I continued the trail would have looped around at the end.
When I got back to San Pedro my first stop was to get water. I would have gone to a restaurant and murdered something but I and some others on the tour I took yesterday had been invited to meet for supper by an Australian girl who was on the trip. When she didn't turn up I went to her hostel and was told she had left for Bolivia. Life on the trail I guess.
1 comment:
Wowser dowser! Congrats on getting back safe and sound!
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