Easter Island Eclipse Trek - Day 5

I'VE BEEN THROUGH THE DESERT IN A VAN WITH NO NAME

July 8th, 2010
Everyone was bundled up for breakfast in the dining hall at our accommodations in Putre. Everyone, that is, except for bunk mate Jeff and me. While all our traveling companions and even the hotel staff were dressed for Arctic-like temperatures, Jeff and I wore only a t-shirt inside the eating area which was probably a cozy 40ºF/4ºC. Strangely, we were both comfortable even when we stepped outside in the breeze where the temps were even colder.

(Click on any image to enlarge)

The roads we were to be journeying on this particular day were too small for the regular charter bus to handle, so we transferred into 3 vans for the day. These vehicles had a small center aisle with rows of two seats on either side. A new local guide joined us, giving us one guide for each van: Evan, Raphael, and the new guide (whose name I cannot recall at the moment). As we were to be traveling in a fairly remote and rural area with no services for miles, our vans were in radio contact with one another to coordinate stops and keep an eye one one another. There was not room enough in the vans for us and our luggage, so the bags were sent ahead in a separate vehicle to our final destination for the day, Arica, Chile. We were introduced to a 4th guide, Evan (whom we took to calling Evan 2 or Evan Dos). He, like our bags, would not be traveling with us but instead would be waiting for us in Arica where we'd have dinner in his restaurant.

Our little caravan was not on the road for more than 10 minutes before we made a stop at a scenic overlook. This gave us a chance to get a glimpse of Putre and the valley region where we'd spent the night. This was to be the first of many stops throughout the long day's drive. The next place we came to was the rustic village of Socoroma. Here we got out on foot to walk through the region; the vans were too big to navigate the roads in town so they went around and met us on the far side.

We hiked down along a dirt road where the first thing we encountered on the outskirts of Socoroma was the village's cemetery. It was much more decorated than the cemeteries I've visited in the U.S.; it was almost festive. A short walk later was a large wooden arch which greets visitors. As we approached the village, we were reminded by our guides that the people were not part of the scenery, as it were. If we wanted to take pictures of them we must of course ask their permission. Not long after we told this there was an incident with one of the villagers.

One of my companions had stopped and was snapping photos of a home above her on a small hillside. A woman tending her crops on the hillside became upset and asked not to have her photo taken. Our new guide stepped in and translated. She politely reminded the photographer about asking permission. As it turns out, the local woman wasn't even in the picture. When our guide asked for her permission the woman refused. "Are you kidding?" she laughed and pretended to fix up her hair. "Then I'd have to go inside, wash my hair, put on some makeup..."

After Socoroma we made stops in the villages of Chapiquiña, Belen, and Ticnamar. Each of the villages were separated from the others by miles and miles of twisting, turning roads. And each was ensconced in its own little valley. One thing they all had in common was that each one had its own church. Some of these churches dated back to the 1800s. In the case of Ticnamar, the church had to be relocated from its original site due to a flood that had ravaged the region and destroyed the old one.

In Belen we stopped for lunch at the local elementary school. There they had set out a large spread for us of fresh sliced turkey and other sandwich fixings. And the local school children put on a dance for us. The dance involved two boys and two girls, dressed up as "adults". The boys wore trousers, vests, suit jackets, and fedoras. The girls wore bonnets, dresses, and aprons. When the music started they paired up. In the course of the dance they ended up swapping items of clothing so that by the end, they boys were dressed as girls and vice versa.

Besides the planned stops, we made a few unanticipated ones as well. One involved encountering Carabineros, the uniformed Chilean national police force. We had to pull over and stop at a station house. Here the guides got out and made sure we had permission to use the road in that area. Something was up because our guides looked pretty nervous about the whole situation but kept mum on the topic.

Another stop took place when a "birder" in our van shouted "Stop. Stop! STOP!" The second we came to a halt he jumped out the door to get pics of a large predatory bird sitting atop a power pole. Later in the afternoon a stop was made to check out other large birds of prey which were circling high overhead. Turns out we were witness to a rare sight - Andean Condors. Brief stops were also made to give us views of the Inca Trail, a centuries old footpath that could be seen cutting across the landscape and through the scrub brush.

After leaving the villages and valleys behind, the terrain quickly became more barren. We were headed into the heart of the Atacama desert, the driest in the world. There was little in the way of vegetation. The most notable plant in the region is the endangered Candelabra Cactus, which only grows within a certain Goldilocks range of altitude. The roads in this area were unpaved, bumpy, winding, and hellishly dusty. Late in the afternoon our van was headed west into a golden sunset. The light streaming in the front window highlighted the dust. It made the shadows of the driver and our guide in the front appear to stretch through the air into the middle of the van.

It seemed like forever before we left the hills behind and dropped in altitude to the floor of the desert. The first two vans had pulled ahead and disappeared from sight. Suddenly it was a few of us in our touring van in the middle of an ocean of sand. And just as we were coming out of the hills and dunes, we got a flat. Our guide radioed the others, but no one responded. We were alone, broken down, literally in the middle of nowhere with little water and just a few scraps of food. The van had "dualies", twin sets of tires in the back. It was the inside tire on one set of dualies that was blown out, making the repair that much more difficult.

The driver did the bulk of the work, though a few of the guys pitched in and gave a hand. While our driver was working the jack and removing the tires, the guys took turns working the crank to release the spare; it hadn't been used in ages so the compartment holding the spare was stuck and took great effort to break loose. Once set free, they made quick work of replacing it. All told, we were there for about 30 minutes. By the time they'd finished, our shadows were stretching out well behind us across the dusty road. We watched the sun sink below a low-lying bank of clouds on the horizon and soon the desert around us became engulfed in fog, the only precipitation that reaches the Atacama desert.

Sometime later we broke free of the fog. The sun had long since set and there was only fading twilight to see by. Up ahead in the distance we saw a few moving lights. Civilization in view! O! The joy! As we approached the Pan-American highway, two large objects loomed up ahead; a pair of tutelary figures rising up out of the desert sands. Before our guide could finish asking if we'd like to stop, everyone let out a resounding "No". It seems that the groups' patience had seen its breaking point and now all anyone wanted to do was get some dinner and get some sleep.

It didn't take long to get to Arica once we actually got on the Pan-American Highway. After being in such remote, wide open places, it felt very strange to be back in a crowded city with lots of traffic. The other vans arrived about 30 minutes ahead of us and some of them were still checking in at the hotel. They never did hear our driver radio to alert them to our situation. Once everyone was situated we bid adieu to our female-guide-with-no-name then clamored aboard a bus to have dinner at Evan Dos' restaurant. This meal would prove to be the beginning of a very contentious situation.