Our hostal lies at a crossroad on the edge of town. Go right and it’s ruta 23, the lagunas, Socaire and, ultimately, Argentina. Go straight on ruta 27 and again it’s the Argentinian border, as well as the Bolivian one. Above everything, though, is volcano Licancabur.
It’s easy to feel a sense of recognition upon seeing the ‘Bur for the first time; after all, that’s precisely how I always drawn a volcano since I was aged 6. Almost a perfect isosceles, all it’s missing are an ominous plume of smoke, a rivulet of lava and an idling stegosaurus. Even the moon seems in awe of its geometric perfection.
South of San Pedro and its bubbling, life-giving stream, is the third largest salt flat in the world. Measuring 3000 square kilometres, 50 times the size of Manhattan, Salar de Atacama is many things: the biggest source of lithium in the world, a sanctuary for wildlife and a hostile environment for men and beasts. But, seen from above on the road leading to Bolivia, it looks like an immense white shroud abandoned on the tan earth, a modesty cover for something very old and, by now, very dead.
It’s almost a blessing that, as soon as you’re past the bubble of civilization that hangs around the few villages, phone signal and radio reception die out, the dum-dum-du-du-dum of the cumbias fizzling out to static; it’s a blessing because it gives me time to play tunes in my mind. And the music surely ain’t from down here: the thing is that the corner of my mind that isn’t paying attention to the driving is convinced that this isn’t Latin America. This is the Teneré and I’m ferrying the entire Imarhan band to the Festival au Désert and, guess what, they’re holding a jam session onboard.
I’m sure that our choice of ride has a major part to play in this daydreaming. A gargantuan chunk of red Japanese engineering, a growling diesel engine, low-range gears and a roll-bar wedged into the cab: all it’s missing is a sticker on the dashboard, above the glovebox compartment, proclaiming that the “Mullah Omar approves of this vehicle”. My inner six-year-old is ecstatic, and my 32-year-old self is also relieved of the laissez-faire attitude of the rental company towards bumps dents and scratches, which are legion.
The Sahara Blues clues become almost impossible to resist every time we take a right turn off the ruta 23: the roads almost immediately turn into gravel and the landscape slowly transitioned from trees to wispy bushes to just salt. The light is golden, the sky deep-sea-blue, we leave a trail of dust in our wake and it’s impossible not to feel a Terakaft-style riff and rhythm filling the cab of our Nissan.
Laguna Cejar is a brusque reminder that, no, we’re not in the Sahara. Three specks of water lie nestled amidst white salt and reeds, one dedicated to bathers who want to feel like Jesus walking on water, and the others to the observation of a wildlife that, evidently, has been scared away by vanloads of screaming Brazilians. It’s only bipeds around here.
Still, it’s hard not be sitting there, with Licancabur mirroring itself almost perfectly in the still water, and not losing track of time. Before you know it the sun is setting and everything looks as if, somehow, you’d slipped on Elton John’s stage sun glasses. There’s only a few bathers left and, the coast now being clear, a flamingo arrives, scampers about for a little while and then flies off again.
I’ve never understood why people like flamingos. Ugly, odd-shaped and seemingly apt only for tip-toeing on a freshly polished floor, I always thought that their environment of choice could only be Don Johnson’s Miami villa. Yet that single bird, elegantly taking off Laguna Cejar at sunset, whetted my appetite.
If only it wasn’t the wrong season for flamingo spotting.
Lol what did the flamingo ever do to you? Haha. I think you must be the only person I know to diss the flamingo! 😜
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I don’t know, it just looks… pretentious. “Oh look at me I’m so nice and beautiful!” Give it a couple of Gucci and Dior shopping bags and it’d be right at home on Bond street…
… or so I thought before what happened in the next instalment!
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Hahaha you do have a fair point. There is a shop called “the Webster” in Miami where you can buy $30,000 Chanel coats and stuff. They wrap the garments in boxes with pink flamingos. Very Miami. And very flamingoish. Lol
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See?!
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Magnificent skies and landscapes.Your photos give such a lovely feel of being there and the tranquility and vastness is quite amazing i once witnessed a huge flock of pink flamingoes in Namibia in Africa and it was a beautiful sight to behold. And actually in Namibia there is a huge salt pan that used to be a lake and is quite a dramatic backdrop to see wildlife come to the water holes to drink.
Peta
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Nice! Would the Namibian flamingoes be migrating to the Americas?
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You took me right back there with your elegant words and pictures. I loved our time in the Atacama. What a stunning landscape! And yes, we did float in Laguna Cejar. And I love flamingos!
Alison
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Thanks Alison! 🙂 Glad I could bring back some great memories.
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Wow, what stunning photographs of a breathtaking landscape. I am always drawn to these barren landscapes, where one can see the next day hovering on the horizon.
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Thanks Jolandi 🙂 I’ve to say, these places are like catnip for me too. That’s perhaps why I liked so much your Namibia journey!
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Kindred souls then, Fabrizio. I always marvel at how certain landscapes speak to one’s soul, and others not so much. My husband again has that affinity for water and the ocean, and although I find the sound of running water soothing, the ocean tend to scare me.
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That’s two of us. My wife loves swimming in the sea and snorkeling, I quite can’t shake the feeling that evolution is telling me “You aren’t supposed to be here!”
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I always feel at home when I see volcanoes. Do you know if people actually climb Licancabur? Despite the absence of flamingos, this landscape certainly looks ethereal, one that is able to induce oxytocin in one’s body — at least that’s what I imagine it will do to mine.
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Ah sure they do! There were a lot of offers from guide to climb basically every stratovolcano out there. And there’s plenty!
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Gorgeous images of a very special place. I wish I could have rented a vehicle during my visit, but not enough time and I was also uneasy about breaking down all by myself. I saw lots of flamingoes, love them. 🙂
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Well we just had 4 nights there and, yes, it was a bit of a “what if…?” Situation every now and then but… totally worth it.
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Your photos of this beautiful landscape have me drooling. Be careful what you say about flamingoes – they’re big enough to strike back. 🙂
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And they did! But that’s for later 🙂
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🙂
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As someone who serves travelers rather joining their ranks, i admire you and envy your journey.
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Thanks Hook!
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You do seem to have a taste for arid, wide open spaces. Maybe they should call it Atacamastan? 😉
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Ha! They ought to indeed… By the way, just returned from one such place.
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Bahahha! They did? Strike back? That’s what you get for dissing them! In Orbetello they mingle in the middle of the lagoon but now I’ll be happy for it. 😀 I better continue with the next part! (You like volcanoes and dis flamingos! :o)
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Lol!
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