San P. de Atacama

Thursday, October 30th, 2008

Day 123 on The Big Trip. “Desert Mountain Biking Dessert”


SAN PEDRO DE ATACAMA, the Region II desert town with hostels and tour agencies has become our do-it-yourself stomping ground due to high prices. As such, we wake up from our sun-burned slumbers and stagger on over to the bike-rental spot a handy-10-feet from our hostel. We rent bikes for 3,000 pesos a piece. That’s for “5-6” hours of usage. It’s 10:30 in the morning when we take off for Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon), which is 15km from town. At first I’m skeptical. That is, of the origin of the valley’s name. But then we round a corner and the scenery reflects some imaginary perspective I have of the moon: bumps, contours, sharp edges, rising mounds, all glistening brown and white. We inhale dry air while making our way up and down large, small, expansive hills and the bumpy road. We detour for more of a mountain-biking experience while checking out a mirador (viewpoint).

WE PARK our bikes and hike up to another mirador on the way back for our next desert mountain biking dessert: the piscinas (swimming pools). They are supposed to be 3km out of town in the opposite direction and lo and behold – they are! At this point we have sucked down enough water to put the Panama Canal to shame.

THE POOLS are cold and that’s just what we want. Alisa tells me she does not want to seek out any more biking desserts such as the Valle del Muerte (Valley of Death), which I admit doesn’t sound that appealing right now. But what about the single-track mountain biking that’s supposed to be “to die for” and “not to be missed” within 5k of town? I can’t allow myself to pass this up so we agree that I will drop Alisa off at the hostel before furthering my desert mountain biking dessert platter!

SEARCHING the map for an obvious route to this uncharted location where one of the world’s greatest single-tracks is supposed to be is, well, not easy. By not easy, I mean impossible. I stop and ask a tour guide who likes speaking English and whose tour van is loaded with English-speaking tourists where the best mountain biking is near here. Reluctantly, he switches gears from English to Spanish. Only to tell me it’s all around me. So after going the wrong way and exploring parts of the Valle del Muerte, which is cool but not what I’m looking for, I find a path upwards to a mirador-ish site, in hopes of finding some single-track path leading downwards, which I spotted from afar.

SINGLE-TRACK here scares the life out of me. Don’t worry – I was safe. On the other hand, it was like the very narrow paths we walked up much of Chachani, except it’s all sand or it’s all sand with huge rocks at a very steep downward incline. What this means for mountain biking is that I was hauling on the failing rear breaks and reasonably not-over-squeezing the front breaks putting myself in a near-perpetual skid as I rounded corners and bumped and slid my way through this wild single-track with a rocky and steep slope below and above me! What a ride! Well worth the drought my mouth had and the pumped-tired legs all the way back – passing cars, even! – to town!

WHEW! Time to grab a salmon and potato bite to eat at Inta Sol and try out some internet at Adobe, both in town. This is a great way to get me tired before a 12-hour day-busride to Argentina crossing the Andes that leaves at 10:30am tomorrow! Talk to you next from Argentina!