ONE ADVENTURE AFTER ANOTHER

Friday, March 5, 2010


In order to stay informed, we watch the new more often than usual. As we watch alive interview with the fire chief on the street in Concepcion, on the developments there. The fireman jumps away from the heavily damaged building behind  the interviewer and himself, We see light poles shaking and pieces of wall falling off a different building. The reporter continues to talk as he explains how the earth is moving under his feet. A few minutes later the TV station announces that a 6.8 tremor shook the area and could be felt all the way in Santiago. When will this stop? This has been going on for almost a week now.

We leave Iquique before noon and head to Arica, the most north western city in Chile. We take the only possible road heading north, the Panamerica 5, for which we need to drive inland and south first in order to reach it.  Once we are through the coastal mountains again, away from the coast, from the distance we can see large Geoglyphic drawings on these mountains west of us. Geometric objects, bird, human figures, llamas and a large sun. These drawings date back from the years 100-1400.

After a few ours, we turn off the boring main road to Dolores, described as a battlefield field during the Pacific war, between Chile, Perus and Bolivia in 1879.
We meet some other people who tell us, that they just received a phone call from Iquique, that another tremor was felt there a few hours ago, just after we left.

In this salt flats area, a large number of Tamarango trees were planted to provide some green in the area. This type of tree is one of the few trees which roots can three times in length of the height to reach water.

Between the coastal mountains and the Andes, is absolutely nothing but the salt flats, se whenever there is an opportunity to stop for something other than salt rocks, or a chance to drive towards the coast, we take it.
A 45 kilometer long road heading west, is suppose to take us to Pisagua. There is no other road leading to this community from any direction, making us even more curious, because there is no other traffic here than us. There is no signage either; Maybe no one wantss us there. At least there are power lines running parallel to the road, that is a good sign.

Midway, a very old simple cemetery provides no answers to some of our questions. Who is buried here?  When? Why? Was there perhaps another mining community here?
We still have to cut through the coastal mountains again to reach the village. A perfectly paved road takes us zigzagging through a deep canyon as if it was made for a road. From the distance we are able to see the ocean. That’s also a good sign, We are getting closer.

(Mom, perhaps you should stop reading from here on)
A small sign give us two options; Pisague or Pisagua Viejo.  I suggest Pisagua Viejo. “That’s where most of the history is”. Ramiro is doubtful. “This road is so steep should we really take it”. But Ramiro is just as curious and (almost) as much an adventurist as I am and start following the dirt road. A sign reads, Camino Angosto. I understand Angosto, means: narrow. Oh, we’re used to narrow roads.  But it gets narrower and narrower, rocks from above have fallen down and there is no guardrail.

Deep down below I can see the ocean and nothing but the steep mountain. We are on aa trail carved out of the mountain. No, it’s not just a horse trail. Vehicles have been here before. Ramiro starts signing. I know, that is a sign of tension building up. At this moment I am glad Ramiro had the window tinted, it not only makes it difficult to look inside, but also harder to look outside. I don’t want to see this. I am so scared and think I am going to throw up.  Never in my life have I been on such a narrow road so far up in the mountains with nothing to stop us from tumbling down, and no soul in sight.
We don’t want to go any further, but there is no turning back. In front of us we see the trail go on and on forever, there does not seem to be an end to it and does not seem to end up anywhere either.

We finally find a small opening in the rocks, where possible traffic from the opposite side could pull over to let the other vehicle go through. It’s not much, but little by little, Ramiro maneuvres the car back and forth, I keep my hands in front of my eyes so I can’t see what’s below us. Perhaps it is time to start focusing on the positive and be a bit more supportive of Ramiro, before he freaks out as well.
I take a deep breath and when I close my eyes again we are on the way back over the same trail.
Shortly we are on the paved road again leading down to Pisagua. From above we see a beautiful, comournful lighthouse amidst the dull looking, old buildings.
As I get out of the car to take a few pictures, I don't hear a sound, I don't see anyone, not even a vehicle This is a ghost town.

We do see some signs of former prosperity as we drive by a huge mansion.
We seemed to have arrived at lunch time, when the stores are closed and everyone is inside for lunch and Siesta.

We spot an old man sitting on the steps and stop to talk to him. He is able to answer some of our questons about the history of this village although vaguely.

At one time, there was a concentration camp here for prisoners of war.
Former Presidents would come here and stay in the big mansion, away from everyone and everything. Here they could come without any guards.

When Ramiro starts asking personal questions, the old man hesitates, but continues to talk. Soon we put the pieces of the puzzle together and with a little imagination and thinking about his words, we conclude that he got in trouble with the law; he had a drinking problem. Left his family behind and started a new life here, where no one could find him.

“So what about Pisague Viejo” we ask.  “Oh, there is nothing left there. A disease broke out many years ago and everyone left and started a new life in Pisagua”.
Now we know............

We need to move on and reach Arica before dark. It seems to be a much longer drive back to the main road.

Further north along the main road, we see a large strip of green. How unusual. A gravel road leads down to the oasis in the valley, which has a large number of garden plots. We leave the car by the old ruins and start walking the trail along the creek. The trail leads us across a muddy, slippery river bed. We continue, balancing carefully on some wooden planks. On the other side of the creek is a large cemetery with an iron gate. The arch above the gate reads “British Cemetery”. The names and the inscriptions on the graves tell us that mining officers from England, Germany and Scandinavia, as well as army officials are buried here.

On the large grave stone the names of five children, all of the age between one and two years, with the same family name are printed. They all died in a timeframe of less than three years. Could this have been the result of the same disease that shut down Pisagua Viejo?

We continue along a long stretch of the Alto Plano again. The high flat salt fields, where we can see te road ahead of us for miles.  If it would not be for the minerals in the earth, no one would have ever settled here I think.
Then there is some variety in scenery: We drive along the edge of a 17 kilometer, long, deep, scary canyon. At least here the road is wide enough for vehicles from both directions, and there are plenty of guardrails. Nevertheless I try to avoid looking down too much.

Eventually we end up on the bottom of the canyon.  No, we did fall down, the road took us there. From here we have a very clear view fo the Chiza Geoglyphs. These, however were not carved, but rocks were placed in the various shapes.

From here on it is nothing but steeps hills and canyons, up and down. Not the most relaxing drive I find, but it does not seem to bother Ramiro. He only gets frustrated when stuck behind one of the many freight trucks and carefully tries to pass them when a good view of the road ahead allows him.

It’s pretty late by the time we reach Arica, but that’s alright, because we are staying with Maria, a Rotary friend.
Maria is still at work, but her daughter Paulina shows us our room and the help shows me how to use the washing machine. Finally a chance to wash a few loads of our dusty clothes.
After tea and bread we find our beds and hope for a good night’s sleep.