The next morning we faced a choice.  After two long days of driving, we were now only halfway to San Pedro.  We could either continue driving north and when we finally reached there, we would only be halfway through our driving, since we had to drive back.  Or we could count our blessings with the new places we had experienced so far and turn around and head back south.  We checked into taking an overnight sleeper bus the rest of the way, but the bus company told us they could think of no safe place where we could park our rental car.  So, drive north to complete our trip, or turn around and save half the driving, or 1000 miles.  Maria chose to turn back, and then the hotel people said we couldn't turn back since we made it this far, so we drove on north.

 

Those last 500 or so miles were something else.  Total desert, with only a very few oasis' on the way.    Miles and miles of nothing and nothing and nothing.  The road was a constant mirage.  No lakes, rivers, or water of any kind.  I could count the number of trees I saw during six hours on my fingers and toes.  Long stretches of nothing, not even a boulder.  Many sections of road that were totally straight, laid out through the desert for 10-20 kms.  Our car had no air conditioning, but I have to say, the heat was not oppressive.  We stopped briefly in the seaside city of Antofagasta for lunch (at 5:00) and headed back out into the desert.  We made almost that whole remaining leg in one day, and it wasn't that bad or torturous.  Just a little water and a lot of rock-n-roll,

 

So we made it to San Pedro de Atacama.  Was it worth it?   It certainly was.  San Pedro is a very remote adobe village set in an incomparable landscape.  The streets are all dirt, and with little or no street lighting.  Car travel through those streets is minimal, and at 10 mph or less.  The night sky features the Milky Way at it's best. Orion is made up of not just 10-15 stars, but hundreds.  After seeing nothing but Chilean travelers on our trip north, San Pedro is nothing but 'foreigners'.  Travel during the day over the vast wasteland to see flamingos and wild burros and llamas, moonscapes and salt flats and thermal springs, and dots of oasis with towns of few people.  Flamingos in flight are absolutely beautiful.  We skipped the geysers because it necessitated getting up at 4:00 and driving 2 1/2 hours on a bumpy dirt road.  The town is lively at night, and the restaurants are great.

 

Given the distance there is in the modern world between the individual and the source of life-sustaining resources, a trip to San Pedro (set in the world's most arid desert) is a good awakening.  The water supply stays constant (although it has less arsenic in it than 10 years ago), while San Pedro has become Chile's third most popular tourist destination.  Water conservation is stressed more than it ever was in the good old days in California.  San Pedro is not connected to the power grid, so the town's electricity comes from a generator.  The generator of 10 years ago could only power for about 4 hours a day. A new one does better, but demand already exceeds it's output.  I know the fan in our room was silent most of the night.  The generator even knocked out one night, about 9:30 when it became dark and everyone turns on their lights at about the same time.

 

Most travelers to here either fly nearby, or take a sleeper bus.  We were encouraged to do so as well, but we had the time, and wanted to see some things on the way.  The trip was long, but I have to say it was worth it.  If you are just dropped into here, you look at it as San Pedro being the desert.  But driving here, you are in awe of how big this desert really is, and are aware that San Pedro is only a very small part of it, and even hospitable compared to the rest.

 

I have a good story, so bear with me....

 

As we arrived in San Pedro, we scoured the town for a room.  Everything was full, the expensive places as well as the cheap.  While in front of one hosteria, I, in my own way, locked the keys in the car.  Here we are in a town of dirt and adobe, in the middle of nowhere, with all our stuff packed in the car (with the keys) and the car blocking one of the streets.  It turns out Maria went to a nearby bicycle trek outfitter to ask who could help, but the fellow said he could do it.  Well, after much travail, Rodrigo succeeded to open the car using a draftsman's plastic triangle square.  I sheepishly thanked him profusely and paid him 10,000 pesos. 

 

I wish this was the end of the story, but it is not.  Two days later, we were going to spend the day in San Pedro, and then head out for Antofagasta for the night.  For days we had tried to find an outfitter to take us to this remote lake that is extremely saline, where floating was a cinch, but no tour operator could find enough people to make the trip.  And everyone said it was too hard for us to find our own way, and too dangerous of taking the wrong road and sinking into the salt fields.  Finally, on this last morning we found a great guide (Jaime) who would, accompanied by his daughter, drive just the 2 of us out to the lake, 30 minutes over the desert on a rough road.  The lake was special, and it truly was the easiest body of water I have ever been in to float (easier than the Salt Lake in Utah).  Jaime drove us back to our car, from which we were going to depart San Pedro.

 

The last little problem?  The car keys were no longer in my swimsuit pocket.  Here we were again with a locked car, with all our stuff inside, but keys where now in an unknown location.  There were two possibilities: the keys had fallen out of my pocket in Jaime's car, or they were on the bottom of the Salt Lake.  As we sat there pondering our fate, Maria expressed that she had a picture in her mind that she had seen something in the lake as she was getting out, something foreign and maybe the size of our keys, but had given it no thought at the time.  However blurry this image, it gave us a little hope of finding the keys in the lake.  We were going to get Jaime to check his car, and take us to the lake to take a probable futile look for the keys, but we knew he was off to a BBQ for the day and might not even return to his office.  We booked another night in our hotel, and made plans to call Jorge in Santiago to see if he could somehow send us another set of keys into the remote desert.  We decided we had to try to find the keys before setting Jorge in action, and before that, we should get the car open, for the next day was Sunday (when finding any help would be harder), and if we were stuck for days waiting for new keys from Santiago, we should have some clothes other than swimsuits.  The last thing I wanted to do was tell Rodrigo that we needed him to break into our car AGAIN with his triangle, so we went to the local gas station (one little pump at a hotel) and they called a semi-mechanic in town.  He could not help us because he could not get out of his second job at a hotel.  While we were waiting for those phone calls to take place, who should drive into the gas station but Rodrigo.  After an exchange of smirks and head-shaking, and a negotiation on fee, he agreed to help us. 10,000 pesos if we could find Jaime's BBQ and the keys were in the truck, and 20,000 if he had to drive us to the lake in the desert again.  I was able to direct him to the BBQ, but no keys in the truck.  Off on the trek to the lake.

 

We pulled up to the lake, walked to the shore, and, lo and behold, there were the keys, about 8 feet offshore and in about 6 feet of water.  I waded out to get them, but they were just below my outstretched toes.  I was going to dive down, but Rodrigo said the water, full of salt and minerals, was horrible for the eyes.  I had to dive with my eyes firmly closed, but the two problems with this is that the same lake that allowed us to float so easily prevented me from diving down and Maria refused to let me try.  Hence a fishing trip, Rodrigo with a bamboo pole with a bungee cord hook on the end, trying to snag the keys.  After some time, success.  Keys in hand, a happy ending compared to the options.  And to ponder.  Those keys fell out of my pocket next to the shore when I was getting in or getting out.  If they had fallen out while I was floating out in the lake, it was all over.  The bottom of the lake could not be seen, and even if it was, we could not have dived down for them.  How fortunate we were.

 

Well, we spent that night in San Pedro instead of Antofagasta, had a few celebratory drinks with Rodrigo (he assured me that future events needing him to break into our car would be on the house), met some great people at dinner, and ended up dancing till 3:00.  So ended our Valentine's Day.  We leave friends and legends behind in San Pedro...   

 

The 800 km drive through the desert to Bahia Inglesa was uneventful.  I was on cruise control, with lots more rock-n-roll, and Maria was immersed in John Grisham. We got to revisit beautiful Bahia Inglesa again, and by chance, also another night in Tongoy the next  night.  I talk like the desert is just up north, but in reality, it is mostly an arid landscape all the way back to Santiago.  

 

On the way back, we made a stop in Zapallar that has turned out to be a week.  I have never been in Zapallar during the high season of January and February, and had only heard the stories about how the beach was so crowded and taken over by Argentineans.  I have to say we are enjoying Zapallar during this visit. The crowds are there, but not overpowering.  The weather is beautiful (although it showed up with us for all January and the first half of February was foggy and even drizzly).  The water was actually on the warm side, especially compared to December when you could hardly stand to get in.  And we found plenty of locals to lay down on the beach with and chat.  Finding a place to stay in Zapallar was difficult at first, so we stayed three nights down the coast in Maitencillo at an old, clean hotel right on the water that turned out to be inexpensive.  Since then, we have a house in the 'pueblo', where the village people live.  Different looks at Zapallar, and good ones.

 

We always live it up here with lunches and dinners at various friends and acquaintances. (For the family, we ate lunch yesterday at that rock house on the beach in Cachagua.  This is a house we have all admired for years, and whose picture is on Andy's refrigerator).  Last night we danced till 3:00 to rock-n-roll in Papudo, and tonight it's a lavish dinner party/dance on the beach in Cachagua...

 

I am deep in the quagmire of trying to convince Maria to sell the Trout Club house and take a new path with our lives.  The outcome of that discussion has yet to be determined...

 

Hope life is treating all of you well...