Mirador de Kari. Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon)

28 November 2015

It started a few years ago when I came across a photograph online of pink flamingos amidst a stunning desert sunset. I had no idea where this place was and had my doubts on whether the photograph was real at all (photoshopped maybe? Or so I thought). I clicked on the photograph and the caption stated it was taken at the Atacama desert in Chile. That started my fascination with this desert, a fascination that would be reinforced many times by the mind-blowing photographs of its unique landscapes I would encounter online.

The Atacama, I learned, is the driest place on earth, but it is also one of the most beautiful. After years of yearning to go, I finally decided to pack my bags and embark on a trip to this seemingly unreal place.

It was the beginning of autumn in New York when I took an overnight flight from JFK to Santiago, Chile’s capital. There I spent four days in spring weather and was introduced to Chilean culture, history, and cuisine. I had a lot of fun but was eager to see my pink flamingos and surreal sunsets.

A two hour flight from Santiago took me to Calama airport. Another hour aboard a van led me to San Pedro de Atacama, the gateway to the Atacama. San Pedro is situated in an oasis in the middle of the Atacama desert. It is small, sleepy and very dusty. The main street is for pedestrians only and is appropriately called Caracoles (Spanish for ‘snails’). A combination of atacameño establishments and tourist excursion agencies line this rustic street. San Pedro is the base for travelers to Atacama and from here, day trips are designed to unwrap the desert’s various landscapes.

Caracoles. Main street of San Pedro de Atacama

Within a couple of hours of this oasis, the Atacama desert paradoxically comes to life.

Pink flamingos flying over Chaxa lagoon

On my second day, I saw my pink flamingos wading in the Chaxa lagoon at the center of the Salar (salt flats) de Atacama. The Atacama salt deposits are very different from the more famous salt flats of Uyuni in Bolivia where the salt deposits lay flat and wet, like swimming pools, making it possible to provide spectacular reflections on its surface.

At Chaxa, the salt deposits are in the form of small, rough, contorted mounds of salt crystals; each mound looking as if it was yearning to reach the surface and breathe. Taken collectively, the salt mounds are stunning and their yellow colors at sunset provided a wonderful contrast to the rose-colored hue of the desert sky.

Chaxa lagoon. Salar de Atacama

I witnessed the stillness of the deep blue altiplanic (high altitude) lakes of Miscanti and Miñeques at noon and the ghostly mist spewing from the geysers of Tatio at daybreak.

Altiplanic Lake Miscanti

Altiplanic Lake Miñeques

Tatio geysers at daybreak

I even stripped to my swimming trunks in below freezing temperatures to take a dip in a hot spring 4,300 meters above sea level (The temperatures are as crazy as the landscapes; in one day trip, I wore the whole gamut of summer to winter garb).

Tatio hot spring 4300 meters above sea level

I was mesmerized by the lunar-like terrain of the Valley of the Moon and was humbled as I viewed from its Mirador de Kari an inspiring sunset with pink and orange hues emblazoned in the clouds.

Dunes at Valley of the Moon

Lunar-like landscape. Valley of the Moon

Sunset at Mirador de Kari

I hiked along the Guatin trail amidst centuries-old cacti and a refreshing river and was excited to see vicuñas running in the wild.

Guatin trail

Vicuñas in the wild

Grazing vicuñas

I had no words to muster for the other-worldly beauty and serenity of the Salar de Tara.

Never before in my previous travels have I encountered so much natural beauty in one small area of land. And along the way, I met local people and fellow travelers, who may have been in search of their own pink flamingos as well, and listened to their stories and shared with them my own.

Salar de Tara

In my search for pink flamingos and surreal sunsets, I encountered much, much more. From that initial photograph of years ago, I now have my own set of photographs, both pixilated and otherwise, of this very special place on earth. And they are, no doubt, real and indelible as Atacama has become a part of me, just like the other places I’ve travelled to and the people I’ve met along the way as I continue to travel and explore.