We left our desert quarry wild camp at 12:30, more or less lunchtime. Layne spent the morning preserving vegetables by cooking them, Rusty slept in the sun and I read.
We had some pretty decent broccoli but it goes yellow real fast so she steamed it in the microwave. The same goes for fresh mushrooms for a future risotto and so forth. So it was a morning spent usefully but it squeezed the rest of the day a bit and we ended up racing to camp before dark. Again.
We got going finally and doubled back toward Taltal on the coast.
It was a thirty minute drive down a black volcanic canyon from the PanAmerican Highway,
This is another of these not wealthy, dusty desert mining towns.
We needed gas and drinking water and we got both at the Copec, regular gas is over five bucks a gallon and the water is free using your own hose. Thank you iOverlander and thanks to the attendant who was a cheerful soul. He cleaned our windshield too so I tipped him a buck. We always do that if they wash the windshield. I love not filling my own tank in Latin America.
Layne bought empanadas for lunch and a bag of popcorn. Why? I have no idea but she felt like it. Had I bought popcorn on a whim it would have been dry and stale. The bag she bought was fresh and salty and buttery. Typical.
Highway One runs up the coast for a few miles before it splits where one branch goes inland while the other continues along the waterfront through Indian tribal lands, or the local equivalent.
This is still civilization with an electrical grid, piped water and the usual urban services. Further along the locals live in plywood shacks and haul water in tanks in the beds of their pick ups. I’m guessing they have generators as the plywood shacks all have Dish TV antennae on their roofs. Kind of weird but kind of understandable.
We stopped to eat our chicken empanadas while we watched the surf crashing. A flat area in front of a shrine dedicated to a young man called oddly enough “Little Chicken” (Pollito) was the best spot we found.
I assume it was a vehicle accident. He was about 23 years old and much missed apparently.
Here follows a massive photo dump of our drive, 110 miles from the town of Taltal to the scenic overlook where we spent the night in utter solitude under the stars.
The village of Paposo where the road splits and the trucks go up the hill to join the PanAmerican Highway but we tourists pressed on south along coastal Highway One.
An indigenous village where you can see their caged water carrier outside the houses. I have no idea what they do for heat or cooking as there is nothing organic in the Atacama Desert. I suppose they ship in propane and gasoline and water all the time. And food because I never saw anything growing. Talk about harsh living.
Imagine if this were Big Sur in California with all the traffic, the impatient drivers, dogs on leash signs everywhere and no camping allowed of course. Here in the land of the free you can park where you like and be completely alone and unbothered. I feel privileged to be able to wander this volcanic sandy desert coast unknown to most of us.
There was hardly any traffic down here but I did pull over to let the odd pick up pass. They were carrying seaweed which seems to be the major product here. We did see a few fishing boats but most of the coast is inhospitable to boats or fishing lines.
Aside from a handful of plywood huts we had this all to ourselves.
The road is excellent but these are not prosperous communities.
It was quite warm here with a temperature near 80 in the middle of the day dropping to 70 in the afternoon. Oddly enough there was not much wind ashore and at dusk everything was still. We were lucky as it’s said to be very windy most of the time.
Seaweed collection. It seems a tough way to make a living even harder than answering 911.
Another isolated shack with a portable water tank outside:
We’d never have driven this way if the road wasn’t paved. They did the work in the last few years and they did it with care. It’s a superb drive but you need to stay alert as there are lots of hairpins and occasional sand on the road.
This is where Highway One turns inland and goes steep uphill. There is a dirt road that continues up the coast. If you want isolation here it is.
We started a long steep climb to 5700 feet up these volcanic gullies.
Team Lost as usual chasing the setting sun. We hate to arrive at our planned campsite in the dark but we seem to be doing it a lot on these short hops.
We got there in daylight but at sunset. The Copper Overlook.
That is not the Pacific Ocean but it is the cold air cloud inversion over the water. We were looking down into the marine inversion layer. Slightly unusual.
Our splendid home, a 2020 Ram Promaster 3500, only sold in Canada, the US and Mexico. What a workhorse. GANNET2.
My attempt at an iPhone panoramic shot. We are an hour south of Antofagasta and a few families had come down for a Friday night picnic. Then they were all gone.
A vehicle coming up the dirt road from a copper mine as the sun was setting. He moved fast and raised a huge dust cloud in the valley. There is no wildlife or plant life to be disturbed by the way. There aren’t even any insects in this desert. It is dry and dead.
He arrived up at our spot a little later and I approached him to ask if it was he driving so fast on the dirt. He laughed saying he not only drives it every day to the copper mine where he loads up forty tons of ore but he also grades the road as it needs it. He was driving home to his base in Taltal four hours away by the inland route.
He told us he had emigrated to New York State some time ago and got a job in a hose factory. He said he made good money but the expenses in the US were too high. Here he makes less money but he’s working his trade, driving, and he has a good life. He was a cheerful soul and he warned us to be careful as he drove off into the dark leaving us alone.
What a day.
