Atacama: Flat

There's little that's off the beaten path on the itinerary, but for our excursions we can choose the hours carefully to avoid crowds. That's been a guiding principle for the duration of this trip, and often we've been lucky to have found ourselves alone in these extraordinary surroundings. 

Here in Atacama the days are rather pre-programmed by the hotel crew, a checklist of desert delights and must sees, all the adventures proclaimed in the sun-bleached tourist posters in town. 

We steer well clear of the naff dune-riding on snowboards, and in the end are happy to sign up for the Valle de la Luna, Laguna Ceja and the Flamingos and Salt Flats. All of it exceptional. But perhaps exceptionally well frequented by coach after coach of travellers. 

These are vast expanses, like the Patagonian spaces we left down South before we came here. But the Altiplano leaves me feeling a little, well, flat. It's empty.

Maybe it's the searing heat that's inimical to my Baltic disposition, but where Patagonia was all rich horizons and depth, the Altiplano is all dazzling surfaces and emptiness. Granted, the colours, a completely different template from the deep South, are a wonder.

A little jaded by now with the "packaged" expeditions we've ended up subscribing to, we take our respective detours. Flo takes to her bike to explore San Pedro centro, finding as she always does little gemstones in the desert dust. I'm skeptical of San Pedro's kitchy pipe and poncho stands, but Flo's resourceful eye finds charm and originality. For my part, I seek out a climbing guide and head for the hills... Or rather the valleys.