3 July 2010

At the end of the day yesterday, I did my usual "Can I use one of the cars for the weekend?" thing (in Espanol of course, read haltingly from my list of pre-prepared questions). "Sure," was the response, "what are your plans?". "Dunno,", I said, "I haven't really thought too much about it. Perhaps not much, but just having the use of the car would be good in case the weather on Sunday is nice. If that was the case, I might think about doing some of the road towards the Paso de San Francisco."

At that, Alexis' ears perked up, so we started talking about how far it was, and so on. Turns out that it was really only about 3 hours drive away - not too far at all. I suppose I should have realised that the border is never much more than about 3 hours away from anywhere in Chile, but it sounded so remote and high-altitude that I'd built it up in my mind as being much further.

For those who don't know much about it or have never heard of it, the Paso de San Francisco is one of the routes across the Andes into Argentina from Chile. The main north-south road through Chile, Route 5 (otherwise known as the Panamericana), has a slightly less important off-shoot from Copiapo, which heads off in the direction of a town called Diego de Almagro. Diego appears to be an important linking town in the vicinity of a number of important copper mines, the most famous of which is El Salvador (as far as I'm aware). The road to the Paso de Sanfrancisco heads to the east off this road maybe 30km or so (don't quote me on this number) to the north of Copiapo. It then winds its way through the Andes to Argentina via the Pass, which is at an altitude of around 4,700m above sea level.

The road to the Pass is also locally important because it provides access to the Parque Nacional Nevado Tres Cruces. The Parque is reputed to contain "...all of the rugged beauty and a fraction of the tourists of the more famous high-altitude parks further north." It contains flamingoes (in the right season), vicunas and guanacos (alpaca-like critters), coots of a number of varieties (which I presume are birds), Andean geese, gulls, and even the odd condor. There was also some mention of pumas in the Lonely Planet guide, which sound interesting and fine, as long as they are on the other side of the car window to me. Further, there are a number of lagoons and most importantly, the occasional volcano, one of which, Ojos del Salado, is the highest active volcano in the world. Unfortunately, it last erupted in 1956, so although the chances of not being fried any time soon are pretty good, but it also means that there aren't likely to be any good photo's of fiery eruptions any time soon.

Anyway, so we're chatting away about it, I'm thinking about everything I've read, and Alexis says yep, I'll come with you and we can go tomorrow. Nothing like striking while the iron is hot I guess, so I agreed and we made plans. Alexis would organise some food etc., the car, and off we go at 7AM. OK, now I started to think about how well Chilenos go at getting out of bed in the morning. I had visions of being the dumb bunny standing around in the cold at 7AM, waiting patiently for him to turn up, only to get a call at 7.30 saying that he was still in bed and couldn't be bothered going because he'd had a late night. Everyone has mates like that, don't they?

I therefore made arrangements for food and drink for myself, thinking there was a reasonable chance of being left waiting around. Ahh, I should've known to have faith in Alexis. He is nothing short of an excellent fieldy. He turned up just a few minutes after 7AM, ready and raring to go. Small issue - someone has hidden the keys to the car. No problem, he disappears off to get the spare set, and we're underway just a bit after 7.30AM, heading out of town, sunglasses on already, as the day is brilliantly clear. Zero clouds, zero fog. Perfecto!

The first part of the road is well familiar to me, being the same road we take to our northern project area. We turned off towards the Paso at the big sign and began to head east. Hmm, hadn't really thought about driving into the early morning sun. The biggest problem it presented was that it meant I couldn't take photo's of every spectacular vista that appeared as we rounded each corner on the road, which was probably a good thing, otherwise we'd never get there!

The road followed the valley floor for a while, then started to climb. The first narrow, winding climb was just stunning. Near vertical (and occasionally overhanging) rock walls above us, the narrow road seemed impossible to have been built, however there must have been a tiny ledge there to start with. Very exciting stuff in comparison to many years of flat WA roads. At many of the corners, there were signs suggesting that drivers should be tooting their horns to warn the oncoming traffic of your presence, as there wasn't going to be a lot of opportunity for passing each other!

After we made it through that climb, it was back onto a relatively flat (in comparison) plain, but we were definitely still climbing. We drove past a couple of old mining areas and past a relatively new one as well, pretty much as we started seeing the first patches of snow. They were clearly residual patches that were protected from the sun by the surrounding peaks - those parts of the ground that see no sun for some months of the year! A major surprise to me was the presence of vegetation. Mostly grasses, and realistically not that much, but nonetheless, substantially more than were seen on the lower hills and valleys (nil). There was clearly enough over the winter to provide enough water for the plants to survive reasonably happily enough.

After a brief play (and pose) with some snow, we continued on and found the next surprise - a herd of wild donkeys. Very cool, literally and figuratively! I'm sure they aren't the best critters to be around from an environmental perspective, but they are still a pretty interesting-looking animal.

Snow, snow, more snow, one spectacular vista after the next. Then, something different, as we came across the Salar de Maricunga. This is a saline lake and the size of it came as something of a surprise, being quite large and stretching off into the distance, rimmed of course by "the usual" jagged, snow-capped peaks. At the other end of it is the Laguna Santa Rose, which we couldn't see from where we were, but is reputed to have an abundance of flamingoes and other bird life. Hopefully we'll have the time to make it there - Alexis is certainly keen to go there.

The next little surprise came shortly after Alexis asked if I had my passport with me. Yep, I certainly do. I don't go anywhere without it as it is my primary form of identification here. Not that you'd be arrested or evicted from the country for not having it with you if asked, but it would certainly make life much easier to have it. The reason for asking became apparent shortly afterwards. We were to cross through a passport control office near the border with Argentina, and given its presence, that must mean we were getting closer (remember that we didn't have a map with us).

The buildings are a large series of sheds, big enough for semi-trailers to pass through without drama. There is a very large, cold office that you go to have your documents inspected, stamped, recorded and all of the usual jazz you might expect when going from one country to another (Europe being the exception in my memory). In the waiting room, which is big enough to hold the passengers from a large bus (at least) plus assorted others, there was a very lonely-looking table tennis table, complete with paddles and a ball. Resisting the urge for a quick game, Alexis took care of the administrative formalities, which involved a chat about our route and the fact that we weren't going to Argentina after all, so could we just carry on? No worries, or the Spanish equivalent, was the answer, but go and chat to the Carabiniero's and let them know your route, just in case something goes amiss.

The two lonely Carabiniero's were stationed in a small dorm-like building not far behind the passport control building. As we drove up and got out of the car, one of them appeared in the doorway, had a quick chat with Alexis and then the both of them ducked inside and shut the door. I thought I'd better follow and arrived inside to be greeted by two very friendly (in a good way) lads who were very keen to see some outsiders and chatted with Alexis like he was a long-lost mate. The football was on, the heater was cranking, and it seemed like a not so bad place to be stationed. I didn't catch what their "rotations" were, but it was a pretty peaceful (if cold) place to be stationed for a little while. One wonders how long before cabin fever might take hold, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad for a little while? It isn't like they have much of an option to get out and about. They were stationed there without a car!

Despite offers to stay and watch the football, and no doubt provide a variation to the usual topics of discussion between the two guys, we headed off again. More and more snow followed, the peaks were getting bigger and bigger, the vistas couldn't help but be more spectacular. Alexis knew of an area containing a "cascade" (Cascados Rio Lama), which we stopped at for a view of the little gully being eroded out by water from the melting snow. As we turned off the road to have a look, lo and behold, guanacos! A small herd/flock (whatever their collective term is) were having a drink in the icy cold river, but took flight at our arrival, darting up the very steep bank. Very nimble critters, those guanacos. To Alexis' pleasure (apparently), there were a number of geese-like birds and some form of ducks in there as well.

We had a little walk along the edge of the gully, maybe 200m (downhill) from the car. Despite the sun, I'd been a little bit too bold in getting out of the car still only wearing a t-shirt. The breeze was decidely chilling, explaining very clearly why there was (by now) plenty of snow left and not always in the areas that were in full shade. I'd been told about how hard it was to work at high-altitudes, that you had to move slowly and steadily, otherwise you use up more oxygen than is available to take in, and you end up not feeling so well. Neither of us had any real idea of our altitude, thinking perhaps 3,000m or so. Turns out we were probably a bit higher than that, as by the time I got to the car, I was well out of breath, despite not rushing.

After that bit of tooling around, we headed off again. As we topped the next little rise, the most magnificent view so far was right there in front of us. We'd had hints that they were coming, just being able to see the very tops of them, but there they were, the Cerros Tres Cruces. Three very prominent peaks, all lined up in a row. That of course meant stopping again, so out we get, snapping away, just taking in the view. Glorious. Alexis managed to find a bit of ice/snow that just needed a head and minor decorations to turn into a snowman! I found the patterns in the melting ice/snow on the edge of the road just as fascinating as the view - it's funny what grabs your attention at times...

Onwards we go towards the next views, more and more snow. We crossed a large white plain - the first time snow has covered almost the entire visible ground surface. It's hard to know which way to look, the views are so amazing. Jagged, rocky peaks draped with bits and pieces of snow, more rounded hills, hills that look like they MUST be volcanoes, but no signs to indicate that they are. Both of us are by now wondering which of the hills is Ojos del Salado, but we eventually convince ourselves that it is further to the southeast. Neither of us has been smart enough to bring a map! Doh!

Continuing on, we round another corner for another view of a broad plain surrounded by mountains, and there's a bloody drill rig, parked in the middle of the plain, drilling away. As we get closer, we can see that there is an enormous amount of water gushing out the top of the rig and the cyclone. Alexis was quite excited, as he has a good friend who works as a fieldy for Barrick somewhere in this part of the world, so we decided to head towards the rig and have a look, in the hope that this guy is there. So, we drive up to about 50m from the rig. No-one is showing any great concern at our presence, so we get out of the car, wander around to have a better view from the side (still a good safe distance from everything). Eventually the geo (we think) comes over to see what on earth these two idiots are up to. In terrible Spanish, I introduced myself as an Australian geo, new to Copiapo, heading up to the Paso and was very excited to see a drill rig working up here. The three of us ended up chatting about what was going on. Then another guy wanders over. The geo rapidly winds up our conversation and heads back to whatever sea container he was hiding in, leaving us in the hands of someone who is clearly much more important. So, same spiel. Andrew the Aussie geo, new in Copiapo, heading off to see the mountains and excited to see a drill rig working here. Didn't that go down a treat! We got the full explanation as to what was going on, drill rig capacity, air compressor capacity, drillhole depths, diameters, details of the casing and all of the jazz. All very interesting - they were drilling 300m deep holes for water!

Onwards and upwards after all of that. What could top everything so far. What about a lagoon?

Laguna Verde is found at just over 4,300m is described as being the colour of liquid kryptonite, rather than the green suggested by the name. Not being really sure what colour to expect (I don't recall seeing "liquid kryptonite" in any container of Derwent Artists that I've ever seen), but thinking that at some point in time the Laguna must have been a greenish kind of colour, I was looking forward to seeing what it might turn out to be. It didn't disappoint. To my eyes, liquid kryptonite is a colour that is somewhere between blue and green, a sort of aquamarine/turquoise, but extraordinarily vivid. The backdrop of snow-covered dark coloured rocks was just awesome. So, yet another stop to soak up the views, pee in the snow and all of that sort of stuff.

As we drove on, we found a little turn-off that led to some small thermal springs on the edge of the lake, along with a small (locked) refugio (refuge cabin). Adjacent to the springs were a collection of hemispherical walls about 50-70cm high, all facing in the same direction. This is the campground. Perhaps a bit chilly for winter, and clearly there is a wind problem! Dipping my fingers in the lake to check the temperature was (not surprisingly) enough to immediately remove thoughts of going for a quick dip. "My, that's a bit chilly!" is the nicest way to describe how cold it was. The salt content means that the water was not frozen, despite almost certainly being below 0 degrees C. Now the race was on to get my fingers into the thermal pools to warm them up, and fortunately they were only a few metres away. The temperature of these was blissful. Easy to imagine sitting in there and giggling about how cold it was out of the water. Small problem in getting out, dried and changed before the cold hit you, but nothing that couldn't be overcome with a bit of rapid movement!

We continued east for the remaining 20 or so kilometres until there it was, Argentina. An auspicious day perhaps, as Argentina were playing Germany in the World Cup? No radio reception or mobile coverage here, so no way of checking. All we knew was from the stop with the Carabiniero's was the Germany were 1-0 up, nearing half time.

The border is marked by a big arched metal frame, signs on either side indicating that it is the Pass, showing the altitude, which is just over 4,700m. There are a number of monuments with plaques and all of that sort of stuff, none of which are in English. As a brief side-track, this is a pet subject of mine in Australia. Think of every tourist location you've been to and wonder about how many of them cope for foreign tourists. Travel overseas and marvel that most places, but certainly not all, consider tourists from overseas by at least having some signs in English). The Argentinian passport control is some distance down the road into the country, so feeling a little bit of a naughty thrill, we drove into Argentina, did a u-turn, and then headed back down the road to safety of Chile.

Same major scenery points as on the way, but of course they all look very different when viewed from the opposite direction. We stopped again at Laguna Verde, this time for lunch. We sheltered out of the wind in an old Carabiniero's "refugio" that was dug into a small hill on the edge of the road. Cold, but not breezy. Because both of us brought enough food for the other, it turned into a bit of a feast, although Alexis advised against eating too much at altitude, because it was likely to make you sick. I was hungry enough to ignore that advice, and wondered if it was wise...

Heading back was my turn to drive. At the point where we saw the drill rig, on the other side of the road was another refugio, this one maintained by the University of Atacama(?). Two story, VERY basic, but at least a place to stay that is out of the wind. It may even achieve some level of warmth, although perhaps that is relative - just not as cold as outside! The view from here was again pretty awesome, straight up the "valley" to Ojos del Salado. Great location.

As we approached the Salar de Maricunga, the turn to the Laguna Santa Rosa beckoned. Hmmm. Late in the day, less than half a tank of fuel left, and unknown route. The choice is obvious. Of course we'll go that way.

The track is rough and gets rougher and becomes more indistinct as you head further south(?). Of all things, in the distance, we could see a grader making a cross-country run towards the track further up in the hills that we could see. Saving himself a kilometre or two of the bumpy track I guess. Certainly none of the "stick to existing tracks" habit that becomes built into you when working in WA. Here in the desert, if you want to go somewhere, you just drive to it.

Eventually, we got to the Lagoon and yet another refugio, this time in much better condition, although still not necessarily terribly inviting. At least the building itself was newer. By this stage of the day, I'd started to develop a thumping headache whenever I was walking around outside the car. Almost certainly it was a combination of the altitude, the walking around, probably a bit of dehydration (despite my best efforts to keep my fluid levels up), and perhaps a bit of that lunch time feast coming back to haunt me? Nah, I'm going with the altitude and dehydration combo!

The Lagoon is supposed to be the home of abundant bird life. There were signs featuring the many varieties of birds, posters in the refugio showing much the same thing, but outside on the lake, where it matters, there were four lost and lonely birds, wandering around on the ice, no doubt looking for some water to wade in. At our arrival, they made themselves scarce. Beautiful views of the mountains in the distance again, so certainly the lack of bird life was nothing to be disappointed about. We'll just have to come back in summer! At this point, Alexis decided to prove that fieldies can in fact walk on water, and that it is barely cheating at all if it happens to be frozen! It was very funny at the time, but perhaps you need to be there...

The drive back to Copiapo took a fair while and was covered mostly very late in the day and in the dark. We also managed to find other traffic to follow on the dusty dirt roads, which was a remarkable thing, because the only people we had seen out and about in the course of the rest of the day were the drillers. We had seen no-one actually driving on the roads once we got up into the mountains.

After a good few kilometres of following our friend the grader (and his mate in a 4WD who insisted on driving in the middle of the road whenever a passing opportunity presented itself), we finally snuck past and thought that we'd be off and enjoying the narrow valleys in the dying light. No such luck. Another few kilometres revealed more dust coming our way. Before too long, we encounted two haul trucks from a local mine heading down the road in the same direction as us. Given that they were slightly wider than the actual road, passing opportunities were at zero. We just had to wait until they saw us and moved over to let us pass (something that does not appear to happen in Chile), or they arrived at their destination. In the end, we had to wait until they arrived at their destination.

Well, that was my first day in the Andes (proper). Awesome, and really looking forward to doing it again, or looking at other parts. I hope you enjoyed the ride and the pictures.

For those of you who have the option (or want to install it), try looking at Google Earth for that part of the world. There should be an option to turn on "panorama photos" or "scenery photos" or something like that. Once you are zoomed in to the right scale, they become apparent. There are some fantastic photo's in there, and along with mine, give a pretty good idea of what it is like.

Regards to all,

A