Counting Stars
Located high in the Andes, the otherworldly landscapes of Chile’s Atacama Desert defy convention. Kissa Castañeda discovers the magnetic pull of the world’s driest terrain
Discover Chile’s Atacama Desert— a spectacular experience featuring otherworldly landscapes
There it is… that’s the North Star,” I proudly said to our guide, pointing at the bright‑ est star in the sky. Turns out, I was pointing to Mars. Astron‑ omy clearly isn’t my strongest suit, but that’s no surprise. I’d normally only be able to iden‑ tify the Big Dipper and Orion’s Belt, but here in the southern hemisphere, neither of these constellations appear as how I would normal‑ ly recognise them. Lying on a bed outdoors and wrapped in a fleece blanket, I realised how little I knew about the universe and just how much of it I could see—the Milky Way included—with my naked eye. Stargazing is just one of the things taken to another level at the Atacama Desert in northern Chile. To say it’s a place like no other may sound like hyperbole, but its credentials dictate otherwise. Located 4,000m above sea level, this Andean plateau is embraced by the Pacific Ocean on one side and the Andes mountain range on the other, and holds the title of the driest place on earth. The last time there was a notable storm was in 2015, and some parts haven’t seen rainfall in over 400 years. What it has a lot of, however, are clear skies. It enjoys more than 300 sunshine‑filled days a year and has almost no light pollution— elements that come together to the delight of astronomers, who chose it as a base for the Atacama Large Millimeter/submillimeter Array, or Alma Observatory, which houses the largest ground telescope in the world. Atacama tops the list for astro‑tourists, and increasingly attracts urban dwellers like myself seeking to escape a view filled with smog and skyscrapers.
IN THE CLEAR
To get to Atacama from Asia, one must first fly into Santiago, Chile’s rapidly growing capital. Most guidebooks suggest avoiding the city in August, but I had it on good authority from Jobi Chan, my expert travel designer at Jacada Travel, that winter is actually a great time to visit. As a valley surrounded by the snow‑capped Andes mountain range, Santiago is meant to be bitterly cold in winter. During the planning process, Jobi assured me that the weather would warm up by the time of my stay; there’s also the upside of both places being free from crowds. As predicted, my travel companion and I landed in Santiago on a clear winter’s day greeted by crisp air, the bluest of skies, and our affable guide César, who brought us to The Singular, a boutique hotel in the stylish Lastarria neighbourhood. Arriving on a public holiday, I revelled in the gentle hum of a city that was in semi‑hibernation and did what I always do when I’m in a new place for the first time: walk without a fixed agenda. Jacada Travel provided the perfect companion to join my pursuit of flanerie: a 55‑year‑old architect who shared his insights on the city’s intense evolution—santiago’s population has exploded to six million people in a mere 10 years—as well as showed me areas that would unlikely make it into a luxury city guide. Over a number of leisurely strolls, he taught me about the dichotomy of the city. Head east and there’s the gleaming “Sanhattan”—a portmanteau of Santiago
and Manhattan—which is living proof of how cosmopolitan the city has become. Home to the country’s business district, it’s also the stomping ground of the nomadic elite who frequent restaurants such as Boragó, ranked fourth on Latin America’s 50 Best Restaurants 2018 list and hailed for its 17‑course tasting menu made with flora and fauna native to Chile. Venture west and another side of the city reveals itself. Modern glass structures are replaced by crumbling beaux arts and art deco buildings, and walls riddled with colourful murals and graffiti. Gentrification is slowly creeping in, even in the enchanting Concha y Toro district, where a boutique hotel is planned next to a house owned by a 74‑year‑old woman who has lived there all her life.
DESERT STORM
Just as I was falling for Santiago’s charms, it was time to leave my comfort zone again and head for Atacama, the main reason why I had travelled 30 hours to Chile. The drive from the Calama airport to the hotel was a memorable experience in itself: I had witnessed the view change from flat desert land and rugged terrain, to something that looked out of this world when I saw the Valle de la Luna (Moon Valley), famous for its uncanny similarity to Mars, for the first time. It was dusk when we finally made it to the Alto Atacama Desert Lodge and Spa. When I was told that we were close to the hotel, I couldn’t make it out as it blended seamlessly with its ochre‑hued surrounds. Alto Atacama is one of those exceptional hotels that really inhabits its destination and would be impossible to replicate anywhere else. The hotel’s landscape designer,
Veronica Poblete, who’s a close friend of the owner, told me of how little they wanted to alter the site when they were conceptualising it. Using local materials and techniques, every design element in this luxury hotel is intended to celebrate the Andean culture, but nothing ever feels contrived. “I put pampas grass next to the pools as that’s the kind of vegetation that grows beside water here,” she shares, demonstrating how the small details often hold a deeper meaning. Eager to discover the desert’s otherworldly landscape, I’d mapped out a plan for the next couple of days with Alto Atacama’s expert guides. The small group excursions take guests to the top sights, but they also have other specialised activities such as a cactus hike. What I experienced couldn’t have been more varied: I welcomed the day walking through one of Atacama’s largest salt flats, Laguna Tebinquiche, and encircling El Tatio, the third largest geyser field in the world. I spent several afternoons turning
my black trainers into a shade of terracotta by traversing the Mars‑like grounds of the Moon Valley as well as the lesser‑known Valle de Arcoiris (Rainbow Valley). Within the latter, I encountered a bewilderingly colourful mountain that has yet to become an Instagram cliche. Magic hour is extra magical at the Atacama Desert. With the elevation and sheer expanse, nothing can compare to the glorious multicoloured sunsets in the Andes. I took in the remains of the day at Laguna Chaxa, watching a flock of flamingos just a few metres away, as well as at the Valle de la Muerte (Death Valley), where I sat down savouring the mesmerising landscape with a glass of Chilean Carménere wine in hand. While I happily racked up 20,000 steps a day during my expeditions, relaxation was also part and parcel of the itinerary.
I spent a few hours exploring the quirky town of San Pedro de Atacama, utterly captivated by dogs donning bandanas in place of collars. Being in the desert oasis of one’s dreams, I made sure to take a dip at Alto Atacama’s pool while enjoying its expertly made pisco sours. I also took part in the bucolic pleasures that one can only experience here, such as feeding the resident llamas. But perhaps, the most relaxing of activities was the opportunity to be in complete darkness and looking up at the star‑filled sky. At a time when we’re all surrounded by a multitude of illuminated screens, being in the dark with just the moon and the stars lighting your path is a rare novelty I truly relished.