San Pedro looks menacing in the darkness.
In the day-time it is a different place and looks more like a western film set that a Chilean tourist haunt. Consisting of little more than two high streets that bi-sect at a dusty cross-road in the middle of town, we were more surprised to see Lycra clad cyclists emerging from the shop fronts than Lee Van-Cleef squaring up to Clint Eastwood, to the strains of a spaghetti western.
The saloon doors did not swing open and a card-cheat did not fall into the street clutching a fatal shot to the gut but the single storey, adobe plastered street fronts only needed a few horses tethered to the rail to complete the effect.
We wandered the streets for five minutes, eyeing up the Jack Wolfskin outlets and the North Face concessions before rolling into La Estaka for a post breakfast coffee and cake.
The sun eased across the sky and lunch-time arrived as we chatted with Sharif about his life in Munich and his extended family in Cairo. The fire was lit as the afternoon chill descended and it wasn’t until the 4.30pm that we finally emerged into the watery afternoon sunlight to board the truck for the ten minute drive to the near side of the solar system.
San Pedro has one stand out feature and that is the Moon Valley. The desolate terrain that brought us here was trumped by the moonscape that causes you, instinctively, to breathe a little deeper in case the atmosphere suddenly makes for the exit.
It is a place where you would not be surprised to round a bluff and find a spaceship waiting to launch.
Cameron parked in a crater and we climbed the steep ridge line for the sunset. Dave dived weightlessly for photos and Ivan took a contingent along the Miramar ridge line for a view of the salmon pink clouds and distant mountains that burned in the setting sun light.
As darkness fell, we tramped back to the truck through the pink sunlit canyon before returning to town. La Estaka beckoned again and we enjoyed crepes with chicken and mushrooms, washed down with a Cristal beer.
Last night was sub-zero and the water bottle had frozen along with my feet.
Tonight I was determined to avoid frost-bite and so subjecting the broken zip to the full force of my fingers, I bent it out of shape. However, the tent was shut and the elements remained securely excluded.
We froze again as the temperature dropped far below zero.
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