I’m going to be honest. My first reaction to San Pedro was not positive. Though, that could be due to the hour we spent at the Budget Rental Car desk in the Calama airport.
A side note: Joe and I don’t have a great history with Budget rental company. This past summer when we were moving our entire lives from DC to Chicago, we rented a Budget moving truck. Then, 1.5 hours prior to picking up said truck on a Friday evening, we learned that truck was no longer available. And, in fact, no trucks were available in all of Washington DC until Tuesday. We ended up going to Philadelphia to get a Penske truck that cost us $1000 more than originally planned, and missing our good friends’ wedding. Needles to say, Budget made it on our shit list. One would think that negative history would result in a firm avoidance.
Yet, somehow, there we were again, standing in front of the Budget sign behind a disgruntled Englishman who let us know he had been standing there for 90 minutes in an effort to just return the car. This was especially frustrating for him because, we learned, he worked at a car rental place for 3 years in the UK. He was an expert watching the inefficiency with the disdain of someone who knows he could do better. We put our bags down and settled in. It took about 15 minutes until we were acknowledged. Then we got a friendly nod that they did have a truck for us. And then no communication for another 20 minutes. Then the Englishman finally finished his transaction, wished us luck, and we were face to face with the woman who seemed to have all the power and no urgency. Finally after she moved lots of papers around and sold us extra protections for our car that we didn’t fully understand, we had the keys. But... don’t get too excited. We still had another 10 minutes of walking around the truck and documenting the many scrapes and dings. And then there was the lesson on all the safety features (that one I wasn’t mad about). Finally, after all of that we were in our 4x4 truck (Joe’s honeymoon dream), and on our way into the vast, dry, brown desert.
We got to San Pedro around 8pm, and were hungry. We threw our bags into our adobe hut, and headed to town. At this point, I also was realizing that a cold was overcoming me. Trying to hide it from Joe, I put on a smile and acted like everything was just fine. But after ending up at a too fancy restaurant with a fire pit in the middle of it, and accidentally ordering the largest plate of steak, eggs, and French fries possible, I cracked. Our next stop was the pharmacy where we acted out my symptoms until we successfully got a magic decongestant, and it was back to our hut for an early bedtime. I will note that as we walked back to our hut, we walked through the town right by The North Face store. That’s right, folks, in the middle of the desert, where resource scarcity is ever-present, there was a North Face store. Needless to say, we were confused.
The next morning, we wake up ready to give this place another chance. We decide to take it easy because, well, the cold.
First, we decide to go to a “verdant gorge” with hiking that isn’t too far away. We get there, pay the nominal fee, and set off. It was...fine. Our idea of verdant and desert verdant were not exactly equivalent. There was trash in the stream. And, while I was outwardly praising the beauty to be the trip cheerleader, inside I was not exactly feeling it. Though, we had a mission. Find the petroglyphs we had been told about. We hiked to the end of the path in the gorge, closely examining the rock walls with our binoculars. Unsuccessful, we returned to the picnic area only to realize there was a placard about the petroglyphs there. We look up, walk 100 meters, and there they are. Llama and ancient hunter. It is legitimately cool. Phew, we could leave with an accomplishment. Not that honeymoons are about accomplishments, but I mean, we are who we are, honeymoon or not.
Next stop: Laguna Cejas. This is a lake that is salty enough to float in like the Dead Sea. Sounded like the perfect way to ease into the day. So, we get into the truck and head out. As we drive up there is a cyclist standing there by a closed gate. Not a good sign. I get out of the car. Cerrado. Well, shit.
Ok, no worries. Let’s drive on. Laguna Chaxa isn’t too much further. We can see the salt flat and we hear there are flamingos there. We drive up. Gate is closed. I get out. Cerrado.
Hmmmmm.
Well, fine. We didn’t want to see those things anyway. We are driving a big truck in a beautiful landscape. We can make lemonade. I’m blowing my nose for the umpteenth time, trying my best to stay positive. But, again, I crack. I admit to Joe that part of me is feeling regret we came north to the barren, stark desert and not to Patagonia as we had originally wanted to do. Joe admits he’s battling the same feeling. But, we drive on.
The next site we know about is another hour of driving. We’ve come this far. As we drive, we are getting closer into the mountains. Interesting flora is popping up. We see a large flightless bird just casually walking along the road — we have googled it and believe it was a rhea. Ok, desert. We see you. But what else do you got?
We keep driving. We are getting higher and higher. We get to the entry gate of the altiplanic lagunas... and... it is abierto!
As we drove around the bend and laid eyes on the first of two crystal blue lakes surrounded by volcanoes, vicuñas, and flamingos, our regret for coming to San Pedro faded away.
There at 13,500 feet, with thin air and short breaths we settled into this unique place. We spend two hours walking along the lakes, taking pictures of animals, marveling at the beauty, and appreciating having this time together.
On the drive back to San Pedro, we afix Joe’s GoPro — specially bought for this trip — to the top of our truck, and take video of the mountains.
We lean in to the wild of the desert.
We return to our hut with a renewed sense of wonder. We hit up the touristy town with a sense of humor and order the navidad menu at a local restaurant. For the first and likely only time in my life, I ate spaghetti with avocado sauce. Because, why not?
We settle in early on Christmas Eve, still with sniffles in my nose, but excitement for the next morning. Joe surprises me with a Polaroid of our Christmas tree we left at home.
We hold each other tight on our first married Christmas — certainly one that will stand out for the rest of our lives. Our alarms are set for 5:30 am. We’ve got geysers to see instead of presents to unwrap. We realize we are just beginning to peel back the layers of this incredible place and fall asleep happy to be exactly where we are.
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