Valle de la Muerte

When we woke up on Sunday, we felt that our legs had healed sufficiently from our first bike ride to give it one more go.  We had slept in a bit more than expected (probably due to the hiking a lot more than expected the day before), so by the time we got to the bike shop we had rented from before, there weren't any bikes left.  We found another one around the corner, but they were charging almost twice as much for less time!  We forwent that option, and went to a couple other shops, which were also sold out for the day.  We were about to give up when we came across a tiny shop in the back corner of the village.  The signs were very old and faded, and we weren't even sure it was open because the doors were all closed.  As we walked by, a couple came out of the building with some bikes, talking to the woman about how to pay.  They seemed like pretty satisfied customers, so we took a shot an inquired about renting bikes.

The woman told us that she only had one mountain bike left, but she also had one old, "strange" bike that she could let us use.  Not quite sure what a "strange" bike was, we agreed to rent anyways and figured we'd find out soon enough.  It turned out to be a great stroke of luck, because the rental rates at this place were about half the price of the place we had rented from on the first day.  And apparently, a "strange" bike is a hybrid, which is actually what I prefer anyway!  Leaning forward so much on the mountain bikes always makes me sore (well, more sore than usual).  Also, the hybrid bike was gold and sparkly, so it was pretty much the best thing ever.  The only thing that worried me a bit about this shop was that it was required that I leave my Chilean ID card at the store until we returned the bike.  It had been a bit of a hassle getting that card in the first place, and I didn't want to have to go through the process again.  I reluctantly handed over the card, and we began our journey into the desert.

Armed with the map we had received from the original bike shop, we headed out of town towards Valle de la Muerte (Death Valley).  After some initial difficulty with the bikes (we eventually figured out that the gears were set backwards), we rode down the main highway leading back to Calama.  The first stretch was a bit rough because it was all uphill, but we were rewarded with an excellent curving hill  to speed down on the final leg into the desert.  We came to a sign indicating the direction to Valle de la Muerte, and took a quick water break.  It was here that we discovered why it is called "Death Valley."

Scott was a bit disappointed that someone else had come upon the feast before we did, but we settled for some cookies as a snack and continued on our way.  Along the route we saw many people carrying sandboards, and lamented that we had forgotten to ask for one at the rental shop.  The interior of Valle de la Muerte has some huge sand dunes, perfect for sand surfing.  The ride to the dunes was supposed to take around 15 minutes, but as usual, we got distracted on the way.  The path to the dunes is surrounded on all side by large, solid sand and salt formations.  In one of them, Scott found an intriguing cave and had to investigate.

The view from our perch.  Notice the biker in the distance.

It turned out that the cave was not so much a cave but more a tunnel leading into a maze of sand formations. Obviously, we had to explore.  We left our bikes in the cave and climbed through.  On the other end we found a cluster of tall, formidable formations that just needed to be climbed.  We were a bit wary, unsure if the sand was stable enough to support the weight of people, so we proceeded slowly.  After ascending a few feet with no ill effects, we realized that the formations were much more solid than we expected.  We actually managed to climb all the way to the top of one of them.  It turned out to be the perfect place to spy on the people down on the path below.  It's quite interesting that people rarely ever look up, even when surrounded by impressive, towering structures.  We must have sat up there for about 15 minutes and saw dozens of people pass by, and not one looked at us.  Not even the girl who nearly fell off her bike after we accidentally started a small rock-slide in our attempt to re-position ourselves!

Once we'd had our fill (for the moment) of spying on other tourists, we climbed back down and through the tunnel and continued our journey.  We arrived to the dunes fairly quickly once we stopped getting distracted by caves and tunnels!  Unfortunately, sand dunes are not built for bikes, so we were a bit stuck.  We tried to bike through the sand, but it's not quite as elegant as it might seem.  A girl noticed our struggled and told us that there was a large rock behind which most people left their bikes while they went sandboarding.  Sure enough, there was a huge pile!  We decided to join the crowd, and left ours there as well.  However, that was about as far as our crowd-following desires went.

While everyone else headed to the right where the large sand dunes were, we veered left to another cluster of large sand formations.  It had been about half an hour since we had climbed anything, so obviously that meant that we had to find something new to climb, and quick!  Luckily, there is no lack of tall, strange structures in the Atacama desert.  We chose the tallest, steepest one we could find and began our ascent.  As we climbed, I was reminded of that common elementary school math problem--"if an ant is stuck in a foot-deep well and climbs up three inches every day but slides down one inch every night, how long will it take him to climb out of the well?"  I remember hating those kinds of problems, and wondering when I would ever need to use them.  Well, thank you Mrs. Murray, for making me do my math because now I understand.  Except that it seemed here that we climbed and fell at equal rates, indicating that we would never reach the summit.

I decided to take a different approach, and began to zig-zag back and forth.  This technique didn't prove much more efficient than the straight-up approach until I zagged right into a group of rocks that allowed me to get more of a hand-hold.  Unfortunately, the rocks weren't rooted very far into the sand, so I ended up just throwing most of them straight down the hill.  Eventually, I figured out that they could support my weight for about a second before breaking free, so as long as I planned my route and climbed quickly, I should be able to make it.  Aside from a few minor miscalculations (that resulted mostly in a lot of sand in my face), my approach worked quite well until the rocks ran out.  The last few feet up to the top were pure, loose sand.  I honestly don't know how I made it up that part, but I did.  I also don't really know how Scott managed to make it up at all, because he seemed to go straight up!  Even with all my zigs and zags, though, we both reached the peak at about the same time.

Then we realized that we would have to figure out how to get down.  I have to say that it's been great to find a partner who enjoys the same sort of things I do, like spontaneous rock climbing.  Unfortunately, another thing we both have in common is a lack of planning.  I guess that's something we're going to have to work on, eventually.  For the time being, however, we just enjoyed the view.  

The picture does not do justice to the view!  Or the elevation!  I tried to take a picture that would show just how high and steep the slope was, but nothing turned out.  Just trust me, it was scary.  Although I must say I'm doing a pretty good job seeming relaxed in the photo, no?  Also notice how much darker I am in this photo than in the one from day one.  Yes, this is me with a tan.  I know, so gringa...

Anyway, we relaxed at the top of the peak for a while, trying to decide the best way to get back down.  As we pondered, we watched the sandboarders in the dunes below.  We talked about maybe going back into town and renting boards ourselves to try it out later.  Assuming, of course, that we ever figured out how to get out of our current predicament.  And then it dawned on us--we could do both things, right now!  What better way to get off a high sand structure than to surf?  True, we didn't have any boards (or really anything at all), but we could improvise!  Searching around, we found the slope with the least amount of rocks and other sharp objects, and prepared ourselves for the descent.  Scott went first.

All I know is that there was a lot of yelling and a lot of sand in my face.  For a second, I wondered if he had fallen into a hole or gotten sucked into the sand!  Once the dust cleared and I got most of the sand out of my face, I looked down to see a very dirty, but very proud, Scott standing at the bottom of the hill.  Now it was my turn.  I was a bit tentative at first, and tried to get off to a slow start.  The sand had other ideas.  All of a sudden I was sliding down at what seemed like hundreds of miles per hour, with sand and dust billowing to all sides.  I couldn't see much of anything, and just hoped that I was continuing in a straight line, and not into the sharp formations to either side.  After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably less than a second, I caught my balance and managed to get into a pretty good surfing position.  Back in control, the rest of the way down was actually pretty fun!  Although I ended up picking sand out of places where sand really shouldn't be for about a week afterwards.  Totally worth it, though!

A bit tired out from our adventure, we decided to take a quick rest at the bottom of the dunes to watch the sandboarders.  We were almost tempted to see if we could join in, but found it much more entertaining to watch people wipe out.  There were some pretty spectacular face-plants!  In the end, we decided that our surfing experience was much better, anyway!  Although not quite as entertaining in terms of falls.  After our break, we noticed that a tour group had stopped at the top of the next dune so we quietly walked over to see if we could join in unnoticed.  I'm not sure that we were unnoticed, but we weren't sent away, so we stayed by an listened.  The tour was almost over, but we did learn one interesting tidbit--the name of the valley is not actually it's intended name!

The valley was discovered by a French Jesuit explorer who thought that the area looked like the surface of Mars (this was before we had actual photos of Mars, of course).  The sand does have quite a red hue, and the formations are quite unique, so this is definitely understandable.  Why, then, do we currently call it "Death Valley?"  Well, as we all know, French people have strange accents.  So, when the explorer told the Spanish-speakers of Chile what he had discovered, calling it "Valle de Martes" (Mars Valley), they heard "Valle de Muerte" (Death Valley).  Once word got around, the name stuck and there was nothing the explorer could do to change it.  The guide did assure us that there have been no recorded deaths in the valley (apparently our friend at the entrance doesn't count).

Relieved to know this, we once again went off on our own for a bit more exploring.  We took an easier route this time, and had no trouble climbing up or down.  Eventually, the sun started to set and it began to get cold very quickly.  I hadn't expected to be gone so long, so I'd left my sweatshirt down by the bikes.  Luckily, Scott is very much a gentleman and let me borrow his.  We hurried a lot more on the way back (when it gets cold in the desert, it gets cold).  By the time we got back to the bikes, there was just enough sunlight left to get us back into town.  We watched the sun set as we rode home. 

When we got back to the bike shop, my fears were realized when the woman couldn't find my ID card.  She had a bait box full of them, but mine was nowhere to be found.  She searched the entire desk, but to no avail.  She even went next door and searched that desk, but with no luck.  I was about ready to throw in the towel and just say, "forget about it," when she reached into her pocket.  Guess what she found there.  Yep, my ID card!  Whew!  I really was not looking forward to waiting in line at Registro Civil again!

We headed back to the hostel, ate a quick dinner, and collapsed into bed, exhausted from our adventures.  Plus, we had planned to take a tour the next day and wanted to make sure we got enough rest to get to the bus on time.  Unfortunately, the other guests at the hotel had a different idea.