On Monday, myself and Wiliam started our trip up to the Isluga national park. To get to Colchane, on the Bolivian border, by nightfall, we had to cross the Atacama desert, the driest in the world. Some places have never ever recorded any rainfall.
Life does exist here though, as close to the coast fog wanders inland and enables cactus and a host of wildlife to survive. The desert, like the sahara, has oases, where underground water enables groves of trees to grow.
Dotted throughout the desert are ancient geoglyphs, whose age and meaning are still unknown. Why the ancient people used the desert to proclaim their messages is a mystery.
Climbing away from the Atacama, into the Andean pre cordillera, we reached the familiar mineral streaked mountains.
Arriving in Colchane for sunset, Isluga volcano gazes down on the humble hostel that is ours for the cold cold night.
