Deserted

The Atacama Desert is the highest, dryest desert on earth (aside from polar deserts).  I'm not completely certain about the mechanics of it all, but I believe that its position between the Pacific and the Andes prevents cloud formation somehow.  I have spent a goodly amount of time in deserts, but until I visited the Valle de la Luna, one of the National Park areas of this region, I have never before seen a desert in which nothing grows.  Nothing.  There are no tiny sprouts taking advantage of shady outcroppings.  There are no opportunistic weeds in the morning dew.  There is no morning dew.  There is an endless expanse of rock and sand studded with gypsum, salt, and halites.  The halites are especially fascinating, because they're quite large--salt crystals the size of a fist, a toolbox, a couch cushion--and they catch the light from the sun all day and the light from the moon all night.  It's a very twinkly desert.  The halites also absorb the heat of the sun all day, such that if you put a palm against them after night falls your hand will be warmed by the day that has passed.

I did not get great photos of the halites, because it's not really easy to take a clear picture of shiny objects.  But I did manage to photograph the Valle de la Luna:

And I got some decent shots of the view from the summit of Cerro Toco, one of the several volcanos that rings the Chilean Atacama.  Cerro Toco reaches 5604m (18700 feet), higher than Everest Base Camp--approximately equal to Kala Patthar, above the Khumbu Glacier.  I think that makes Cerro Toco the literal high point of my year of hiking.   

The thing that makes the Atacama most famous, at least in a certain corner of nerd-dom with which I'm happy to identify, is the skies: dry and clean and high, which makes for excellent views of the stars. NASA has an optical installation here, and the Tokyo Atacama Observatory sits at the top of a dormant volcano, the highest observatory in the world:

And, of course, ALMA is here--the Very Large Array of radiotelescopes.

Even though the moon has been giving off a little too much light for really spectacular stargazing, I have been able to get away from the meager village lights of tiny San Pedro de Atacama to spot those southern hemisphere constellations:  the Southern Cross, the Austral Triangle, and Centaurus--with shiny Alpha Centauri mirroring its yellow light at our own yellow solar system.

How to maximize the value of your National Park entry fee

I hiked about 85 miles in El Chalten's portion of Parque Nacional Los Glaciares over the span of my 7-day pass.  That'll do it.

Andes candies

I'm not often speechless.  Well played, El Chalten, well played.

The end of the world (and I feel fine)

Tierra del Fuego National Park, sees the far terminus of Ruta 3--the road that runs all the way to Alaska.  The park's Bahia Lapataia is the southernmost point you can go without a boat.

Being here at the edge of everything is, of course, making me wish I'd thought to book a boat.  But I have other, more terrestrial travel before me yet.  Antarctica will have to wait for the next time.

Other rock-and-water drama from this NP:

And a carancho, also called a caracara, just because I love them and think they look like regal muppets.

Charismatic megafauna, and also some very charming regular-sized fauna

In the unlikely event that a visitor down here should get tired of being in the mountains, I suppose that visitor could spend time on the water.  That choice would put the lucky visitor in some very good company.  

Like, this jostling, snorting herd of South American sea lion males:

Or this resident colony of gentoo penguins, third-largest species in the world (after Imperial and King).  About 60 individuals are here year-round:

Or these stragglers of a seasonal colony of migratory Magellanic penguins:

The standard means of approach to these critter colonies are big cruisey catamaran or little bouncy zodiac.  Sure, you can spend the day with 100 of your closest friends slugging wine and chomping on pastries on the catamaran.  But wouldn't you rather get up close and personal?  Choose the tiny, cold boat with less draft, every time.

Living my peak life

Greater Tierra del Fuego is just stuffed with mountains.  Angular peaks that alternate with glaciated valleys carved out about 10000 years ago.  Lots of glaciers, lots of glacial lakes.  While they may not reach Himalayan heights or even rival the main spine of the northern Andes in altitude, they are freaking technical ascents.  Lots of people at the lower approaches, even in this off-season, but far fewer once the grade gets more vertical. 

(The cirque that cradles Laguna Esmeralda, including this fabulous square knob called the Molar de Lorena--Lorena's tooth)  

(At left, the tooth up close--a dentist's-eye view)

(Cerro Alvear, Toribio, Domo Blanco)

(Cerro Cinco Hermanos)