Explora - sounds busy....

  San Pedro de Atacama, Chile
Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Good Friday, 21st March began with a 5.30am start from the dreaded Eurotel hotel in order to catch a flight to Calama, where we boarded a bus to take us to the Explora hotel in San Pedro de Atacama.

I didn't know what to expect (Jane booked everything; that's my excuse) so first, a few words about the area we were in. The Atacama desert is the highest desert on the planet. Not bad, a nice record to hold. However, it is also the driest, being some 50 times more arid than Death Valley and, errr, this is a holiday resort, right?



Well, not exactly. Although extremely well appointed, the Explora Hotel was not for the fainthearted. Its founder had created it as a hobby project, being the sort of place where he would like to holiday, doing the sort of things that he would like to do.

It was a bit like Iron Man meets Hi-De-Hi. At our induction the events manager explained how the guards, sorry guides, would meet with us around tea time every day to plan the following days activities. These were either half or full day jobs, and we would be on the go from 8.15, with lunch at 1pm then an afternoon session starting at 4.15 (leaving you plenty of free time) and finishing around 8.

The activities included trekking, cycling, more trekking and 'cultural trips' (trekking, but with more sights to see). Initially, I was totally underwhelmed by the evangelistic approach of the guides. I don't like being told what to do at the best of times, so when I was (a) on holiday and (b) paying a fortune for the privilege, being jollied along to do an 18km bike ride in the morning followed by a hike down a cactus canyon in the afternoon was, well, not quite the thing. Those of you who know me from Oxted days will understand if I liken it a bit to the Welsh weekend, only with about twenty David Lloyds telling you what to do (Those who don't know about the Welsh weekends, I'll explain later - it would be more trouble than it's worth to expand my thoughts about 'litigator' Lloyd in print!). Making matters worse was Jane who suddenly became very outward bound and nose to the wind.

In actual fact, I loved it. The first afternoon was a 'moon valley' hike, quite gentle and very atmospheric.






Day two was said bike ride and cactus canyon hike. The bike ride was about one third tarmac and the rest unmade roads, with a mix of loose stone and rutted sand surface, mostly level or gently downhill. At the end of the trip, we had a dip in a salt lake - 'five times the salinity of the Dead Sea' - honestly, when will these people stop competing with other natural phenomena and just enjoy the surroundings.



F & B at the hotel was superb. A limited menu with 2 choices for starter and main every lunch and evening, but changing constantly and the French exec. chef really knew his stuff. On the seafood side, apart from the Chilean staple of conger eel, chef worked his magic with grouper, swordfish, merluza and scallops.

The canyon hike on the second afternoon included some tricky going, hands and knees scrambling over loose rocks and around boulders, but it was mostly downhill, with a couple of shallow river crossings and a couple of uphill sections. The views were to die for and needless to say my photos don't do it justice.



I woke up on day three, Easter Sunday, at about 6 am as someone had thoughtlessly drilled a hole through the front of each of my knees. At least, that's what it felt like. As I lay in bed groaning, Jane leapt up, ready to face the 8am uphill river trek, ending with the hot springs. My resolve snapped.

Hell, it was Easter Sunday after all and the hotel had thoughtfully provided easter eggs the night before. So, whilst Jane went trekking with new American buddy Joan, I had a lie-in, then sunbathed by the pool. Sunday afternoon was a drive to a nature reserve where there was a colony of flamingos. Cue photo opportunity.






The company at Explora were fun. Once you took the venture scout earnestness out of the guides, they were all really nice. The manager, Maurice, led by example. He was always very visible to the guests, continually showing a genuine interest in what you were up to and if you were enjoying the experience, and following up with his own helpful suggestions. The other guests were a mixed bunch. There was a party of five couples from France. All the guys had worked for Accord hotels pre-retirement and still met annually to holiday together. With their Tour de France pedigree, I thought we were in trouble when they showed up for the bike ride, but thankfully they had not a patch of lycra between them.



Americans abounded in high numbers, ranging from the aforementioned Joan - a bundle of hiking energy from Minnesota - through an economist/democratic party campaigner couple from Boston to a pair of New York investment banker couples.

I swear that two minutes into the hike we went on New York's finest, and despite being faced with some of the most breathtaking scenery I've ever come across, the women were nattering about their kids' schools and comparing notes, like they were shopping at Saks. They then played holiday poker (I'll see your trip to Japan with the Ambassador's wife last year and raise you my three weeks touring Central Africa on safari and wrestling with crocodiles....)

I must admit that, as much as I like our US cousins, I did delight in telling all of them that later on our trip we were to go on to Cuba....'Oh, your not allowed to go there? I didn't know that. Shame, I hear it's really lovely....'

Monday 24th March was my birthday, so it was an easy morning visiting the site of some petroglyphs in the desert - thousand year old rock carvings that people are only just beginning to seriously study. Honestly, Channel 4 should get the Time Team out to look at these things as there has been very little excavation around the rocks where a lot of them are carved. At the moment they are like Stonehenge a hundred years ago - you can really get up close, and are trusted not to deface or vandalise them. Just as well really, or generations to come wouldn't have known that Millwall was there, 2008!



We cycled into the oasis town of San Pedro de Atacama that afternoon for a beer and a nose around. I could really get into this cycling thing, if only our Ken would completely ban cars from Islington.....



On the evening of my birthday, we were asked to dinner at their hotel nearby by Jeff and Liz (from LSA, blog 3; oh, do keep up) and Frank and Peggy, all of whom we has met in Calafate and Bariloche; just like old friends by this time, or perhaps just stalkers following us across the continent.

For Frank and Peggy it was all a bit of a busman's holiday, as they run a tour company in the US. We certainly put the world to rights, and drank so much that not a single shred of photographic evidence was taken to celebrate the evening. Frank got his own back about Cuba by convincing Jane that George Dubya was about to invade the island, as he didn't trust Raoul and he needed to boost his flagging poll ratings. We were completely taken in. In fact, it doesn't sound so daft and if it should all go pear shaped, remember where you read it first.



Tuesday morning and our last hike - once again spectacular desert sights followed by a 600 metre run down a 45 degree soft sand slope. Bliss.






We tore ourselves away from Explora, which promised me so little and delivered so much, to go on to Urubamba, Peru.