Inspired by actual events...which, coincidently, are recounted below.
The weekend after the first round of debates in Antofagasta, Matt Wilson (our only 8-Monther in Antofa) came back to Calama with Ryan and me. We had previously talked about of the three of us walking out into the desert, spending the night under the stars, and then coming back to civilization the next day. Ryan had somewhere along the line suggested that we follow the river out of the city so as not to risk getting lost, and then when we were good and gone, cut a little ways up into the nothing. Thus, come Saturday afternoon the three of us had convened at my house where we had a final meal courtesy of Ximena, packed our things (some food, water, over-wear, and a sleeping bag apiece) donned hats, put on sunscreen, and headed out por el Rio Loa.
We made the river at a bridge crossing near my neighborhood where, as we were descending, we encountered one of the young teachers from Ryan's first school. The two of them chatted for a minute and then we had her take our picture, joking all the while that she might be the last person to see the three of us alive. Then, once we bid her farewell, we trekked along the trickling stream that is the mighty Rio Loa. If there is any beauty to be found in the wastes, it is found on the banks of Chile's longest river. We passed waterfall-filled gorges, expansive marshlands, and many swirling pools of crystal water that was still freezing despite its long journey down from Los Andes. At one point, once we were clear of the city proper and close to being nowhere, our path was obstructed by a ramshackle farm from whence came wafting on the wind the threating call of many dogs. To avoid meeting any quadrupeds, we left the riverside and clambered up to the top of the ravine that was beginning to form. Before long, we were traversing the edge of a fairly deep canyon at the bottom of which wound the tiny ribbon of the Loa.
As we left the last vestiges of Calama behind, the sun had begun to set and we decided at that point to walk out into the desert proper, north of the river. We passed strange things out there, from piles of ancient garbage (volleyballs, mattresses, dolls) to the semi-devoured corpse of a dog that had no business at all being out that far. At one point, just as the light was fading, we came across a giant pile of wood. At some point in the past, someone had dragged an entire tree out into the middle of nowhere, chopped it up, and left it for us to find. Clearly a provision of providence, we accepted God's most irregular and unexpected gift by loading our arms full of all that we could carry before pressing onward. Thus burdened, and now in the dark, we soon ended up returning closer to the lip of the canyon with an idea of returning to the riverbed. However, since there was no moon and we couldn't find a reasonable slope upon which to descend, we just dropped down on the edge of the canyon in the best, clearest spot we could find. The wind had begun to pick up by that time, and with the sun now gone the cold was creeping up on us. Thankfully, we were surrounded by rocks which we built up into a rather nice wall. Once our shield was erected, we were able to use a few candles we had brought along to get a fire started with the providential wood. As the night progressed, and because there was no moon, the stars came out in such inexplicable brilliance that we could clearly see the cloud-like luminescence of the Milky Way. Despite our distance from everything, down in the river valley and off in the distance could still be heard the devil barks of desert hounds; reminding us that in Chile, dogs are inescapable.
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| Chileans who discover our wall will no doubt assume it was built by aliens. |
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