From Salt Flats to Surf Air:
Exploring Northern Chile
Northern Chile isn’t just a destination—it’s a study in extremes. After tracing the country from its wild southern reaches to its polished center, we followed the pull of the Atacama Desert, a place spoken about with near-mythic awe for good reason: the driest desert on Earth, where salt-crusted valleys, high-altitude lagoons, geysers above 14,000 feet, and some of the clearest night skies on the planet conspire to completely reset your sense of scale. But what makes this region truly compelling is the contrast—because just when you think you’ve reached the edge of what’s possible, the coast offers a counterpoint. In Iquique, the drama softens into ocean air, long beach walks, and the surreal spectacle of paragliders launching from the towering Cerro Dragón dune into the Pacific breeze. It’s this seamless shift—from stark to soothing—that makes northern Chile not just beautiful, but unforgettable.
ATACAMA:
Where Earth Forgets to Be Ordinary
If Mars ever files a tourism brochure, it will look suspiciously like Atacama Desert. Widely considered the driest non-polar desert on Earth, parts of it have gone decades—sometimes centuries—without measurable rainfall. Naturally, we decided this would be the perfect place to extend our anniversary celebration… again. In all seriousness, Atacama is well-known across South America and we quickly realized it needed to be on our itenerary.
We began our first full day floating—literally—above the desert in a hot air balloon as the sun rose over the Andes. Watching the light spill across the jagged Andean terrain and the rippling formations of the Cordillera de la Sal (salt flats)felt less like sightseeing and more like hovering inside a painting—specifically something dreamt up by Salvador Dalí on a particularly vivid day.
Later, back on solid ground, we explored Valle de la Luna—a landscape so otherworldly that NASA has tested Mars rover prototypes here. Carved by wind and salt over millions of years, its dunes, ridges, and lunar-like valleys delivered one surreal viewpoint after another, capped by a sunset that lit the Andes and surrounding formations on fire.
Wildlife sightings added an unexpected twist to this “lifeless” desert. Vicuñas grazed delicately in the distance, flamingos strutted through mineral-rich lagoons, and an Andean fox casually crossed our path like it owned the place. (It probably does.)
Then came altitude. Much of the Atacama Altiplano sits well above 13,000 feet, and while we fared better than previous high-altitude adventures, it still made its presence known—subtly reminding us who’s in charge up here. One particularly early morning (there’s a theme), we ventured to the El Tatio Geyser Field—the highest geyser field in the world, sitting at over 14,000 feet. At sunrise, columns of steam rise dramatically in the cold air, creating an almost primordial atmosphere. Later, we warmed up at the nearby Termas de Puritama, a series of naturally heated pools tucked into a canyon—proof that even the harshest landscapes occasionally offer spa days.
Equally surprising: flamingos! In the desert. At altitude. We found them at lagoons along the way, where they feed on brine shrimp thriving in hypersalinated water—an ecosystem that sounds improbable until you see it – and, frankly, still seems improbable.
A drive to Valle del Arcoíris (Rainbow Valley) delivered exactly what the name promises: streaks green, turquoise, and ochre layered across the hills, thanks to varying mineral compositions, as well as crazy rock formations. Nearby, the Petroglifos de Yerbas Buenas offered a glimpse into pre-Columbian life—ancient carvings depicting animals, hunting scenes, and caravan routes used by early Andean cultures traversing the desert.
After soaking in the technicolor geology of Valle del Arcoíris, we hustled back to clean up, refuel, and head straight back out—this time not for landscapes, but for the universe. The Atacama isn’t just visually surreal by day; by night, it’s one of the best stargazing locations on Earth thanks to its high altitude, near-zero humidity, and minimal light pollution. We joined a small local outfit, SpaceObs, and were driven well outside town for a deep dive into the southern sky. Our guide, Danielo—equal parts astronomer and enthusiast—kept two very tired travelers wide awake with a contagious passion for the cosmos. By day, he works with Atacama Large Millimeter/ submillimeter Array, one of the most advanced astronomical observatories in the world, perched high in the Atacama to study the origins of stars and galaxies.
Armed with a range of telescopes (from modest setups to a massive 1400mm reflector), we peered into deep space—no filters, no gimmicks, just mirrors and pristine skies doing the heavy lifting. We spotted the binary system Alpha Centauri, the unmistakable Crux (“Southern Cross”), a glowing nebulae, and even the Large Magellanic Cloud and Small Magellanic Cloud—dwarf galaxies visible to the naked eye only from the Southern Hemisphere. And then, of course, the showstopper: the Milky Way, stretching across the sky. We even managed a long-exposure photo with the Milky Way blazing behind us.
We saved one of the best days for last—ditching packing responsibilities (bold choice) in favor of exploring the high-altitude lakes and salt flats to the south of San Pedro. From there, we reached the striking red rock formations of Piedras Rojas and the crystalline waters of Laguna Tuyajto and the most spectacular Salar de Aguas Calientes. At over 13,000 feet, the air was thin, the wind relentless, and the colors almost offensively vivid—turquoise lakes set against rust-red rocks and snow-dusted volcanoes.
On the return, we stopped at the serene Lagunas Miscanti and Miñiques, twin lakes sitting at the base of their namesake volcanoes. The Atacama region is home to over 80 volcanoes, part of the Andean volcanic belt formed by the same tectonic forces shaping the entire mountain range. At one point, we counted a dozen in a single panoramic sweep—and still suspected we were underachieving.
Our final stop, back at Laguna Chaxa on the giant La Reserva Nacional Los Flamencos, offered one last look at flamingos wading through mineral-crusted flats as the desert slowly reclaims its water through evaporation.
We made it back to San Pedro de Atacama just in time to collapse—and refuel. A final stop at La Franchuteria delivered unexpectedly excellent baguettes, croissants, and coffee—arguably the best we’d had in quite some time, and a fittingly indulgent sendoff.
A week wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be. The Atacama doesn’t just show you landscapes—it recalibrates your sense of what a landscape can be.









































































Iquique - A Soft Landing
After the altitude, early alarms, and general otherworldliness of the Atacama, Iquique felt like a well-earned exhale. Perched on Chile’s northern Pacific coast, this former nitrate boomtown (once central to the global fertilizer trade in the 19th century) now trades industry for ocean breezes and an easygoing rhythm. We kept things intentionally simple: long walks along Playa Brava, light workouts to remind our bodies we still had them, and plenty of time doing… not much at all. The kind of travel day where your biggest decision is eat now or eat later.
Towering behind the city is the unmistakable Cerro Dragón—a massive sand dune so large it’s considered one of the biggest urban dunes in the world. While we skipped sandboarding (we’d already checked that box in southern Peru), we had front-row seats to a different kind of thrill: paragliders catching the coastal winds, launching off the dune and floating effortlessly above the city and sea. Equal parts serene and mildly terrifying to watch.
Iquique itself strikes a curious balance—historic wooden architecture from its boom years, duty-free shopping zones, and a laid-back surf culture that keeps things grounded. But for us, it was less about sightseeing and more about slowing down. No alarms (finally), no itineraries, no urgency.
Just the ocean, the desert at our backs, and a quiet sense of completion.
Next stop: Medellín—from coastal calm to Colombian energy.
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