I wrote this journal entry once already, but apparently internet cafes in the Chilean desert are less than reliable about delivering email, so Iīm trying again from here in Sucre.

    When I stepped off the bus in San Pedro, I wasnīt expecting agorophobia and culture shock but thatīs exactly what I felt. Iīve never been anywhere so remote. The desert was flat and featureless for as far as I could see. Between town and the distant mountains, there wasnīt even a sand dune. Not a single building in San Pedro was more than one story tall. I could walk from end to end in less than 20 minutes. I couldnīt have chosen a destination more different from Antofagasta.

    In three weeks in Chile, I had met only a handful of backpackers. But here in San Pedro, I saw more white faces than Latino ones. The sound of English conversations filled the streets and the restaurants were so hip they belonged in Manhattan. It didntītake for me to begin enjoying San Pedro, but on that first night, all I wanted was to drink a Coke and crawl into bed.

    After a couple days relaxing in town, I discovered that the Atacama desert is not as featureless as it seems. My day trip to the Valley of Death and the Valley of the Moon is still the best day of my trip. The most satisfying thing about traveling, for me, is to go to a place and know that there is nowhere like it in the whole world. Thatīs how I felt in Valley of the Moon.

    Initially, I was suspicious of the organized jeep tour, which only cost $4.50. I like to do things on my own, but I canīt ride a bicycle, so the road and the tour group was the only was the only way to go. In the end, it was a great experience. We had lots of free time, and during our thirty-minute and hour-long stopovers, there were plenty of opportunities to enjoy nature in solitude.

    Our first stop was the Cordillera del Sal, a mini-mountain range made of giant salt crystals. They were all covered with orange desert sand, but careful inspection revealed shiny crystals sparkling in the sun. I was fascinated by the row of volcanoes in the distance. Their mashed-in cones revealed that they were no mere Andean foothills.

    Stop number two was the Valley of Death, named for the 400 stampeding cattle that ran over the edge and died. The stench must have been incredible. The road was spectacular. Fifteen-foot walls of orange rock enclosed our mini-bus on both sides. There was barely enough room for us to pass.

    Thirty minutes later, we reached the best part of our trip: The Valley of the Moon. We stopped first in mountains covered with white powdery salt. It crunched with every step. Halfway up a moutain I sat down to enjoy the view and discovered that salt is very, very sharp. I leapt to my feet and stared at the twisted orange rocks emerging from the white salt hills. In the middle was a solitary sand dune, ten feet high and completely out of place amid the salt and the rock.

    Thankfully, that was not the sand dune I climbed. That one was 15 minutes away and only 3 or 4 stories high. Not having walked up a sand dune before, I did not realize exactly how difficult it would be.My feet sank and my shoes filled with sand. Every time I took a step, the sand shifted underfoot and I fought for balance. By the time I reached the top of the dune, everyone else had already walked across it and climbed over a small ridge. I felt embarassed by my slowness and ineptitude, but I forgot about that as soon as I took in the view. Except for the lone dune, the landscape was hard and jagged. There were no mountains - just serrated spires of orange and yellow rocks. Below was a huge salt-rimmed crater that might once have been a prehistoric lake. The wind in my ears sounded just like the roar of the ocean in a seashell.

    Reluctant to give up the view, I slowly walked the length of the sand dune and climbed over the ridge (no small feet for a short and uncoordinated person like myself). I watched the sun set over the valley and the rise of a tiny crescent-shaped moon.

    The day was a small preview of my upcoming 4-day trek through the Andes to Macchu Picchu. I know how hard itīs going to be and Iīve accepted that Iīll probably be the last to reach the end of the trail. But Iīll make it.

~Meredith