From Patagonia to the Atacama Desert: Riding Chile’s Changing Soul

Some say that it doesn’t exist. Others say that it can’t be done. I would say, go to Chile. A country stretching the length of Europe, yet only a mere few hundred kilometres wide at its widest. Nestling its toes in the Southern Ice Fields while its head bathes in everlasting sun, the Atacama Desert sun.

Our journey started at the navel of Chile, Santiago, after which we pointed our wheels south, losing our hearts to the cold and our souls to the mountains. We spent months listening to the wind, dancing with the rain, and feeling the sun burn our necks. Now things are changing. We have left Patagonia and are heading to northern Chile, the country’s simmering upper body. At times the sun is blinding our eyes, but we are ready for what’s to come.

The first part of our ride north through Chile is rather boring, I’ll admit. Some paved roads. A few really nice campings. Many more paved roads. And then, suddenly, we can exchange that rain jacket for our mesh motorcycle jackets. Instead of embracing the cold, we need to learn to accept the heat beating down on us.

It’s not that the Atacama Desert is unbearably hot, but the sun will burn every piece of skin it gets its rays on. There’s a deep reward though, for those willing to face the fire. It’s sand. An endless amount of it. And if you’re not a sand lover, try again. I’m not talking about shallow yellowness. I’m talking about deep oranges swiftly turning into a million kinds of purples and reds, mixing with tints of brown and hints of yellow. I’m talking about a place where rain is no more than a mere memory. I’m talking about a place where being alone takes on a whole new meaning.

Don’t get me wrong, but if you are hellbent on murdering someone, this might be the place to do it. Just turn left off the main road and keep on going. I can guarantee you that there will be nobody around. Rather than murdering someone, if I may discourage that, I would suggest you go there to feel the silence instead of hearing it. I would recommend you go there to realise how badly you can miss shade to keep you cool. And if, by any chance, you are still utterly and completely in love with this simmering desert, maybe take your chances and go for a motorcycle ride through the sand?

If I hadn’t made this clear already, please, keep those wheels planted. You don’t want to walk your way back to, well, nowhere. To get help from, no one? Riding a motorcycle in sand does hold a special thrill though. Getting started is the hardest. Steadily picking up that speed while your rear tyre seems to have a life of its own. Dancing, slithering, swaying, but trust me, as long as you keep that hand on the throttle, steady and confident, your tyre should not let you down.

Sand riding is a bit like life. Some people will tell you that it can’t be done, and at times it will be hard, but what matters is that you keep going. Steadily and easily, because you are the boss. You are in control, and there is beauty ahead. Or, like we used to say as teenagers, no stress — just butterflies.