Antofalla

I set off from Antofagasta thinking it would be a straightforward two-hour ride, but I made a classic traveler’s mistake: I didn’t check the map closely, and I completely underestimated the altitude. It was a freezing wake-up call. As the road climbed, the temperature plummeted, and I soon found myself shivering in the biting high-altitude air.

The route led me through the Quebrada de Calalaste, a ruggedly beautiful stretch of land home to herds of vicuñas. They were as elegant and timid as ever, watching me pass from a distance. I wanted to soak in the scenery, but my hands were so frozen that every mile felt like a battle. At one point, two other motorcyclists passed me heading toward Tolar Grande, their engines echoing briefly before the silence of the desert swallowed them up again.

After pushing through the cold, I finally crossed the summit. The reward was a spectacular mirador that offered a bird’s-eye view of the landscape just before I descended into Antofalla. The town itself is incredibly small—barely ten houses in total. I found a warm, welcoming refuge at a little hosteria called Casa de Altura, where I finally managed to shake off the chill.

I couldn’t stay inside for long, though. I checked in and headed straight for the main attraction: the Laguna Verde. When I arrived, I found the access restricted, but since the area was completely deserted, I put my riding skills to use and navigated a steep slope around the gate. Being alone at the edge of those turquoise lagoons was an incredible experience, even if the wind was howling. I tried to launch my drone to capture the scale of it all, but it nearly crashed in the fierce gusts. I decided to call it a day, hoping for calmer skies when I return tomorrow morning.

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