Spirits and Stargazing in Chile 2017
The terrain of the Elqui Valley seemed scrubby and hilly, less sandy than the Atacama to the north, but just as striking in its character. Several observatories dot the Elqui Valley, and stargazing is a tourist industry in itself there. I was looking forward to viewing the constellations under some of the darkest skies on the continent.
I arrived first at a small hostel near the beach that featured small cabins and a lush outdoor garden with hammocks for relaxing. I had reserved a private cabin, and while I was unpacking, a small bird flew into the room. It was an unremarkable brown bird like a sparrow or wren, more like those I had known growing up in Pennsylvania than the colorful and exotic birds I’d been expecting to see in Chile. I didn’t make any effort to chase it out of my cabin, and it seemed content to stay and watch me settle in. I’ve heard that a bird entering the house can mean good luck or signify a visit from a loved one who has passed away. If it was going to happen anywhere, I thought the Elqui Valley seemed like the perfect place.
Before I started any stargazing tours, I wanted to get a look at the long, curving coastline in La Serena. Even though it was a cloudy day, I wandered all the way to the faro lighthouse at the end of the beach. A few people were venturing into the water, which was choppy from the salty, stinging wind that day. I washed my face and splashed some water on my feet from the grifos conveniently placed along the boardwalk and made my way back to the hostel.
The bird had escaped back out the window by the time I opened my cabina door, and I went into the bathroom to brush my hair. What greeted me in the mirror was a shocking sight. Even though it had been cloudy outside and I had applied my usual daily sunscreen, a band of angry red sunburn appeared on my arms and back where my t-shirt had left me uncovered. I gingerly smoothed on some aloe gel and tried to get my head around how I could have been burned so severely. It must have been a vast difference in the ozone layer between the cloud layer in La Serena and the cloudy days I have come to know so well in my home city of Seattle, WA.
After eating dinner in the hostel kitchen, I was walking back to my cabin when I heard screeching that almost sounded human. It continued through the twilight while I was falling asleep early after a day of travel and jet lag. The next day I found out that a colony of burrowing parrots lived near the hostel. Their cries seeped into my fitful dreams for days afterward.
El Pangue
Astronomy tours were gaining popularity in the Atacama and Elqui Valley due to their “dark sky” designation, which allows incredible clarity for viewing stars with the naked eye. The Elqui Valley is filled with observatories housing powerful telescopes that take advantage of that clarity, and I decided to check out two of them. Mamalluca is a more well-known observatory, with a large telescope that the many tourists arriving on buses can share. I enjoyed Mamalluca but found it a little too crowded and difficult to see a variety of images in the telescope. I was happy that two nights beforehand, I had found a smaller observatory on a mountaintop near Vicuña called El Pangue.
I met my group of six people going up to the observatory through a tourist agency in La Serena. Since the staff at the observatory was able to provide the tour in several languages, there was a French couple, a Spanish couple, and myself and an Australian man who spoke English. I could also follow the guide in French and Spanish, so I didn’t have to wait until he spoke English to understand. A minibus came to pick us all up in La Serena and we got to see the sunset in the valley as we drove to Vicuña.
El Pangue is a tiny observatory staffed by just three or four. One of them met us at the foot of the mountain and we clambered into the SUV. I was sitting in the very back seat, but luckily I had a window that I could open. The fresh air kept me from feeling too nauseous while we went back and forth up the mountain switchbacks. Another thing I focused on as we climbed the mountain was that the darkness had fallen completely after sunset. There was no artificial light on the mountain road except for the truck’s headlights. The lights being set against such deep darkness had a curious effect on the trees and rocks I was seeing outside. As the car swung around each switchback, the shine of the headlights made not the objects stand out but the shadows they produced. WIth every pass, deep black shadows jumped out suddenly and got snatched back as we veered away, as if the shadows were in motion instead of the vehicle. I was fascinated and grateful for this distraction.
The observatory itself was tiny, just a wooden platform and deck built on top of a small lab. As the six of us stepped up onto the platform, it felt exhilarating to get such a personal viewing of the vast sky. Our guide gave us an overview about the station then showed us the small but powerful telescope, whose images seemed more precise than Mamalluca’s when I think back. At any rate, we got to see a huge variety of phenomena without jostling or waiting in a crowd. Our guide pointed out the Southern Cross and a constellation simply called The Square in the night sky, and then each of us got a turn at the telescope to see the twin nebulas and Jupiter. Most striking to me was Saturn with its rings. I had never seen Saturn through a telescope before, and it made me laugh when I saw it. It looked cartoonishly perfect, like someone had sneaked in and drawn an image of Saturn on the telescope lens. The planet was set at a jaunty angle and its rings had a faint, shimmering trail of dust or gas behind them, lending to the comic book effect of Saturn speeding off in a hurry, kicking up a dust cloud in its wake.
November 9, 2017 4:36 a.m.
After staying in the hostel for a few days, I finished with a couple of nights in an Airbnb at one of the high-rise apartments along the beach. I loved the breeze that came in from the balcony, where I could sit and watch the ocean with a glass of wine. The apartment building also made for an easier walk into downtown for dinner or shopping. I was ready for some more luxurious amenities after the lovely but rustic layout of the hostel.
When I returned to the apartment after a walk through downtown La Serena, I showered and got into bed around midnight. I was well into my REM cycle when something woke me up a few hours later. I felt the bed bump against the wall, exactly as if a large dog had come in and headbutted my side of the bed. In fact, in my dreamy state I could see the dog in my mind’s eye. Did the apartment owner have a dog she hadn’t told me about? I was honestly confused for a moment as I pictured the dog, a black mastiff with a square jaw and serious face.
As I sat up in bed, I realized that the bump I had felt was just the beginning of a bigger motion. A 5.2 magnitude earthquake was swaying the entire building, and it lasted for at least 10 seconds–which seems like an eternity when you’ve awakened in a strange place in the middle of the night. How funny that I had just switched to one of the top floors of a high-rise apartment building that day, from the one-story bungalows at the hostel.
I’ve since read legends of black dog spirits offering warnings or protection for visitors in several South American countries. And if such a dog were going to alert me to the danger of an earthquake…what better place than the Elqui Valley?
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