Another hour passes, another 100km rolls by. The Atacama desert, the driest place on the planet is an utterly barren landscape. A vast, arid, rocky desert without a shred of vegetation. But it is not the landscape we are here to see. It is the stars…
When Daphne’s passport came through, I was happy, relieved and on the wrong side of the Atacama desert. I’d been here because it is a world famous astrophotography location with spectacularly clear and dark skies. Except when it rains.
When you pick up a hitch hiker you have a very,very short period of time for you both to figure out if either of you are a serial killer.
As I rolled past, he put his cigarette out on the heel of his Vans and put the butt in his pocket. Serial killer he may be, but a considerate one at least. I stopped, rolled back, window down and asked where he was going. Atacama. Jump in amigo.