No Sleep Till San Pedro (Part 2)

There were hints at the border crossing that something wasn´t quite right. Firstly, while a trickle of 3 or 4 cars could be seen coming in from Chile, there were no cars going in my direction at this hour. Secondly, the immigration officer looked genuinely surprised to see a solo driver heading out at this hour. Thirdly, i was yawning a great deal and breathing hard.

After the passport was stamped, another officer took the time to explain something quite technical entirely in Spanish. All I could comprehend were the names of the two places that mattered: Paso de Jama, and my destination, San Pedro de Atacama (Chile).

Maybe, just maybe...when I had the chance, I should have checked a map to ascertain where San Pedro actually was before making the decision to drive there. All along I had thought it is the border town next to Pasa de Jama. Well, in a way it is, but not in the same way that Lo Wu (in Hong Kong) is on the border of Shenzhen (in China), i.e. cross the bridge, stamp your passport and you're there. 

Soon after passing the "You are now leaving Argentina" sign post, I started looking for the Chilean flag, directions for customs and immigration, ready for bed. The flag showed up after about 5km at curb crawling speed, but instead of an immigration office, there was just a road sign: San Pedro de Atacama -165km. Roughly the distance from London to Bristol. With no option but to push on, I lit a cigarette to stay awake, and pushed ahead into the Chilean owned blackness.
My car had a thrmometer, and I remember checking it with increasing frequency te further I went. For what it´s worth, here´s is what i remember.

+4 degrees: Soon after entering Chile territory. Temperature falls rapidly.

(10 minutes later)
+1 degree: Light second cigarette. Even though it´s cold, the air helps keep you awake.

-1 degree: Yawning. Singing to myself. Anything to keep alert. Fith gear is starting to struggle. Down to 4th, then 3rd.

-2 degrees: Even 2nd gear is struggling in parts. Had a panic attack thinking the car would just drop dead. Heart palpitating.

-3 degrees: Last cigarette as left hand by the window had almost completely lost feeling. Head throbbing, eye popping, beathing, breathing.

-4 degrees: Wondering how much colder can it get. Thought about turning on heater but rejected the idea for fear of falling asleep at the wheel.

-5 degrees: Scared.

-5.5 degrees: Beginning to lose the plot, thinking of all sorts of stupid possibilities.

-6 degrees: Why am i still going uphill? This is ridiculous.

-7 degrees: Other than seeing the number register on the dashboard, I don´t really remember much at this point. It stayed at this temperature for about 10 minutes.

I was later to find out that this was the high plateau of the pass between Pasa de Jama and the Chilean Andes. The road peaks at a height of 5,100 metres, about one and a half times higher than where i was above the clouds a couple of days earlier. Had it been daylight, I would have seen that i was just short of level with the snowy 6,000-metre peaks of the surrounding volcanoes and mountains.

The temperature rose as just as quickly as the gradient dropped. The approach to San Pedro is quite possibly the longest straight downhill drive in thwe world, perhaps 20-30km of neutral-gear coasting, now fully lit up with cats eyes and lamposts, and improved every second with the return of oxygen.

I floored the final stretch to the screaching sound of the Beastie Boys in my head. The prospect of a warm hotel room, a hot bath and a bed was so overwhelming, i drove straight past the Chilean border control and into the town of San Pedro, only to be picked up half an hour later by the patrols, not far from this spot.