Valle de Elqui

Mi padre hired a little red hatch back and we drove six hours north, past the sandy beaches of La Serena, then east towards to the mountains that form Elqui Valley. This valley bordered with arid cliff faces is renowned to be a magnetic core of the earth and therefore has great therapeutic powers; a fine choice for someone escaping the stress of the workplace.

We arrived by night and were met at out Bed & Breakfast, Casa Puka Yana, by a charming couple of one brightly spirited English poet and her Chilean musician of a husband. Together they brought their charming old, house to life. Originally belonging to a local wealthy family, hence the multitude of rooms, they now use the old servant quarters for their own residence but spend most of their time out in the patio, shaded by a canopy of lush grape vines.

In the morning we feasted on homemade bread and jams made from the various fruit trees in the back garden: white fig, peach, black berries, pear - each day a new flavour to try. This was accompanied by fresh coffee, local natural yoghurt and plenty of avocados - a touch of South America. A young litter of kittens frolicked amongst the plants and our feet, morning energy animating their tiny limbs. Later, it would be hard to find them as they each sought somewhere well shaded to sleep through the lazy afternoon, only to return with hungry stomaches at dinnertime.

First stop: Montegrande, home of Chilean Nobel Prize winning poet, Gabriela Mistral. Here we visited the original school where Gabriela was raised and taught by her sister and teacher, Emelina. Gabriela belonged to a family of teachers, although her father left before she turned 3 years old. A replica of the tiny 2-roomed school exists in Vicuña, the birthplace of Gabriela and also located in the valley. A much larger, modern primary school for Montegrande children can be found across the street, a statue of Gabriela erected in between.

Further down the narrow, curvy road we came across the pisco distillery, Los Nichos, where we visited its antique quarters. Within the coolness of the cellar, we found a former mausoleum; pisco bottles now replacing bodies. Drunken skeletons danced merrily upon the walls and between barrels of fermenting wine; pisco being distilled from wine (almost like a young brandy). Under the warmth of the sun, we tasted Los Nichos products, which carry a much more refined flavour as opposed to the diluted, mass production of other pisco brands.

From here we ate lunch at the restaurant Miraflores whose view of the luscious valley is as succulent to the eyes as their food is to the mouth. In spirit of this area renowned for its production in pisco, we all drank pisco sours.

Driving back to Paihuano, to our B&B for a much needed, relaxing siesta, we took in the extraordinary scenery; barren hills spotted with the occasion splash of green where man has brought irrigation thus allowing the growth of grapes and avocadoes. From a distance, these fruits look like enormous flags draped across the hillside, totally unbelievable as they stand surrounded by intense aridity. Then below, flows the river from whose banks greenery unfurls. Mass upon masses of fruit production camouflages the sparse flat surface, where only the road is allowed visibility. Every few metres, a stall selling fresh fruit juice appears or a tiny village, too small to be shown in a map of Chile.

Upon return to our B&B, a tremor introduced my parents to the Chilean tectonic experience. We sat outside and drank peach punch and listened to our hosts play from their array of guitars. Life carried on as normal in this mystic valle.