The Cactus Trip Diaries

It was dry when we woke up. Great!

We looked out of the breakfast room and could see the beach – no fog. Great!

We looked up towards our goal of the day, the 1,148 m. high Morro Moreno, only to learn that today, the cloud base was at 50 m above our heads. Alain was doing his best to put a brave face on things. I had already dismissed a climb today, but wanted to at least have explored around the base of the Morro to look for a possible starting point for a climb to the top. Fortunately, various roads and tracks provided access to various tourist beaches, with dozens of tents perched along the ocean. We followed these round until the path became impassable (S258).

Later we learned that today (Monday 11 October) was a national bank holiday. I immediately understood the weather pattern – Spring Bank Holidays in the UK usually turn out to be wash-outs too.

We drove towards Antofagasta and saw a huge cloud at the Juan Lopez end of the Morro Moreno, and a thinner cloud hanging closely above the rest of the Morro. We took some pictures at La Portada, a rock formation just off the coast in the Pacific Ocean that was declared a National Monument in 1990. The only sensible thing to do was to use this wasted day as a travel day and to head south down Ruta 5, back to Taltal, in the hope that the weather down south had improved since our last brief stay. At about 3:15 p.m., Ruta 5 turned towards the coast near Taltal. A thick layer of clouds seemed to pour over the top, heading inland where it quickly evaporated.

By 3:40 we were admiring developments at Cifuncho, basking in the sun, to the south of the village, at Caleta de Afuera, where in 2003, we had found Rudolf’s ‘sp. Cifuncho’, probably the most northern form of Copiapoa longistaminea. There had not been many plants here in 2003, and signs of beach parties, motor bike scrambling and lots of broken glass raise concerns for the plants that are left. This time (S259) a number of plants seemed to have been up-rooted as part of a game and lay randomly strewn about, roots in the air. I replanted a few, against better judgement.

We went back to the spot where we had found Copiapoa desertorum and C. columna-alba in 2001 (S052)  and 2003 (S128). This time (S260) some of the C. desertorum plants were in flower – red! This answered a lot of my scepticism about the existence of C. rubriflora – here it was. And yet ….. it was late in the day, the low sun gave a reddish tinge to everything and I had seen yellow Copiapoa flowers turn reddish at the end of a long period of flowering in my collection. We took many pictures of many flowers on many plants. There would be time in our revised schedule to come back another day, around midday, for another look.
Excited and as the sun was setting, we took the new coast road to Taltal, booked back into the cabañas, hoping that the following morning we would wake up to the more customary sunshine.

And so, on ‘day 9 on-the-road’, of a 21 days on the road trip, we effectively started the ‘return home’. We enjoyed a full English breakfast and some sightseeing in San Pedro.

Our goals had included seeing C. tocopillana just south of Tocopilla and C. atacamensis on Morro Moreno, north of Antofagasta. Both involved extensive climbs, Alain was still feeling bad and Benjy’s detailed maps were still in the UK. Plus the weather at the coast, that had driven us north, was still an unknown factor.
Anne and I in particular were keen to have our picture taken at the airport of Maria Elena. A few years ago, a TV programme series called ‘Extremes’ had officially declared this to be the driest place on earth – i.e. the driest place where equipment was kept to measure such things and where official weather records were kept. From memory, the record of 0.04 mm average annual rainfall over a 30 year period was the result of one single brief shower during that period. We drove along Ruta 24 from Chuquicamata to Maria Elena (83 km) and, if we had bothered, could have counted the plants that we saw along the road on the fingers of our combined hands.

At Maria Elena, we found a sign and barrier across the track that allegedly led to the (disused?) airport (S257) and duly took each other’s picture. And because we’ll grow up one day, but not until many years in the future, Alain and I had to mark the spot in a way that proved that, at least at that time, it had not been the driest place on earth.

It was decision time – on to Tocopilla, or turn south to Antofagasta. We voted sensibly and unanimously for Antofagasta. After a long lonely drive through the desert, entering a major town (285,255 inhabitants) can be a little unsettling. We found a petrol station to top up, then headed north – west, to take a look at tomorrow’s challenge: the 1,148 m. high Morro Moreno. To give us a head start, we decided to spend the night in the small hamlet of Juan Lopez, at the foot of the Morro, rather than to drive the c. 30 km back into Antofagasta. Mistake. The single taps in the bath room were an indication that there was running water, that came in one form only – cold. The elderly couple and assistant that ran the place, and seemed omni present, seemed to share 3 teeth between them. There was no electricity, until night fall, when the generators started up all round the village. We were the only guests and the restaurant was not due to open until breakfast time. We found what seemed to be the only other open restaurant and found it crammed full of people, huddled around the television set. The owner was keen to make his foreign visitors welcome, told some of the locals to move and prepared a table and (as usual) excellent food for us, while we shared the disappointment with the other guests, at Chile’s 2-0 defeat at the hands of Ecuador.

Noises during the night indicated that Alain’s stomach was not responding to the usual medicines. Not a good omen for tomorrow’s planned adventure.

S257: The airport at Maria Elena – the driest place on earth.

There was some logic behind our non-cactus day, yesterday. We had rapidly climbed from sea level to around 2,500 meters in altitude. Before climbing to greater altitudes, to look at the local cactus flora, a day’s acclimatisation was no luxury, and arguably not enough.

Our first challenge was to find fuel for the Toyota in San Pedro. The map showed a fuel station in the town, but the one we had found in 2001 had been moved. Eventually, after driving several times around and through the village, as much by process of elimination as thanks to the directions from the local population (are there any native San Pedroans or are they all tourists?), we found the Copec station, hidden in a back street. We took a GPS reading so that we could find it again in future.

And so we set off in high spirits, on the unpaved B245 to El Tatio, only to be over taken by two cyclists as we experienced our one and only puncture (S252). The cyclists were a couple from Belgium who, some 10 km out of San Pedro, were hardly out of breath as I introduced them to the suffering Alain. After we had changed the wheel, we looked and photographed some of the large cushions of Opuntia / Tephrocactus / Cumulopuntia, depending on your taxonomic preference. As far as species are concerned, there are plenty of opportunities for splitters to give a different name to each of the huge range of spine colours. I’m happy with the common names ‘sleeping sheep’ or ‘mother-in-law’s seat’ for all of them. Some of the spines were around 11 cm (4 inches) long! We photographed even more of these cushions later (S256).

In 2001, we had found some Oreocereus (Arequipa) leuchotrichus (or variicolor?) along this track (S044) and with the aid of the GPS, we found the spot again (S253). The plants were still there and, once Anne and I had clambered down the steep gravely hill side (Alain, weak from his stomach bug and the effect of high altitude, stayed on the road), we found ripe fruits and flowers on some of the plants. The high altitude really did not encourage long walks to explore the extend of what seemed just a single, small group of plants. However, we returned to the car with plenty of pictures.

For the same reason, we were happy to wait until the Echinopsis (Trichocereus) atacamensis came to the road,  particularly when Anne spotted some in flower (S254 & S255), even though we had spotted them on distant hill sides for a while, like groups of telephone poles.

We passed the famous Hot Springs at Puritama, to cactus tourists no more than a puddle with small groups of fat naked tourists paying money to sit in muddy water. We did not stop, other than to check for Echinopsis (Lobivia) formosa (= Soehrensia uebelmannianus) that Graham Hole had reported from here on his 1999 trip with Walther Rausch and Franz Kuhass. Non were spotted here this time, but one was found on the way back (S256a), near to the Cuesta el Diablo – and in flower!

In addition to these cactus stops, we saw some breathtaking (due to the high altitude?) landscapes and some marvellous alpine grasses and miniatures that I still have to find names for – any assistance gratefully accepted.

S256: Pycnophyllum macropetalum, an Alpine member of the Caryophyllaceae,
the Carnation Family had us fooled into thinking that we had found
the first Chilean Anacampseros.

Today was always going to be a general tourist day, rather than a plant-hunt day. By reaching Hotel El Mirador in Calama the previous evening, we had made up lost time. By leaving Calama soon after breakfast, we approached San Pedro de Atacama in good time and around 10 a.m. found ourselves driving through the Valle de la Luna – the Valley of the Moon (S249). These days, the proper tourist way to see this salt lake is by organised night time coach trip from San Pedro, to watch the impressive southern hemisphere sky at night, without clouds or light pollution, until the laser light show highlights the salt pillars that rise like statues out of the landscape. We were happy to use our imagination and later, were woken up by the other tourists’ 4:00 a.m. departure to this (nightly) event, or did they go to the other San Pedro classic – sun rise and break fast at the geysers of El Tatio?

We had succeeded in leaving the damp grey weather behind us and had to watch out for sunburn as we enjoyed hot spring weather at 2,500 – 3,800 meter (7,500 – 12,000 ft) altitude at approximately 22 degrees south of the equator.

We visited the remains of the Aldea de Tulor (S250), a small settlement based in the oasis-like locations that was populated between 800 BC and 500 AD. Next, we visited the small village of Tocomao (S251) – less commercial than San Pedro de Atacama – where I was able to get most of my souvenirs at less cost than in San Pedro. In one shop, where I bought Angie a scarf made of Alpaca wool, the owner was proud to take me to the small yard behind the shop, where kept the sheep and the small llama (alpaca) that provided the wool for her art work.

We tried to find a flamingo or two in some of the numerous areas shown on the map as belonging to the Reserva Nacional Los Flamencos in and around the huge area of Salar de Atacama – the Atacama Salt Lake. We found neither water nor flamingos. Next time we’ll do some research in advance as I presume their presence is seasonal and we were there at the wrong time. Talking to other tourists later who had taken guided tours to the lagoons, we learned that the coach took them to one lake with some 8 birds in total – hardly the thousands of birds that pictures lead one to believe.

So, a day without cacti! Well not really, many of the restaurants, shops and churches have bits made out of cactus wood – Echinopsis (Trichocereus) atacamensis and we did see a couple of miserable looking specimens in the plaza at Tocomao and a slightly healthier one in a private garden, as we left the village.

We’d make up for it tomorrow.

The surprise, to wake up to the sound of rain on the cabaña roof, was not so great this time. In Europe, we’re well used to days-on-end of rain.  The advantage of a plan, prepared in great detail during the previous nine months, is that you can ignore it on arrival, or, when conditions or events indicate, that you can shuffle dates and places around to suit.

We did some sight seeing in Taltal and noticed the progress that had been made at pace, with new schools, housing and roads and major road improvements to Av. Arturo Pratt in progress. The town is also proud of its ancestry, with it’s museum and tribute to the railway system (Plaza del Tren) and recognises the need to entertain the population and tourists alike by having created a mini golf course and outdoor sport facilities near by and is even in the process of creating a small botanic garden (S246) to display the wealth of cacti that occur between Paposo and Cifuncho.

But the weather showed little sign of improving, and so we decided to head north, reaching Ruta 5 in low cloud, with puddles of water on the road and the windscreen wipers going.   Soon however, the sky brightened slightly and the fog turned to steam coming off the tarmac. We made good progress and stopped off for a bite to eat in one of the many truck stops along Ruta 5.

We pushed on, reaching the impressive, but graffiti covered Mano del Desierto, (S247) a massive sculpture of a hand rising out of the desert, some 70 km south of Antofagasta. No plants here, but my stop numbers are designed to help me to retrieve digital images, they are not Field Collection Reference numbers.
The only other stop of the day (S248) was an un-manned railway crossing on Ruta 5, just south of Baquedano. Throughout Chile, motor drivers slow down religiously, as signs warn of a railway crossing further down the road. Signs warn road users to stop (and presumably look and listen) for any approaching train that – by virtue of its size – has (takes) priority.   At many of these crossings, no train has passed for years, the rails having been removed a long time ago.  And yet, cars, busses and lorries slow down, almost as a tribute to the past days of steam. In 2001 I had been told of police traps at these crossings, with drivers fined significant sums for not stopping at  locations where the line was no longer in use. I do not know how true the stories are – I never saw any evidence of police near these crossings. Yet it is curious to have unmanned railway crossings (here with the line in use!) on the Pan Americana, mile for mile the busiest road in the country.  The pictures taken illustrate why it is good to stop where the signs suggest.

That night we reached Calama and found comfortable accommodation at Hotel El Mirador, where we enjoyed a few glasses of Chilean wine with some fellow tourists from Alaska, whose main interests were the Chilean wine offerings, but who had just been to our next target, San Pedro de Atacama, for a no-vineyard break.

The last thing I would have expected happened as I woke up, at around 6 a.m. There was a strange, yet familiar, noise on the tent – RAIN! in Secret Valley! (S237) It was still raining – well, something between a light rain and heavy drizzle really – at 7:30 when a call of nature forced me to get up. Everything looked very different wet – amazing! I wonder when these hills and plants had last seen rain like this.

The drizzle also dampened our enthusiasm. We packed the wet tents and by 8:15 we were back in the Guanillos Valley (S238) for a second attempt to find Copiapoa laui at the familiar location where we had found it abundantly in 2001 and 2003. Again, Anne and I felt sure that we had the right place, confirmed by the GPS reading. Oxalis gigantea was still in flower but already coming into leaf – usually regarded as an indication that there had been some moisture a few days earlier. After an hour of searching, we finally had to admit that the plants had either gone, or, more likely, had become invisible. Perhaps they had become extremely shrunk and shrivelled after a long period of drought and were still waking up from the drought induced dormancy. I bet that as I write this report, the plants have swollen significantly and are either in bud or in flower. Graham Charles and Roger Ferryman are due to visit this area with members of the CaSS(US), and it will be interesting to hear / read what they found.

Next on the agenda was a drive through the Tigrillo Valley and a visit (S239) to the C. longistaminea that grow between the magnificent rocks, close to the Pacific Ocean. These rocks – a very course granite – have been weathered, probably blasted by sand storms and (some) water over many thousands of years.   
From here, we drove back inland, turned north and then west again, with a quick stop to take more pictures of the seemingly endless stand of Copiapoa columna-alba (S240) and back to the coast at Caleta La Madera (S241). It is strange how in the Tigrillo and La Madera Valleys, C. columna-alba are the dominant plants inland, with C. longistaminea as the dominant plant ‘on the beach’. Yet in the Guanillos Valley, C. longistaminea and C. grandiflora are the visually dominant Copiapao and further inland, at Secret Valley, C. columna-alba and C. longistaminea grow side by side. From time to time, both have been regarded as belonging to the Cinerea complex in the genus Copiapoa – with a fibrous root system rather than a thick tap root and (under favourable growing conditions) with a white waxed epidermis. I understand that it is unusual for closely related species to grow together without the occurrence of intermediate forms – natural hybrids. I do not recall having seen any or reading reports from others on this point – providing professional taxonomists with a bit of a head ache.

So far, we were covering the same territory as in 2003, but I was keen to extend the search farther north. Again we drove inland and north, again we met the endless stands of C. columna-alba, (S242), like pavements full of shoppers heading north. Again we turned west (S243), through a valley (Quebrada de Leoncito) still surrounded by C. columna-alba that thinned out as we finally reached the Ocean, through a narrow gorge. At the gorge (S244 & S245) we again found forms of C. longistaminea, but each time that this plant appears along the coast, there seems to be a distinct local form for each Quebrada. Knize had used the name (nomen nudum) Copiapoa tigrillensis for the plants at the mouth of the Quebrada Tigrillo.  In ‘Copiapoa in their environment’, Attila Kapitany and Rudolf Schulz mention Copiapoa sp. ‘Cifuncho’, that we visited in 2003 and that I believe to be the most northern form of this species.  We’d return to it again later on in the trip (11 October).

The weather had not really cleared up and we decided to head for the Cabañas at Caleta Hueso, our home in 2001 and 2003, just north of Taltal – happy that I had another Quebrada form of C. longistaminea to add to my list. So how many more should I schedule for future trips?  Well, the topographical maps indicate:

•    Bahia Ballenita

•    Punta Lavata

•    Caleta de Afuera (the location of ‘sp. Cifuncho’)

as the only named features before reaching Cifuncho. And with that thought in mind, I nodded off.

S244: Are these mainly single headed plants still C. longistaminea,
or C. taltalensis / rupstris or an intermediate?

There are several ways to get to (not so) ‘Secret Valley’ – a small Quebrada near Esmeralda, first used as a campsite by Attila Kapitany and Rudolf Schulz in 1994. It is marked with a GPS reference in their book ‘Copiapoa in their environment’. From Chañaral, the fastest route to this spot would be along the Pan Americana, until a turning onto a track due west.  But this would have taken us past several earlier turnings, sign posted for Parque Nacional Pan de Azucar and leading to a range of interesting Copiapoa taxa – hardly fair to Alain on his first trip out here.

And so we approached the usual (main) southern entrance of the National Park and stopped (S227) where some nice clumps of Copiapoa cinerascens grew on dark rocks, with the blue Pacific Ocean in the back ground – an ideal photo opportunity. The roads – yes, the term ‘track’ is no longer appropriate for these tarmac roads, with signs warning of dangerous bends and safety rails that prevent speeding motorists from taking a dip into the ocean – had been improved beyond recognition since June 2003. Great, as we were in a hurry, but a shame as the sense of exploration and adventure from previous trips became a fading memory.
We stopped (S228) at a site where in 2001 we had found a very healthy population (many plants of various ages, including small seedlings) of Copiapoa columna-alba, and were happy to find the plants in good shape.

On both previous trips, we had followed signs to El Mirador, but, soon after the sign post, had found a chain across the track, with a small car park near by, so that we had never travelled beyond this point. This time the chain was gone and we followed the track to a magnificent view point (S229) over the Pacific Ocean shoreline, from the sugar-loaf shaped island that gives the park its name, in the south, to the heights of Las Lomitas to the north. Huge shrubs of Euphorbia lactiflua were covered in flowers, while tall stands of Eulychnia breviflora (was E. saint-pieana) were in (very woolly) bud. The clumps of Copiapoa grandiflora looked less happy, as it seemed that tourists enjoying the views were in the habit of standing on the clumps. We also photographed an interesting Oxalis with relatively large flowers, compared with the weed that plagues UK cactus collections.

As we drove on, Anne and I recalled a spot where in 2003, Cliff Thompson, driving the lead car, had screeched to a halt as he had spotted a sizeable Eriosyce rodentiophila (E. megacarpa) in an otherwise lifeless landscape. We had recorded a GPS reading for the spot so I switched on the machine and we spotted the plant as the reading on the apparatus clicked to the reading taken 16 months earlier. Despite a more thorough look around this time, it remained the only cactus found here (S230).

The foxes at Las Lomitas (S231), a main attraction during previous visits, were out (gone shopping for more cream crackers?). The cloud (camanchaca) that is responsible for creating this fog-oasis in the desert, was just over our heads, offering us a rare view some 1,000 m. down to the beach below. It did not last long, and as the cloud base lowered on us, a curious guanaco came to take a brief look, having its picture taken before disappearing into the clouds.
We followed the track north along the cliff’s edge, careful as the track approached the crests of hills, where we were unable to observe its progress beyond the crest – in case it lead straight over the edge to the beach below (one kilometre!), until we reached the point (S232) where in 2003 I had dropped of a group of fellow Copiapoathoners for their walk down the hill to Esmeralda. A cold wind blew along the cliff’s edge and we did not stay long.

As we descended down a track (the tarmac roads from the south side of the park were long gone!) and stopped (S233) to take pictures of the very heavy spined Copiapoa columna-alba (is this what Ritter called C. melanohistrix?) with stems measured by Alain up to 105 cm tall. As we reached the level ground of the Quebrada de la Cachina, we made another stop (S234) at a densely populated plateau of C. columna-alba, before driving through the Quebrada Guanillos to pay our respects to Alan Craig (S235). On the way back, we stopped (S236) at the place where in 2001 and 2003 we had found the minute Copiapoa laui in large numbers, but in the failing light, failed to find any. We’d take a better look tomorrow.

Then it was off to Secret Valley (S237) to put up our tents, build a camp fire from dead Eulychnia saint-pieana wood and consume suitable quantities of Chilean wine to brave a night on the hard desert floor.

We’d have a big surprise on waking up the following morning……

Fully rested (well, Anne and I were – Alain again had difficulty with our snoring), we set off – in thick fog (again!) for Chañaral. In 2003, on the way south, we had left Copiapó in a thick fog that had stayed with us all the way to Vallenar.

This time the fog lifted just before 10:00 and we made two stops along Ruta 5 (S222 and S223), not prompted by cacti, but by a sight we had not seen on our previous trips – a sight that must have inspired Jimi Hendrix to write ‘Purple Haze’. Large patches of normally barren desert were covered by a blanket of flowers. The cause was a small rosette of rather succulent looking leaves, a short thin stem and a small purple flower on top – I believe Calandrinia longiscapa. It grew here in millions! Also in flowers were a lily (common name Añañuca amarilla – botanical name Rhodophiala bagnoldii) and a daisy-like flower, Encelia canescens – if the ‘Chilean Flora For Tourists’ type books that I bought at the airport on the way home, are to be believed. This last plant is very similar to Rudbeckia, a plant found in European gardens but that is endemic to North America.  It was only the third day into our trip and already I had taken more pictures of non succulent plants than in total during the four week trip in 2003!

I took a GPS reading (S224) to mark the turning off Ruta 5 to Barranquillas, a track that we would explore further on the way back. The track looked to lead into the wide, flat valley of the Rio Copiapó. A green line of trees and shrubs indicated where the river provides some water, but otherwise the area looked rather bleak and barren. Two weeks later, when we travel down this track, we were to find a huge surprise!

Past Caldera, we repeated two more stops from previous visits (S225 and S226). At S225, I wanted to check out something that had bothered me since the 2003 trip – how uniform are the populations of Copiapoa calderana here? Not very, when considering spine and epidermis colour. We also found the local Eulychnia in bud – very woolly – and some of the ‘goat-dropping look-alike’ Eriosyce : E. odieri ssp krausi – well done Anne, for spotting these ‘invisible’ plants.

We booked into Hosteria Chañaral for the night (more to confirm that the service here remains sub-standard than for any other reason), sent messages home from the internet cafe in town and did some shopping at the local supermarket as the next night would be spent in tents near Esmeralda. As we walked home, it seemed that we were joined by a Chilean chap. As I stopped to take pictures, he stopped too. When we walked on, so did he. ‘Have you seen that?’ I asked Alain, ‘It is as though he is following us!’  ‘I hope so,’ Alain replied, ‘he’s carrying our shopping!’ 

Tomorrow we enter Pan de Azucar.

Today was due to be another ‘driving day’, some 460 km along Ruta 5.

A few km north of Pichdangui, at Totoralillo, we made our second stop in 2001 S002), and again in 2003 (S109) and I wanted to check up on how this location had survived (S218 this time). Like most of the Pacific Ocean coast, huge stretches are lost to tourism with anything from beach huts to large complexes complete with golf courses popping up like mushrooms on a British autumn lawn.

It is easy to feel sad about the loss of cactus habitats through such developments, but I guess that at the same time we should feel happy for the Chileans as the standard of living appears to have dramatically improved for large numbers of people as a result of this and other (agriculture and mining) developments.
We should also recognise the tremendous improvements made to the roads, so that ‘cactus exploring / tourism’ becomes a much easier option, open to many more people, like ourselves, rather than to a few intrepid individuals not afraid to endure some discomfort and risk to see what we now take for granted.

We were struck by how many more flowers (wild flowers rather than cacti in flower) were on display than on earlier visits. It was great to see many ‘old friends’, cacti that I had photographed on previous occasions so that I could check their progress – just as I would do with plants in my collection back home.

Our second stop of the day was at the petrol station at Termas de Socos (S219), another stop from 2003. So was this just a nostalgic trip of previous cactus stops? Not at all. But in our rush to get to Copiapoa Country it is necessary to drive significant stretches along the Panamericana, while the need for comfort breaks and refuelling bodies and cars continues, and petrol stations are few and far between in this part of the world. And while we stretch our legs, we might as well point our cameras at any interesting plants.

Unfortunately the crested head on one of the Echinopsis (Trichocereus) chiloensis that we had seen last year had died and was hanging limply from the surviving base of the stem.

The remaining two stops before reaching Vallenar were again repeats of previous trips: S220 was at a lay-by on Ruta 5, just north of La Serena and S221 at Ruta 5, just south of Los Hornos, where I introduced Alain to his first Copiapoa (C. coquimbana).

Finding suitable accommodation in Vallenar can be a bit difficult, but we were happily surprised to see a new hotel, Hotel Takia, with the wonderful address of Prat 600. In fact, it was so new that we appeared to be the first guests – the wrappers were still on the beds. The owner spoke good English – another plus point, as my ‘Spenglish’ (a Brian Bates term) is basic in the extreme.

We had hoped to reach La Serena on the first day, a 474 km journey along Ruta 5, the Pan-American Highway. We decided to start the drive, but as we approached Pichidangui, the location of our last stop in 2001 and of our first and last stop in 2003, the eyes became tired and the thought of another return visit became a great temptation.

Soon we were booked into a new cabana and on our way to the seaside to check on the state of the plants. Building development, inspired by tourism, had progressed at pace but ‘our’ plants were safe (S217 = S107 in 2001 and S108 and S216 in 2003). In the past, Eriosyce subgibbosa had been in full flower, while a significant number of similar looking plants had not been. According to Kattermann, these were Eriosyce chilensis var. albidiflora that has a different flower and flowers at a different time (based on our observations E. albidiflora flowers in October rather than May / June).  The other Eriosyce found here, E. curvispina, was in bud, as were Echinopsis litoralis and Eulychnia castanea. This promised to be a treat to look forward to when we are due to return here on the way home, three weeks later.

There is no point in counting the hours since we had last had a good night’s rest, so after the usual local fish dish, washed down with Chilean Cabernet Sauvignon for Anne and I, beer for Alain, we retired to the cabañas for a good night sleep, at least for Anne and I, as Alain discovered that the rumours were true – that my snoring resembles the noise made by thousands of mechanical saws cutting down rain forests.