7th Nov. 2016
It turns out that there isn’t much to do in Caldera. Even at the best of times, you don’t get the impression that there is a hive of activity here. Now that it is low season there is even less. We haven’t found a single tour operator open for business – so our hoped for trip to Pan de Azucar definitely isn’t going to happen. It’s also Monday which we’ve found before in Chile is a day when the museums stay closed. To top it all off, there was a bit of drizzly rain first thing this morning and as we head out, the clouds are low and grey – matching the mood of the town, really.
Yesterday, the beach was full of families picnicking on the sand and splashing in the sea even late in the afternoon. Today, there is not a soul to be seen and all is quiet. Even on the fishing boats there is little activity with just one boat having its engine removed for maintenance and nobody else around. We spot a pair of sea lions floating close to the jetty – even they seem to have caught the lethargic mood. We walk back along the harbour wall grateful at least that the light is more conducive to photography than yesterday’s bright sunshine.
What Caldera does have, however, is a lighthouse. We haven’t yet spotted it but we have seen some pictures of it and failed to get there yesterday on a boat trip. Logic says that it is likely to be out on the promontory to the south of town – and whilst the world doesn’t seem to conform to rules of logic at the minute, this is confirmed by the chap on the front desk in our hotel. The walk is going to be a couple of miles each way – so just about right for us and we feel in need of some exercise.
Town is no busier as we head out through the outskirts. There is no sign of life at the local yacht club and the conveyors and loading jetty at the sand/gravel terminal have long fallen into disuse. We keep pressing on, and come to a couple of large enclosures made from walls of stacked shipping containers. There was no real clue as to what they were for, but on one wall there was a large mural which seemed to be depicting a battle scene – presumably, once again, the War of the Pacific. Nearby were signs advertising a water desalination plant, confirming my suspicions from the slightly minerally feel to the tap water. Then there is just nothing – a strip of empty road with nothing other than sand and rocks on either side and the sea in the distance.
We clamber up a rocky peak in the crook of a bend in the road and get our first view of the lighthouse in the distance. Square-sided and rather stubby its not the biggest or most spectacular we’ve ever seen but we’re happy enough that at least it exists – more than can be said for much of what we’ve tried to do over the last couple of days. The setting is dramatic enough though, as the rocky shore unwinds as we walk closer.
Janet is still hoping to see penguins and even brought the binoculars along in the day pack. The sun has now come out, so we’re able to sit at the foot of the lighthouse enjoying the views and scanning the rocks for any signs. Its not to be and we have to make do with a flock of pelicans passing overhead, a couple of gulls and a cluster of cormorants sunning themselves on the nearby rocks.
On our way back in to town, the big surprise is that we come across another group of English speaking tourists. We’re so shocked that they have passed us by before we twig that we should have said “hello” to them – and asked them if they’re mad coming to a dead end town like this. After lunch (empanadas and schop, again – I could get used to this!) our priority is to get our bus tickets for the journey on tomorrow and to triple check that we know where the bus is going to leave from.
In the evening, we are determined that whatever else, we are not going to eat in 1850 Restobeer again. We did find another mention of a pizza restaurant in town and head off to see if we locate it – but it is as mythical as the open tour operator (or open anything in this town). We settle for the Miramar restaurant right on the sea front and once again, we seem to be the only customers for the whole evening. After all of the hustle and bustle in San Pedro this town is perhaps a little too quiet and too far in the other end of the spectrum. However, over a glass of white wine, and our mahi-mahi and prawn risotto, we talk about our day and our travels and all seems well. What we love about travelling has little to do with whether somewhere is quiet or busy – its the getting to new places and experiencing the variety of this world. As the cliché has it, for us, the journey is the destination.