cycling

Showing 3 posts tagged cycling

Eating dust and crunching salt in the Atacama Desert, Chile

view out of the bus window, san pedro de atacama chile

A view of the driest desert in the world, the Atacama Desert in Chile as we approached in the bus.
The dust was everywhere, in my hair, in my socks, in my mouth, and liberally coating anything that was not covered. San Pedro de Atacama is a small oasis in the middle of the Atacama desert in Northern Chile, the driest desert in the world. Some of the places in the desert have never recorded rain, ever. Not surprisingly then, that the unrelenting heat from the sun and the dryness gave rise to the omnipresent dust.
A 26 hour bus journey from Valparaiso dumped us in a San Pedro de Atacama at close to midnight, with dim streetlights covering only the central part of town, we shuffled our way in the darkness and the dust looking for our hostel, “an easy 10 minute walk from town”, perhaps in the day, but certainly not at night, disorientated from an obscenely long bus journey and carrying our luggage along dirt roads in the pitch black. We eventually found the place only to learn that hot water was shut off at midnight and we had missed our chance for a shower. Morning was just a few hours away and sleep seemed like the most sensible thing to do.
valle de la luna, san pedro de atacama chile
The salt crusted dry riverbed where we cycled in Valle de la Luna
carrying the bikes up, valle de la luna, atacama chile
No obstacle too great to overcome
Almost totally dominated by tourism, San Pedro de Atacama exists as a base to visit the amazing and bizarre landscape surrounding the town, and as a starting point for trips to the famous Salar de Uyuni, just across the border in Bolivia.

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X-Pro1 Diaries: Things I See When I Am Out And About (May 2012)
View the rest of my ongoing X-Pro1 experiences and photos or the rest of the photos on Handcarry Only
Oh to be invisible in a sea of humanity, in the sprawl of the city, a little whisper in a roaring wave. I wander, looking, observing, recording. For what purpose am I doing this? For whom is this photographic record intended? I don’t exactly know. Something compels me. Perhaps it is the most obvious way to share my view of the world around me, one that is at once beautiful and grotesque, serendipitous and staged, symmetrical and chaotic.
For now, I am merely the record keeper.

The lion

Looking over

Synchronised shooting

Queuing for fortune

The man in the alley

Delivering Ya Pear

The new and the not so new

Zero emissions

Hmmm… I wouldn’t mind a yellow Porsche either …
View the rest of my ongoing X-Pro1 experiences and photos or the rest of the photos on Handcarry Only High-res

X-Pro1 Diaries: Things I See When I Am Out And About (May 2012)

View the rest of my ongoing X-Pro1 experiences and photos or the rest of the photos on Handcarry Only

Oh to be invisible in a sea of humanity, in the sprawl of the city, a little whisper in a roaring wave. I wander, looking, observing, recording. For what purpose am I doing this? For whom is this photographic record intended? I don’t exactly know. Something compels me. Perhaps it is the most obvious way to share my view of the world around me, one that is at once beautiful and grotesque, serendipitous and staged, symmetrical and chaotic.

For now, I am merely the record keeper.

2 kids chilling by the river

The lion

old couple by river

Looking over

2 tourist girls taking photos

Synchronised shooting

queuing up to touch fortune

Queuing for fortune

alleyway man

The man in the alley

deliveryman bike

Delivering Ya Pear

shophouses and skyscrapers

The new and the not so new

trishaw rider

Zero emissions

old lady yellow porsche

Hmmm… I wouldn’t mind a yellow Porsche either …

View the rest of my ongoing X-Pro1 experiences and photos or the rest of the photos on Handcarry Only

Essaouira, City of Blue and White by the Sea (Part 2)

Fridge Magnet Poem, Essaouira

He told her about the wild dogs

that howl all night in the Himalayas

while they were in Essaouira,

(Mogador, the ships once knew it by).

They sat in wicker chairs with white

cushions on the bastioned wall.

There were gulls, tables of people

eating fish in the Lilliputian harbour, St Pierre,

she could smell the sardines.

Daphne Manners. She felt like Daphne

Manners without her spectacles.

Pale white girl, blinking in the sun,

in a land of dark skinned men

and the kohl-rimmed lids

of the Sheherezades.

by Alexandra Lister