Counting Stars

Located high in the Andes, the otherworldly landscapes of Chile’s Atacama Desert defy convention. Kissa Castañeda discovers the magnetic pull of the world’s driest terrain

- Kissa Castaneda

THERE IT IS… that’s the North Star,” I proudly said to our guide, pointing at the bright- est star in the sky. Turns out, I was pointing to Mars. Astronomy clearly isn’t my strongest suit, but that’s no surprise. I’d normally only be able to identify the Big Dipper and Orion’s Belt, but here in the southern hemisphere, neither of these constellations appear as how I would normally recognise them. Lying on a bed outdoors and wrapped in a fleece blanket, I realised how little I knew about the universe and just how much of it I could see—the Milky Way included—with my naked eye.

Stargazing is just one of the things taken to another level at the Atacama Desert in northern Chile. To say it’s a place like no other may sound like hyperbole, but its credentials dictate otherwise. Located 4,000m above sea level, this Andean plateau is embraced by the Pacific Ocean on one side and the Andes mountain range on the other, and holds the title of the driest place on earth. The last time there was a notable storm was in 2015, and some parts haven’t seen rainfall in over 400 years. What it has a lot of, however, are clear skies. It enjoys more than 300 sunshine-filled days a year and has almost no light pollution—elements that come together to the delight of astronomers, who chose it as a base for the Atacama Large Millimeter/submillimeter Array, or Alma Observatory, which houses the largest ground telescope in the world. Atacama tops the list for astro-tourists, and increasingly attracts urban dwellers like myself seeking to escape a view filled with smog and skyscrapers.

IN THE CLEAR