El Peñon

The road from Villa Vil to El Peñón was a two-hour stretch of pure magic, where every curve revealed a new, breathtaking surprise. I arrived in the small, high-altitude village feeling invigorated, eventually finding a room at a family hostel called Celina. For 30,000 pesos, it was one of the most economical spots in town, but more importantly, it felt like a home. After weeks of staying in sterile hotels, having a kitchen and a warm, lived-in atmosphere was a relief, especially since the air at 3,500 meters turns bone-chilling the moment the sun dips.

The main attraction in this corner of the world is the Campo de Piedra Pómez. Local guides offer 4×4 tours for about $150 USD, a steep price for a solo traveler. Since I was on my motorcycle, I decided to tackle the journey alone. I had spent hours watching YouTube videos of riders warning about the treacherous, deep sand, but my bike was light and I felt prepared. My first stop was the giant dunes, where the access was every bit as tough as promised. Navigating the shifting landscape was a workout, but standing alone amidst those massive peaks of sand was a reward like no other.

The real challenge began as I headed toward the main stone fields. I remembered the technical advice from the videos: keep the speed up to stay on top of the sand and avoid getting stuck. For a while, I felt like a pro, skimming across the desert. Then, inevitably, the terrain won, and I took a tumble. I laughed it off, dusted myself off, and kept moving. By the time I reached the heart of the Campo de Piedra Pómez, the only other group was just leaving. I was suddenly the sole inhabitant of a giant, white-stone paradise.

Il est difficile de décrire la beauté de ces formations géologiques ; la Terre Mère a vraiment le don de nous surprendre avec l'inexplicable. Alors que le soir approchait, j'ai eu la chance d'admirer un coucher de soleil qui a transformé les nuages en un carnaval de couleurs. J'ai vu quelque chose qui défiait toute logique : des rayons de lumière s'étirant dans le ciel non pas en direction du soleil, mais depuis la direction exactement opposée derrière moi. C'était comme si la Puna donnait un spectacle privé rien que pour moi. Je suis resté aussi longtemps que j'ai pu, superposant mes vêtements à mesure que la température chutait.

To avoid the treacherous sand on the ride back in the dark, I opted for a loop behind the Carachi Pampa Volcano. The map suggested the distance was similar but the ground was firmer. It was a massive mistake. For over an hour, I bounced over jagged volcanic rocks, barely making any progress. There was no marked road, only faint tracks that seemed to disappear into the void. I got lost multiple times in the middle of nowhere, and if it wasn’t for my GPS, I would have been stranded until morning.

Three and a half grueling hours later, I finally rolled back into El Peñón, exhausted to death. My host was relieved to see me; she had already sent a message to the town’s WhatsApp group asking the local guides if anyone had news of the rider. I was humbled by the landscape and my own exhaustion. The following day, I didn’t even look at my bike, choosing instead to stay in the warmth of the house and work, letting the memory of the white stones and the desert wind sink in.

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