Our plan had us leaving Valparaiso, skipping some 30 hours to the northern deserts of the Atacama. Maybe we both felt some guilt at leaving so much of Chile unseen, so we decided to take something of a weekend trip to the Elqui Valley, to the town of Pisco Elqui.

Pisco Elqui is cute and almost silent. The whole town seems to be carved out of the same red clay as the towering mountains that flank the small town. Climbing a hill, it’s easy to take in, at a glance, the entire town and it’s compact vineyards.

Pisco Elquis few small streets are dotted with tour agencies, mini markets, and restaurants. Most of these, however, were buttoned up and unclear as to their operating hours. It turns out that the high season is an abrupt 3 months long, from December to February. Be this as it may, we managed to book a small tour and we were able to do the things that people generally come here for: pisco and vineyards.

We were, at first, a little troubled when we arrived at the tiny winery and it was troublingly absent of tourism and offerings. It ended up being kind of a rad thing — we managed to hit the valley during harvest season. Looking back on it, I realize that all of the wine tours and tastings that we’ve done were set against the backdrop of silently growing grapes and the dusty cellars of aging wine. This time around, we saw grapes being decanted into de-stemming machines, a thick layer of purple juice on the floor, and we took in the smells of wine being born.

The Los Nichos pisco distillery was also at a magically bumping time of the production year. The stills were boiling with the simple wine and pure pisco dripped from its condensers. The tour of the tiny operation took us into the cellars where the bodega took its name — the “niches” are the slots of tombs. The founders, we were told, were Freemasons, and their esoteric practices and celebrations took place down below the main house, in a small room surrounded by tombs full of pisco bottles, and dressed up with a few human skulls.

No trip to Elqui would be complete, of course, without a mirador picnic of local wines, cheeses and olives, and long gorgeous views. Good, simple times in strange faraway places.

Salud!