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My motorcycle is many things. She’s so much more than my trusty steed—she’s my home, an unbelievable icebreaker, a “Get out of Jail Free Card” and sometimes a swift little lifesaver. She is decidedly my ticket to travel, enlightenment, and empowerment. Without her, I’d have a gaping hole in my soul—a chunk eaten away like the hungry bite from of a sandwich.

The beauty of having my own wheels meant my partner, Jason, and I could better execute our own daily sorties into Chile’s Atacama Desert while using San Pedro as a base. We’d timed our ride around the coaches that carted the day-trippers in and out of the park, which thankfully was big enough to adequately disperse everyone.

Our first foray into Atacama’s sandpit took us to Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon). Owing to its different stratifications and salt formations, its resemblance to the surface of our planet’s biggest satellite is uncanny.

We rode on a cruisy circuit, stopping whenever the urge took us—scaling the odd sand dune, bobbling across the bumpiest salt-stiffened road to date, and siesta’ing in the sun after sandwiches to indulge in a little light reading. It was motorbiking bliss. I overheard one young woman who, after completing a guided walk, faced her tour guide and exclaimed, “Well that was absolutely not boring!”

A bit deeper in the Desierto de Atacama took us to Laguna Cejar and Laguna Tebinquiche. The first was located near Ojos del Salar, a pair of sinkholes whose circular outlines were crystallized in salt a bit like a sugar-frosted cocktail glass puzzlingly positioned in the expanse of a vast volcano-lined desert.

It was like looking down into two pools of mint green liqueur. Laguna Tebinquiche is a lagoon whose typically resident flamingoes had taken flight elsewhere, although the puna plover birds were in attendance. I’d packed a swimsuit to see if I had the backbone to float in these salt-dense waters; it turned out only my big toe wanted to make the plunge while the rest of my body was content to stay bone-dry and salt-free.

By luck, an unplanned route led us to Salar de Atacama on a ride farther north. This in turn took us to Laguna Chaxa, which is about 65 kilometers from San Pedro de Atacama—a location we’d previously sought with a fine-tooth comb to no avail.

Laguna Chaxa was home to a flamingo-breeding site. Although three of five known species—James, Chilean, and Andean—come to feed and breed here, I was content simply knowing the wading birds were there at all. They were feathered in signature coral pink plumage with protruding bent bills, filter-feeding in the lagoon.

It was a day for the zoom lens and snappy reflexes alongside a first—seeing a flock of flamingos taking flight in an awe-inspiring arc to a neighboring sister pool. We lingered for as long as possible, absorbing the setting like a soothing salve to an itch.

In weaving around the potholes and patches of sand, we glimpsed dust devils dancing to their own tune while our bikes sped us back to the hostel. That evening’s supermoon was about a third bigger and brighter than usual thanks to our mountainous proximity.