Steam, Stars, and Silence: A Weekend in Valle de Colina

A camping journey into stillness, starlit nights in natural hot springs, and the untamed beauty of the Andes.

The hot springs | Photo courtesy of Valle de Colina

by Angelica Pajic

9 de nov de 2025

A Weekend Escape from Santiago

Only a couple of hours from Santiago lies a corner of the Andes that feels like another world. The Cajón del Maipo, the iconic mountain area just southeast of the capital, is famous for its winding rivers, towering peaks, and hot springs hidden in remote valleys. In this chapter of my Chilean escapes, I take you to Valle de Colina, a magical and almost mystical destination where nature takes the lead and the soul finds peace.

I had heard about the hot springs many times before—bubbling pools heated by volcanic activity, nestled between snowy mountains and ancient rock formations. But what I discovered on this trip went far beyond relaxation: it was a spiritual reset, an adventure, and a reminder of the raw beauty Chile offers.

The Road to the Mountains

We started our journey early on a Saturday morning, around 7 a.m., with sleepy eyes but full of excitement for what was coming. After a quick breakfast and packing the last essentials—snacks, warm clothes, swimsuits, tents, and sleeping bags—my roommate and I hit the road. Two of our friends were joining us, so we had a few stops to make. The drive, normally two and a half hours, turned into four as we picked up groceries, collected our friends, and (naturally) stopped for empanadas—no road trip in Chile is complete without them.

The road winds through the Maipo Valley, growing steeper the deeper you go and if you’re lucky, you might see condors soaring overhead. As we climbed in altitude, the city noise faded behind us. The air got cooler and the colors more intense. It felt like entering a different rhythm of life and we finally reached our destination.

Important note for travelers: If you go to Valle de Colina, bring cash, since the entrance to the natural park costs around 15.000 Chilean pesos (around 15 USD). There’s no Wi-Fi, no card readers, no signal—and that’s exactly why I loved it. It forces you to disconnect and be present.

Just us and the snowy mountains | Photo by Angelica Pajic

Setting Up the Camp

Arriving at Valle de Colina in the afternoon, we were welcomed by the sight of steaming pools lining the edge of a cliff, with towering snow-capped peaks in the background. The camping area is vast, stretching along a wide, rocky valley floor. While there’s a parking area near the pools, we chose to set our tents farther away, where we could enjoy peace, quiet, and total immersion in nature.

The terrain is rugged, with soft grass patches interspersed with volcanic stones. We found a flat area near the river, tucked between two small hills—enough to shield us from the wind but open enough to enjoy the view. As we unpacked, we felt the temperature begin to drop. Winter was nearing, and the air had that crispness that makes you crave a fire.

Before heading to the hot springs, we wanted to stretch our legs and explore the area. We followed a narrow trail along the river, heading toward a distant glacier that we’d read about online. The silence was real—no cars, no buzz of electricity, just water flowing, birds calling, and our own footsteps on the rocks.

But daylight in the Andes fades fast in winter. Around 5:30 p.m., the sun began to slip behind the peaks, and the temperature dropped quickly. We had to turn back after about an hour of walking, still far from the glacier, but excited to see what the evening in the hot springs would bring.

Melting into the Hot Springs

Returning to camp, we grabbed our swimsuits and towels and made our way to the pools. The changing rooms were rustic but functional, and we moved quickly to avoid freezing in the mountain air. The moment we stepped into the first warm pool, it felt like stepping into heaven.

The pools are terraced along the slope of the mountain, each one slightly hotter than the one below. The water has almost a white color due to its mineral content, rich in sulfur and other elements, said to be great for the skin and health. The source is the San José Volcano, still active and looming in the distance.

As advised by the guide at the entrance, we started from the bottom pool and slowly made our way up. The higher we went, the hotter it got—and the more surreal the view became. By the time we reached the mid-pools, the sky had turned soft lavender and pink, with the snow reflecting the last light of day. It was quiet. The few other people there spoke in hushed tones. The only sounds were the wind, the distant river, and the bubbling of thermal water. In that moment, time disappeared.

After nearly an hour in the pools, we felt dizzy, a common effect from the heat and the mineral vapor. We returned to camp and quickly changed into warm clothes, eager to light a fire.

Finding dry wood wasn’t easy, the ground was damp from previous nights. But with patience (and some paper we’d wisely kept), we managed to get it going. The fire became the heart of our campsite. We boiled water for noodles—perhaps the most comforting camping food ever—and passed around tea, chocolate, and slices of cake I had brought along for dessert.

There’s something special about sitting around a fire after dark, wrapped in layers, under the stars. We shared stories, laughed, and simply listened to the crackling flames. But the night wasn’t over yet.

Midnight Reconnection Under the Stars

Around 10 p.m., we couldn’t resist a second trip to the hot springs. This time, the pools were almost empty. The air was colder, and the stars stretched endlessly above us. No light pollution, just a dome of constellations.

We slipped into the second-hottest pool. At first, it was intense—almost burning—but within minutes, our bodies adjusted. We floated in silence, watching the sky. It’s hard to put into words the feeling of soaking in volcanic water, with snow all around, under a sky full of stars. I felt a profound sense of gratitude, of peace, and a powerful connection to Pachamama (the Andean spirit of the earth).

After 40 minutes, chilled and glowing from the inside out, we returned to camp. The fire was still warm, and we drifted off to sleep in our tents, lulled by the wind and river.

The Maipo Valley and the Nieves Negras Glacier | Photo by Angelica Pajic

The Perfect Morning in the Mountains

I woke before dawn. The sky was still dark, and my sleeping bag was too cozy to leave. But I had made myself a promise: to watch the sunrise from the hot springs.

I slipped out of the tent, made a quick tea, and tiptoed toward the pools. The grass was covered in frost. My swimsuit was still damp from the night before. Every instinct told me to go back to my sleeping bag—but I’m so glad I didn’t.

I was nearly alone. Only two other visitors sat silently in different pools. I eased into the warm water, steam rising around me, and waited. Slowly, the first rays of sunlight touched the snowy mountains. They turned soft pink, then golden. The transformation was gentle, majestic, and unforgettable.

In that moment, surrounded by nothing but nature and silence, I felt something shift inside me. I was overcome with a deep, quiet happiness, the kind that sneaks up on you when you’re fully present.

Back at the campsite, my friends were waking up. The frost began to melt, and the valley filled with light. We made coffee, toasted bread over the fire, and mashed avocado with salt and lemon. A simple breakfast never tasted so good.

We packed our things and decided to explore one last time. Instead of returning to the glacier, we aimed for a mountain just above our campsite. There was no trail, just a vague idea of the direction and our own instincts.

Crossing the river was our first challenge, but thankfully, someone had placed a metal ladder across it. From there, it was a steep and wild ascent. No signs, no markers, just loose rocks, grass, and our own determination. The higher we went, the stronger the wind blew. But the reward was worth it.

From the top, the view was breathtaking. Snow-capped peaks surrounded us in every direction. Behind us, we could see the Nieves Negras Glacier, shining in the distance. We felt on top of the world, literally and spiritually.

We descended carefully, made our way back to the car, and shared a quick lunch of tuna sandwiches. On the drive back to Santiago, I fell asleep with the sun on my face, waking only for another empanada stop. Another weekend escape complete. Another memory made.