Santiago De Chile

Santiago, what can I say. Is it a city of dreams or the centre of the Chilean universe? The latter I think is true.  We leave Valparaiso and drive towards the city. Everywhere around you can see that the economy has been focused around this city. The beautiful mountains ahead are covered in snow after heavy rains the day before. The city sits at 500m above sea level, the mountains a further 3000m up. At first we think this is a permanent feature, but we are told that generally this time of the year the snow has all melted, evidenced by the Mapocho River at full-bore with the run-off.
The drive to the hostel through the city proves easy enough and we settle in to well run digs at the international hostel off Moneda, conveniently situated around all major sites. It is a striking place and very businesslike, but all we knew about Chile was about to change. No late mornings or excuses for breakfast and short comings and yet it still has an air of innocence about it. Chilean people, I have come to realize, are extremely shy but will do their best to offer help. We contact Esteban and Lesley our Chilean- American couple. Esteban meets us at the metro Los Heroes and we are unaware of the treat that he has in store for us. We get taken to all the sites and little did we know that as an architectural student he was compelled to study all the buildings. Boy was he a good student! We meander through the city and soon feel indebted as he pulls no stops and unselfishly offloads his city’s pride. Later we meet Lesley and we are shown both the old and most contemporary. This all happens on our first day! Then off to a Peruvian restaurant to drink Inca Cola and wait for it…..LLAMA! And was it good. It does not end here; these guys are intent on wearing us out. We are off to a local hang out called  La Piojera and it is here that we experience an earthquake (terremoto) in the heart of Santiago. Don’t go rushing for CNN or the newspapers thinking you are missing something- it’s a local drink made up of white wine (knikkels), ice-cream and pineapple concentrate. One was definitely my limit and if that was not enough there is something called the “replica” or aftershock, I am too scared to try that one. The conversation is good and intense and we head for a coffee bar and nightcap, we crawl into our hostel bunk at 2 am, feeling like naughty teenagers up to no good! Our friends really treated us so well and took all the time and care to do so.
The following day we are off to find the market that Esteban had pointed out, but with all the weaving through the city we become disoriented. It is 30 degrees plus, and we are hot. I give up my male pride and go over to ask a carabinero (policeman) sitting in a car for directions. Nada espanol on my side and niks English on his, the conversation soon becomes animated. He decides this is no good and motions for us to climb into the back of the police car. What is this I think? Not sure what to make of this, we just sit there in amazement. They take us straight to the market and while driving make sure that windows are opened to ventilate the hot weather away. If they could have taken us any closer they would have had to pay our market bills as well. This was so unusual and the courtesy of the guys was just amazing, with handshakes and greetings to match. A small crowd of onlookers must have thought we were VIP’s or something, but with our limited wardrobe, I doubted that. Our whole experience throughout our travels in Chile is only complimentary of these guys. It has to be said that our police force at home can sure learn a lesson or two. It puzzles us as to why they carry their job with such pride and absolute devotion; surely it is not the highest paying job? Then we heard that the name carabineros is the same as in Italian which means military police. So they do their training in the military and any wrong foot put forward gets nailed and they are out. What a pleasant bunch; we salute them.

Papudo to Valparaiso (90km)

Curt: It is our final day on the road! The past 4 weeks have seen us come through some pretty daunting terrain. We have survived. To all the doubters, don’t feel bad, I had my doubts too, but not for Eugene’s ability. This man just doesn't give up. I reckon he is good for another thousand kms at least. Well, as usual, breakfast is not ready at 8:30 so we promptly help ourselves to hot water and at 9am we leave - what’s new? I had anticipated a pleasant coastal ride and a shorter distance. Next town along the coast is Zapellar which is very trendy and a playground for the rich, with private roads and beaches - wow! As I drive further along the rural Chile fades into the distance. I approach Con Con and see joggers, skateboarders, cyclist and weekenders strutting their stuff on their Harleys and 4x4 vehicles. No holding back here, this is serious materialism.
Well, my concern is for Eugene who has to wade through all of this, and it becomes more and more difficult the closer we get to Valparaiso. I cannot find the hostel we were aiming for and get stuck in traffic. What is this, I say to myself - I have hardly moved and I know Eugene is fast catching up as I am not going much faster than he is. I spot him on the other side of the road and manage to flag him down. We are both dumbstruck and hit a bit of an anticlimax. We try another hostel across the city and I see poor Eugene’s (now chicken legs) whizzing round and round in my rear-view mirror.

lifts of valparaiso

We eventually find the historic old town area of Alegre y Conception and book into the first hostel. At last we can catch our breath. This side of town looks pretty suspect but we figure it is better than sleeping by the roadside. After collecting our thoughts and thinking more rationally we come to realize that we have found a gem within the city.
This area is where the old money was created and spent in 1920’s, ornate buildings clinging to the side of the mountain. Some walls are covered in graffiti and others crying out for paint. I don’t know what to make of this - a hodgepodge, mix and match, but what is clear is that it’s got soul. Photos here are a pleasure with musicians and artists all throwing their talent together. The vibrancy in the town square draws one in. The biggest factor for me is that even in this decaying part of town, one did not feel unsafe-just FUNKY! We decide to spend another night and that speaks for itself.

Los Villos to Papudo (90.7km)

Suzi delivers a good night’s sleep. It will be my last night on the road and a third day running without a good shower. By 5h30 we are wrenched out of our sleep. I will leave only when there is sufficient light on the road. The weather is perfect and accompanied by a slight breeze. I’m rolling down the slope when I hear a clicking sound coming from one of my tyres. It’s an all too familiar sound and I stop to investigate. My tyre had picked up a steel pin which is lodged firmly in the tyre. I use a pliers to pull it out and loud whoosh sound accompanies it. Off come the panniers as I have to repair the puncture. I am just finished the operation when Curt arrives and we have something to eat.
I continue with my journey and from this point the road becomes a bit difficult with long rolling hills. Every town one passes has a river crossing which is always accompanied by a steep incline out of the valley. The 92km stretch along this part of the coast is quite fascinating with little bays and quays that jut out into the ocean. Some areas along here are built up while others have sparse housing. I pass sweet smelling blue gum trees which is indigenous around here, the once scrub land is now replaced with bush. My love affair with the Pan American Highway and home for last 3 weeks  comes to an end as I head along the coast on the F30E, a minor road, to the small hamlet of Papudo. This is where we plan to stay for the night. Papudo is a little resort town that comes alive in the high summer season. It is a quaint place with a beautiful beach stretching all along the coast with lots of birds and pelicans that just hang out.

Posada along the M5 to Los Vilos (77.9km)

Our stop for the night is not far from a roadside restaurant. I drape my wet clothing  over the bicycle where the wind can dry it. The mist has lifted to give the cold sun a chance to come out to play. I take refuge in the car and immediately I fall asleep. An hour later I am now ready to have some food. So off we go to the road side restaurant, a glorified truck stop where we tuck into soup (carbonara mariscos) - what a pleasure and oh! so tasty. This is topped up with coffee. We sit for a while before we retire to our little suzie and watch some of the video footage Curt has shot and have a good old laugh. The wind continues to howl and at times pounds the car continuing through the entire night.
The following morning nothing has changed and by 7o'clock I am on the road with the wind at full strength, the road the same as before. Curt catches up with me and we have something to eat. Not long and a toll plaza comes up and as usual bicycles are not allowed to go through; however, provision is made to use a side road, a little detour of sorts and once again I am back on the road where I continue my journey.

After 40km I stop at a road side café garage and have something to drink and feed my worms (stomach). From here I continue my journey and just up ahead I can see a dreaded construction sign. This is not a welcome site. So I have to time my entry perfectly as only one lane is in operation, that means I will be holding up the traffic all the way to the top of the hill. Truck drivers are impatient here and have no qualms pushing you off the road. Others will hoot and not even slow down regardless of roads signs warning trucks and buses to slow down. You do get some very good truckers who are patient and give you enough room before they pass you; I tend to acknowledge them with a courtesy wave. 
As I’m struggling uphill I hear a car coming from behind and just as it passes a window is rolled down  and the person calls out "hello Eugene, how are you doing?” I look to see who it is, a little bit shocked, of course its Suesie and Dave on their way back from San Pedro De Atacama heading for Valparaiso. They stop further down the road clear of the construction which is by now behind me.  Its good to make contact with them and not long after Curt joins us and all the… rarara. Once they all leave, I have not far to go now and just 5km outside Los Villos we stop and set up camp for the night. So for one more night suzie is happy to provide us with lodging.

Curt: Eugene is a few kms behind me so I pull into this old disused road section which offers a view across the bay to Los Vilos. All is quiet except for the birds and the snoring of an old man sleeping in his car, oblivious to the new arrivals. Quite a strange fella, who spends the whole afternoon in and around this area. When Eugene arrives he immediately enquires as to what “POPS” is up to. We settle in with binoculars and cameras to investigate a rather different visitor as opposed to what we have experienced over the last few weeks. Our piece of paradise! So our attention is diverted back to pops who is now awake and strutting his stuff, pacing up and down the walkways, pensive and focused on the field before us. He seems concerned about our presence and almost irritated. Stuff him, we murmur to ourselves, we will take this space and not let him get in the way. After a while we come to realize what he is up to. Snares were placed in the veld to catch rabbits. We walk over to a fence and see buck droppings, this is what he is after! Well eventually he decides to leave and we have supper, the old familiar ham and cheese.

Peñablanco to Posada on the M5 (46.5km)

WHAT A DAY! Well, it starts out all calm with heavy mist showing its presence on the car and the bicycle. They are covered with huge drops and everything is wet. Looked liked it rained heavily. When I eventually leave the road continues where I had left off the previous day.  The undulation is beginning to turn out more like rolling hill hell. The mist makes it more of a misery as it continues its strangle hold on the terrain. Due to the moisture in the air my clothes did not get a chance to dry out and wet clothes  and wind just makes my journey more uncomfortable as the cold sets in. I stop to put on a third layer of clothing. It’s not the mist that's my concern but the wind - a stiff breeze hits me square in the face and continues to taunt me like a boxer feigning and jabbing as it spars with me.  There are more up hills than down hills at this point as wind continues.
My journey passes a wind farm believe it or not; it is then I realize hmmmm….. The wind will always be a constant here. I’m reduced to a paltry 7km/h and I’m doing my best . I eventually meet up with Curt and we have a bite to eat and hand in my gloves. I’m done for the day, lost the battle but not the war. Tomorrow will be another day.

La Serena to Peñablanco (112.0km)

Curt , Hendrietta and I have breakfast . We are to continue our journey while she still has one or more days left before heading onto San Pedro De Atacama.  After all the necessary greeting I am ready to tackle the road. The city of La Serena by 8 am is quite bustling with city traffic. Cars, buses and trucks collect in streams and move in unison as they head off in variouss directions. I stay on the M5 for now and will be accompanied by the heavy trucks and long distance bus volume leaving the city.  Once out of the city one starts to climb. It is from this point where one gets a good sense of the beautiful beaches that stretch for miles along the coast.  It is here that the desert  eventually loses its grip and gives way to the rolling green bushes and the cacti as they suck on the moisture of the mist that begins its cycle of rolling in over the coast.  It is also here in La Serena where The Pan American Highway opens to a freeway with dual carriageways that will hug the coast for now and will end up in Santiago. 

The road along this stretch is very hilly. It is only my second time that I encounter the rolling mist and it is a very thick mist almost like a light rain. I have to wear a raincoat  which I brought along just for in case and it was a good decision. The jacket works well to keep the moister at bay but everything begins to get wet and I suffer the cold that the wind brings along with it. Half way through my journey the sun eventually burns off the mist and there is a slight reprieve. We find a place along the road just beyond the small hamlet of Peñablanco

Incahusi to La Serena (96.32km)

Home Suzuki is becoming just a bit uncomfortable for me. However, for Curt he just loves it. Why? I wish I knew. I don’t wait for alarm anymore as my body aches with laying in one position for a long period at a time. By 6h30 all the nodige are done and this morning it is a bit cold so I put on another jacket to keep warm. The road continues where it left off with a slow downhill spiral and by the 40km mark Curt’s caught up with me. From here the road condition turns out to be a bit nasty with no road run off. Trucks are posing a bit of a problem here and this will continue all the way into La Serena. Once past the town of El Horno the road will begin the roller coaster ride with every hill looking twice as bad as Suiker Bossie for the next 50km or so.  I meet up with Curt just outside the main turn off in the town of La Serena. I am glad to have survived this part of the journey.  Just beyond the main drag it not far to go before the Hostal El Punto. We plan to stay for two nights.

Curt: as the none cyclist it was as though someone had drawn the curtain and exposed a new world. A police checkpoint, which is none other than a few traffic cones is the dividing line between the society of the north and a new world south. Maybe I am just desert hardened and happy to see something fresh, all the conveniences and fresh coffee! This town greets you with the university complex and all its nuances and a society with all the trendiness to go with it. The opulence is almost palpable but we keep an open mind. When you have been deprived of so many basic things like water, showers and food choices, this all seems like too much.

Well El Punto is home for 2 days to recharge and catch up. The instant coffee we bought in Antofogusta is a crowd stopper. It invites immediate conversations and this time I offer a Dutch HR consultant a cuppa and both Eugene and I give our views on work environments and such. She invites us for dinner the following night…but that is another story.

Vallenar to Incahusi (93.2km)

There is nothing memorable about our stay at this hostel. Mario lives with his mom who is very much in control of things here.  I had a long day ahead and wanted to get out early knowing that there was a long climb ahead.  The town of Vallenar is lifeless and the street lights, murky and dim, made an attempt to light up the streets ahead. The climb starts once I cross the river with a slow ascent up the valley to the four way stop which joined the Pan American Highway. The construction which has accompanied my journey eventually stops here. However, it delivers its final farewell to me. An uphill deviation 2km long with bad corrugation almost makes me lose my balance and fall. The going is very slow. Once out of this mayhem the road improves but the incline does not. The road continues with a gradual incline and changes grade ever so often for the next 30km. A stiff wind adds to my misery (6km/h) as I lean into it. Once over the top the downhill is very short before the next climb waits for me. This continues until I reach the first town of Domeyko and 46km is behind me. I can see today is going to be hill day! 
The road flattens out for a short while and then it starts to pick up and begins a very steep climb which continues for the next 10km. Once over the short pass the road drops into a stunning  valley with the road meandering  through like a rollercoaster ride which continues all the way to the pueblo of Incahusi.  My destination continues past this little town and I stop at a posada along the road. This is where Curt and I plan to stay the night. 

Trucker with Mapuche Flag

Bags safely in the car we meander over to the posada. After finding out what’s to eat we decide on spaghetti y pollo and huge mugs of coffee. We tuck in and find the meal very tasty much to the delight of the truckers around. We spend another hour there as we are able to use the computer and charge the battery. We thank and greet our host and leave for the comfort of our little suzy. The link will explain the brief history about the Mapuche. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mapuche
http://www.cholchol.org/en_mapuche.php

Vallenar and Pisco valley

Running ahead of schedule sure has its advantages, so we decide to spend another day in Vallenar  to explore the Alto Carmen valley. What a treat after getting lost, but the Andean scenery sure makes up for the 50km we lost. We meander up a river valley which seems unending with vineyards growing either side-but where does all this water come from?

Then a surprise hits us as we swing round another bend, a dramatically big dam, with ice blue water sits dauntingly close behind a rock filled wall, looming over the town of Vallenar. With all the earthquakes and instability of the landmass one wonders how the Chileans sleep at night.

We push on, Eugene snapping away and cursing my driving (I don’t do cycling). The valley narrows even further extending the height of the mountains and you almost expect to see snow atop around the next corner. We hit the town of Alto Carmen and the road forks. We need to make a choice as to which valley to conquer. All I needed was the P in pisco distillery to make up my mind and” little Suzy” (our little car)grabs a second breath. Yet again the valley narrows and we come to a quaint little town called St Felix. We park on the square and take in the serenity of this peaceful bit of paradise where you can almost hear the vines growing. After lunch (ham and cheese-again) we head off to find the distillery. A rather innocuous looking farm down the road seems to be our target and yep a special treat awaits us. I knock at the door while Eugene snaps away and the owner emerges, a rather hefty fella with a guffor to match, felt a bit like Hansel and Gretel. Well he disappeared back into the building (rather disappointed) but hey PISCO, he emerges around the back invitingly. We get a personal tour in Spanish around the distillery with Eugene rather impressively translating. Wow, I am gobsmacked. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pisco

We head back totally satisfied with our experience and not even the dive of a hostel (chileno five fingers) where we stayed could ruin our day. With coffee and a bed, the thought of the dusty desert is now behind us.

Along the M5 to Vallenar (102.8km)

Just settling in, Curt and I know exactly what to do. We are old hats at this. Sleeping bags come out and we chat as we begin to settle in for our sleep. Its just after midnight when all of a sudden we hear a truck pull behinds us with lights shining into our little car. Curt and I rise up out of rigor mortis as we are expecting the worst - it must be the carabineros (police). We try to make out what is happening around us. The truck in the mean time turns around and returns to the road and continues on its journey down the road. Curt and I look at each other, curse and go back to sleep.

5h30 comes too soon and Curt and I have a good laugh about the previous night's experience. Its not long before I’m back on the road (ablutions all completed of course). Another day of tedious construction ahead of me today. 40km down the road and the comfort of breakfast breaks the boredom of my pedaling. My journey now continues in silence as the mist surrounds me. As I continue a thick mist descends further and visibility becomes a concern for me. Here the trucks don’t slow done and they continue hurtling down the freeway.
Hours later the mist burns off and not long after Curt arrives bringing along some guests. Curt: I met these two OZ natives deliberating about drawing money, an all too familiar scenario for me. As the English rolled off my tongue I could feel the welcoming embrace and sigh of relief, knowing that there was another English speaking person in close proximity. Laughter and giggles were spread around and they were excited to hear about our tour. They even offered to make a donation there and then, but I declined more out of shock than accounting formality. They followed me to where I was to meet Eugene for his lunch stop. I also meet Suesie and Dave who hail from Melbourne, Australia and there is an exchange of information about travel. We chat about almost everything under the sun. After a few pics we continued on our way inspired to have met such good people.  Another 25km to go and from the top of the valley there is a sharp drop into Vallenar and my immediate concern is what a huge valley to climb out. I cross the Huasco River flood plain and head to the main plaza of the town where Curt and I find accommodation. We plan to spend 2 nights here.

Calder to past Copiapo - a truck stop (107km)

Construction, construction, construction is what this day consists of.  The arduous journey to Copiapo is slow and road construction makes a huge impact here. The road runoff or shoulder is broken up and one has to compete for space on the road which in some places pose quite a danger. The road construction swings from right to left and back with heavy construction machinery kicking up dust, while road deviation is the order of the day. Trucks, carrying mainly double loads, are articulated and it was on this road that I witness my first accident. The accident is between one of these twelve wheeler types and a tractor which creates a huge deviation along the road. Just outside the town of Copiapo the road veers off and bypasses the town. It is a fairly new road and built to lessen the burden of heavy road traffic passing through the town of Copiapo. The bypass  is about 30km long before it joins the M5 one more time heading for the next destination of Villanar. 

It is along this stretch of road that I meet Israel and Tino who are from Mexico. They work in the field of mining. At first I’m a bit surprised as they stop their car along the side of the road to take a picture of me on my bicycle. I stop to chat with them: " What are you doing here?" Israel enquires. " Where do you come from? What country are you from?" I explain and both are in absolute astonishment. More pictures are taken and they supply all their details. It is always wonderful to meet and interact with people on the side of the road. This is not the first and it would not be the last. I continue my journey after saying my goodbyes to my new found friends. It’s not long before the road connects up with the Pan American highway, and another deviation to go through before I meet up with Curt. We continue down the road to find a place to rest for the night.

Chañaral to Caldera (89.7km)

Sleep is a wonderful experience appreciated after a hard day of cycling. By 7 a.m. I am ready to tackle the new day. Breakfast is small but ample and Agua Luna restores my faith in Chile. The service was prompt and by the time we sit down, breakfast is served.  As I head out of town the scenario is typical of what we have seen across this region. The port of Chañaral is just another of those where ore is ferried by boat to a bigger port or to some international destination. Fishing is small scale but provides ample resources to the village. There are lots of beaches along this coast. My journey continues all along the coast for the next 90km. The roads like many are in poor condition and badly in need of repair. Trucking of ore from the mines is still very important to this area. Buses connect all the cities together and there are quite a number of bus companies that ply their business along the route. The weather for the first time is overcast for the entire day and can you believe, it threatened to rain. One drop fell on Curt’s car and that was the total sum of rain (mm) for the year in Caldera.
I eventually arrive in Caldera. Just outside this town there is construction taking place on the Pan American Highway (M5). We stay at an overpriced dump.  The construction in this area provides the hostels with enough people and that determines the prices here. On another day they would have been desperate.

Caldera in its pass life was very prominent and boasted the first railway port town in South America where ore was transferred from the mines in this region. Today it is just a husk of the past. Bahia Iglesias is the bay where holidaymakers spend their time.

Marker 1122Km on the M5 to Chañaral (142km)

We had a good night sleep. Our last experience of disturbed sleep would never happen again, we promised ourselves. We are planning to end the day in Chañaral . By 6h10 we are on the road. The morning is quite pleasant and cool and it  turns out to be a good day. Curt is on his way to Taltal. The road to the intersection for Taltal is all downhill and I cover a good distance before Curt eventually catches up with me around the 40km mark.   We have our staple for the morning, coffee with toasted cheese and ham rolls. The road condition is the worst I have encountered with potholes everywhere, both in the road and on the shoulder.

What we have come to discover is that the signage and distance boards are inconsistent. This does act in our favour but as a cyclist it is pretty off-putting. This is a long hard stretch and every mile counts. Eugene, however, seems to have nitrous oxide somewhere or maybe it is all the sardines he has been eating. We are well ahead of time. The truckers' advice has been spot on all the time. Good chaps, those. Just wish they would not spread their desert roses (urine bottles).

After breakfast the first of the hills appears and this continues for the next couple of kilometers. Once over the top one can see the landscape that lies ahead. It turns out to be a very long day in the saddle with more hills in sight and too much to mention. The dreaded wind also playing its part to make the journey just a little bit tougher

Luckily for us, we are closer than we think. Yippee! that means a cold beer and shower, yes in that order. I move on to Chañaral to secure our night. Eugene is convinced he will make the next 100km, and yes he does. You may wonder what I do to keep myself busy, but consider this - Eugene averages 20 km/h, the car 100km/h, right? So I go ahead about 40 km, and then return after an hour, he is 20 km closer. OK, so that is basic arithmetic or math for the TV junkies and Americanos, then I drive ahead to find a place to stay, check out various options by haggling, which takes another hour or two, so time goes by.

I still have 20km to go before I would get to Chañaral. The  road continues down through the valley and past some of the processing plants. The roads have been gouged out in some areas by heavy trucks whisking their way in and out of the port. I eventually arrive in the town just before 5pm. We find a good hostel and spoil ourselves by going upmarket. This is the best so far at the Agua Luna. We sleep well knowing we have a good breakfast waiting.

Typical day on our Chilean tour

We generally start at 5am to take advantage of the cool weather as it becomes progressively hotter as one moves through the day. At times, especially when we awake in the desert, Eugene has to contend with mist and biting cold. It is here where one is desperate for coffee, speaking of which, here it is served straight-up with no milk. A dash to a Posada (truck-stop) normally entails grabbing coffee and toasted bun, then back to Eugene, usually takes 30 km to find. Worst case so far has been 75km. Yes, coffee half cold but still welcomed. We are down to 2 meals per day, normally water biscuits and tuna or avocado, spreads and near rancid cheese. I have come to realize, that to make Eugene happy, give him CHEESE!

Ablutions - the finer details I will leave to your imagination, but I have left a geoglyph or two of my own. Washing with limited water in a cup is not unusual and we brought along wipes rolled up in tablet form to which you add a little water and eureka! Believe me it does give you some relief. Sleeping in the car is the norm now and when we go into a town that offers us less than reasonable accommodation at hiked prices, it comes as a realistic option. To erect the tents -  firstly  is difficult on this rocky surface, most nights are windy and it also attracts the attention of the carabeneiros (police) who have already searched our car for contraband and to see if it is stolen.
 Other than that we try to keep our meals very simple. Sometimes we might decide to stop at a Posada and have lunch(comer). At one such place we had sopa marisco (a soup of seafood and veggies) and brisket with lettuce tomatoes and cucumber  quite tasty and yes our  stomach stood up to it. We have also encountered a bit of the gippo guts which by now is a standard. Most of these Posada are frequented mainly by truckers as they crisscross Chile with every kind of conceivable goods and equipment.

Along the M5 from Marker 1249km to 1122km (127 km)

We get out the WhisperLite liquid-fuel camp stove (thanks for the loan Richard vdH). We could not find any appropriate burning fuel so we had to resort to the next best thing, diesel. Diesel is not the cleanest fuel to use for the stove but we needed to make some food. We are very pleased with our supper which consists of 5minute noodles and tuna with coffee. Our tents are useless on the lunar landscape surface. Tents in the open also draw too much attention.

By now, just after 8 o' clock the truck traffic on the road starts to slow down and we settle in after watching to moon rise over the Atacama. Tonight’s the first time we are sleeping in the car and it reminds me a bit of sleeping in an airplane. But wait ….this is our first time sleeping in the desert and boy-O-boy did we get it wrong. At 3 o'clock in the morning we are physically throttled by the cold. It must have been 2 degrees out there. We share Curt’s sleeping bag and salvage whatever sleep we still had left.
By 6h30 the next morning when I leave it is still bloody cold. I prepared myself for this as I brought along some cycling clothes to combat some of the cold. Thirty (30) km down the road it starts to heat up and I peel off the layers. The truck traffic picks up and is no different than before. In some places it can become just a tad hectic. The road shoulder is wide enough and there is ample space for all road users including me. Meanwhile Curt goes ahead and gets us breakfast. It is not long before we are having coffee and rolls on the side of the road. Soon its back to the road.

At the truck stop,  Agua Verde, we have lunch and after 14h30 I am back on the road for another2 hours before we stop and find a place to sleep at one of those truck stops on the side of the road. Its another night in the car but this time we are prepared with both our sleeping bags.

Antofagasta to Marker 1249km on the M5 (126.47km)

By 6 o'clock I am back on the road heading out towards the Pan American Highway. At the end of this city the road starts to sweep up from the coast and by now I know what to expect as the road curves its way towards the mountain. The climb is long but not too steep and once out of the pass it continues through the valley. Just on my far right is a railway line that transports ore from the mines as it partners the road and eventually it leads all the way to the Pan American Highway. Once on the M5 road, conditions are better with its rhythmic rise and fall and a slight breeze in my face. I settle into my cycling rhythm and continue on my journey. The occasional gust affects my speed at times and I slow to about 11km/h.

Round about the 75km mark I come across a strange sight, a statue breaks the monotony of the landscape and in the desert appears half a hand out of the ground. It’s about 11m tall. The sculpture by Mario Irrazabal was created in the early 1980’s http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hand_of_the_Desert  

By the afternoon I have a lucky break as the wind has changed direction and is pushing me from behind. I make the most of it and simply pick up the mileage from here. This continues until I stop at Posada Rosaria where I take a break and have 40 winks. By 3 o'clock I am back on the road and with wind behind me, I continue for another hour or so and stop at what is called a Estaciemento (truck resting point) and this is where we decide to stay the night at the 1249km mark on the M5.

San Pedro de Atacama to Antofagasta

We had breakfast with our friends before they set off for the next tour. Some were staying a few days longer while others were here for one or two days only. After breakfast we exchanged emails and hugs before they set off. By 11 o'clock Curt and I were ready to leave. We departed San Pedro de Atacama for Antofagasta. We had 4 hours of riding time ahead.

Our journey will take us back to Calama and on to Antofagasta, the biggest city in Northern Chile and 4^th biggest in Chile. Like Iquique, its also squeezed between the mountain and the sea with its grid-like road pattern, the linear city spreads out along the coast. Opulence is what comes to mind and one cannot but notice where all the mining money is spent. The city consists of huge shopping malls and like most towns along the coast the ports were used  to export ore. The old railway lines and station is a testament to this and some of the buildings at the waterfront give you a feeling of a bygone era. Our first stop is the tourist information centre to find out about the cost of hostels. All Curt and I want is a place that is not too expensive. We find a hostel in Banquedano and Latorre streets. The place looked rather run down and shabby, not much maintenance taking place. We only paid $6000 (about ZAR87) per person.

We dump our bags and equipment and decide to experience retail therapy by walking down to the mall for a coffee and biscuits and to look for fuel for our stove. On exiting the mall we are attracted by an exhibition stand run by a friendly young woman called Catherine who is intrigued by our nationality as her grandfather had spent time in SA as a metallurgist. This stand is a punt for CODELCO  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Codelco the copper mining company which has a huge conference in the hotel next door. Eugene manages with his Spanish while I watch the videos wafting on about their technology - impressive as I am sure their mining policy is as well.

The hostel residential La Riojanita is very noisy and the residents here have no respect for others who share the same space they do. Our neighbours decide to invite people around to their place at 3 in the morning and have a moerse jol. It continues until just before we get up at 5 o'clock. Naturally we had a slight altercation with them.