After our emotionally draining reunion at the Peruvian border post, we crossed over to face Chilean customs. There was quite a line but when I went to inquire what we needed to do, they moved us to an empty line. We were struck by the clean, orderly customs building with air conditioning billowing out through the window of bank-teller-like windows. There was no charge and we could have up to 3 months there. We filled out our paperwork and got our stamps. This all happened quite rapidly. We thought we were ok to go but another customs official informed us that they needed to check out our bags. "Which one?", we asked. "All of them", he replied. "All of them?". "Yes". So we unloaded all of our stuff and took it into the scanner. This was the first time we've had to remove our backpacks the whole trip. It's a bit of a bummer as it takes a long time to get the backpacks off and on. Well, we only had 20 kilometers to Arica so we lightly restrapped the bags with our spaghetti straps and set off. We had very low expectations of Arica as the Lonely Planet had described it with some 19th century traveller's quote about how dismal it was. Au contraire. We were welcomed to the orderly streets, sidewalks and curbs with much greenery and lovely bustling pedestrian area. We checked out some hotels from the LP and found one to be too expensive and one to not have parking. We checked out a few more and found good prices but still no parking. We headed down the main drag and spotted the hostel Residencial Madrid. After some convincing, they agreed to let us park the bikes in the courtyard and we were about to get away with a $12 room with shared bath. And the guy at the first hotel said that we wouldn't find anything in Arica for less than $30. As usual, the hotel search had taken nearly two hours. It was now 6:00 and we had about a half hour until dark. I thought I had read Chile was on different time than Peru and when we inquired, we found that they were 2 hours different which meant it was nearly 8:00 and still light! Terrific! We unpacked and showered and sat down for a chat about what had happened earlier in the day. We agreed on a future plan of action if something similar were to happen again. Finally we headed out for some grub. We found an ATM and successfully got cash from the first one. We then perused the pedestrian area but didn't find a restaurant that suited our mood so we decided to hit the waterfront. We stumbled onto another nice little park/plaza and spied a small cafe on one side. As we approached we noted that it looked very cozy with dark, rich colors for decor and benches stuffed with pillows. The menu looked alright so we sat down. We had a wonderful dinner with the perk of bread and our main staple, olive oil. They also had some beautiful desserts that I had made a mental note to save room for. And a good decision that was as well. Planning on a long day the next day, we set off for the hotel and much needed rest.
Scribe: Jeff
Some general comments on the differences from crossing the Peruvian border (and the rest of Mexico, Central America, Colombia and Ecuador for that matter) into Chile: The traffic. Not only do the Chilean drivers stop at all intersections but they don't even use their horns. At times in Peru the combined noise created by all the drivers' continuous honking was almost deafening. Here in Chile it is eerily quiet. That combined with the fact that nobody rolls through stop signs or red lights, swerves unexpectedly in your lane or screams obscenities gives it the feel of driving in a St. Petersburg, Florida villa full of retirees. Hell, even the dogs are well behaved. God I miss Peruvian drivers. This is also the first time we've seen drivers absentmindedly driving while talking on a cell phone. These are the most dangerous drivers from a motorcyclists' point of view. Further north one could never afford to be distracted by a cell phone while driving, otherwise, there would be millions of accidents. Driving further north takes all of one's attention - anything less is just asking for trouble. All in all, Riding in Chile is way too much like riding in the States; The language. Try to imagine speaking Spanish with your mouth filled with marbles. If you enunciate too much, like pronouncing the letter "S", some marbles would fall out - which would be bad. When we talked with our first Chileno border guard it was the first time in a long time that we had to say that we didn't understand. The Chilenos also speak very quickly and by the end of the first day we wore out the use of "Could you please repeat that more slowly?"; The people. It is immediately evident that these guys come from European stock. They have much sharper features and are much taller than their Peruvian counterparts. They also could care less that you just pulled up on a motorcycle, packed to the gills and on a mission. We had some major 80's-rock-star syndrome going on. You know, kinda like what it must have felt like to be a member of White Snake, swimming in money and fame in the 80's only to find indifference in the 90's. When we pulled into the town center we didn't even warrant a casual glance. After 4 months and 10,000 miles of being something special we were now just one of the crowd. I was already planning our Peruvian reunion tour - "Dude! We're getting the band back together!" Infrastructure. Gone are the shanty towns loosely constructed with corrugated steel and sticks. The homes on the outskirts of town were definitely built to last. In Peru it appeared as if the houses were built to last through the next soccer season. There are sidewalks, street curbs and even pooper scoopers for your pet; Pride in their women folk. When we were looking for a room, I struck up a conversation with an elderly gentleman. When he discovered that this was our first time in Chile he remarked, "What do you think of the Chilean women? Most beautiful in all the world!" I politely informed him that I am a married man and wasn't allowed to think of such things. (Just between you and me I'd give the Colombian women the title.) Its funny not a single female has ever said to Linda, "So aren't the Chilean men just to die for?" (or some other female colloquialism.) Although I must admit that it seems like in every country that we've passed through, all the guys want to know what I think of their 'women'. Of course I have to say that if I weren't married, boy o' boy would their be a-trouble a-brewin' in the ol' town tonight, nudge, nudge, wink, wink. That seems to be the anticipated response and they always seem pleased. But Linda has only conversed with a few Latin American women and they were very polite conversations without mention of their 'men'. Ok so that last one wasn't really a difference between Chile and Peru, more like a general observation of all of Latin America.
The next morning we rose an hour after we had planned, around 6:30 and began packing. We were planning on our longest day yet, 450 miles. We were really beat from yesterday's experience combined with losing 2 hours but we had a mission to be in Santiago within just a few days and we had a long way to go. We got off around 8:00 and stopped for gas. We also were in need of a map and were informed by the Shell attendant that the next Shell down the road had them. So we pulled in to the next Shell and got an excellent road map for $2. It was now approaching 9:00. We finally got going down the road and were grateful for the light morning winds. We rode through some really impressive canyons that had very steep drop offs that gave me the willies. After about an hour and a half, we approached a police checkpoint. Jeff had pulled off to the side to talk with the cops and wait for me. When I arrived I noticed that there were two loaded up bikes on the other side of the road. I started pointing at them as Jeff's view was blocked by a semi. "Where?", he said. Just as I was about to reply, a slender blond woman in riding pants came running across the road with the biggest grin you've ever seen. As I finished taking off my helmet, gloves, ear plugs, glasses, etc, she talked with Jeff. As soon as I was freed up she came over and introduced herself as Pietra, from Germany. She was so excited to see another woman motorcyclist, as was I. Her significant other, Wolfgang came over as well and they invited us to join them for some coffee. We gladly joined them and proceeded to swap experiences. This was Pietra and Wolfgang's fourth motorcycle trip and they were spending 6 weeks traveling through Chile. She was riding a Yamaha XT 650 and he was on a Yamaha Tenere 600. Her bike looked even shorter than mine and much less loaded up. We talked about all of the things that a woman motorcyclist experiences on a trip like this, especially riding with experienced riders like Jeff and Wolfgang. I believe we could have talked for days if we'd had the time but seeing as we had a long haul, we decided 2 hours would have to do. We snapped some photos and exchanged hugs and goodbyes and got on our way. It was excellent timing to run in to them as I have had quite a riding lull ever since my toll booth accident in Colombia, often questioning whether I was really cut out for this sort of trip. It's quite disconcerting to me that I'm not a better rider than I am, which I define by whether I am afraid of things or not. I am still quite afraid of really leaning the bike over in downhill turns and I just assumed that would have gone away by now. After talking with Pietra, I found that she also has many fears and that she is also much slower in twisty roads than Wolfgang and he waits for her. It gave me renewed hope and a bit of a spiritual cleansing to talk with her. Jeff said that they were angels sent from the Travelling Gods to help heal any lingering wounds from the day before and give us renewed hope to keep-on trucking. For once he may be right :-)
In the 2 hours that we had been talking, the wind had picked up significantly. Before heading off again into the desert, Jeff informed me that he was feeling "flu-like". Great. We decided to delay eating 'til we got to our potential turn off point to Iquique.
The wind was getting more and more intense as we pushed towards the 250 mile mark. We had also started the morning off wearing our fleece jackets but the temperature had now soared to about 95 degrees F. It was about 2:30 when we stopped for lunch. Jeff was really feeling pretty badly but wanted to push on towards Antofogasta. I really wanted to head in to Iquique but I wasn't sick so had no excuse to complain. After lunch we bought some more water for the camelbacks and continued on. The wind was absolutely screaming now and the riding was quite uncomfortable. We pulled into a passport control point and we mulled over the remaining distance compared to the remaining daylight. If we were able to continue on at 60 mph, we could make it by the hair of our chinny-chin-chin. The other cause for concern is that I had gone on reserve at a paltry 121 miles or just 40 miles per gallon. We had about 50 miles to get to the next gas station and we weren't sure my reserve would get us there but we had no choice but to find out. Fortunately, when we pulled out of the passport control, we rounded a bend and the wind was at our back for a while. The first time in about a month. Instead of the 70 - 75 mph that we had been doing, we stayed at 60 to conserve gas. The going was good until we hit a "desvio" or detour. We went about 5k on gravel road and popped back onto the tarmac. Not too much of a setback. Not much further down we saw a sign that said the next desvio was 30k of gravel. While it was easy riding, we still weren't averaging above 40 mph and at this point, every minute counted. We started the gravel at mile 158 on my tank. I prayed that I wouldn't run out of gas. Lady Luck came through and at mile 176 we pulled in for gas. We filled my 5 gallon tank with 5.2 gallons of gas. When we took a look at the map we saw that a town was only about 20 miles away. We were planning to stay there but the attendant said there were no hotels. Antofogasta, here we come. We rode as close to 80 mph as possible. It was about 8:10 and we had 20 minutes to sunset. We decided that if it got dark we wouldn't bother to take the time to change the lenses in our sunglasses. Just as the sun fell behind the mountains, we approached the final descent to town. We went through the twisty section in the dark without glasses and my eyes were watering like crazy. I couldn't use my windshield because it was full of splattered bugs. But we made it. We pulled into a gas station for directions to town. It was now 9:00 p.m.. While I used the bathroom, Jeff talked to some Chilean guys on street bikes that were riding up from Santiago.
By 9:30 we had entered the downtown and began the hotel search. Jeff now was letting down and said he really thought he was coming down with the flu. After about an hour, we found a hotel for 17,000 pesos, or $33. Geez, Chile is expensive. We unloaded and I went out to round up medicine, water and food. I was struck by the quantity of pharmacies that were open at 10:30. I was also struck by the number of "Schoperias" (draft beer restaurants) whose food special was 1/4 chicken and fries. Bleh. I couldn't face that plate again. I finally rounded up some chicken vegetarian and sandwiches and got back around 11:30 to find Jeff watching the movie channels. He took the flu medicine and we finally got ready for bed. We had already decided that we were staying an extra day and would sleep in.
Scribe: Jeff
As we rode through the "driest desert in the world" I progressively began to feel worse. My skin was aching and the high winds only helped to worsen the situation. But we had a goal and I modified an old golf cliche to help motivate me. "A bad day of riding a motorcycle through the Atacama desert is still better than a good day at work." Not to imply that what I do for a living isn't extremely satisfying and rewarding :-] By mid day I was fighting the wind, curled up in a fetal position and singing that "...horse with no name" song over and over again. At one point the wind was kicking up so much of the desert sand, the visability was not past the front wheel. A very scary feeling having to hope that the highway was continuing straight ahead and oncoming traffic somehow stayed in their lane. Come to think of it, because the highway has very few turns, it was pretty good odds that there wasn't going to be a bend in the road. At one point I noticed the desert equivalent of a funnel spout. A mini tornado of sand swirling up towards the sky. It was travelling at about the same speed as I was and I could tell it was going to cross the highway at some point ahead of us. I sped ahead in hopes of intersecting it. My timing was almost perfect but right at the moment of truth before I would slice right through the heart of the twister, I had a distinct visual image of Auntie Em being tossed about in the Wizard of Oz and I chickened out. I backed off the throttle and the swirling tower of sand passed just in front of me. Maybe I do watch too much T.V.
The landscape in the Atacama has got to be some of the most desolate on Earth. Add that to the fact that we've just passed through the second most desolate place on Earth, the Peruvian Pan American Highway and we were aching for some greenery. Sections of roadway are just relentless. The wind is horrible. I felt even worse. Boy is this what motorcycling is all about or what? There is almost nothing better than cruising along in a place that you've never been before, aboard your trusty stead, heading to who knows where. (Linda made me qualify that last statement with an "almost".) The downside is that gas is expensive in Chile. Around $2.70 per gallon. We spent a combined $58 in gas today! Remember back in Mexico when I said that the gas price in the States is ridiculously low? Is it too late to take it back? :-)
Scribe: Linda
We got up in the morning to take advantage of the "free" breakfast and I asked if I could use their phone line to connect for e-mail. No problem. We went back to the room to work on journals and prepare mail. Around noon I connected and then left Jeff to journal writing as I went out to round up some lunch. The weather was delightful and it was great to walk around. I couldn't find a single place for food other than those stupid Schoperia's with the chicken plates. I got Jeff a chicken plate and opted for an emapanda for myself.
Back at the ranch, Jeff alternated between typing and watching soccer. He was feeling better and we decided that we would go for a walk in the afternoon and head over to the beach for some dinner. The weather was great but the town wasn't all that exciting. We caught a cab to the beach and walked around a bit there too but there wasn't much beach to speak of so we went back to town for dinner and had some very mediocre Italian food. Anything would have been a good change from chicken and fries though. We went back to pack, send more e-mail and watch movies.
We had another big day ahead of us as we prepared to get on the road. We decided to eat breakfast and then set off. The wind wasn't as bad during the morning hours. Today we would end our journey in the beginnings of the semi-arid part of Chile. That is, as opposed to the brutally arid stuff we'd been going through for the last month. Yes, it's wearing on me. It's just that the desert is so barren and intimidating. You can't help but to consider the fact that if something really bad happened, you could quite easily die out there. Scary thought. Anyway, we would also be headed out to the coast for a stretch, beginning with the town of Chanaral. We planned to stop there for lunch.
Ever since our arrival to Chile, we have seen an astonishing number of Chilean backpackers sitting roadside trying to thumb a ride. We had seen them in the middle of the desert, in tiny towns, in big towns, everywhere. When we pulled into Chanaral, we weren't surprised to find a large group of backpackers lining the road. Every pickup that went by, they avidly chased after. I imagine the truckers must get sick of them. Well, it's the Chilean summer and that's what young Chileanos do in the summer. So we watched the hitchhikers as we ate our lunch and then got back on the road for the beach stretch. I was curious whether it would be more windy or not but it wasn't bad and was pretty straight so still fast going. As we made our way, we spied loads and loads of tents on the rocky beach. Almost every available stretch had tents. The ol' LP hadn't mentioned any of this so we hadn't really thought about camping and didn't have any food with us. We had read about 2 towns at the turn to go back inland and we stopped at the first one and talked about buying food and heading to a campground. We went into town to check it out. It wasn't very exciting and there was no real beach to speak of. We headed down to the next one which had very nice beaches and was on a nice bay. The camp ground wanted $17,000 ($34) for a site! The sticker shock sent us reeling. And we thought the camping price in California was bad. We checked out a few hotels and the ones that had rooms wanted 25,000 (nearly $50). Forget it. It was getting late so we headed off for the last 40 miles. As we turned inland, we saw the first signs of foliage. There were scrubby little plants on the sides of the road. I couldn't get that stupid Monty Python phrase out of my mind "bring me a shrubbery". As we approached Copiapo we began to see vineyards and fruit orchards which reminded us of Oregon.
The entry road to Copiapo was lined with big, floppy shade trees and beautiful old buildings. We made our way toward the town square in search of a hotel room. After checking out a couple of rooms, I found a great bargain on Avenida Chanarcillo. We had a king size bed, private bath with hot water and cable tv for 9,000 ($18). Great for Chile. We unpacked and immediately checked out the cable movie selection.
After a short rest, Jeff decided it was time to find an outdoor cafe on the Plaza de Armas and try out a bottle of Chilean wine. The plaza was really beautiful with tons of trees and benches and gazebo for musicians to play in but there were no patio restaurants. We walked all around town looking for any restaurant and there was hardly anything open. It was Sunday. Note to selves: Chilean cities are dead as a door nail on Sundays. So, we made the best decision of the day and went into the grocery store where we bought a baguette, salmon and cracked pepper cream cheese spread and some of our new favorite Chilean wine, Vina Carmen Margaux Cabernet, for $3 a bottle. We spent a relaxing evening watching movies and eating our "picnic" in our room.
We packed it up in the morning and didn't get off until about 10:00, seeing as we had only a little more than 200 miles to go. Now that we were in the semi-arid zone, we were hoping for more scenery. The truth was that there wasn't a real big change, however there were some scrubby plants everywhere and that was more plant life than we'd had expected. It was actually a very nice ride. It was sunny and cool and there was no wind to speak of. As we approached La Serena, there were fruit groves and shady trees and in general, the land looked fertile. Once again, a nice change from the desert.
We turned up into town and followed alongside a very long park. Not seeing signs towards the center, we pulled over to consult the Lonely Planet. After choosing some possibilities, we moved on. After three stops, we chose the Hotel Casablanca at 10,000 or $20 for a room with shared bath. I should mention that we had actually chosen a different hotel which had quoted me 12,000 for a room with private bath. After I had unpacked the bike and lugged all my stuff upstairs the lady came to inform me that she had made an error and that it was, in reality, 15,000 pesos. I know it's a six dollar difference but by this time, we had been yelled at twice about where we were unloading the bikes and I was getting really irritated. So, we repacked the bikes and left in a huff. Anyway, back at the Casablanca... I can only surmise that this used to be an old mansion with wood and tile floors and really high ceilings. It was a cool place and the lady was nice. We unpacked and headed out for a walk around town and some dinner.
We found La Serena to be a pretty, peaceful town and we had a nice afternoon walking around in the sunshine looking for stickers and other touristy things in the stores and markets. Eventually, hunger took over and we went on a mission to find food. Wanting something other than chicken and french fries or some other big slab of red meat, we searched high and low. I decided we should try out the chain restaurant called Bavaria. Unfortunately, the menu was so expensive that we had to share a cheeseburger and fries. Geez, I hate the food in Chile. I'm really not sure how anyone survives off the boring fare. Every breakfast consists of coffee or tea, white bread rolls and jam and butter. Lunch and dinner are basically the same and consist of either sandwiches of one meat or another with EITHER tomato, avocado, or mayonnaise. Why can't you have all three??? Why do you get charged an extra 75 cents for each item? Well, no point continuing on this subject. Suffice it to say that the food bores me to tears and is seriously deficient in nutritional value. There now, don't I feel better. So, we headed back towards the Casablanca with a quick stop at the grocery for some breakfast items and then it was off to never-never land.
It was a beautiful Tuesday morning (or was it Sunday, you know when you're traveling every day is like Sunday), when we pulled out of our cozy little hostal around 9:30 for the 300 mile plus day to the Capital. We were really looking forward to visiting Santiago and the bikes sure looked like they needed a rest. We had also promised them that if they got us to Santiago without any problems they would get some brand new shoes (tires). As we started down our old buddy, the PanAmerican highway, it was a spacious four lane thoroughfare. Plenty of room for everybody. But just as we started to get used to the extra room, the four lanes collapsed into 2 traffic clogged arteries. Added to the mayhem was easily the largest highway expansion project ever undertaken since they decided to build all of the interstate highways in the States. Chile was in the process of making a 4 lane super highway from Antofagasta all the way to Puerto Montt; Which meant road construction for almost 2,000 miles. The logistics, resources and manpower to undertake such an endeavor must employ thousands upon thousands of Chilenos. Anyhoot, we were now back in "PanAmerican Highway" mode and were passing line after line of cars both legally and illegally. The difference between Central America and here is that here there are a lot more cops who take their jobs seriously. Major bummer. Takes all the fun out of riding. So when we were passing on a double yellow line or around a blind turn we had to hope the coppers wouldn't catch us. Aside from all the traffic we were making excellent time. The closer we got to Santiago the more trees started to appear. The scenery is much like Northern California, so much so that if you wanted to impress your friends and say that you went traveling in Chile (but in reality you haven't) just say that it looks just like Northern California and you'll be able to get away with it.
The traffic was very orderly and moving along nicely for a Tuesday afternoon. We found the City Center quite easily but finding a cheap place to stay was much more difficult. After two hours of searching we finally opted for the cozy, but overpriced, Residencial Tabita Gutierrez. Very close to the town center for $29 per night. Lucky for us there was a lively little pub across the street that was loaded with atmosphere and appeared to be a hot spot for Chilean buisness people. We quickly downed some appetizers and some Chilean beer. Our favorite is definitely Schop Cristal. It's funny, the Chilenos have adopted the German word for draft beer. The German influence is very evident in all facets of Chilean life, from the beer, to the restaurants, to the hotels. Must be from all the Nazi war criminals who sought refuge in South America.
We have been doing some serious riding through some difficult terrain. We were now looking forward to relaxing for a couple of days in the Chilean Capital. The next moring we slept in for as long as we could. The day's mission was to reward The Green Hornet and Suzi with a fresh pair of shoes. We asked directions to the nearest motorcycle street and found it fairly easily. Avenida Lira is lined with one motorcycle shop after another. The problem was that hardly any had a decent selection of tires. Everyone carried Pirelli's, made in Brazil, but none had a dual sport tread agressive enough for all the gravel roads that we would soon be facing. So after some more questions we found the local Dunlop distributor at 665 Avenida Seminario, 2 blocks off of Avenida Lira. They were carrying the Dunlop Trail Max and after a 20% discount and 11% tax they could be had for $100 for the back tire and $65 for the front. Installation not included. We've ridden 6,000 miles on both of the rear Bridgestone tires so far and 12,000 miles on the front. The KLR takes 130-80-17 and the DR takes a 120-90-17 on the back. The only problem was that they only had 120-90-17 in stock. After some general musings about the different tire dimensions we came to the conclusion that the shorter, wider tire would work fine on the KLR, so we bought two sets. Now it was back to Ave. Lira to get them installed. $22 later we were cruising the City streets on brand new rubber. It is truly one of life's greatest gifts to ride on a new set of tires. Everything seems different somehow. The colors seem more vibrant, the birds' songs sounded much sweeter, people seemed a lot nicer, cab drivers slow to let you into traffic, I'm appeared to bevmuch better looking...then again maybe I'm slowly becoming quite insane. We started our tire search at 10 a.m. and were done by 6 p.m. During the course of the day we stopped by the Kawasaki dealership and talked with some people there about the new color (pea green) of the year 2000 KLR's. Everyone agreed that it was "feo, muy feo" (ugly, very ugly). Let's see... that makes about 185 against the new color and 0 for. I'd have to say that the Kawasaki designer in charge of color schemes struck out this time.
When we finally got home we went to the neighborhood gym to pump some pig iron and a little physical cleansing from all the hard living we've been doing. Then we went to the neighborhood restaurant and picked up some sandwiches to go. We are situated in a really cool part of town. Tiny little neighborhood in the midst of this bustling city. We had all we could want within a 2 block radius.
The next morning we had decided to make our pilgrimage to the Undurraga vineyards for a winery tour. We took one of the cheapest and nicest subways that we've ever been on. I would compare it to Vienna's metro stations but at a 10th of the cost. Once at the central bus station I should have deduced that something was amiss from the surprised look on the bus driver's face when we asked for tickets to Undurraga vineyards. We rode the 30 kilometers to the large winery but it seemed too quiet. When we finally got to the front gate nobody was there. We finally tracked down a security guard who gleefully informed us in Spanish, English and German that the winery was closed for the month of February and to come back in March. Those guys at the bus station never bothered to tell us that it was closed. They must have thought that I was Jeff Undurraga recently returning from my internship in Bordeaux, France. So, downtrodden, we walked two miles down the hot, dusty road to a German restaurant for some Bratwurst and Schop Cristal. After catching a bus back into town we decided to walk the 3 or 4 miles back to our hotel along Avenida Alameda. When we got home we flopped into bed for some much needed unwinding.
When we arrived in Santiago we e-mailed Kevin and Julia (the Brits riding two up on an R80GS that we met in Quito, Ecuador) the location of our hotel. And guess who showed up later that evening? It was a happy reunion and we quickly got caught up on travel stories. They were meeting some other Motorcyclists, Geart from Germany and Yoshi from Japan later that evening so we went to meet them at their hotel. We went out to eat dinner and share more stories. Geart had returned from the Ushuaia Millineum party. He reported that there were 45 motorcyclists down there for the New Year. Geart also said that the wind was really difficult and that he and his riding buddies were blown off their bikes on numerous ocasions. I could tell by Linda's reaction that she wasn't looking forward to this leg of the journey. We decided to meet up again tomorrow for dinner and called it an early night.
The next day we planned our escape from Santiago. I was getting antsy to make it down to Ushuaia before the weather turned ugly. From the TV weather reports it was about 65 degrees F and sunny all the way down. So we decided to leave the next morning while the getting was good. In the meantime we went power shopping to stock up on necessities. We also caught a horrible Harrison Ford movie. We then returned to get ready to leave tomorrow morning. Around 8 p.m. we met back up with Kevin and Julia, Geart and his German friend, Mike, and went to a Chinese restaurant. Somehow during the course of the dinner we decided (Linda says that I decided) to hit Avenida Bella Vista, the City's night club scene. One thing lead to another and somehow it became 4 a.m. Oh well I guess we could always stay in Santiago another night. It was interesting to note that when we were at one particular disco we met a young Chileno and we started to discuss the whole Pinochet situation. (In 1973, General Augusto Pinochet led a violent millitary coup that resulted in the death of thousands of the government supporters. The next 16 years he became a Dictator who controlled the govenment by the liberal use of terror and numerous assassinations. Because of poor health he went to England for some medical treatment. Once there he was arrested for human rights abuses. England has been trying to figure out the whole mess ever since.) He seemed to have a very clear understanding of where perceptions lie. He said that all the wealthy landowners, a small, but powerful minority, are very loyal to Pinochet for protecting their families' interests during a difficult period in Chile's history. In the middle was a large segment of the population that could care less about Pinochet as long as the economy kept growing and their jobs were secure. A third segment of the population, larger than the wealthy landowners, but smaller than the middle, is steadfastly against him. He included himself in the latter category. Then he dropped the bombshell that his father was killed by Pinochet's men because he was an officer in a fledgeling communist movement. This proclamation brought an immediate emotional reaction from him that passed as quickly as it came. He went on to rationalize the whole situation by saying that "Germany had its Hitler, we have our Pinochet." It is hard to believe that Pinochet, with all of his alleged atrocities committed against his own people, can still wield power in this country. Although he is no longer actively involved in the government he can still hand pick 8 senators to help him maintain a balance of power for his right-wing policies.
Saturday morning came and went before we finally woke up. There were a couple of Americans in our hotel that were talking about catching a ferry from Puerto Montt down to Puerto Natales. They thought that the ferry left every Monday but weren't sure. We wanted to take a ferry but we didn't know which one. So we decided to ride out to the Navimag office and find out what the ferry schedules were. The offices were in a really swanky part of Santiago called Las Condes. As we got lost and rode all around the palacial estates, golf courses and beautiful parks I couldn't help but think that these were the people who benefited from Pinochet's brutal tactics and still supported him. We finally found the offices but they were closed. After a quick lunch we decided to ride as quick as we could to Puerto Montt and see if we could catch the Monday ferry. So it was back to the hotel and preparations to leave early the next morning.
We rolled out of town around 7:30 a.m. Our plan was to get as close to Puerto Montt as was humanly possible. We quickly attained our average cruising speed of 70 mph. The sun was shining, the temperature was around 70 degrees F and the moto's were purring. The monotony of the arid scenery was only broken by the occasional fuel stop or potty break. There is something intrinsically beautiful about riding 500 miles in a day on a motorcycle but I'm not sure why. (My personal record is over 1,000 miles from Kansas to North Carolina in 21 hours.) Maybe it's because now we have officially placed Ushuaia on the ultimate objective listing. I've secretly always hoped that we could make it to the "End of the Road", "Southern Most City in the World", the "End of the World" etc., etc., but was always too afraid to think that it could become a reality. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that we could make an attempt at getting to motorcycling's Nirvana. We had all the excuses; We left too late, Linda's only been riding a motorcycle for 18 months, the weather would prevent it and so on and so on. But here we are riding like banshees to get to a place I've only been able to visit in my dreams. If I were riding solo it would have been my number one priority and I would have made it regardless of the conditions. But because I was riding with my wife I had settled for just getting into South America as all I could ask for. Not that I'm surprised, but Linda's answered the bell time and again and now I have become intoxicated by the idea of making it to Ushuaia. Mostly because I now know we have what it takes to get there. So here we are, the scenery is flying by and every mile gets us closer to a dream. Surely this must be the reason I don't mind spending all day in the saddle.
We rode through the gently rolling hills until sunset. We stopped in a small town called Loncoche and found the hotels to be overpriced for what they offered. So we zipped down the road to Lanco and found a run down, dilapidated hotel but the price was right at $12 per night. The amusing thing about the little old lady behind the counter was that when I asked for a room with one bed for two people she wouldn't quote me a price until after Linda took her helmet off. She just took one quick glance at me and then stared out the window at Linda who was sitting on her bike waiting for me to give her the thumbs up. Several minutes passed until Linda finally took off her helmet. We finally returned for a wonderful dinner and watched the final day of the Vina del Mar music festival on TV. Tomorrow we would only have about 160 miles to get to Puerto Montt.
After our longest day yet, we planned to wake at 5:30 to push for Puerto Montt in hopes of possibly catching the ferry which might possibly be leaving that day but we had no idea when. We're always well prepared. We didn't actually get up 'til about 6:30 and the bikes were packed up by 7:30. It was very cold out and we were bundled up like Michelin Men and Women. As we put the final touches on the luggage, we tried to crank the bikes up. After many tries Jeff got his started. Suzi wasn't so accomodating and her expert handler killed the battery. This was not a good start for the morning. We wheeled the bike up hill and Jeff got behind and pushed me downhill. We couldn't push start her. We were in gravel so we moved out to pavement and tried again. Uh-uh. We decided to wheel it across the street to the gas station. Up and down the parking lot we ran, trying in vain to get Suzi started. The only thing we succeeded in was taking some of the rubber off my new Dunlop Trailmax tires and leaving many black streaks across the lot. By this time Jeff looked like he'd just stepped out of the shower and had to shed all his cold weather clothes. I went off in search of jumper cables while Jeff kept on plugging away at a push start. I asked all the gas stations and a couple of truckers but didn't find any cables. I started asking everyone that pulled into the gas station. It was now about 8:00 and it looked like our effort to get on the boat was going to be dashed. We were beginning to get a little depressed when a big truck pulled in to fill up. I decided to ask the driver for cables as Jeff looked on. Bingo. He said he could help us. He pulled over towards the bikes and pulled out his "jumper cables" which were two cables with the rubber peeled away to expose the bare cable. Eech. He asked us what voltage our battery was, to which we replied "12". He said we could jump my battery with his huge 12 volt battery on the truck. He then asked if we had any gloves. "No", we replied. He pulled out a pair of every day gardening gloves (with rubber dots) and handed them to me and then handed me the ends of the raw cable as I looked at him in disbelief. No, those garden gloves will not protect me. Jeff's job was to start up the bike. I made a few last minute prayers just in case this was to be my last breath. Of course, the next possibility would be that my battery would be blown to smithereens. But Lady Luck was looking after us and Suzi cranked right up. We quickly put the bike back together and packed the bags back on. I took off down the road while Jeff got all his gear back on. It was now close to 9:00.
Our original plan to get off early was in part due to hopes of missing some of the heavy traffic on the Pan American. We were doing a lot of passing of vehicles in an effort to make good time. We had made a pact, however, not to pass illegally over double yellow lines. So we crept along making the best time we could. On one particular hill, Jeff passed around a big truck going up hill. As I made my way around, I found that I had misjudged the truck's speed and was going to overtake him past the passing area. As I pulled in front of the truck, I spied a cop car on the opposite side of the road looking straight at me. I kept my eyes straight ahead so he would think I didn't see him. For some reason this does work down here. I saw him turn on his overhead flashers and begin to pull out. Oh man! Now we would surely miss the boat on top of getting a ticket. I slowed down to 50 mph (the real speed limit), as did Jeff. I carefully watched my rear view for flashing lights. One minute passed. Nothing. Two, three, five minutes. Finally I saw a car overtaking the truck but it was red. Jeff signaled the let's fly sign and we took off. WHEW! He must not have been able to get out in the traffic. As we sped towards Puerto Montt, the sky turned very dark. This morning was really not turning out well. It was also very cold and we had all of our cold weather gear on. A misty rain began to fall. We trudged on and again the blue sky peeked through at us and us we neared our destination, the sky completely cleared and it was beautiful. My spirits began to rise.
We rolled into town and headed straight for the ferry terminal. It was 12:30. We parked and went in to the office where we were informed that the boat did in fact leave on Mondays and that boarding took place at 4 for a 7 p.m. departure. Next question, was it full? Yes, they said but we could sign the waiting list and at 1 o'clock they would call names, in order, for any cancellations. We were numbers 17 and 18. Seeing as we'd scarcely eaten a thing that day, we headed off for sandwiches and came back to wait 'til one. During our lunch break we made contingency plans in case we weren't able to catch the ferry.
When the doors opened, we piled into the Navimag office and were told that there were twelve openings. We sucked in our breaths wondering whether 6 people would cancel. We eagerly stood by as everyone ahead of us on the sign-in list purchased their tickets. Finally, they called names and guess what? Six people didn't turn up. We bought the very last two tickets. We were in different cabins but were told we could try to make negotiations with the others when we got on board. Awesome, we were on our way, well, after forking out $300 per person and $50 per bike. Now, we had to act fast. We needed to get gas, make some wool sweater purchases, make some beverage purchases and get the bags ready and all in 2.5 hours. We accomplished our mission and were back and ready with 15 minutes to spare. We rolled the bikes around to the staging area and waited to board. To be continued...