Pardon my tardiness in posting, but as usual, lots has been happening. I don't even know where to start... I suppose like always, I should just continue where my other post left off.
I had a really enjoyable week off at Hans' and Taylor's place in Iquique. (Muchas gracias!) Apart from getting all the stuff I had to get done, I even had some time to relax, and surfed for the first time in about 8 months. I would love to go back to Iquique, and live there for a stretch.
Back on the road, with my overhauled bike was pure pleasure with how smooth and clean the drive train felt. New chain and immaculate gears, goes from real noisy and gritty (sand in the chain), to smooth as butter.
Leaving town, the headwinds continued. I was out of town in no time, and was trying to focus on enjoying the little traffic passing, instead of the infuriating headwinds that strip me of my morale. The next few days were frustrating getting to Tocopilla. Headwinds all day, and like everyday previous for a while, real strong late in the day. Still I forced myself to try and enjoy the view, with the road hugging the massive cliffs on one side, and sparkling blue ocean on the other.
The headlamp I had just bought in Cusco (I lost my other one that I've had the whole trip), was already malfunctioning and I knew I had to get another. Having had a headwind everyday in Chile, I was already thinking about crossing over to Argentina, hoping that it might be better on the other side. Also, I started thinking that I should cross the cordillera (mountains), early so I would hopefully avoid the snow that would surely be there when I arrived. I almost left from Tocopilla to make the detour, but then I realized I was now missing my headphones (probably left in Iquique), and without a proper headlamp, I knew I had to go to Antofagasta to resupply.
After Tocopilla, it was strange, the winds flipped completely
opposite, and I started getting tailwinds (for the first time in a LONG
time). I was really starting to enjoy the view and was
really impressed with how many perfect spots I saw from the road with great waves to surf.
I had a couple strange evenings in my tent. One night, as I got ready for bed, I noticed a mouse had somehow ended up on my jacket that I was wearing, and flicked it off. That night late in the night (and the following night) a rat or even larger mouse, was crawling on my tent between the vestibule and the screen above (again, he got smacked and flicked off).
Arriving in Antofagasta, again I was blown away with how many excellent surf-able waves I saw on the way into the city. I had wanted to see Antofagasta, but was frankly disappointed with the city. With all the mining industry nearby, people earn top wages, and the city apparently is the most expensive in Chile. The drivers seemed to be just a bit more terrible too.
I found a new headlamp and paid some outrageous price for it, as well as some headphones, and after stocking up on groceries was ready for the road again. The other main thing I knew that I had to come to Antofagasta for, was to find out more about this fee I heard that Americans have to pay to enter Argentina. At the Argentine consulate, the man there assured me "ah no, there's nothing you need... but we'll call Buenos Aires just in case". After calling he tells me, "it's $100USD
every time you enter Argentina". This was heavy news because I had just changed my plans and was going to ride down the Argentine side, and hoped to take a bus over to Santiago to see the city and my step brother. Having to pay $100 again would scrap that idea. Only until later on checking online, I realized the guy had no idea what he was talking about, and was telling me the requirements for Australians. For Americans, it's $160USD, but good for 10 years and regardless of the number of times entered.
Typical Latin America.
The thing about the fee for Argentina was that it has to be paid online,
before arriving at the border. If it's not paid, I heard they simply turn you away. I don't have a credit card, because it's much more dangerous to lose while traveling. I only have an ATM card that can only be used to take out cash with my pin number. After trying to use a couchsurfer's in Antofagasta, it looked like I would have to do it in San Pedro de Atacama where hopefully I would find some fellow travelers (I heard it's a very touristy town).
The kicker about changing my plan to ride down the Argentine side, was stopping by the tourist office and they told me that the hill from Los Andes, going East to Mendoza, was closed during the day. East bound traffic could only pass at night - that ruled out me riding that.
Leaving Antofagasta, heading for Calama, I had such a great tailwind. It was like nature was telling me that I was making the right decision. Although I was going uphill gradually, I covered ground extremely quickly. However, without any wind to cool me as I ride, it was a hot day in the desert sun. It was the last warm day I had since.
Slowly going up in elevation, and in just a few days, I made it to San Pedro de Atacama. (with one day just before Calama, with an extremely terrible headwind, slowing my pace to 10 km/h). There were a couple times that I was very nearly killed by a couple buses. Some sections without a shoulder, I have to ride on the road. The asshole drivers don't wait at all, and one time a bus drove so close to me, that the wind actually forced me off the road onto the dirt and I almost crashed. The ironic thing is that the sudden jolt of riding off the road, and the wind, broke a zip tie holding my "respetelo" placard on my bike. I immediately fixed it. The other time in a turn, a truck didn't wait at all and almost ran me over with one of the tires. It's been a daily affair for a long time, flipping off dumb animals and cursing. It never ceases to amaze me how unintelligent Latin drivers are, how dangerous they drive without care or concern for the well being of a fellow human.
Going over the pass before dropping into the valley where SPDA is, it started snowing. I could see beyond the valley, where the road continues and up into the higher mountains to Paso Jama. The mountains were covered in snow. Seeing things like that, it gives me this knot in my gut. Just that kind of deep uncomfortable feeling. The feeling of danger, of greater risk.
After camping at a beautiful spot overlooking the Salar de Atacama, and the Valley of the Moon, I rolled into San Pedro de Atacama. Almost the moment I arrived in town, I found some young traveling Americans, that helped me pay my fee for Argentina, online. Even though the border of Argentina is still another 160km away, Chile has their immigration and customs right on the edge of town. I rode down and asked a cop I saw if the pass was open and he told me "yeah, it's open, no problems..." I was asking him if he knew about storms coming or other hazardous weather and said "it's fine, nothing's on the way, it's really nice right now to go".
Well after getting a few things in town and returning to the immigrations office. The pass had just closed. About 100 vehicles had gone up, and most were now stuck in the snow on the road. A storm was raging on top of the pass, with wind, snow filled onto the road quickly. A the road didn't open for another week. Time after time, it blows me away the lack of regard lots of Latins have, like this cop. That obviously had no idea what the conditions were like, but didn't use his brain and think "gee, this guy's traveling by bicycle, I better find out more pertinent information for him"
After making some good progress on the road, and now being so close to get across the Andes for the last time, I was really itching to go and get across. This would be the last time on the trip that I would have to worry about very in-climate weather (apart from getting back to Mendoza from Santiago of course, but that would be by bus). In the beginning I was checking with the customs, immigration, police, frequently, to find out when they thought the pass would open. Day after day started to pass, and it was obvious I would be hanging out for a while.
I started consulting lots of people and was trying to figure out how I was going to ride this stretch. It would obviously be real cold, and dangerous with snow and ice. You see, from SPDA, the road climbs for ~ 45km straight uphill, then from there, another 100km high altitude stretch with a few short passes up to about 4,500 meters and 4,700 meters (nothing I hadn't already done in Peru). This ~ 100km stretch, everyone was saying is very dangerous, with snow and ice, the temperatures plummet. It's common to see temps dropping to -14*C to -20*C at night. Part of it is that there's a volcano at 5,800 meters that helps brings the temperatures down.
I knew that from SPDA, it would be one whole day to get up the first hill, and hopefully camp ~40km (wouldn't want to go much further because everyone said 50km - 100km, is the worst part and very cold). I would have to get up early and do at least another 70km to get across the real dangerous area, and find a camp spot sheltered from the wind (the wind, like almost every high altitude pass areas, are fierce). Strong winds, hell
any wind, with temps at 0*C or below, make it
extremely cold AKA windchill. Then on the third day I get across Paso Jama (the other side was supposed to be safer and less of a risk to my life.
While waiting in SPDA, it snowed on the pass every couple days, and it was looking more and more dangerous. I had heard that just couple weeks previous, there was virtually no snow, and would have been passable by bike with much warmer temperatures. As I spoke to a lot of the experienced truck drivers, more than one would tell me, "it is very dangerous to go up there, it's VERY cold!". One driver frankly told me, "you go up there on your bike, you're going to die. Do you want your parents to see you again in a box?" The more and more I talked about it, I was starting to accept the fact that I had arrived just to late. It's winter time here!
Everyday they would say they would open it in the morning. The trucks piled up on the road, and around the immigration building. The commerce of countries were depending on these trucks getting through. After a week, they said they would finally open the pass, for one day, and one day only. They were going to try and do a caravan thing, have the names of all the drivers, passengers, and escort everyone to the pass, then close it the following day. They said another storm was coming, even bigger, in just two days. There was no way I could get across the very risky area in two days. It was then I realized I knew I had to accept the fact and take a ride. It was just too dangerous to pass on my bike now. After having come so far from Alaska, it would be really stupid if something happened to me now.
The danger was very real, especially after hearing only one week earlier a trucker had died in his truck at higher altitude part from hypothermia.
My Chilean trucker friends that I met and was camping near, had already offered me a ride in their trucks if I wanted. However they had moved their vehicles, and I didn't know exactly where they were. After hearing the news of the caravan, and accepting I would have to pass in a vehicle, I started asking in the line of drivers waiting to do their immigration papers. I got a lot of responses that I should ask ahead, and even some guys were asking me how much I wanted to pay. Seriously?
It was dark out, and rode down to the turn off for the pass, and started riding past the line of trucks. I finally found my Chilean trucker friends, who were more than happy to give me a lift when I asked if I could take a ride. It was no surprise to them when I told them when I initially asked the other drivers for a ride. They told me they were Paraguayan (one night camping near the trucks, some Paraguayan truckers showed up earlier in the day to wait, and late at night around 11, passed several times by my tent on their way to town or other trucks. When I said "hey do you mind? I'm trying to sleep please..." One or two of them rudely responded "no me interesa (I don't care)". I'm really glad I'm not traveling to Paraguay. Although not all I met, the majority of the Paraguayan truckers I saw were rude and disrespectful.)
We ended up hanging out a couple more days, but they finally opened up the pass, and the hundreds of trucks all raced off. Ascending ~ 2,500 meters quickly, I had some altitude sickness. I was not use to ascending so rapidly. Normally I would climb that altitude in a couple days, not a couple hours. I had a strong headache, and a bit of nausea. We made some good progress, passed several patches of thick ice on the road, as well as snow, and even some detours across muddy dirt.
We got stuck at one point, and ended up having to stay overnight in the truck. It was a cold night, and I was feeling terrible from the altitude. We obviously thought we would get to Paso Jama, but ended up having to sleep in the truck. We had to share the small bed Victor has in his cab, feet to face. He had to get up several times in the night to start the truck to warm up the cab. I can't imagine if I had camped outside.
In the morning, they finally moved the truck out of the way (Paraguayan that was trying to pass another truck, on an icy hill on a turn) and we got moving again. In just another hour or so, we arrived at Paso Jama, and the border of Argentina. Victor wanted to take me down out of the mountains to Jujuy, but everyone said on the east side of Paso Jama was out of the danger zone. We said our goodbyes, and I was back on the bike from Paso Jama.
In all, it was 160km that I didn't ride, from SPDA, to Paso Jama. Although you may think that I was at a lower altitude, it was still at ~4,000 meters and still real cold, with even a small bit of snow still on some of the hills nearby. Having taken a ride, plagued my mind. The whole time in the truck, I couldn't stop thinking about how I should've ridden the stretch. I tried to remind myself that it wasn't my fault. I simply arrived to late in the season. I lost three months recovering in Popayan, Colombia when the dumb animal driver hit me. I also thought about if I hadn't checked in Antofagasta, I probably would have arrived in Santiago (Los Andes) and would have heard that I couldn't go up the hill on my bike. I also heard several times from people, that it's just one of those freak years with an unusual high amount of snow fall.
The difficulty of the terrain didn't deter me. What I had just done in Peru was more difficult than the hills and altitude here. I had several 50km hills, one right after the other in Peru, with a couple passes I went over at 4,800 meters. From San Pedro, it was one 45km hill, with a few small hills on the top plateau. Not to mention an incredible tailwind the whole time.
The wind was fiercely strong.
FORTUNATELY, the wind was in my favor and blowing from the West. After camping out about 30km away from Paso Jama, in the morning I raced to the road as my hands and feet began to freeze in the strong 0*C wind. It was this morning that I had the best tailwind of my life. Some parts where the road directly paralleled the wind, I was going 40 km/h on flat ground, in silence. It was amazing. As you can see in the photos, although I was beyond the real risky area, it was still really cold for a few days leaving Paso Jama (and since really...).
In a few days, I got out of the mountains, down the coldest hill of my life and made it to the lower altitudes. I was really looking forward to getting to the lower altitudes, thinking of course it would be much warmer. It wasn't. I had one day at 5*C with a bit of rain. Like
almost daily before getting to Mendoza, I combated the cold and toiled to keep my hands and feet warm.
I found a municipal campground in Salta, that only charged something like 3 bucks a night. It was a great spot, secure, short ride to town,
boiling hot showers, they even have wifi for the whole area. It was too much to pass up so quickly, so I took a couple much needed days off to warm up and rest. (I had never seen a municipal campground like that. Since on the Argentina side, seen several free municipal campgrounds. Mostly just picnic tables with fire pits for grilling, but great areas to camp for the night)
Around the Jujuy/Salta area, there was quite a bit of open flat farm land. Turning up the 68 and arriving in Cafayate, the land transitioned back to desert, but this time with shrubs and cactus, and spines! The night I camped just south of Cayate, as seen in the pictures, I ended up with loads of spines everywhere. Since then, I have been really paranoid, all the way to Mendoza (whole way is desert). Another reason to camp at the municipal campgrounds.
Apart for the daily cold weather, I was really enjoying riding on the Argentine side. The wind was
significantly better on this side compared to Chile, and I was happy with my decision to cross early. I had a few sections of real nasty rough roads, and a few of straight dirt (had one dirt road ~40km long, with loads of dust from trucks... miserable). At least the dirt roads weren't as bad as the ones in Peru, and much shorter, so I got across them quickly.
I took a day off in Belen, to properly patch my air mattress with some special epoxy I dug up in one of my repair bags. I also thoroughly cleaned the drive train on my bike, and took care of a few other things. I even enjoyed another day off in Chilecito, it was just too nice to pass up staying for a day at Jorge's house, and relax a bit.
From Villa Union south, it was strange that for the rest of the time, the wind flipped and came from the South. This made it really cold again, and each morning was bitter F'ing cold getting on the road, in the cold temperatures. I feverishly pedaled my bike trying to keep myself warm.
The day I rode to Mendoza, I got lucky and had a wind out of the North. I tried to absorb the idea while riding, that this was the last day I will be riding South in the trip. From here on, I will be going East and North East. I had something like a 20km/h average and got to Mendoza in no time. I stayed with a really nice couple from couchsurfing, Javier and Romina, who kindly obliged watching my bike and equipment, while I went to Santiago to visit my stepbrother, Nate.
The night I arrived in Santiago, I had a good time reuniting with my step brother at a restaurant and a couple of his friends. We took a taxi to his friend's apartment and crashed out. In the morning when I went to the supermarket, in line to pay, I had that deep uneasy feeling in my gut. I was missing my wallet with my passport and everything in it.
I figured I had left it at my Nate's friend's place. However later in the evening, scouring the apartment, and even the bushes out front, I could not find it, and the panic set in. Nate helped me look for it at the restaurant we went to, even a store we stopped at. I remember having the wallet at the restaurant, and after checking everywhere between, came to realize that it was gone.
All in all, I lost my passport, with all of the stamps from all of the countries I've traveled through. I was collecting postal stamps, also from
every country I've been to. I lost about $100USD in cash in the wallet, along with my bank card, proof of vaccination, 500 Mexican pesos. I had to pay another $130USD for a new passport.
My vacation to visit my bro and have fun, suddenly switched back to when I was in Colombia. Now running errands around town, to retrieve the appropriate forms and make the necessary documentation at the police station, immigration building, the US embassy. Instead of a few days to a week, that I was going to spend just hanging around enjoying my time with Nate, it turned into drastic loss.
Still, I've been trying to enjoy the time here, what I can. I stayed almost a couple weeks where Nate is staying. The parent's of his friend have a house, and were out of town, but let me stay with Nate, and I had some nice relaxing time enjoying daily, scalding hot showers, a bed, internet, and the like.
I was going to apply for my visa for Brasil in Buenos Aires, but since I had my passport, but still waiting on my bank card to arrive, I went ahead and applied for it here. So from here will be (hopefully) smooth stretch until the finish. In order to get my visa, I had fill out, get copies, and turn in about 8 forms and documents. I always known since going to the Brazilian consulate in Guadalajara, that I have to show proof I will be leaving Brasil, with a date.
So I sat down, figured out the remaining time left in my trip, and bought my plane ticket. I was lucky and found the cheapest plane ticket I had ever even seen when checking previously, so I was stoked about that. Now I have a date that my trip will finish. A date this journey will end on. All the time now, the realization that this adventure is coming to a close, is becoming much more clear.
This week I hope to take a bus back to Mendoza, organize a few remaining things, and work on a couple things on the bike, and head out. Now I'm on a more serious timeline and need to make sure I meet the minimum distance riding everyday. Not the way I'd like to have it, but that's the way it is. Just more motivation to put down some extra km's everyday.
Some Thoughts While Riding:
I don't know what it is about people in Latin America. I cannot tell you how many times people comment on the amount of air I'm putting in my tires. Any time I arrive at the shop, I always want to do it myself and most times the guys want to do it for me. They never believe me when I say I need to put 70psi in, almost always saying the tire will explode. Time after time. I almost went off on this guy when he started telling me I was crazy and stuff. I bit my tongue instead and just ignored him. I mean do they think this is the first time I'm putting air in my tires? If only they knew how many times I've done it.
It's strange the duality in Latins. Behind the wheel in a car, they are the most insolent and brazen people I have ever seen. Then around towns, lots of times they are sociable and friendly, telling me "ah it's too bad you're not here longer..."
I'm just amazed at the disrespect lots of times Latins show towards others. They don't stop and think that sometimes they may be disturbing others. For example, the Paraguayans walking by my tent in San Pedro de Atacama, late at night, it's obvious there's probably someone sleeping, why can't they just pass in silence... Another time at the municipal campground in Salta, some teenagers yelling near some other peoples' tent late at night (I scolded them). Other times people blasting music from their cars or stereos, with complete disregard that it may bother others. It really bothers me how these people don't stop and use their brain, "you know, maybe I'm bothering someone by being so loud." I will never understand this. Cultural difference aside, I think it's plain ignorance. The crazy thing is how many people do it, even adults!
Since Iquique, I've had several discussions (arguments) with people that try to claim that Spanish is a more extensive language than English. I'm astonished at how many times people believe this. The first thing I always try to point out is just look at a Spanish English dictionary and look at which side is thicker. Look at examples like the word "esperar" in Spanish, that is used to say "to wait, to hope, to excpect", all with one word. The best part is sometimes these people claim this, and they don't even speak English (like this guy I met in Iquique). How can they even try to argue that if they don't even speak English?
Kilometers ridden so far: 25, 665.1
