11 July 2010

Aaah, Sunday. A nice sleep in, leisurely breakfast. Decide what to do with myself for the rest of the day. The final of the World Cup is on this afternoon from 2.30pm. No mention from the gang as to anything specific that they'll be doing, but I imagine that they'll watch it somewhere. Do I really want to go and watch it, or just do my own thing? After all, I know who is going to win. Paul the Octopus reckons it'll be Spain, and he hasn't been wrong so far. Like everyone else in the world though, I'd prefer him to be picking my lotto numbers than the results of a game of soccer! Anyway, big decisions to be made...

After catching up on a few emails, the weather is looking nice and clear. Once again, I have wheels for the weekend, this time the Mitsubishi Triton (here it is referred to as a Katana). We have three vehicles and I've had a different one for each of the last three. Is there something to that? Does it mean anything? I don't think so, but for the moment, I'm pleased about having the Mitzi, as it is the nicest of the three to drive, despite having the most kilometres on the clock.

So, where do I go? In the end, I think I'll head to the coast, exploring some of the remote beaches etc. to the west of Copiapo. In order to get there, I head northwest towards Caldera, but turn off at the sign to Puerto Viejo to see what that is all about. The hills and the plane are relatively plain in comparison to the splendour of the Andes in previous weekends, but slightly more vegetation than you see further inland. The plants must be very hardy to survive (largely) on what they can get out of any condensation from those sea fogs that I've mentioned before. The closer I get to the coast, the darker it is getting, as the cloud increases. Perhaps it isn't going to be as nice a day as I thought?

I cross over a relatively major road heading north-south and see from the signs that this is the "coast road" between Caldera and Huasco to the south. I'm still 7 k's from Puerto Viejo, so rather than following the road immediately, the obvious thing to do is continue on and see the Puerto. My limited experience of the coastline so far tells me that there is a pretty darn good chance I'll see a whopping great ship loader, covered in grey dust, loading a ship with concentrate from a nearby mine. Spectacular enough in their own right, but today I'm after spectacular coastline, remote secluded beaches and scenic beauty. Just after the crossroads, I'm focusing on the road ahead, but spot a patch of white off to the side of the road out of the corner of my eye. I glance across and am surprised to see what appears to be wildflowers. Slowing down a bit and looking further ahead, there are more and more patches evident, some which appear to be quite thick with flowers. It is all very reminiscent of the wildflowers in the Goldfields of WA. I make a mental note to stop on the way back from the Puerto...

I can see that the coastline is in front of me, but there is a little ridge to come up on to before I'll be able to see it properly. I can start to see some shacks, but notice that just ahead, there is one of those small signs indicating a photographic viewpoint. I drive off the road to it, "...top the rise, wipe my eyes..." (does anyone remember that ad?), and find Puerto Viejo.

Hmmm, what to make of it? No ship loader in sight, which I'm pleased about! Puerto Viejo is largely a summer holiday "town", full of little houses / shacks that the locals have built for themselves in whatever fashion they choose to do so. It doesn't appear there are a lot of town planning considerations here! The colours of the houses vary. Many are unpainted, but those that are painted are often done in very vivid colours, and the whole effect, while looking chaotic, actually looks like it might be a whole heap of fun in summer time.

Apparently many of the shacks are owned by people from Copiapo and during the summer school holidays, families move here. The husbands go back to Copiapo and work during the week, then return at the weekend. The wives and kids stay on and (no doubt) run amok, doing whatever it is that you when you are on holidays, which is generally whatever you please!

In the middle of winter, the place is nearly deserted. A lonely water truck was circulating, bringing potable water to those still there, so clearly there must be a few people there. As I drive slowly through the town, there is a little bit of movement here and there, but I wouldn't have seen more than 50 people (at most). There are a few little shops open, no doubt hoping for a stray tourist, but not for me. It's a bit early to be stopping for anything just yet.

I head back out of town and off looking for those flowers again. They are just as beautiful from the other direction. I find the biggest patch that I saw on the way out and am very pleased that the sun comes out in my little area just as I get there. There's a couple of varieties, but not being at all botanically-minded, I can't even begin to suggest what they might be. They look tantalisingly familiar, and I can't help feeling that I should know what they are, but can't remember. They are almost all white, with the occasional variant in there with blue tinges. Just glorious, and I feel guilty about walking through them, trying no to stand on any and ruin the whole thing.

The flowers are part of the "Desierto Florido" (hope I've got that right), which is something that happens in the Atacama Desert when there has been enough rain at the right time to trigger the dormant plants into action. There have been a couple of rain events between when I was here in April and when I got back at the end of May, so everyone has been looking forward to seeing what will come of it. So far, these are the major ones I've seen, although if you search the internet, you'll find extraordinary images of what was once just barren wasteland covered in a range of plants with flowers of glorious colours. Alexis reckons if we get one more burst of rain, the whole place will go off!

After the flowers, I get back in the car, turn to the south, and go forth in order to see what else I can see. According to the map, which I was smart enough to bring this time, the next beach should be the Playa la Virgen (again, I think I've got this right), allegedly in 12 k's. As I drive past 15 k's, no sign of the turnoff. Oh well, looks like I'll be saving that one up for another time. Onwards we go.

So far the road has been placed well inland from the coastline. In fact I don't think I've been able to spot it. The turnoff to the next town is at a crossroad, so it's looking like that might be how it is. Quite a good road, well maintained, heading down the coast some 5-7 k's inland, then you turn off it to each of the towns and / or beaches. Not quite as I'd imagined, which was something more in the Great Ocean Road kind of category, but it'll do for a lazy Sunday.

The next crossroad will take me to the town of Barranquilla. Having seen Puerto Viejo, I'm not sure what to expect. Ship loader, holiday village, or something else?

As I enter the town, it looks a little grim. The weather is not helping. As I get closer to the coast, it gets more grey, yet a couple of k's inland, it's all sunshine again. Definitely a feature of this coastline! The town is definitely more of an active fishing village kind of place. Perhaps there's an element of holiday shacks here as well, but there are more people about, more fishing nets out and about, and definitely more fishing boats in the harbour. Now being quite late, around 1pm, I presume the inhabitants are thinking more about lunch than the "loco gringo" driving around and looking VERY out of place in his shiny Mitsubishi. As I drive around the edge of the harbour on the very narrow street, I see a couple of likely looking lads, still dressed in what I imagine are their fishing clothes, blood-covered gumboots and all, shouting at some people across the way. As I get closer, they turn their attention to me and begin gesticulating wildly in my direction. Bother. There's nothing I can do but pull up next to them, wind the window down, and listen to the rapid stream of Spanish emanating from them, pointing very urgently into their shack. I smile and give just a little laugh to myself, then begin my spiel. Sorry chaps, I have no idea what you've just said. I only have a little Spanish. FISH! is the cry in return, followed by more wild pointing into the shack. I crane forward and can see that they have quite a large, long fish, perhaps a foot long, hanging from the wall. Looks to be their last fish to be sold for the day, judging by the lack of mates the poor thing has to hang there with him. I forget the price being offered now, perhaps CH$3000 per kilogram. I apologise again, sorry chaps, this is your unlucky day. I'm a vegetarian! To their credit, they take this completely in their stride, which was a nice change, since most Chileno's usually then work through the list of things that I don't eat. What, no beef? No chicken? No ham? No pork? No fish? No shellfish? No crustaceans? Yada yada yada! We have a brief further exchange about where I'm from, what do I think of Barranquilla and can I drive around further up ahead, or do I have to turn around and come back the same way? Not entirely in Spanish, as one of the lads has about as much English as I have Spanish, so it's all very entertaining.

In the end, I wave goodbye and head on, only to have to turn around in 100m and then drive back past them again. This time I'm fortunate, as they're sitting down with a few of their mates, regaling with the story of the crazy guy who just came past and doesn't eat meat! We wave again, exchange grins, and then I'm gone. As I drive off, I realise I should've asked to take a photo for them, but am too embarrased to go back and hassle them for one now, having taken up their time for no good reason. Besides, it's getting close to lunch time, and I'm a very long way from my intended lunch destination of Huasco.

I head south again. This time the road is a bit closer to the coast. Tracks disappear off towards the coast at regular intervals towards un-named, un-signed beaches. While I'm tempted, my tummy is beginning to rumble and think about lunch. I decide I'll brave a restaurant at the next town. Worst case scenario is likely to be papas fritas (chips), which seem to be done pretty much everywhere.

OK, the next crossroad is for Bahia Salada. At least that sounds like I'll be able to get something to eat there! Unfortunately this time it is just beach. It's a long flat one, with a couple of small shacks at either end of it, but nothing that looks particularly inviting from the middle of the beach. The breeze is coming in fairly firmly as well, so I take a few snaps and get back to the warmth of the car. Oh well, I'll just carry on.

As I get back to the crossroad, I review that map. Next to the south is something labelled Cta. Pajonales. Not having a clue what to expect from a Cta., I notice that the road to the east, back towards Copiapo, is looking pretty well used. It's also only about 60 k's, I'm pretty darn hungry about now, it's nearly 2pm (with the soccer starting at 2.30). There's still a good 100 or so k's to Huasco, with plenty of beaches / towns on the map still to go. Perhaps I'll just save that part of the trip up for another time!

I head for Copiapo on the good road, which as these sorts of roads do, quickly turned to large corrugations within a few kilometres. I also have a bit of a revelation about the roads here. This one in particular highlights to me that on the blind crests, the ones that you can't see the road on the other side of for a good few hundred metres, the road tends to change direction subtly, so belting along and over the crests is not always a good idea. Your heart skips a little when you suddenly realise the road isn't going where you thought it would...

After a stop for a little more scenery, everything is pretty much routine on the drive back to Copiapo.

I ended up gate crashing the football-watching at Lizette and Mauricio's house, as Alexis and Patricio had gone there, along with Alexis' sister Giselle. Lizette (very kindly - thanks again!) knocked up some lunch for me and we watched Spain win (good ol' Paul was on the money again!).

One final bit of exitement for the day. Back at my apartment, just writing some emails, thinking about getting ready for bed and it happens. The building starts to sway a little, with windows rattle gentle. Wahooo! Another earthquake / tremor! How big will it be, how long will it go for? I immediately note the time - 8:14pm. It seems to go on and on, a little ebb and flow, and eventually it just fades away. The whole thing lasted for about 75 seconds. As per last time, I feel the adrenaline flowing through me. Very exciting. I wait a few minutes, then try logging into the USGS earthquake monitoring website. No, nothing there just yet. I decide to report an "Unknown Event" and in the few minutes it takes to fill that out, there in the main section, the quake shows up. It is centred to the north of here, near the city of Calama, but out near the border. It's relatively big as well, magnitude 6.2, but deep, nearly 100km. Still, I felt it, and that's what is important! Not as strong here as the previous one from a few weeks ago, but nonetheless, a bit entertaining.

Must go now. Am off to Santiago tomorrow to become legal in the country once more!

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