I've had another lazy Saturday morning in bed which was absolutely fantastic, culminating in not getting up (properly) and having breakfast until just after 11AM! While having breakfast, I was deciding what to do with the second half of the day. As usual, it seemed necessary to do something with the bike and enjoy the fresh air and weather away from the city limits. The big question was therefore mountains or coast.
I'm not exactly sure what the tipping point was, but the coast won out. It was probably reports that the flowers were really starting to get going now, which would be great to see. The mountains will still be there when the flowers have finished their life-cycle, albeit probably without snow. No matter, the coast it is.
The section I am interested in today is to the west and southwest of Copiapo, then down to the port town of Huasco. I've been to Huasco once before and while nice, going there is most definitely about the journey rather than the destination, There are options for returning to Copiapo after that, so I might just play that by ear, depending on how much time is left in the day. Admittedly, leaving Copiapo at mid-day (by the time I get organised) is not leaving myself a huge amount of time, however it should be sufficient and I'm not too worried.
I've bought along a road map that I've purchased for today, rather than making up one of my own with GPS marker points and so on. It shows a number of roads that cross from the main southerly road (good ol' Ruta Cinqo) to the coast. I have not wanted to go to the north and west again, as this will cover a fair bit of ground that I've already seen, and my memory of the maps is that there is a useful road not too far to the south of Copiapo. So, off I go in search of a road that I think I remember from a map. After about 50km, I stop and decide to refresh my memory of the map. Hmmm, the road that I remembered is there alright, although much further south than I remembered, which is why I'm now consulting the map. It looks rather like there should be a road not too far ahead of me, so re-assured, I continue south.
Sure enough, before too long, I spy what looks like a road to the west, although there is some significant road works going on in the vicinity, which includes using the first part of the road, which looks to have the consistency of flour. I pull in and ask the nearest hombre whether this road goes west to the coast. He understands the question, but the blank look on his face indicates "he's not from around here...". Following consultation with a supervisor type of person, they reach the conclusion that no, the road does not go to the coast. I have a suspicion that they are blowing me off, as when I ride away (down the main road), I can see one of those road signs that indicates a route number (that all roads on the map have). Not to worry, as there is another alternative perhaps 20 or so more kilometres south, which ends up in roughly the right kind of place.
The road I am now looking for (Plan C) runs through the village of Totoral, and eventually I find a sign indicating that I'm finally at the turn-off, so onto the dirt at long last. The turn is at roughly the same point as we would turn to the east for our Perro Chico project, but this time there mountains behind the project area are covered in snow, which I haven't seen before.
But on to Totoral! Before long, there is a carpet of flowers on both sides of the road – the same beautiful purples and whites as I've seen elsewhere in the area, clumped in patches of the same colour – just amazing, give only a few months ago there was nothing here but scattered cactus! There is also evidence of a kind of start to the tourist season, with three or four cars with occupants having the same idea as me on this road. We all pull up on much the same section of road to get out and take some pictures, but probably mostly wanting to make sure that if someone else is getting a good photo, then I'm not going to miss out on it as well.
Another couple of k's along and there is a sign indicating some ruins to the south of the road. I initially ignore them because from the turn-off, I can't see what they are about, but looking over my shoulder a bit further down the road reveals an old wooden tower, vaguely in the style of a "poppet head", but without the wheel at the top. I turn around and head back to see – again, 'worried' about whether I'll be missing out on something special if I don't go and check it out. Turning off the road and into the ruins, what would I expect to find? Not at the top of the list, here in the middle of (relatively) not much, is a man walking on the track. He is clearly a Chileno, and has the look of a classic movie hobo! I pull up to say hello and practice a bit of Spanish. He appears to understand, but as per normal, takes my simple questions as indicating that I'm fluent in Spanish and can understand whatever the hell he is mumbling about. Eventually I convince him that I'm from Copiapo and am riding to Huasco for the day, so I really ought to be getting along now, and thanks for the chat. Byeee!
The shape of the wooden tower means that it was never going to be anything other than to do with some mine workings, and sure enough, there's a very significant looking shaft (completely open) underneath it. As I'm sure everyone who turns up here (and at other shafts everywhere else in the world) does, I find a decent-sized rock and throw it in. It crashes and bangs for a long time as it falls downwards, dislodging more and more bits and pieces as it goes. On and on, bang and crash and eventually I can hear nothing more. There hasn't been the big splash that I expected, nor the resounding thud from the end of its free-fall, which is a bit disappointing! Nonetheless, the experiment confirms that the shaft is plenty deep enough such that I don't want to fall in, so I move away to see what else is around. It turns out to be not very much, but one little highlight is in the hanging wall of the main surface workings where the narrow vein has been removed. The large amounts of guano on the wall give its presence away, and I see a birds nest tucked up on the wall. Cool, I thought, and then I looked a bit closer. It was occupied by a bird that blended in remarkably well with its immediate surrounds. It didn't move, in order to not give itself away. As I moved along the opposite side of the workings to try and get a better look, its head slowly tracking my movements, such that I could barely see any movement. After a couple of photo's I give up hope of getting a better look any time soon and move on. I've got a long way to go, and the day is getting away.
As I leave the mine, I feel a little bad about my hobo mate being out here in the middle of nowhere and think that I'll give him a thrill by offering a lift to wherever it is that he is wandering off to, however someone else has beaten me to my good Samaritan deed and he has vanished. On to Totoral then, which turns out to be a tiny village (pueblo) located on the bank of a small spring-fed stream running through a little canyon. Apparently there is quite a bit of agriculture through this part of the world, although from the bottom of the canyon, I can't see it. The village is quite pretty, with small houses right on the edge of the road, many with flowers. It seems to me that the people there are reasonably content with their lot, given their efforts with gardens and flowers. The thing they are probably not so happy about is me thundering through town (the bike DOES thunder, even though I'm only doing about 25kph). Those that are out and about give me the usual stare that I seem to attract and despite my waving hello, I can't help but feel they disapprove of the interruption!
Heading further towards the coast out of town, I have a relatively unusual encounter on my trips – I get to pass a car! It takes a while for the driver to spot me and move over so I can get past in safety, but eventually the transaction is completed and I can carry on. As luck would have it, not long after I made my overtaking move, I arrive at an intersection that I'm not prepared for and can't easily decide which way to go. I stop and consult the map, expecting at any moment for the car to come past and dish out another set of disapproving looks, however they also stop about 100m short of me and ignore me totally, so I'm safe! It turns out the road to the south is the one I want, so off I go again, having a bit of fun in the loose gravel up the hill. I love this thing!
I eventually reach the coast and true to form, viewing conditions are hazy from the damn sea moisture. The coastline here actually features some nice-looking rocky headlands, along with secluded, wave-pounded beaches, which will be fun to explore during the warmer days of summer (despite the sun, the temperature is only about 15 degrees, and the wind is quite strong from the southwest). The map shows the road here as being a dashed pair of lines, so I'm expecting something a little bit "agricultural", but lo and behold, it is a veritable highway. It seems that there is even ongoing work to make it even better, as I soon pass a grader and water truck, doing their thing on a Saturday afternoon!
The next town on the map is Carrizal Bajo, which is another small coastal fishing village and according to the signs, has some historical buildings, no doubt comprising an old wooden church, as seems to be the case in most towns here. Sure enough, there it is. While riding around town, I find a small shop with an advertising board showing that they sell empanadas, with a choice of cheese or shellfish fillings. Excellent, time for lunch with a couple of cheese empanadas and a coke. Perfect! Or so I thought. The shopkeeper was just opening up after his lunch and/or siesta. He greets me with "Hola caballero", which I've heard before, but don't know exactly what it means. I think I remember it being very close to the word for "cowboy" or "rider", and assume that it has everything to do with the fact that I'm on the bike. When our greetings are over, it's down to business. I'll have two cheese empanadas, thanks. Nope, we don't have any, only empanadas with mariscos. But I want cheese ones. Nope, don't have any. OK, not a problem, I'll go elsewhere. Thanks. This type of exchange is not uncommon in the Copiapo area, where extensive and interesting looking menu's turn out to be a wishlist of things that at some point, could well be available, but certainly aren't right at this moment. Despite expecting it, it remains surprising when it happens, frustrating at the time, but amusing (to me) with hindsight.
Carrizal Bajo is also on the northern boundary of the Parque Nacional Llanos de Challe, which according to Wikipedia, this "...fragile coastal desert ecosystem is habitat for rare and beautiful plants species, including the threatened Leontochir ovallei, known locally as Garra de León. In addition to, cactus are abundant in the park. The park is one of the best place for contemplating the natural phenomenon known as Desierto Florido (Flowery Desert), which occurs occasionally as a consequence of El Niño-Southern Oscillation. The park has the largest population of Guanacos in the Atacama Region. Park's seashore and surrounding area feature unspoiled white sand beaches and a coastal wetland, which shelters Common Moorhens, Red-gartered Coots, Black-necked Swans and Flamingos".
The road runs along the relatively narrow strip of coastal plain between the ocean and the coastal hills, which tower several hundred metres over the surrounds. Wikipedia is right, there are cactus everywhere! I also see a guanaco, crossing the road just in front of me with a wild-eyed suicidal dash across the road, and is the first one I have seen in the wild outside of the mountains. I feel pretty excited for having seen it, and completely forget about the possibility of it having a mate heading in the same direction about 10 seconds behind it! With a sudden feeling of panic, I think about the possibility and snap my attention back to the road. Fortunately on this occasion, it doesn't turn out to be the case.
The road to Huasco is pretty straight forward from here, with the only 'highlight' being the amount of cars out for a 'Sunday' drive and heading to the north! A hint of what is to come for the tourist season? It makes a big change from having the roads to myself, so I'll have to pay more attention from now and not as much rubber-necking!
Nothing much has changed in Huasco from my last visit on a weekend – very few people out and about. My first mission, though, is lunch. I head to the restaurant where Alexis and I went last time, and try the one next door (for a change!) 4.30pm, my asking for lunch doesn't raise an eyebrow from the waiter. Despite him babbling away at me, I have the distinct impression that I can understand most of what he is saying. Perhaps not all of the words, but certainly the gist of what he's on about.
Once I've finished, it's back on the bike, fuel up and head east for Vallenar, then north to Copiapo, with only a brief stop on the way at the local artisanal cheese shop on the edge of the road just before Vallenar. Half of an 8-inch round/wheel (I forget what the term is) of goat-cheese and half a one of cow cheese (for the grand total of about A$9) and there's no stopping now until Copiapo, except for one small little wee-wee break and a stretch. I finally get out of the elevator and into my apartment just on 8.30pm. Aaah, home at last.
Any thought of it being peaceful is quickly removed, as there is still music coming from the plaza. It was going last night on the way home from the pub, went all night and was still going when I left this morning. As I think about going down to see what it is about, I check my phone and find a message from Alexis indicating (cryptically) that there were 1,000 cuecas in the Plaza. I don't quite understand, as I thought the cueca was a dance. So, in order to find out what on earth that was about, I head down there. He calls again, indicating he is there too, so we arrange to catch up. He's with his sister and daughter and it turns out that the music is part of the bicentennial fiesta, with Copiapo aiming to have 1000 consecutive cuecas danced over the weekend. They're well into the 900's at this stage, and Alexis CLAIMS he has done his part by dancing a few.
Even though the cueca is a dance between a couple (I get the impression that it is a 'courting' type of dance), there are many couples all dancing at once. The music is a very upbeat folk style and quite good to listen and watch, even though the dance is effectively the same moves every time.
After a nice cup of tea (for me) and a mojito for Alexis and Giselle and a bit of a chat, it's back to the Plaza for cueca # 1000 (hooray!) and on to the Arte Pub (local karaoke joint) until 2AM.
Not surprisingly, I sleep the sleep of the dead. I don't think I moved during the night, I was so tired.
Love to all,
A
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