Despite being tired from my ride yesterday, I don't feel like I've slept very well. I guess I was probably a bit nervous about camping out in the open like I am, being the first time I've done this here in Chile. I also had the nice thought before I went to sleep that there are pumas and foxes roaming in the Andes… – the Larson cartoon featuring (I think) two bears in the middle of a camping ground with a heap of sleeping bags on the ground, and saying something to the effect of "ooh look, sandwiches!", popped into my head!
The night hasn't been as cold as I'd expected. I think part of my restlessness was that I'd been too hot, and as I start to become a bit more conscious, I discover that I've managed to shed all of the blankets and am just in the sleeping bag, but all toasty and warm. I'm finally awake properly a bit before (around) 6.30AM as the light rapidly becomes brighter. I've got my little camera in the pocket of my bike jacket, which is just beside the swag, so I grab that and snap a few photo's in the early light. Despite my campground being located very randomly, the location is again starkly beautiful, like most of the high altitude valleys and plains here.
The first rays of light of the day touch the highest of the peaks surrounding the valley and cover them with an orange glow and I realize that I'd better get myself out of the swag if I want to get some more photo's, not to mention the need to press on for San Pedro. While the morning isn't as cold as I thought it might be, it's still cool, so there's a bit of a clumsy rush to get dressed, which necessitates pulling fresh clothes from the box on the bike. That's all going to take a bit more organization than I can currently muster, so I take the feral route and just put on everything that I wore yesterday. I rationalize my stinky decision with the reality that I'm only going to offend myself today, and I can have a nice shower at San Pedro and will enjoy the fresh clothes even more! And, to be truthful, nothing smells THAT bad!
By the time I've got everything packed up and loaded on to the bike, teeth brushed, and bike gingerly ridden through the loose gravels back to the road, it's around 7.45AM and I'm starting to feel the heat of the sun through the black jacket and pants, so I'm thankful to be moving in the still cool air. I'm also thankful to be riding north, rather than east, as the sun seems to be twice its normal size and shining more brilliantly than normal in the still air. The turnoff to Paranal soon arrives on my left. It looks like the road climbs up and over the first range of hills, so I reckon I'll get a great overview of the observatory from up there. As I turn in, I'm very disappointed to see a very big sign indicating that no entry is allowed beyond this point unless you are an authorized visitor. Despite a strong desire to play ignorant and continue, at least until the first ridge crest, I reluctantly decide to do the right thing and continue my journey to the north. I'll just have to come back another time.
The opportunity for a Plan B arises within a few more kilometers to the north, with a well defined gravel track disappearing into the hills to the west. I take the chance that it will represent a back entrance into the Observatory, or at the very least, a track that might lead to a suitable vantage point, so off I go. The track continues to climb, but ultimately it fizzles out in what was either some kind of small gravel pit or a very large drill pad, and still on the east side of the ridge crest. No luck today, in terms of the telescopes, however the trade-off is the view back over the valley, which is again stunning, but unfortunately looking straight into the blazing sun.
Back to the main road, and I continue north. I top the next rise and the road stretches out ahead of me, dead straight, down into a large bowl-shaped valley, then up the other side and over the next crest. Classic road trip movie scenery, and I have a little smile to myself. As I ride down into the bowl, I feel a little chill as the temperature begins to slowly drop. Somewhat surprised, I have a little shiver. It really is noticeably cooler, so I decide the check the bike's temperature readout. Hmmm, definitely cooler and reading about 13 degrees C. I reckon at the top, it must have been about 18 degrees, which is definitely pleasant to ride in. As I continue downwards, it the temperature continues to fall. Down to single figures now, and I'm very glad I put on all of the layers of clothes I have. Between watching the road to make sure I don't veer off into the ditches on either side, I watch the temperature continue to fall with increasing fascination, continuing the rocket-like countdown – 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, and at this point there is an extra little flashing symbol that has appeared. I lean forward to get a better look at it, and have a little laugh as I realize it is a snowflake. Clearly I am being warned about the potential for ice on the roads. Certainly nothing to worry about here in the dry desert, but I'm sure it would be useful in Europe.
The fall doesn't stop at 2 degrees. Onwards it goes, 1, 0.5, and then 0. Surely that must be about it, but I realize I'm still not quite at the bottom of the basin, and sure enough when I hit the bottom, the temperature reads -0.8 degrees. I stop to take a photo of the reading, scarecely able to believe that only a few minutes ago, I was thinking about how nice the morning was, and that perhaps I could be taking off one of the layers of clothes. Now, I'm shivering and fumbling as I try and get the camera out of my pocket. By the time I finally get it out, the heat from the engine has begun to register on the readout, so while the photo shows 2 degrees C, trust me, it got down to -0.8.
I eventually rejoin Ruta 5 and commence the ride into Antofagasta. The valley ahead looks to be largely downhill, which is good, but it also looks to be full of a brownish grey fog. The normal ocean fog you see as you approach the coast is called a "camanchaca" so I've discovered, but they are normally various shades of grey, rather than the distinct brownish tinge that this one has. Given that the GPS is saying it isn't too far to Antofagasta, then it's looking suspiciously like the city might not be full of crisp and clean air. The fog also looks thicker the closer I get to it. Ominous is a word that leaps to mind…
My first sight of the outskirts of the city, apart from the big billboards that litter the side of the road, is what looks like a large concentrator, presumably for nearby Cu ores. As I get closer, it could well be a smelter. Maybe it's both. Certainly not a beautiful and welcoming sight for northbound tourist types such as myself. Having consulted my map a little while back, I have realized that the main road actually bypasses the city to the east of the mountains, and that the city itself is on the western slopes, right down to the ocean. I debate about going in for fuel, but the looming presence of the next Copec takes that away. It's been a good half hour since my last break and I'm looking forward to getting off and having a stretch NOW.
I pull in to the queue, switch off the engine, and lean back over the swag to stretch my back. That feels goooood. The guy in the car ahead of me seems to be taking a bit of interest in the weirdo behind him, so I nod a greeting to him, which is returned, and seems to have been interpreted as an invitation to come and chat. He turns out to have some English, but is patient in listening to my Spanglish and we discuss our plans for the weekend. He introduces me to his travelling companions – a girl and another guy. They are very nice and friendly, and the Chilean hospitality and friendliness that I'd heard about (but not encountered too much of) was on full display, with an offer of sharing their breakfast food, which was made unhesitatingly. It was a very kind gesture to a stranger that they had only met for a few minutes, and I only wish that I had written their names down, as I've now forgotten them.
At this point, I heard the distinctive rumble of a motorbike pulling in behind me and I turned to see a bright orange KTM pulling in to the other side of the service station. It was a slightly older model than mine, but still not very different. I nodded to the rider, who of course nodded in return. The motorcycling fraternity here seem to do that as well, which is nice. A moment later, another one appears, this time with a pillion passenger, and is followed very shortly by a third, also two-up. This is amazing! Four KTM Adventure motorbikes, all at the Antofagasta Copec at the same time. As we all wait to be refueled, I wave hello to the rest of the riders and get similar in return. I wander over to say hello and practice a bit more Spanglish, and am amazed to get excellent English in return after my initial Hola's. I meet Marco and his girlfriend (whose name I have not managed to remember), Mario and Leticia (Leti), and Cristobal. We start chatting about bikes and plans for the long weekend. In a remarkable coincidence, it turns out that they are also heading to San Pedro tonight, but are now heading off to visit a meteorite crater. Would that be Monturaqui Crater I ask? I'm planning on going there on Sunday when I leave San Pedro. Well, they say, would you like to come with us today? I'm welcome to, if I wish.
How good is this? I accept the offer enthusiastically. The route is way off the beaten track, so travelling with others will be fantastic in terms of safety, but also the opportunity of meeting new people, particularly ones as nice and friendly as these guys seem. They have GPS' as well, and are also filling up with spare fuel. I reassure them that I have sufficient fuel, water and food to be joining them without causing them any problems. Another example of the friendliness of the locals, which I'm very pleased to report on, after my mixed experiences previously.
We're soon ready to go, and we head off towards the giant copper mine called Escondida. Because of the size of the mine, the road is beautifully sealed all of the way, but slightly unfortunately, very flat and straight – built for the fleet of trucks servicing the mine with fuel and goods I suppose, rather than casual tourists on motorcycles! We blast along – it's going to be a long day, with many kilometers to cover, and it's now just after 11AM. No time to waste puttering along on boring roads I suppose. There's going to be plenty of opportunity for slow riding later in the day, so making the most of the good roads now is wise. The only problem with travelling with others is not being able to stop and take as many photo's as I normally would, but the scenery isn't so great anyway. That's not to say it was ugly though…
Escondida lives up to expectations – hard to see what is going on from the main road, but the extent of everything is bloody huge, to say the least. I'd picked out a route through and around the site from Google Earth, but the locals seemed to know the way to go. I followed along, but realized I hadn't yet turned on the auto tracking function in the GPS, so I stopped to get that sorted out. Unfortunately this mean I lost visual contact with Marco and Mario, however since Cristobal was still behind me (finishing up on a cigarette), I wasn't too concerned. My first glitch occurred soon after, when at a fork in the road, I couldn't see which way they'd gone. To the right, it looked like we were about to enter the mining area, so I turned left and followed the better road. It wound around for a little while and then I arrived at what was clearly a traffic control gate. My arrival was greeted with a fair bit of enthusiasm, which didn't seem like it could be a good sign. I asked if a group of motorcyclists had come through in the last few minutes, and while not understanding the complete answer, I was pretty sure that it was a big NO. I was also being frantically pointed towards a different road, which looked rather like it returned in the direction I had just come, so off I went. I returned to the original decision point and took the other option. In the distance, maybe 500m ahead of me, I could see Cristobal, so it was looking like I was back on track. I rode right through the middle of the operational area (not the pits, of course), which was a daunting feeling, until I reached a series of closed boom gates adjacent to a haul road and conveyor belt. Sitting happily on the other side, were three KTM's, all waiting patiently and refueling (water and snacks). After two or three minutes, the crossing controller decided he'd made me wait for long enough and finally let me through. I pulled up and explained my problems with the roads, which was pretty much as they'd thought when I hadn't turned up as expected. It was warm, and again, much warmer than I'd expected given the altitude (around 3200m, from memory), and all of us were feeling it.
After a 10 minute or so break, including the removal of several layers, onwards we pressed, with Marco and Cristobal in the lead, followed by me, with Mario bringing up the rear. Both Marco and Cristobal are experienced riders of their bikes and zoomed off ahead at a great rate. I'm not sure about Mario, but he was definitely travelling slower than me, which was good for me to be not the tail-end Charlie. Very reassuring. The road to the east of Escondida was not the one I had picked out, but was certainly in good condition, and it was heading in the right kind of direction. There were a myriad of roads to pick from, so I wasn't concerned about being on the "wrong" one, and was ultimately confident that we'd end up in the right spot anyway – after all, that's what the GPS was for. The road roughly followed an old railway line, complete with abandoned stations in the middle of nowhere and the scenery had improved markedly. I took the occasional opportunity for a photo, and with Marco still behind, feeling happy that I wasn't going to be left behind. As I rounded the next corner, the road forked and again, I was unable to see which way the guys had gone. The Australian breeding kicked in and I took the left hand road, which I immediately realized was wrong – I should have taken the right side one. Not to worry, I was confident of not meeting much in the way of oncoming traffic! What I didn't count on was the huge hole in the road, clearly filled with bulldust (I think the Chilean term is "molida", but I could be a bit wrong about that). Anchors away, trying to stop in time, but to no avail. I plowed in at about 30km/h, still on the brakes, which was not good, and adrenaline coursing through my body. Of course, I managed to make it to about half way in before the wobbles got too much and at virtually a stand-still, I fell off. I rolled away from the bike towards the edge of the hole and dust, completely covering myself in it. The bike was still running, so I switched it off. The side box and the wide handlebars meant that it wasn't buried in the dust, which was fortunate. Taking a deep breath, I tried to lift it back upright. Hmmm, no luck with the first effort. Another deep breath and a redoubled effort, but still no luck. The whole thing is laying slightly downhill, complicating the efforts required. I curse and yell in frustration at my stupidity. I realize how extremely fortunate I am to be travelling with others, and particularly that Mario is still behind me. He turns up in a few minutes and it looks remarkably like Leti is on the back with the video camera out. I think for a moment that that is very cool, until I realize that she is now filming me, covered in dust, and bike laying down in the dirt. Bugger. I motion to Mario that I need help, so he pulls up and wanders over, Leti still filming. Between us, we get the bike upright and quickly scan for damage, of which I there is none visible, other than the fact the bike is now grey/white in colour, and the owner has damaged his pride.
I climb back on board and the engine comes to life without problem. I make efforts to brush away some of the dust, but it just smears everywhere, so I just have to ride slowly until it blows away. All helmet orifices are shut so that I don't breathe it all in or get it into my eyes, but nonetheless some gets in and I can taste the grit. Another few kilometers pass and the others are waiting on the edge of a small salar. They show a mixture of concern and amusement, with more of the latter after it is apparent that there is no damage to bike or rider. I express my thanks (again) to Mario. I also encourage Leti to erase the footage, however she laughs maniacally at the idea, suggesting that it will cost me a LOT of money for her to do that. I take the opportunity to clean my helmet visor as best as possible, and we press on.
We stop again for a break at a water pumping station next to the road, and are all surprised to see a small fox coming towards us. It seems quite unafraid of us until it gets up close, definitely hoping for some scraps of food to the thrown in his direction. Sorry mate, I haven't got anything for you. Because I've got the GPS location of the crater, I get to go in front now, with everyone following along. Because I'm a bit slower, I take off a few minutes ahead, but am soon reduced to travelling slowly, as the road is terrible from here onwards. Clearly the Escondida people maintain the road out to the pump, but from then on, it's loose gravel and corrugations, keeping me to 40km/h or slower. I'm also very nervous about taking another tumble – I can't keep falling off and not damaging anything and here is so far from anywhere, you don't want to come off and do any major damage. Cristobal has given me some tips for riding through the soft ground, which are working well, but make for a riding challenge for me, as I'm not used to it. I marvel at how smoothly Marco seems to travel, despite his girlfriend being on the back. Mario appears to be having similar problems to me, so I don't feel quite so bad.
The road stretches on, more and more corrugations, along with a couple of near misses for me in the loose stuff. Eventually, I find what we are looking for. The Crater sits a few kilometers to the west of here, but the imagery on Google doesn't show up an access road very clearly. There are certainly hints of a track in the imagery and there is a track apparent alongside some big powerlines, so my plan was to follow that until I got to the south of the crater, then follow the small track to the north. That was the theory. The reality on the ground has the track beside the powerlines being a reasonable looking thing, however before long, there is a small ridge in front of us. The track goes up the side of it, and was clearly built by a bulldozer. It would be a 4WD challenge, despite being only about 25m high. Cristobal has managed to ride straight up it, but for me, it is a bridge too far. Heavy bike, laden with gear, and me starting to feel a bit fatigued, the odds are not good. I unload all of the boxes and swag, thinking that might help, but I look again and just can't bring myself to risk it. I walk up to Cristobal and discuss it. He points out that there is at least one more of these jump-ups ahead of us, so perhaps we should back-track and look for a better route. He makes coming down the hill look like childs play, but I recognize the skill with which it is carried out, and today, it isn't a skill I have. I reload my gear, and we head off to meet up with Mario and Leti, who are waiting patiently out in the plane a few kilometers away. I take the track and Cristobal goes across-country and in a few minutes, we have a meeting about what to do. We've reached to within 6km of the crater – so close, and yet, so far. It's also getting late in the day, with quite some distance to San Pedro yet to go. Still, we're so close…
Mission # 1 was to unpack the bike, closely followed by a shower and a toilet, along with (surprisingly) a desire to sit down on something more comfortable than the bike seat. All in all, today I'd ridden about 600km and was feeling a bit second-hand. No rest for the wicked though. It seems that the gang from today also had some friends joining them from Antofagasta, but who'd come out in 4WD's. There were big plans for a BBQ and party tonight, so after I'd cleaned myself up and settled in, preparations were underway. People arrived, bottles opened, greetings made. I meet Hector (another one) and Maria Jose, Felipe and Coti. It's possible that there were others there who I missed – sorry if I did…
I crawl into my swag and am again asleep in no time.
Chao,
A
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