All packed and ready to head to Mendoza, Argentina, our thermal gear ready to be tested by its first crossing of the Andes, we thought it might be a good idea to ask in the hostel what to expect from customs officials. Twenty minutes later we were instead heading west after learning that the Santiago-Mendoza border crossing had been closed all week due to a freak snow-storm in the Andes. While it sounded as if the crossing had re-opened we thought that ice and snow may not be the ideal conditions in which to begin our motorcycle journey.
If navigating our way into the centre of Santiago was challenging, getting out proved to be a nightmare. Thanks to me we ended up driving down the slumside of Santiago. Turns out Chilean's are not very inventive with their road names - what I thought was the correct road in fact only shared the same name with the one we should have been on. I then directed us on to highway heading south instead of west. When I finally gave in and allowed Reece to exit the motorway we had no idea where we were.
Not surprisingly it was up to me to locate some directions. After much procrastinating I plucked up the courage to take the map into a pharmacy. All four middle-aged male pharmacists and one customer crowded around the map, but between them seemed unable - and this time not because of language difficulties - to point me in the direction of our destination, Valpariaso. After much deliberation I was told that I should head back to Santiago and take Ruta 60.
I barely listened to their comprehensive instructions for heading North, knowing that if we were turning back to Santiago it was likely that the trip to Valpariaso was off. The pharmacists must have sensed my dejection as after about 20 minutes spent in their shop pointing at the drawn-on line on the map they clicked that I had actually chosen to take the more scenic, but longer route. Again I was given very comprehensive directions of where to go. It turned out to be quite simple. Clearly these guys didn't have much faith in my navigational skills.
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| Outside a supermarket where Reece waited with the bike and I sought directions - we still don´t know exactly where were at this point. |
An hour or so later the troubles of earlier were forgotten as we came to pass through our first small South American town – Pomaire, where being Saturday it was market day. Pomaire's claim to fame is pottery, sold in many of the stores along with other assorted goods. After Pomaire another directional rerouting, at least this time through more scenic farming landscape. When we got to a junction of only gravel roads, one in particular of questionable quality, a toothless farmer told us were were better off turning around. He, along with many Chilean's we have encountered, took the opportunity to respond to our no hablo espanol, with a speedy explanation of god knows what in his native language.
Next stop Casablanca. Nice enough, but I hope the Morroccon version is better. After nearly 8 hours on the road (a journey we expected to take around four) Valpariaso was in sight but it wasn't time to relax by the sea with a vino and cerbeza just yet.
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