10-26
This morning we left Valpo in a misty, rainy fog. We chose a route along the coast which we soon found was not a road at all, possibly trails only. Up into the coastal hills we wandered in the thickening fog. Nothing was visible in any direction! The gorgeous shoreline was hidden by the clouds.
We wove along side roads that somewhat paralleled Route 68, a main four lane divided highway with whipping traffic billowing water off their tires. The fog turned to rain, not hard but constant.
1. Mist, rain and fog
2. Wind here? |
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We stopped for lunch in a California style housing community at the new grocery store for a mediocre $8 lunch. We began to feel cold to the bone so we stopped after only 35 miles at a motel in Casa Blanca. This motel/hotel is a 24-hour establishment: very fancy with big beds, huge all glass showers, a little sitting area to eat or drink with room service food deposited to the room in a lazy susan cupboard so the service people do not bother the room inhabitants. There are garages attached to each room that is not visible from anywhere to protect the identity of one’s car/cars. We have seen and stayed in a few of these 24 hour establishments throughout Latin America. They are usually very nice, but expensive when used as for overnight stay rather than a 4-6 hour tryst!
Tonight is costing $50US, but includes a coffee and bread breakfast. Money is not going to go far in Chile!!
10-28
Yesterday breakfast at 8am through the lazy susan. Open the door to splotches of blue and we are on our way down the expressway to the next exit and on to a beautiful broad new highway leading over to the coast. Rolling hills through green pastures and forests of eucalyptus, large farms giving way to large summer homes scattered about the hillsides, then down to the quaint seaside villages, beautiful ocean bays with large breaking waves thundering onto shore, gulls squawking overhead. We meander through side streets filled with vacation homes. This could be a beach side community right out of California.
Back on the highway we work our way to the town, Isla Negra, where Pablo Neruda (the famous Chilean poet and Noble prize winner in 1973) had his main home. Since we did not enter his house in Valpo, we decided to tour this seaside residence, five thousand square feet of numerous buildings built over 38 years and filled with all kinds of collections: bottles, shells, ships figure heads, glass, masks, nautical equipment. But best of all was the outstanding view of the coastal rocks and bay. One could easily spend one’s life just looking out over sea and crashing waves.
Our tour guide mentioned that she owned a hostel up the road and we were welcome to pitch our tent in her garden and join the Swiss rider already there. We did set up camp and were invited to join a German couple for a cup of coffee. Later, we joined them again for snacks, wine and eventually we all ate our dinners together and later, another bottle of wine with three other Germans, an Irish lass and the Swiss rider late into the night.
Today we got off late in a clear blue sky day, rolling up and down again along the coast through seaside villages set on beautiful bays. Local fishing fleets of dories colourfully bob on the sparking water. We lunched at a promenade on a town bay where we were joined by a local cyclist with an old bike, but sharp new helmet. He told us about the local routes and eventually led us through the large port maze, suburbs and into the countryside where we found a quaint old hotel setting atop a hillside with a great view from the terrace out to the sea and countryside. We have crashed very early for us because I (Art) have been having trouble with my right achilles tendon. New pedal in Mendoza matched with old cleats led to my stressing my heel as I attempted to click out of my right pedal. Dumb me to let this situation develop for days until it really started to get in the way. Changed to new SPD cleats at noon today hoping this will fix the problem and I’ll get better over time by riding through the pain.
Dinner….the two older gentlemen running the hotel, one the cook, the other the doorman, valet and grounds keeper, were very informative. The latter while showing us to our room when asked about dinner and drinks said “not here, too expensive! Take the collectivo to town – much cheaper.” After an afternoon snooze by the empty pool where Judee conked out with loud snoring for over an hour (were we tired?) we walked down the hill through the beautiful “house & garden” homes to the small commercial area of the village where there are an internet, restaurant, offices, market and small panaderia.
We decided to skip the restaurant in favour of the market and cook on our deck at the end of our building. As we walked through the motel to our room with our wine and groceries, the cook asked to carry our bags and could he get us some wine glasses? And when we got to our cooking area he asked to uncork our wine and served our first glass! Dining overlooking the river valley to the breakers at the oceanside was magical. As we began to clean up, the cook appeared and told us to follow him to the kitten area where he proceeded to wash our dishes for us. We were told by a local that the service here was poor!
1. Vineyards
2. Seaside village
3. Neruda collection |
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4. Fishing fleet
5. dinner view from terrace
6. Our cook |
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10-29
Usual blue skies welcomed us to breakfast in the dining room. A full meal of eggs, yogurt, juice, cheese, meats, coffee and sweets. WOW! Since entering Argentina, we have not seen such a big breakfast!
From the coast we climb inland through orchards and fields of strawberries, very sweet and juicy, I might add. Little traffic, a good road, my achilles tendon is talking to me, but ok. We are amazed by the vistas from hill top mountains to the sea, wild flowers and greenery everywhere. Many birds cross our path as we wind our way up to the middle of the country finally reaching Lago Rapel where we found a campsite at lake side. We are off season and share the huge clean pool with another family. A mother hen with chicks just wandered through – peep, peep, peep, cheep, cheep. The sun is getting low, breeze coming up as dinner brews next to me. Wonderful smells as we sip a good Chilean wine, a Carmen Margoux Cabernet 2004 to go with our chicken and rice, avocado and bread. Each of our meals is a mystery meal: trial and error everyday, as we use what we can find at the end of our trail; sometimes things we are not familiar with.
1. [Get your kicks on] ruta sesenta y seis
2. Racer passing
3. Rolling hills
4. Campground at Lago Rapel
5. Peep and cheep
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10-30
The day is bright and beautiful as we ride through the agricultural valley. Strawberries, avocados, pears, corn, among the vineyards and bordered by rose bushes clambering up into trees many stories high! Sweet smells from the flowers, but an awful odour from the trucks, much like a ‘honey wagon’ of Ohio. We think they may burn a mixture with methane? Little houses are along the road fronted by prolific gardens, some manicured, some not.
This road is very busy, but has an actual bike path. As we sail along, so did a car--from a side street. Art did not see the car; the car did not see us. COLLISION! Art is lying in the road bleeding. A policeman is on hand and aids us in getting an ambulance and he transports our gear and the non-rolling bike. It takes some time to get the necessary X-rays. It seems that according the Chilean law, if there is a severe accident, it must be tried in a court. Severity is judged whether there are broken bones! Art receives no stitches for his massive head cuts. The doctor says there is not enough skin to suture and they do not have suture strips. The nurses quickly swipe out abrasions with antiseptic and slap on some gauze. We were also supposed to have a blood test for alcohol content, but the young man driving the pick up had one and we guess he tested positive for drinking because eventually he was arrested for the collision! Too bad – the designer of the bike path and the poor visibility should be the one arrested!
The police eventually took us to the station, where we were obviously not charged and then they drove us to the home of an ex-pat who spoke English and it was decided to take us to the next town, San Vincente, to have our bike repaired. The front fork is completely bent at the head tube and the down tube is also bent backward. We are not going anywhere until it all rolls again. The police then took us to a nice little hostel where we are going to lick our wounds until things are fixed!
