Don’t Miss the Bus . . .

Tamaragul Region, Atacama Desert – Iquique, Chile

Well, that was an interesting day. 

It started out with breakfast beside the highway – sitting on the curb eating cereal. 

It didn’t rain last night – which was a bonus. And I will say that the stars were striking during my forays out of the tent during the night. (Which, by the way, is a completely different night sky than we’re used to. No Big Dipper that I can see. We are strangers in a strange land . . .)

But the whole Harold’s Posada experience was pretty scarring. The desert itself isn’t that bad – it can be downright nice in places. But there are no people. And no towns. And when the (very) occasional posada comes up, well, they can be downright depressing. 

Diana broached the subject first. 

“Maybe we should think about skipping the rest of the Atacama,” she suggested. “It’s already getting cold in Patagonia – why spend our time in the desert when it’s depressing?”

I wasn’t there yet. Yes, I was down from all the depressing-ness – but I hadn’t come around to thinking about solutions yet. And after skipping much of Peru I had been thinking that we would be biking the rest of the way. And you know how expectations are. They’re really the little germs that can easily sprout into disagreement.

So there were a few hours there where my expectations needed some readjusting and we weren’t yet on the same page. The only good thing that came out of that was some fast, put-our-heads-down-and-ride, type biking. But eventually I realized that Diana was right (she usually is) and we formulated a new plan. 

Bike to Iquique – a bigger town on the coast – and then find a bus – because that whole sand worm thing isn’t really working out . . .

Let’s skip quickly through the next few hours . . .

On our way we toured an old saltpeter mining ghost town. Kind of cool. Was a whole community for over a hundred years. Even had a big theater, a central square, a marketplace, etc. But the mine shut down in 1960 and the town was abandoned.

We battled the wind to Iquique and were very impressed by the skyline as we dropped toward the city. The juxtaposition of city and sand is crazy. Like we’re biking up to that crazy mining town that Luke and OB1 Kanobe went to in Star Wars – with three headed musicians popping out around every corner. (Iquique actually is a mining town so maybe it’s a particularly apt comparison.)

We headed directly to the bus station. Our rough plan was to catch a ride today if we could find a bus that had both sleeping seats and the ability to take the bikes, or, more likely, tomorrow, if we couldn’t. (Or maybe we could hire the Millennium Falcon to take us? Sadly, no Chewbacca…)

First stop: TurBus or something like that. All filled up. Nothing today. Nothing tomorrow. First opening was on Tuesday. Not good.

We headed for the nearby Pullman bus station. When we arrived we quickly realized that this was like the rent-a-car counters at big airports – with all the various bus companies sharing one big and chaotic building – with ticket windows everywhere. 

The Pullman people had the comfortable seats available for today’s journey – but they do not take bikes. Aargh!

Next window. They could take the bikes if we took them apart and had them in boxes, but they had no seats. 

Next window. Nada.

Diana started going window to window. Now we’re starting to worry that either a) we’ll be stuck in Iquique for days, or b) we’ll just have to bike through the desert . . . Neither option seemed great.

But before we could really consider all this a guy came up and asked where we were going. 

“La Serena. Perro, tenemos bicicletas.” (La Serena is the town we had chosen to go to – somewhat randomly – on the other side of the desert – but we also told him that we had bikes . . .)

”Esta bien,” he said. (That’s okay.) And he indicated that we should follow him. “Vamos ahorita.” (Let’s go right now . . .)

Having no other plan, that’s exactly what we did. 

Now we’re in the chaotic bus loading zone. There are people and buses everywhere. He brings us to a bus saying “La Serena” and we see that there are a couple guys loading up the luggage compartment. 

They indicate that we need to take the wheels off. We peel off the panniers as fast as we can, take the front wheels off, sort and re-pack the panniers for the trip, and within about a minute-and-a-half our stuff is loaded and we’re on the bus. 

Amazingly, there are actually sleeping seats available. We put our stuff down and I tell Diana that I’m going to quick get some supplies – because we’ll be on the bus for 20 hours or so. 

I dash out, head for one of the little store type things within the terminal, and proceed to wait while the people in front of me choose what they want (two different kinds of water) and then go through the agonizingly long process of paying. (Remember, the stores in Latin America almost never have change. If not for the language barrier I felt like just giving these women the change myself . . .)

The whole time I keep looking back to make sure the bus hasn’t moved yet. We don’t even know what bus company we’re on – let alone what time the bus is leaving. Though, to be fair, there were indications that departure might be soon – like the fact that everyone else seemed to be set in their seats . . .

It’s finally my turn and I purchase two waters, four empanadas, and a pack of (real) Oreos. 

Okay, we’re good to go.

I rush back to the bus. 

“Wait, where’s the bus?”

I mean, there’s a bunch of buses, but I thought our bus was in this one lane that is now empty.

Some guy sees that I’m panicky, and asks “De Donde van?” (Where are you going?)

I can’t even remember. Someplace on the other side of the Atacama . . .

This situation is rapidly becoming very ugly. 

And Diana is going to kill me . . .

Before I have time to process any of this, the same guy who led us to the bus in the first place materializes again. 

He indicates that I should follow him. 

We’re soon leaving the terminal altogether and heading out on to the streets of Iquique. He gestures around the corner, and now I’m using all the speed this old body can muster. I turn, and there it is. Stopped in the middle of the street, sitting there waiting for me. 

As I run up the door opens and I hop in. 

I guess when the bus started moving Diana was super panicked. She jumped up, went to the front of the bus and started knocking furiously on the locked door to the driver’s cabin(kind of the Latin American bus equivalent to the pilot’s cabin on a plane). This is where her New York-ness is pretty useful – she’s not afraid to keep knocking until they listen.

When they finally opened the door she tells the conductor person that her husband is not on the bus. 

“Oh, el Gringo?” the conductor asked.

“Si, si,” Diana says. (I guess that’s all I am to her – some gringo.)

Remarkably, they stop the bus.

When Diana sees me she is both relieved and disgusted. 

So now we’re riding through the desert on the bus on our way to La Serena. But we have Oreos…

Don’t miss a post . . . We might be in a new country or on a new continent.

And, definitely don’t miss the bus . . .