Bikes with some names

Termas de Socos – Emita Padre Hurtado, Chile

We didn’t realize it at the time, but today’s story actually starts late yesterday afternoon. 

That’s when the wind picked up. Right before we arrived at the campsite. 

I’ll say this . . . Since we left La Serena we haven’t exactly had a ton of services along the way. I mean, it’s better than the Atacama that way – God knows, anything is better than the Atacama that way. But we definitely haven’t been overwhelmed with restaurant or grocery store choices or anything.

So yesterday it was a small miracle that we managed to find stuff for making dinner. There was a little Mini-Market that had frozen pork chops in with the popsicles and stuff. And a nice little vegetable stand nearby where we were able to purchase potatoes and onions, and some cucumber (our green vegetable for the day – but better than what we would have found at a restaurant . . .).

All good. But then two things happened. First, the wind started gusting to like a million miles per hour. And then, before we could leave the Mini Market parking lot I realized that I had a flat tire. Aargh.

I won’t go into details of the flat tire – but suffice to say that it’s not that easy to find and patch the little microscopic hole that evil goat heads make in your tire. I guess it’s positive that there’s goatheads around here in the sense that at least there is plant life at all – unlike the Atacama. But we’re maybe looking forward to when we’re really out of the desert . . . Rather than in a southern hemisphere version of Texas.

Anyway, by the time we had our camp set up and my tire fixed the wind was blowing something fierce. We managed to get a fire going – though I was afraid the wind would take an ember and light the whole desert on fire. And then the wind kept blowing stuff away. Like our combination plate/cutting board – a little sheet of plastic that is all that remains of our cook kit – which, by the way, is still in DHL Hell with the rest of our real – that is, not Holly Hobby or Zipe Zape, camping gear.

The wind kept blowing like that until I-don’t-know-what-time – late at night. It was actually cold in the tent with the wind. Made for some tough sleeping. 

Okay – so that’s the prelude. Let’s skip to this morning. We get up before sunrise – but around here that’s still late – because, you’ll remember, Chile is two hours ahead of everyone else; their time zone is the equivalent of Iceland or something – way out in the Atlantic. 

We have a pretty quick convenience store breakfast – partially just to celebrate the fact that we could. And then we’re off on what we thought would be a fairly routine 60 mile day. Not a lot of services along the way – no hotels – and only one campground, on the beach 60 miles in. But whatever. We load up on convenience store stuff and we head out.

Right away the hills started. I think we spent the first ten miles basically climbing the whole time. But we’re not too worried. It’s not like we’re in the mountains – we’re skirting the coast. 

But then we go down a bunch – and then right back up. 

This is shaping up to be kind of a challenging day.

And then, before we know it, the wind kicks up. Basically picking up right where it left off yesterday. And it’s pretty much full-on against us. Which, by the way, is a violation of at least three international treaties. But I guess no one cares about treaties or anything anymore anyway. We’ve kind of been assuming the wind doesn’t pick up until noon. That’s how it was in Peru. But Peru’s noon is Chile’s 2 – so we’re talking over 3 hours early.

The only thing worse than an unexpectedly hilly day? An unexpectedly hilly day with the wind dead against you. That’s what. 

Kind of a soul-sucking day. Just sit their grinding away mile after mile – all day. Diana says her Wahoo thing says we climbed about 6,000’. You might not have context – so let me just tell you – that’s a lot. especially with loaded bikes. Especially against the wind. 

We ended up taking a long-ish lunch trying to deal with stupid, horrible, paper-pushing, dumb, terrible DHL, but still. We ended up biking so late that we ended up having dinner along the way – and had to get back on the bikes afterward. We ditched the campsite we had been planning to go to – it would have been 2 miles straight down to the beach – and then straight back up again tomorrow. Nada.

So we had to wing the campsite. Our solution? We ended up finding some kind of church type thing. Worked out great. There are bathrooms. I took what I grew up calling a Polish shower – just dumped water on myself with my water bottle. Worked great. And I don’t think the Poles will be too mad about it . . . It’s a good idea, after all.

And this church-y location is a convenient place to have a little talk with God about all these hills and wind. 

At this moment – a favorite Latin American phrase – I’m lying in the tent with the neighbor cat lying on the back of my legs. I have to go pee – but the warmth of the cat feels so good I’m none too eager to get up. Never enjoyed a cat so much . . .

A little while ago we recorded the world premiere of a new song I wrote . . .

And one other thing . . .

Before we left home we went through quite a de-cluttering type process. After all, we rented the house for the year to Ellie and her friends – couldn’t have our stuff all over the place. This resulted in mounds of clothes going to the Salvation Army. 

Did you ever stop to think what happens to all that? Turns out that LOTS of it ends up in Chile. Reader Gunnar B forwarded this interesting article. https://www.wired.com/story/fashion-disposal-environment/. I guess Chile is the number one country in the world for importing used clothes. These importer people buy the clothes in giant lots off of these big ships. Probably I bought those button down shirts a few weeks ago from some guy who bought his stuff from one of these importers . .. 

Anyway, according to the article, it all comes to Iquique – the town that we took the bus from the other day up in the Atacama. When the importer people buy it, they don’t know what they’re getting – but I guess they’re lucky if like 20% of the stuff is usable. 

The rest of it? It ends up out in the Atacama. The article talks about a mountain of clothes that is so big that it’s estimated to be the equivalent mass to one or two Brooklyn Bridges. I guess it’s outside of this town we biked through – Alto Hospicio – a suburb of Iquique that’s one of the poorest towns in Chile. 

I guess somebody started the pile of clothes on fire recently. Sounded terrible. According to the article, our modern clothes have tons of polyester – which is basically an oil-based product. So it was like a big petroleum fire in the middle of the desert. 

Makes you think maybe we should be a little more careful with the clothes we buy. 

And the whole story confirms something that we’ve been thinking for a long time. Latin Americans seem to not care at all about the messages on their clothes. That’s why you’ll see people wearing shirts saying things like: “2010 Canisius High School Marching Band Picnic”. 

But that’s a total Latin American-ism. People here just don’t care much what stuff looks like. Whether it’s a house, or a bathroom, or a campground, or the side of the road, or their clothes – people here just seem to think in more practical terms . . .

That’s the news from Emita Padre Hurtado – where the statues are big and the campers are happy . . . And tired . . .

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