The PanAmerican At Last

I cannot stand the fatuous quasi mystical comment that slips from the lips of the privileged to the effect that “everything happens for a reason.” My response is the mother in Gaza watching her child bleed to death who shrugs and says “…everything happens for a reason.” Misfortune happens for a reason only to those of us privileged enough to have the power and wealth to alter our fates, even if only temporarily.  

We spent the night on the waterfront and I was reminded of cultural conditioning when Layne remarked she saw no signs prohibiting camping.  For all that I love Chile’s modernity and order,  the notion there may soon be hordes of people free camping on city waterfronts and that this may be a problem requiring municipal action is not yet apparent. But when a man came up and tapped on the window my first thought was a security guard moving us on. 

Nope. It was a beggar seeking relief from misery. He needed food he claimed but I would have been okay if he used the couple of bucks I gave him to buy alcohol to seek oblivion. I put out food for unloved street dogs; the least I can do for a human brave enough to demean himself by begging is not to judge. We are all each and individually a bundle of cultural conditioning. I grew up in a wealthy family in a castle with a motto and three hundred years of history. I like to live like a homeless bum in a van. Go figure. 

I saw a husband and wife team trying to bump start a red Toyota Hilux pickup, no mean feat as it is a diesel engine which apparently had a fair bit of compression. Wait I said after our second breathless failure. I walked to the van a hundred yards away. Rusty sat on the sidewalk watching us. Everything, he was doubtless telling himself, happens for a reason. 

Layne was less than delighted to be shaken awake as we lurched on the dirt road as in my enthusiasm to join the Knights of the Round Table in my act of chivalry I’d forgotten to secure the furniture. It’s not far I said to my grumpy sleepyhead as I pulled up in front of the hapless pick up. Our tow strap was, for some reason, easily accessible at the back storage locker where it is usually buried far out of sight. How often do you need a tow? 

Sorry, no photographs, as I forgot to record my sublime act of charity. However it took three minutes and he and his son took off for school in a cloud of diesel smoke smiling and waving while the wife stumped back to the house probably to catch up on her beauty sleep.  Layne forgave me my impetuosity as she always does (so far) and after we convinced Rusty he would still prefer the life of a nomad to that of a street dog we got on the road, and a damp gray drizzly misty road it was. 

I guess our radiator broke for a reason so I happened to have the tow strap handy so I could give the stuck gentleman a jump start and so forth. When I had a six volt Volkswagen van decades ago in Santa Cruz California I used to park it on hills overnight as the cold damp night air made starting it unlikely. My girlfriend at the time lived in the flatlands downtown so if I wanted to have sex the night before, which I did because I was young, I faced the prospect of a titanic struggle before dawn with the wretched van which refused to start to get me to my predawn job reading the news on the radio. Life as a youngster can be complicated I thought as I watched the pick up drive away. It can be hard if you’re poor too but you’re poor for a reason. 

I had planned a circular test drive to make sure our systems were good after the radiator failure so I got on the PanAmerican for a few miles at 65 mph and off we went. 

I confess I reveled in it, driving the Promaster, which is very enjoyable to drive, light on the controls, sitting high up and great fun for such a heavy van. It was even more fun as I was once again master of my own fate. We pulled off on a side road toward the beach and I pulled over at a convenient  rest area as I was dying for a cup of tea.  

Layne struggled to get out of bed finally as I walked out to check the information board and everything it turns out happens for a reason.  Apparently this was the area where the most complex and prolonged mining accident rescue took place in 2010 

33 miners were trapped for 68 days underground and were rescued one by one in a special capsule built for the purpose. 

The weird coincidence was we had first heard of this astonishing rescue when touring a salt mine in Colombia a year ago where they had a replica of the claustrophobic capsule used to rescue miners one by one. Everything happens for a reason and this must have been the reason I chose to stop here in this rest area. Actually I just wanted a cup of Yorkshire gold tea. 

Anyway it appeared our new radiator was working perfectly so we turned around and went north.  First stop: a do it yourself car wash where we removed the salt sand and dust that had accumulated during our enforced nine days at the beach waiting for repairs.

We bypassed the town of Caldera and took the PanAmerican back to the beach from where we had had to be towed two Sundays ago. 

Gabriel the custodian of the beach was delighted to see us, gave us coffee and we chatted under the warm sun.  It was tempting to stay and we both felt the urge but we needed to move after such a long stay.  

Layne got his WhatsApp, the number everyone uses in Latin America and we promised to return on our way north next year.  Next year our plan is to drive to Colombia and possibly ship back across the gap to Panama. 

This a stark coast of contrasts between the Atacama Desert, the driest place on earth and the restless Pacific Ocean swells. 

Not a great place not to have a functioning radiator. 

We had sent a message to the mechanic thanking him for the good work and telling him all was well so we felt a little cast off on our own once again.  The loneliness of the road and the joy of exploration. 

We planned a stop at the oasis of Chañaral, a small mining town which is pretty much the main business in this part of the world. Dig up ore and ship it away for processing. Tourists like us are welcome but not the main interest here. 

What a brilliant town. I found street parking right across from Banco Estado, the one with the smallest ATM fee as discovered by my alert wife. They charge five bucks a transaction but we can withdraw $550 (500,000 pesos) on each card.  

I have no idea what they do with their separated trash but Chile is very modern and orderly. You could live here as easily as I could.  

Chileans bitch about how Venezuelan immigrants are increasing crime and lowering the quality of life but even here in the impoverished desert north Chile functions better than most countries we’ve visited.  I am seriously thinking about settling here when we get tired of driving. Layne prefers Colombia so I’ll probably lose in the end but I love it here. 

I would never have imagined a world where my fellow Americans watch with indifference as they descend into a police state and I find total freedom in the land formerly ruled by Augusto Pinochet. Another of those ridiculous bromides is “ you never know what will happen in life.” I hope the rule of law prevails at home and we return to reverence for the country and not the man but I don’t see any signs of that yet. I like to always have a plan B and Chile is currently mine.  

The weird think about the southern hemisphere, aside from the back to front seasons, is the fact the further north you go the warmer it gets.  

We’re deep into Fall so it’s not hot in this desert but it’s warmer than further south. It got close to 70 degrees with cool winds blowing across the road but overnight it was a good deal warmer than it had been in Caldera. Two places I don’t feel the need to see again right now: 

The Atacama Desert. 

NASA tests moon and Mars landers here. Unless you believe the moon landings were fake in which case this is where they pretended to land on the moon. Serious nuttery has been let loose on the land and I say that as someone who has circled the earth and never fell off the edge, and having made it to old age vaccinated against every disease for which there is a vaccination.   

Team Lost ballsed everything up with a late lunch of toasted baguette with crab dip spread on it and toasted again in the air fryer. A fish dinner left over put to excellent use. Well done Layne. However our extended pause made getting a move on to find our campground essential as it gets dark around here at 6:30. 

Instead we took an extended nap, letting go all the inherent tensions of our recent breakdowns. We had plenty of time to get to the town of Taltal we said. Ha! We napped now and regretted later. 

Back on the road was when we got stuck in a very long line of barely moving trucks. An accident? A checkpoint? Who knew but we watched the sun heading to the horizon quite rapidly. It made the desert look golden and gorgeous in shadowy three dimensions but it’s a bugger trying to find a wild camp safely in the dark.  You should never do it unless you’re  Team Lost and forget the golden rule from time to time. 

It turned out the slow down was caused by oversized mining equipment on the road which kindly pulled over eventually to let us by. 

Long shadows as we resumed the race to our chosen iOverlander spot in a quarry near the coastal town of Taltal. 

We made it. 

A second fish dinner from left overs air fried and eventually bed in moonlit silence. 

It’s good to be on the road again.  

140 miles north of Caldera, not a lot but a start.