Spooked

We spent Friday evening moving from one spot to another. We were parked in the lot at the tourist attraction statues in the desert watching TV and having dinner. Over Layne’s shoulder I saw a car crawling up the road and I mean slower than walking pace. Then it stopped and the lights went out. I locked our doors and turned off the cabin lights and kept glancing outside. We were alone in the desert except for the mystery car.

Then some cars drove by from the left in the photo above off the PanAmerican and the parked car turned on his lights as though to avoid being struck. Had it come into the parking lot and parked like any other visitor checking the statues I’d not have cared. And then the lights came on and we both saw a figure walking away and we both thought it was a couple fighting. The car eventually started moving and rolled very very slowly after the pedestrian. We both breathed a sigh of relief. 

Then a few minutes later the lights came back, square headlights with fog lights underneath, and the car stopped. Then it turned around on the road and went back to the highway and appeared to turn right and go down the hill toward Arica just ten miles away.

It was pitch black and 8:20 pm and we felt very exposed. We weren’t sure what to fear exactly but the occupants of that car knew precisely  where we were if they cared. We bugged out.

Driving at night in Chile causes me no more concern than doing that in the US so we drove to another spot we had used previously visiting this town, it’s  about half an hour north of Arica at the airport where there is a small underused parking area. Much safer it seemed to us than the vast empty desert where we had planned to spend the night. 

The funny thing was as soon as we settled in at the little parking strip outside the airport a whole huge gang of Friday night bikers showed up and parked all around us drinking coffee and bullshitting. From being alone and creeped out in the desert we were surrounded by a phalanx of noisy cheerful bikers having a good time. We stayed up till midnight when they left and we fell into a deep sleep.

By eight o’clock Rusty couldn’t wait any more and I staggered out of bed to go for a stroll to keep him happy.

An hour later we were still walking in a huge circle out in the desert. The red arrow above marks where Layne was snoring aboard GANNET2.

He stopped half way around and leaned against my leg and licked my face. The desert made him happy. 

Then he drank a bowl of water, ate some breakfast cookies and took a well earned nap. I had a cup of Yorkshire Gold tea and Layne struggled awake. 

We stumbled into town after noon so we rated it a slow start to the day. Northern Chile is much more like Peru than the clean orderly center and south of the country. 

Seeing as how we had to drive through town to get back to driving south we stopped at the Copec gas station for a well earned break from a tough start to the day!

For a buck fifty each we got access to showers. 

Truck stop showers with everything we needed, mirror sink and somewhere to put your stuff  and the place actually was quite clean, well used but clean. 

The water didn’t quite get too hot but it was warm enough to take the edge off, but not hot enough to make you want to dawdle. 

Then with a tank full of gas we drove south on the PanAmerican up mountains, across canyons and down valleys, stark but beautiful. 

As a test drive everything looked normal and the transmission so far feels just right and on smooth Chilean roads it was fun driving with a Michael Connelly novel on the radio we drove up and down. 

And at 3:30 on this rather delayed day we stopped for lunch. 

It didn’t look open but it was ready for us with no menu and a mere promise of food. 

First course was soup with a complete chicken leg, corn potato and squash and naturally pasta. A complete meal. 

Oh but this is South America so for five and a half bucks you get a meat course too. We aren’t Chilean truckers but we’ll take advantage of the places where they stop. 

We never got her name but she was fascinated by our story so she and her daughter got the nickel tour. She’s Bolivian and is going home next month to vote as she like everyone in that unfortunate country wants change. She wants a motor home now too. 

We’ll be back. 

Last year traffic was stopped for five days by a landslide here. This year a surprise rain closed the road again annoying regional officials taken by surprise. They announced this time the road will be fixed for good. 

We got held up for twenty minutes but this is the PanAmerican Highway and there’s traffic here. 

Cuya is the village astride the river that separates two regional governments and as such it is the place where the national agriculture department checks fruit travel. 

They checked our fridge but we’ve been through here before so we knew not to load up with fruit in Arica. They were friendly and professional when they took our token yellow pepper. Our vegetables were permissible. 

Then we turned right to Shrimp Beach where we thought we might stay. 

The village is pretty much empty in winter, the sky was heavily overcast and the track down to the beach looked a bit unappealing as it is narrow and clinging to the sandy cliff. 

We left and headed for sunshine inland. 

With a quick windy stop to check out a monument celebrating some ancient residents. 

“They build really weird statues,” was Layne’s anthropological commentary. I thought they looked like the Boris Karloff fan club but I’m notoriously incapable of appreciation of subtlety. 

The. Chinchorro culture are known nowadays as a people who adapted to life in the arid Atacama Desert coastal region 7,000 years ago. They have left the world’s oldest mummies behind along with piles of seashells where they used to live. 

It blows my mind how many records are set in South America where I’ve seen the oldest building, the highest town, the highest road tunnel, the southernmost city and so on and so forth. 

Look at this lovely Chilean pavement. We rolled along comfortably at 50 mph enjoying the scenery. 

iOverlander found us our spot alongside the highway where a trickle of water runs down to the sea. 

I spotted a travel trailer on the highway reminding me of summer when these vacationers are everywhere in Chile and Argentina. 

We had this place all to ourselves, wide open and ours to enjoy. 

You can see the highway in the background but at night traffic falls to almost nothing and our van is well insulated enough we hear very little when GANNET2 is closed up. 

Rusty loved it here. We couldn’t get him in after dark. He sat outside and refused to come in until he got thirsty and wanted a drink. Then he passed out on his bed. He’s getting old and stiff but I help him as he needs it and he’s getting better at letting me lift him up onto the bed. We are aging together.