Surfing Punta Gruesa

You can’t help but have the Beach Boys running through your head.

Sunday morning at the surf camp. There was even a class for a group of youngsters heading out into the frigid Pacific waters. I drank tea and watched. 

Layne got all nostalgic about her surf vacations in Hawaii but in the cold waters of Santa Cruz in California she did not surf when she got home. 

Rusty wanted a walk of course so we ambled slowly out to the point itself which is called Punta Gruesa. Which means “gross” according to Google translate. I suppose one might more elegantly naje it big point of something. 

We look like we are parked next to the dumpster in their above but actually we were not. We used it though and it is a city service provided by Iquique 12 miles away. Chile is so civilized. 

We also came across piles of seaweed laid out to dry and as we walked the seaweed collector himself came out to add to his crop. 

Gross Point: 

At night the pitch black is dotted with electric lights from this village: 

There is lots of room to be left alone if you like: 

Seaweed, kelp really, fascinated Rusty. It looks just like the kelp you’ll see on the coast of California. 

They surf of a Sunday morning while he works his other job. We work at being retired. 

Sun trying to break through the marine inversion layer above the coastal mountains. It gets quite cool first thing in the morning and any breeze makes it feel colder than 65 degrees in the afternoon but the sun is warm when it’s out and this is winter in the southern hemisphere so I find it quite acceptable. 

Motorhomez park near here. I’m not sure what the sign means but o felt find ignoring it. It does not say no overnight camping or bugger off or anything like that. 

Wax your board, have a chat and dive in. They all smiled and waved. The atmosphere here is welcoming. 

We will stop off here next year before we start our trek to Colombia and the Darien Gap, we enjoy it that much.  

Ozone In The Air

When I was a youngster I traveled by motorcycle, I didn’t hang out much or congregate among motorcycles because I spent my time riding to go see things, I was always animated by curiosity.  

I didn’t spend  any time wondering if I preferred the ocean or mountains because what I preferred to do was ride and mountain roads were naturally better. I didn’t mind twisting coastal roads but too often they were crowded and jammed so they were slow and boring, for a young man looking for the horizon. 

I was always curious to see new places so I’d visit towns and attractions that I’d heard of and that were played up in the press. I’d see exotica on the page and find boredom on the street, an early sales lesson I suppose. Even  in 1975 Saint Tropez in the south of France was a gnarly traffic jam to get close to the bikinis, but before the Internet the open marshes of the Languedoc with the wild horses were wide open so I tended to end up going where other people weren’t. I found out about stuff from motorcycle magazines or books and I stashed places in my mind asking myself what they might be like. I didn’t have Google street view like I do today, the tool that kept me sane at work while I plotted my escape. I had to go and find out. 

What I’ve found in South America is freedom in my old age and that has surprised me. I wasn’t sure what we’d find and the stay-at-homes always spread the negativity when you announce a plan to drive south. Danger Will Robinson. Instead we travel unmolested, welcomed and encouraged. What a joy. 

We met a couple of surfers at the surf camp yesterday as we pulled into park. They asked if we were staying and then said it was a great spot, quiet and perfectly safe. This place is here for everybody he said when I said I didn’t surf, if that wasn’t obvious. They wanted us to enjoy the beach. 

I was enchanted by their kindness, and the open invitation to feel safe and welcome in their surf camp. We’ve met so much of this attitude all across South America and yet back home there is all too often an undercurrent of fear when inquiring how we like living among people with less money than we have. We don’t see “no camping” signs along the highways here. 

I’ve seen nothing like the stereotypes of corruption and threats and robberies and thefts in thousands of miles of wandering South America where living in a van is seen as eccentric perhaps but entirely acceptable, admired even which I find surprising. I don’t suppose the United States will miss me, the traveler, I’m old and on the shelf and doing nothing of note but knocking as it were at heaven’s door. My productive years are over and the world I grew up in is disappearing to be replaced by something that suits the younger generations. Down here I enjoy being on the sidelines, living off my pension like an old man. The sidelines suit me as they always have; that’s where my drummer beats the drum.  

Layne and I aren’t in a hurry to go home but we do want to finish the PanAmerican by driving to Alaska and we have friends we want to see all over the country. But it’s not time to settle down yet, there’s life in the old traveling dog. We’re Baby Boomers and our time is past they say.  

I’m sitting on a beach in my van watching the tide come in and the frothy white spume is pouring over the black rocks along the shore and rolling back with a continuous roar of thunder. Yes I still like driving the mountains and  admiring the views but this is where I like to be, within sight of tidal waters. It took me driving the Andes to get this clear in my head. 

I’m glad GANNET2 can get parts and service in South America, I wish the ocean waters were warm here but they aren’t, so I can repair  my home even here but I cannot go for an ocean swim. Compared to all the changes at home, the struggles to buy homes to find work in a world switching to artificial intelligence, my struggle to fix my van is nothing much. Now it’s fixed we should be driving inland, one more kite high Andean pass to cross to see the inland jungles of Brazil. But I am enjoying the ozone on the beach and so is Layne.  

I was asked where I expect to end up after driving around and I suppose my long winded answer is: I haven’t a clue except it probably won’t  be the US unless something changes and people learn to get along in my lifetime, but  I do hope wherever it might be, retirement be within sight of tidal water. That would be nice. 

Fortunately there is no imperative yet to stop moving.  I’m told the beaches of Brazil are spectacular. 

I’m curious to see what happens at home in the years ahead, maybe things will calm down and one can always hope for rational thinking to prevail over extremism but I have ocean views, peace and civility outside my door right where I am. I feel lucky to be here. 

Beached

We paid the bill and left around ten thirty yesterday morning. We’d spent ten days at Marks place, that was a hundred bucks while Reuben charged two hundred for his time and skill. The wheel alignment cost $25 and the parts we replaced were $252. For all that Chile is not considered cheap it seemed like a good deal to me. As Layne pointed out that included two loads of laundry, electricity to charge our batteries, a cold shower and we even had a dump station available. But now it was back to the cold hard life of being alone on the road. 

Our plan was to park about twenty miles down the road at a site mentioned in iOverlander overlooking the ocean and it all worked out by early afternoon. It was an upbeat start to our next round of travels.  

Our first stop was a rest area on the coastal highway with free hot showers in a building kept clean by an onsite attendant. 

The little white van was occupied by a young French couple who bought the van in Santiago and after their tour are driving back to sell it and go home. He was just as excited as I was to be in civilized Chile. 

The rest area would have been a good place to spend the night had we needed to and Rusty enjoyed an off leash stroll as well. 

Then we got back on the road to look for lunch which we found at this place: 

In the Atacama Desert where it doesn’t rain you don’t even need a roof, just some shade. It was sunny but just 65 degrees on a cool windy afternoon.  

The young waitress said “lapas” was the menu of the day and all Google revealed was that they are mollusks. We got mussel soup to start and it was filling and excellent. 

Then we got the main dish but we were stuffed so I got a to-go bag from GANNET2 though I did taste the food and it was a delicious mix of mollusks potatoes and peppers in the sauce. 

Rusty was relaxing aboard during our lunch. 

Layne went to look for some fruit at the nearby market and then we were set for the beach. 

It was as usual the perfect Chilean highway good for 60 mph and hardly any traffic. There was a dollar fifty toll booth which seemed well worth the ease of the drive. 

Our plan was to camp on the cliffs overlooking the roiling Pacific swells in a place listed on the iOverlander app.  

In summer I imagine there is a lot of coming and going even though it is a very trash free location. Chileans are much less inclined to dump trash than their neighbors. 

The wind got pretty strong making it unpleasant to dig outside and get sandpapered but for an afternoon rest it was a good spot to get back into the habits of traveling. 

Life After The Tsunami

I will say, had we been anchored on the waterfront in Iquique we’d have moved up the mountain just in case when all that tsunami stuff was going on but as it was when the warning was issued we had no front wheels so here we sat. We have front wheels now, they’ve been aligned and we are getting ready to go and relax at the beach for a couple of days. GANNET2 is ready for Brazil.  

It was an almost all day affair to get the wheels properly aligned. The first two tire shops weren’t big enough to handle our van so we ended up driving around a bit. 

The third time was the charm and they listened to me when I explained it’s a Ram 3500 Promaster not a Ram pick up.

That operation cost $25 and tons couple of hours because we had to wait for our turn. GANNET2 is driving smoothly and there’s no more clunking in the rough stuff and on top of that the gearbox is working smoothly and unobtrusively. We are ready and I am hugely relieved. 

But we still had to drive across town to get back to the campground. 

That involved a long drive across town because Iquique (“ee-key-kay”) is a long winding snake of a waterfront city and it takes ages to get across town. 

The northern area is around the industrial port and is therefore pretty coarse. This is where they do port business with lines of trucks blocking the streets. Reuben pointed out the cars getting loaded on the transporters have right hand drive steering wheels, as used in countries where you drive on the left. 

The car transporters have Paraguayan license plates and the story is they collect used cars that come from Japan and sell them in Paraguay where apparently they switch the steering to the left side. I’ll be interested to see when we get to Paraguay after Brazil. 

I thought this part of Iquique looked pretty Stalinist with these brutal high rise apartments. Mind you it’s housing. Layne was asking Mark about the cost of housing in waterfront apartments near the fishing harbor and he said his daughter rented one for $600 a month. 

Dogs in Chile are for the most part well looked after though there are some street dogs especially here in the north. It’s another thing I like about Chile. 

A waterfront walking path and bike path… pretty civilized. 

These abandoned building apparently were a whale processing factory once. Rather gross. 

And so back to the campground for what I hope is our last night. Laundry was dry, we filled our water tank and we have enough fruits and vegetables for a few days wild camping. About time.