Jan 30 2002 - Two Gringo Travellers' Tale

This is a simple story concerning two middle-aged Information Systems consultants whom we shall called Ron Smith and Ed Goldstraw. They had arrived on a Wednesday and worked many hours and ten consecutive days since reaching Santiago, Chile. They needed a break. A four-day weekend approached because of the Chileno predilection for enjoying themselves – the excuse being Independence Day – so what to do?

A travel agent was contacted and a trip arranged – first and last night in hotels, a four wheel drive vehicle to be collected at the airport for some place they had never heard of the week before. What could be simpler?

The customer’s worries were assuaged by taking mobile phones but suggestions about laptops and modems were ignored and off the two minor adventurers went.

Things went well. Ron’s opening comment upon getting off the plane was “Christ this is desolate.” This is not so surprising as they were in the middle of the Atacama desert. (For those that do not know the Atacama is the driest place on earth, some weather stations have never recorded any precipitation.) Ed’s limited Spanish was enough to procure the bright red 4 wheel drive Toyota Hilux, which had to be climbed into, so high was the ground clearance. It was a quiet beginning – the only noteworthy thing on the way into Iquique was the Golf course. This was a splendid affair with white lines to denote the difference between fairway and rough. The “greens” were – interesting – being made of sand like everything else on the course. Naturally our jolly travellers marvelled at this and resolved that the course must be played on their leaving day.

A visit to Iquique was a necessary nuisance to pick up some supplies for a journey across the desert – after all these are experienced travellers who knew that they should carry plenty of water and some food. They bought two half litre bottles of fizzy water, four bananas and six mandarin oranges. Acquiring these incurred some displeasure from the local “traffic wardens” who insisted that they must pay to park. Naturally our hardened travellers were not about to be bamboozled by Johnny Foreigner and refused to pay. However, after a few minutes they observed the traffic wardens laying on the aforementioned bright red Toyota Hilux and decided that they had better pay the protection money and leave. This was 80 pesos (14 cents US).

Off they went up a 700 metre cliff over the Coastal Range into the real desert where there was nothing that was not brown to be seen. Ron, being a gullible American, kept on about how he had never seen anything so desolate. Ed thought that Ron had obviously never been through a marriage break up. It was a splendid afternoon - dust devils, sand canyons, geoglyphs, nitrate mines, the odd oasis and desert, lots of desert. They even found somewhere to get a sandwich and some not fizzy water for Ron and some very fizzy Fanta for Ed. They rolled into Arica, found the very adequate hotel with little difficulty, wandered the town in the evening, had a reasonable meal and went to bed resolved to get up early and get going. What could go wrong?

Nothing, of course. Up with proverbial lark – well seven anyway - and away at half past. A kilometre towards town and the road is blocked with no explanation and nobody to ask. Our intrepid duo are not to be put off by bureaucratic nonsense for a local holiday and circumvent the problem by some supreme guesswork, and off they go with a full tank of petrol, lots of mandarins, bananas and various types of cookies. Oh, and some more water and Fanta.

Up a valley they go – lots of things being grown to feed the people of Arica but mainly corn and onions. Unfortunately the oranges they had bought were to tart too eat. This travelling lark was easy as they went ever higher, cactii they had never seen before, flowers of a splendid purple, their first llamas (well guanacos actually for the picky) ever improving views of the valleys and the mountains, the odd twelfth century fortification and few people. As they got higher there was more colour and some variety in the plants.

By noon they had reached the small town of Putrid (well Putre for the choosy) at 3,300 metres and the concept of Westerns took hold – Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, being the obvious example. A little wander round town found a three star hotel and a no star hostel, either of which would have done Ed nicely. Further investigation revealed the only piece of bad manners on the trip – from an English woman, naturally. They decided to press on and go and see some lakes and volcanoes at 4,500 metres. The book said that these were best seen in the early morning but they were booked into a 5 star hotel in Iquique the following night so what the hell.

Off they set and stopped for a lengthy chat at the entrance to the National Park. It was only after about ten minutes that it became clear that the Park Ranger’s English was marginally better than Ed’s Spanish. The upshot was that, yes they were fine to go in to the park and yes, they could come back to the park entrance and turn south in the superb vehicle down the track that was marked in their guide book as “a truly adventurous tour. Only recommendable for convoys of 2 or more 4-wheel drive vehicles”. The ranger also imparted information about accommodation and petrol.

Off to the lakes and volcanoes – real volcano shaped, snow covered jobbies. The lakes were good too with lots of birds but our middle aged troopers did not actually get to them as walking down and, more to the point, back up 20 metres at 4,500 metres was more knackering than watching three hours of “Neighbours”.

Ron was driving back towards the point to turn South. Ed had a headache and was even having difficulty breathing in the high quality four door pickup (with roll bar) and, as it was 2.45, nearly raised the energy to tell Ron that he wasn’t feeling in good enough shape and we had better go to Putrid. Anyway, he kept his gob shut.

Off the tarmac for the 200 kilometre drive which the book said takes seven hours, Ron said it would take three. Easy enough, the roads are rough but not horrendous, bumpy but flat, speeds normally 40 to 70 kph. After an hour they did see a vehicle coming the other way – a red Toyota Hilux, but it wasn’t a mirror. By now volcanoes were common, llamas not even worth looking at but lots of colours in the rocks. The occasional photo stop, the odd stream to forge and on our not so intrepid heroes went.

After two hours they come to a police post, with road block, at the edge of the village. The barrier is down but there are no Carbineros, or anybody else for that matter, to be found. This was one of the places where the ranger had said accommodation was available! They knew that the barrier was because of the proximity of the Bolivian border but they did not want to go that way. After a few minutes they found that they could turn through a gap past the barrier and carry on south. More streams and then a salt lake with flamingoes and the like plus large rabbits with long tails suddenly appearing in large numbers. At this point Ed informs Ron that they are half way, have been going nearly three hours and it will be dark in less than an hour and a half. Oh, and this was a place where you were supposed to be able to camp (but they had no camping gear) and no vehicle or people had been seen since the aforementioned other red Hilux two hours earlier.

Ron finds a nice flat piece of sand, gets up to 90 kph and says that there is no problem. After about 2 kilometres this deteriorates to the worst surface so far, rocks and 20 kph. Ed knew that they are heading in the right direction for two reasons; a sign appeared for a "“road" that was not on their map; and any sign that they met for the road they were on kept reassuring them that they were heading for the border.

By now, looking at the views and wildlife had become rather secondary. After a stretch of corrugations and as the light began to fade quickly they started loosing some height, which, of course, meant that they were heading down river valleys with lots of twists and rocks.

Suddenly, just as it was reaching full darkness a pair of tail lights appeared in front of them. Was this a ghost? Were they being lured to their doom? Oh, sod it follow them anyway. Unfortunately, the van turned off into a village after about three kilometres and they were on their own again. After a few more minutes the Hilux was hailed by people walking down the road wanting a lift. Civilisation must be approaching, but not in the Toyota; they ignored the locals. Villages started to appear (although they were all apparently deserted) and eventually lights, they were going to make it.

Suddenly they came to a junction with tarmac on it! Ed was busy trying to figure out what was going on when a vehicle stops and asks what they were doing – the cops. Oh shit! Anyway, the pillars of society cheerfully directed our dubious duo to Colchane; which was 3 kilometres away. The relieved pair drove into the “town” and out the other side past a road block. They turned round and the police appear at the road block to ask what they were doing. Ed’s Spanish is struggling at this point but the constabulary recognise them and cheerfully direct the subdued duo to the Pension Gomez. Naturally, they missed it and had to find someone else who got in the Pickup to make sure that they got to the Pension.

Beds were made, good wholesome (I believe is the expression for simple) food was produced (Ron almost certainly had llama, alpaca, vicunya or similar) and our relieved pair did not even venture out to find a bar. The town generator did shut down at 11, it was bleeding cold and they did not fancy getting locked out.

To bed at 9.30. Out the back of the building, across the yard, through some corridors and a room with someone sleeping in it, up a ladder (Ed cracked his head, his worst injury of the trip) into a little room with two warm clean beds. What a result.

The snoring from next door and below was monumental, the neighbours came in at 11.15 making lots of loud conversation and dropping cowboy boots (it was Independence Day Eve) for an hour, the full moon was then shining in through the open window on Ed’s face but nobody complained.

Up fairly early to a good breakfast and acquisition of the bill. The total for everything for both was 7,400 pesos (13 US, 9 English). The petrol shop was found fairly easily and Independence Day did not stop commerce. So the gringos poured 60 litres in themselves using Jerry Cans and a coke bottle funnel, at a cost of 27,000 pesos. It was 33% more than Santiago but they would have paid twice as much if they had to and, despite the fabulous value of the hospitality, they were not inclined to stick around.

Off on good tarmac with Ed driving. This was to allow Ron to drive on the rougher stuff – he was still nervous about Ed’s driving. Ron’s opening remark of the road was “Yesterday is a day I will never forget”. The good tarmac lasted about 5 kilometres but progress was pretty good. They actually saw a big truck after an hour and a woman herding her llamas about half an hour later. Lots of llamas, some rheas and eventually a Condor were spotted. The road had improved again and they were driving off a hill down to the coastal plateau again when suddenly two cars appeared within the space of 5 minutes; they knew it was time to turn off.

They had been heading south of west but now turned back due east towards their natural habitat – the Bolivian Border. Ed drove four kilometres down the very rough single lane track (with three passing places) to the bottom of the valley but Ron’s nervousness was affecting him so they swapped and, at this point lost the binoculars.

The road took a turn for the worse as they did 7 kilometres in second and first gear up a track with no passing places and the camber often tilting out over the side. Ron’s question concerning the quality of road building was not particularly welcome at this point. Over the top and speeds sometimes reach 40 kph for the next hour and then it is back in the valley and 20 kph again for another hour. There was still lots of colours and plant life to be seen but concentration was mainly on the road. Needless to say no people or traffic were seen and they began to appreciate the wisdom of four wheel drive convoys.

Then a new development; another road not on the map, but this was better. Speeds went up, as did confidence until, an hour later a village is missed. Ed was confident because they had turned south; Ron was not. Amazingly they found someone actually working at a gas (not petrol, real gas) pumping station and, yes, they were going in the right direction.

Things start to get easier, the colours are still brilliant, there is more wildlife, the dust devils are back and the odd vehicle goes the other way, well three actually in less than an hour. Down to another salt lake with a rough road but several vehicles nearby. There is a swap of drivers, up the escarpment, a photo stop and then another road not on the map is reached – tarmac. This is the short cut to the final destination for the night – Iquique - but these are two bold travellers so they stick to the plan and carry on down the dirt road congratulating themselves on being Caballeros. Then Ed turned the truck over.

It was nothing special; a corrugated road covered in sand going downhill. The car starts to drift right towards the bank at about 60 kph. Ed lifts his foot off and steers left – no effect; steers left more and the car slides into the bank, traction is gained from the sand and they shoot across the road to climb the right bank. Normal cars would have gone through the sandbank and damaged their undercarriage. However, the high ground clearance of the Toyota also means a high centre of gravity!

Ed had the good sense to roll it on Ron’s side first. Ron took a gentle knock on the head and momentarily passed out for the remaining 360 degrees. Ed remained surprisingly calm, thinking this does not happen to me, I have never had a serious accident.

The car comes to a halt and the seat belts have done their job, injuries are minor. Ed got out of his seat belt, tried and failed to kick out the windscreen and opened up his door so they could climb out of the top like in any decent film.

Tempers do not get frayed! Ed got back in the car and retrieved all the possessions – nothing was broken and the bloody mobile phone hadn’t even fallen on the floor. Things were packed up (but no photograph taken so there must have been a certain element of shock). There were two problems. The pickup was in the middle of the road and was a danger to traffic coming either way. It was 3 or 4 kilometres back to the junction with the tarmac road. Should they stay or should they walk back to the tarmac road. It was now 4.00 p.m. They had walked twenty metres back towards the tarmac when a van came over the hill. Lots of flagging down and shouting brought this vehicle to an orderly halt. The young couple (with kid) helped our less than intrepid antiheroes push the Toyota towards the side of the road so that, at least, people could pass the remains. No sooner had this been accomplished when another vehicle comes over the hill and four more recruits help put the wreckage back on three wheels and a flat tyre. It was abandoned.

The car contains a fair amount of laughter as the rescuing couple run our gringos into Pica – 50 kilometres away. Things do not start well. The couple (and friends whom they had met coming down the mountain) both got hassled for their licences when they stopped to ask PC Plod where the Police Station was. They took Ed and Ron to the aforementioned Cop Shop and explained what had happened in Spanish. When they left communications with the four investigating officers were friendly but not constructive. After a while one of the cops realised that his English would help so things got better. Had Ed been drinking? Normally yes but not a drop for 44 hours. Anybody hurt? A bruise for Ron and a cut for Ed.

OK it was Monday. The scenario was this: A police car into Iqueque to get a medical check for both and a blood sample from Ed. Ed to appear before a tribunal in Iqueque on Friday. Ed explained that he had to be in Santiago so the hearing was set for Santiago on October 2nd and Ed was to go to the police in Santiago and repeat the story. There was a slight problem in that Ed had no idea what the police in Pica had been told. Oh, and they kept his driving licence.

A delay of an hour or so occurred. Half way through this the constabulary explained that there was no police car available and they would get a taxi for the dodgy duo plus a copper; the police would pay the 50,000 pesos (95 US) for the 130 kilometre each way trip. By the time the taxi arrived it was explained that the police were poor and who knows who is paying; what a surprise.

The roads into Iqueque from Pica are all tarmac with one lane each way but it is holiday season and they are busy. This does not stop the taxi driver doing 130 kph with a young copper sat next to him with no seat belt on. (If a passenger does not wear a seat belt here (s)he looses his/her licence.) Ron kept saying wouldn’t it be funny if they got stopped for speeding and, sure enough, they got stopped. The young cop is only gone about a minute and back we go again to 130 kph. It was only when the taxi driver did not slow down in the fog that protests were squealed from the back and some speed was shed. For Ron the taxi ride was the scariest part of the trip.

The worry was the steep drop into Iqueque. Fortunately, there was a lorry all over the road half way down, which slowed things down a bit. When the bottom the hill was reached, naturally they had to stop to talk to more police about the blockage up the road.

The trip to hospital was a record, the cop know everybody. Our dodgy heroes went straight to the front of the queue and were out in15 minutes. On the way to the 5 star hotel (oh yes, this was part of police service) they got asked for the money and handed over 50,000 to the copper. The young representative of the law spoke to the taxi driver and a figure of thirty was mentioned. Ed assumed that there was going to be a donation of 20,000 to the police benevolent fund but in fact he got handed back 30,000 – presumably the amount that the police had agreed to pay.

Worries about the contract appeared to be groundless. There was an excess of 640 US specifically for rolling the car but Visa appear to be covering that. The fine fellows will also probably get one or two days car rental back. Hertz have undertaken to sort the police out for Ed. We shall see.

Ron’s worst injury? The following morning he sat back on a plastic chair on the five star hotel balcony, two legs broke and he cracked his head on the wall. Iiqueque golf course was closed for the holiday!