Pedaling in Patagonia
by Will Wattles

I arrived in Chile after an all night plane flight where I couldn’t sleep. I unpacked my bike and strapped on the luggage. I found a baggage person to save my boxes for the return trip and headed out into the street. Bright hot sun flooded the area as I pedaled out of the mass of milling people into the confusion of ramps and parking areas. Leaving the airport, I encountered a tool booth and worried that I might have a problem. They might forbid access to the road or demand money I didn’t have as I had not yet changed money. The toll collector simply waved me by. I merged unto the highway grateful for the paved shoulder. I waved to a man cutting grass along the shoulder and got a hearty response. Soon I was in a traffic jam and missed my turn as they don’t use highway numbers. I asked directions from a man surveying a road under construction. He pointed and said  a lot of words but I caught Toyota and knew I needed to return to that landmark. The road  wasn’t open to traffic yet but seemed popular with bicycles. I asked permission and he said "of course." The fifteen miles or so into town was uneventful. I got into some stop and go traffic and was amazed to see motorists having observed me in the mirror move over to make room for me to squeeze by on the right. Having been on the ground only a few minutes I had already encountered notable friendliness and courtesy that continued throughout my visit. 

As I got into the main city traffic got heavy and I discovered two omnipresent elements of the transportation system in Chile that make life difficult on a bike: big yellow busses and little black taxis with yellow roofs.  Shown here in front of the station, with a Christmas tree next to a palm tree, they use the right lane making bikes a nuisance and unable to proceed. In time, I learned some alternative routes and at when I had to ride the main road followed other rider's example and rode on the left edge next to the park that runs down the middle of Alamada ,the main road in Chile. I made finding a room my first priority and tried hotel London which had no rooms but referred me down the cobblestone street to Hotel Paris which had no cheap singles but rented me an charming room with a bath and a view of the street for 16,000 pesos. This picture of a university building (I think)  exemplifies the street signs of Santiago, generally present and easy to find, as well as the arrow indicating a one way street. Most of the streets in El Centro, the old downtown, are one-way but they do not alternate which can drive one to distraction. Bicycles are quite popular in Santiago and Chile in general. I saw them everywhere all the time though almost never were the riders wearing shorts. In addition, three wheel bicycle delivery vehicles abound all around the nation.

I soon learned that I needed a plug for my computer. I tried the ferreteria that I could see from my room. They didn't have the right one but gave me the word for it and directed me to a very busy electronics store on Alameda two blocks away. This place sold everything from the 66 cent adaptor I needed to computers and televisions. It reminded me of a stock exchange. You'd get the attention of a young clerk who would find the item and write a ticket. You'd give the ticket to an area like a check out where they would give you a payment ticket. You'd pay and then claim the package. I noticed this system of careful receipts in virtually all my dealings. They also use carbon paper, a simple solution long since outdated at home. I saw a lot of those on this trip.
   Toward the end of my sleepless first day I visited Cerro Santa Lucia, a steep hill in the middle of the business district, made into a popular park. It's a wonderful maze of steps and paths winding through thick vegetation. Elegant buildings with pretty flowers reward the hiker who climbs the hill. It also provides nice views of the city including Catholic University, the city's largest. 

I began the next day biking to the top of a Cerro San Cristobal, a much larger hill a little further out. The day before I saw the hill from the market area and hoped I would be able to ride up it. I loved the quiet, shaded road that wound its way to the top with a series of hairpin turns. At the top I met a Chilean cyclist named Richard who gave me suggestions of places to ride and highly approved of my plan to take the train to Temuco. After hiking up the rest of the way to see the statue of the Virgin Mary, I had breakfast at the top eating a Chilean empanada--my first. Later in the day I rode away from the city towards the Andes towering in the East. I found a road lined with trees behind which sat staid vineyards or exclusive private schools and country clubs. Soon that road turned into a rough dirt road that led me up past the developments where I came upon an irrigation canal with a delightful path along it. I loved the feeling of isolation and unhindered view of the mountains. I also enjoyed examining the workings of the canal. I was all alone up there.

The next day I left at 8 p.m. by train for Temuco. During the day I pedaled around Santiago and came upon a posh horse race track hidden behind walls and rows of trees. I enquired and found that I could come to the race for 2500 pesos in several hours or for 500 pesos (just under a dollar) view the area now. I took the former and wandered around taking pictures and imaging the place full of people dressed to be seen and gambling away. I found the main grandstand an imposing building. Details suggested it's respected role in the community over time. Even the paddocks had an elegant appearance.

Before getting on the train I had dinner at a comfortable little restaurant looking out on busy La Alameda, the main street with its endless busses. The area  around the station attracts huge crowds and walking down the sidewalk with a loaded bike was a challenge. I always worry about where to put my bike when I’m eating or otherwise away from it. I don’t want to find my pump missing etc. Well, a kiosk that sold cigarettes created a dead space in the sidewalk. People couldn’t walk there and an iron fence separated it from the street. Thus, it was like an eddy in the river of people, a quiet place to watch the flow. Since I could see it from my seat and had my camera and computer in my trusty red back pack I didn’t worry and could enjoy my meal and rest. Nearby I passed an interesting wall covered with little plaques offering thanks to God for various blessings received.  

Earlier I pedaled through Parque Quinta National., one of many in the city. It had a pond for rowing boats and an old steam engine museum. I liked the benches shaded by giant trees whose trunks were wrapped in ivy. The shade and the breeze cooled me and it felt good to rest for un rato, a short while. After leaving that park I encountered three fellows each pulling a hand cart piled impossible high with empty crates. As I caught up for a picture I could hear one of them cheering. I went ahead and as he approached I said muy fuerte (very strong) and made a Popeye gesture of flexing my arms. He rewarded me with a grand smile and one of my favorite pictures. Before that I picked up my stuff at the hotel. I had to check out by 11 but they let me leave some things there so that I didn’t have to carry it all as I pedaled around the city. The Hotel Paris sits on Calle Paris which intersects with Calle Londres (London in Spanish) in a stylish neighborhood with cobblestone streets. The Internet place with the slow machines that have Netscape is on calle Londres so I spent some time there checking e-mail. 

  Down the street from there I came upon Parque Bernardo O’Higgins. The man with that not very Spanish name is viewed as the liberator and La Alameda the main drag is name for him.  The park was large with a pond surrounded by weeping willows and crossed by an elaborate wooden bridge. The main attraction was a swimming pool which I couldn’t see but which I could certainly hear. Elsewhere I saw people driving motorcycle and cars in an open parking lot in front of an enclosed stadium. Some were police and may have been practicing. The park had a pasture full of alpacas or llamas. I walked through a Chinese garden and bought and ice cream which I had on a shaded bench.

 Santiago boasts a plethora of parks. Many of them sit in the middle of a road. For example La Alameda has a central park strip almost it’s whole length. It places it gets wide enough to attract a good crowd of people walking, sitting on benches and otherwise enjoying the benevolent climate. Lots of fountains, statues and paths make them inviting. I frequently observed an interesting behavior. People, often very well dressed, will walk up to a fountain and splash water from it on their face to cool off. 

I wrote this portion on the train bouncing south from Santiago. It wasn't  that bad, but it certainly wasn't smooth. Ironically the wife of the man across from me said that the train was the best in1930 but now is old. He added that they use concrete railroad ties which makes it smooth, but further south we will encounter old wood ties and it will be rough. I guess everything is relative. I developed my pictures as the sun sets over the southern hemisphere. Buying a cama (bed) has turned out to be a good deal. My seat cost only 11,900 which is about $20. My guide book said it should cost $24 or more and the Internet said 14,000, and since prices go up not down I worried that they sold me the wrong ticket. I even went back and checked again.  They claimed it was right and it was. I had seats 17 a & b.  The ticket was a good idea also because it gave me reserved seats away from the masses. Most of the people crowded into the forward cars. The bike was difficult and had me worried. Despite the earlier  assurances of the ticket clerk, the conductor seemed reluctant. There really wasn't much place for it but I took off the pedals and twisted the handlebars and we got it into a closet.

When I woke up the next morning I was in a bed on a train built in Germany "between the wars"  slowly bouncing its way 400 miles south of Santiago. My sister lives 400 miles from Florence and that takes me 7 hours but this took 13. Given some of the bumps and slams that thing went through last night I’d like to go look at those tracks. However, it harkens back to a better time and I slept wonderfully.  The sleeper car and dining car have wooden windows and furnishings. Attentive conductors treat passengers like VIP’s. My ticket at $20 seemed to good to be true, but it was true. I got a ride and a room for that.  I boarded the train in sweltering Santiago and it seemed absurd for them to be putting two heavy blankets on each bed, but I was happy for them by morning. I made a lot of new, temporary friends on the train and got tips of places to see.

   The train arrived in Temuco about 9, and I got a room at the Venerable Hotel Continental. It is older than the train but also rundown and on its way out.  Built over a hundred years ago it once housed presidents. It still has a popular dining room and is clean,  but by settling for a bath down the hall I got a room for $15 including tax and breakfast.

   I took a quick, badly needed shower and pedaled off on my bike just in time to catch the market. Mapuche Indians come from the surrounding areas with horse and ox carts. Bicycles are popular here and three-wheel bikes haul a lot of freight. I like the picture of the sheep being hauled in one of those bikes.

   After a while I took off on my bike headed toward the Indian town of Chol Chol. The road there ran along rolling hills on top of a plateau. I could see the Andes distant in the clouds to my left but smaller mountains on my right were closer and made for wonderful scenery. Fields of ripe wheat varied from pale green to yellow and alternated with deep green pastures of grass and darker green belts of forest. Wild flowers of all colors grew everywhere. My efforts to capture it in pixels came up way short. You had to be there. A strong sun beat down and warmed the air so that I didn’t need a jacket. After 17 miles of fabulous countryside I descended 3.7 miles into humble Chol Chol. The place was quiet enough to hear the wind blow and the chickens cluck. I passed an occasional person leaning on the shady side of a building. I saw a large sow eating weeds along main street and stopped at a store that billed itself a supermarket but had a small selection. A friendly man asked what I wanted and when I said pan (bread) he pointed to a door in the back. “No hay” (there is none) I heard from the back. Then a freckle-faced young adolescent came out and held up four fingers “quarto minutos.” I said I would wait and wandered outside to shyly take a picture of another youth driving an ox cart down the only paved street in town. A very old woman and very young boy sat in the back and a dog walked along under the cart. for the shade I guess. I heard the word pan and went back in where I got four round breads to hot to eat for 20 cents. They had nothing but sugar soft drinks so I settled for water from my water bottle. Bread and water never tasted so good. On the way out of town I pedaled down one of the other streets, made of very rough gravel, and passed a couple more teams of oxen and a few sheep eating along the street.

   I climbed the big hill (the picture of me shows the shiny roofs of Chol Chol 2 ½ miles away)  and on the way up saw people on the side of a hill mowing hay with a team of oxen. As I neared the top a bus passed and a small brown face with short hair and Indian features said “junto, junto junto” to encourage me. Along the way I would say Buenos tardes (good afternoon) and get replies with smiles. I got a big wave back from a sheep herder in a fedora who was too far away for words. As I pedaled back along the high ground I first thought I saw an optical illusion in the clouds but it was a volcano the top two thirds covered in snow. It turned out to be Villarrica roughly 8500 feet high. In time I distinguished a couple of others as the clouds lifted. They hint of adventures to come.

 That was the kind of day that lets me know why I do what I do. I had pangs of doubt or guilt when Paula told Catherine, a friend who is selling her home, that I had spend my down payment on Chile. It’s true, but that day was why I do it and wouldn’t have it any other way. The air was fantastic and the scenery out of the world for mile after mile. The little things were great like ten geese walking in a row across a field, hawks overhead all day and a duck swimming in the river as I crossed the bridge. I stopped at a little store under construction and sat in a red chair in the shade and drank a whole liter of apple juice. I rode 50 miles and spent the day outside just absorbing Chile--a perfect day by my standards.

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