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Kevin and Joannie on tour
If the Dixon-Clarke household were to have a motto that was
in Spanish, it would be “Cada dia, una neuva aventura” (Each day, a new
adventure).
So today Joan gets up and stretches her legs and then spots
one of the motorhome tyres is flat. There was a lot of broken glass around so
we thought initially it was this but a closer inspection of the tyre revealed
it was a screw. We decided to have breakfast before setting to work on changing
the tyre. However, as if by magic, a man
pulled up in his camioneta (pick up truck) and started to change the tyre. He didn’t even ask us. His name was Mario and
he lived in this little place. There was
no stopping him. The wheel brace for
tightening and loosening the nuts couldn’t undo them so he went off and brought
a metal pipe to give him more leverage.
Our wheelbrace was very unsubstantial and looked as if it might break
with heavy use so he brought us a new tool which he said he had bought by
accident and we paid him a small amount of money for it. He swapped tyres and
then gave us directions to the nearest tyre repair shop and told us how much it
should cost to repair. He then told us
all about his past. How his father was a
musician who had run of and left his mother.
How the ships coming into Tocopilla port are bringing coal from
Australia which feeds the power station on the coast. In its turn the power station powers the mine
at Chiquicamata. He said he was a
shellfish fisherman and that he was going to spend Xmas day with his grand
kids. He explained that the place where we had been camping had been a casino.
Joan said that that the last time we had visited the town had been hit by an
earthquake. He then recounted his
experience of the earthquake which had happened at 2 o’clock and how he had
dropped a cup of hot coffee. He also had
a moan about migrant workers from Peru and Bolivia….
Eventually, after thanking him, we got off and found a
repair shop in Tocapilla. The price was
pretty much what Mario had said. Then we
asked the guy at the repair place where we could charge our mobile phone as it
had run out yesterday. He pointed to a
“negocios” – a small shop nearby. It was
a small local store and didn’t look that likely, but, provided you know your
phone number and network they have a machine which charges it there and then,
like magic. Patricio had charged it with about £12, but data usage here is very
expensive. We’ve been using Google maps
a lot and this is why we had already used up our 100 MB. When we asked the lass
in the shop to put on about £30 worth of credit, she wouldn’t believe us. She
said she normally would put about two or three quid on. Then she asked if we had been using data and
understood.
Next it was off to the petrol station to fill up and put
some air in the spare tyre which was rather low. Some chaps pulled up to us and admired the
motorhome and said it was “original.”
They asked where it was made and we explained, China. Then they asked where
we had come from, where we were going and what country we were from. When we said Inglaterra, they said The
Beatles! (No, not Oasis, the Verve, Muse
or Kasabian, the cultural reference for England is the Beatles from 50 years
ago!) They then got very excited and explained that a local lad played for
Arsenal, possibly his name was Sanchez. They were very proud of this.
What’s really striking about Chileans is they come and chat
with you. They are very tolerant that
our Spanish is simple and slow, and are not at all phased by foreigners. They
are such a friendly people.
Then we were off north up the coast towards Iquique. Not far out of town we spotted some birds on
a rock. We pulled over and found a
colony of pelicans. Nearby vultures were
hovering and also perched on the beach.
Eventually about 2 o’clock we pulled in to a lay-by and had
breakfast.
The Ruta 1 runs alongside the coast. There was over 200 km
of beaches with waves crashing in.
Interspersed along the highway were small villages with little wooden
houses held together with more good fortune than anything else. Often beside them were cars that looked as if
they hadn’t moved in decades. Each beach
was signposted and many had the sign of a tent.
We have come to realise that this doesn’t mean British style campsites
with regimented toilet blocks, designated washing up sinks and neatly laid out
numbered plots. It simply means you can do wild camping there with no
facilities.
On the side of the road there were areas fenced off and a
sign saying not to enter the areas because there was danger of death. It also advised us not to stop and take
photos as it was a military zone. We
couldn’t remember where we went on holiday before where there were minefields
either side of the road!
Eventually we reached Iquique and switched on the phone. We had some trouble initially using the
internet but randomly sorted it out.
There weren’t any official campsites in Iquique but we found the name of
a place back south. As we turned round
we came across some cabanas on the beach and decided, if they had WiFI, we
would stop here for a couple of nights so we could have a private WC and
shower.
We chose a bigger cabana designed for a family as it had
cooking rings and a fridge. The site was
lovely, with palm trees and outside terraces where we could sit and watch the
sun go down.
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