We leave La Serena after a lovely breakfast beside the bike, then comes the task of actually getting it out through the reception, which we manage to do after yet again rearranging the furniture.We refuel and join the Pan American for the long desert trek North.

Breakfast with the bike

We ride the 120 kms to Vallenar, have a picnic lunch, refuel and check the tyres only to find they are down a bit and there are no working air compressors at either of the service stations. What to do?? Out comes the dodgy, cheap Chinese/Argentinian air compressor which seems to do the trick. We are also treated to a peculiarity of some Chilean service stations. Women (all with babies, it is obligatory) that descend on you begging for money. Not speaking Spanish we are unsure if they also offer services to the truck drivers, but I suspect so. While we are parked we are amazed at the number of big Chilean motorcycles coming in to refuel, there seem to be a lot of bikes on the road.

We continue on to the small beachside town of Bahai Inglesa near Caldera. After checking out a few very expensive hotel/cabana options we opt for some windy, beachside camping. Skill ducks back into town for a few essential supplies and we are set.

Camping at Bahia Inglesa

Camping at Bahia Inglesa

Camping at Bahia Inglesa

Just before we go to sleep I say to Skill “I hope there are no tsunamis tonight”, to which he replies “Don't you think the tent will protect us”. Ha ha. However my statement is somewhat prophetic as the next few days will show.

Next morning the wind has died down so we manage tea and toast for brekky, pack up, refuel and head out riding along the coast to the uninspiring city of Chanaral. Then beyond to Agua Verde (there is not a drop of water anywhere, let alone green water) where we refuel in the middle of nowhere. As we attempt to have lunch in this windblown, rubbish strewn dustbowl we are joined by a charming Brazilian rider, a quick chat and we are both on our way.

Our Brazilian friend

Once again we ride, and ride, and ride through the desert, not a tree, not a bush, not a blade of grass to be seen.

Riding the desolate Pan American Highway

About 75km before the Antofagasta turnoff we stop to admire the huge hand in the desert sculptured by Mario Irarrázabal. This part of the world is in a word “desolate”, it appears lifeless, devoid of any vegetation, it looks like a lunar landscape and having ridden it for two days we are quite happy to see this odd sculpture in the middle of nowhere, it breaks the monotony.

The big hand in the desert near Antofagasta

The big hand in the desert near Antofagasta

As an Australian we are used to BIG things, in fact we live quite close to the BIG Pineapple and on our travels we have visited the BIG Banana, the BIG Cow, the BIG Merino, the BIG Prawn, the BIG Gumboot and the BIG Trout . Proudly we can now add the BIG Hand (Mano de Desierto) to our list of conquests.

Onto Antofagasta, and so begins the elusive accommodation hunt, a couple of hours later after looking at several awful places we opt for the expensive Ibis Hotel for the night. We take full advantage of every service on offer including the little trolley to get all our gear upstairs in the lift. We don't have to lug it up stairs - LUXURY!!!!

Next morning we enjoy a huge breakfast, pilfer enough food for lunch, pack up and we are on our way, following the coast road to Tocopilla (an awful, awful looking town) and then onto Iquique. At one point there is a small forest of cacti, they have managed to catch enough sea mist to survive in this climate where it almost never rains, one of the driest places on earth. Then we marvel at the huge dunes that seem to spill into the sea.

Huge sand dunes

We stop for a late lunch on the beach near the little fishing village of San Marcos. Riding along the coast has been beautiful but the amount of rubbish is staggering, 300 km of rubbish strewn beaches is beyond comprehension.

Lunch on the beach near San Marcos

Lunch on the beach near San Marcos

Arriving in Iquique we check out a dodgy, expensive old hotel but it does have parking and is close to the supermarket. We unload the bike and Skill goes to park the bike minus his helmet.

SKILL WRTES: I got caught by the police for not wearing a helmet! It's not quite as dumb as it sounds, we had just unpacked the bike at the foyer of the hotel and the garage was a few doors down a one way street the wrong way. No problem, do the right thing and just go round the block, don't need the helmet it's only a few hundred metres. Got half way round when sirens and loud speaker blare out “moto.... moto....”, oh shit.
Officer gets out of car, one hand on gun and in the other his infringement book, then starts speaking rapid fire Spanish at me.
Me - “no entiendo, no habla espanol” Play dumb that should do the trick.
Officer – in fluent english “do you speak English?”
Me - “oh shit, I mean yes”
Officer - “you cannot ride motorcycle in Chile without helmet, were are you going?”
Me - “I was just going round the block to the hotel garage”
Officer - “doesn't matter how far, it's not allowed, now you must park the moto, walk to the hotel get your helmet ok, now you park here”
Me - “yes yes officer, just as you say”
I park and the police drive off, then I notice some dodgy looking dudes hanging around and decide not to follow the police instructions, ride the last 50m to the garage entrance but I am sure the police will be waiting for me and this time give me a fine. I feel like a criminal, but luckily I escape police detection, however Alanna goes nuts when I tell her – some people have no sense of adventure.

Iquique isn't really a scenic city so we go to the supermarket buy drinks and a tapas dinner and return to our room which we don't leave till the following morning. I also have a lead on a hostel in Arica so I email them and book in for three nights.

Tapas dinner in our dodgy hotel room Iquique

We pack up the next day, refuel at a service station where they try to charge us the litres and not the peso amount, we have had a few fuel attendants in Chile try this trick, however Skill is on the ball and points out their mistake and gives me a wink. Chastened they charge us the correct amount. The 300 km ride to Arica is once again through the desert but it is still stunning. Once we join the Pan American it is a long straight road on a great paved surface. Later in the day we climb up and up and up onto high desert plateaus before zig zaging our way back down to the green fertile valley floor, this happened repeatedly until we finally arrive on the outskirts of Arica

Heading back down to the Valley Floor

We find the Kiwi/Chilean run Hotal Sunny Days and check in around 3.00pm. After eating some of our leftovers from the night before (we had a fridge/freezer in Iquique) for lunch, we chill back before heading out to the supermarket to buy something for dinner. Later that evening a man knocks on our door asking if we own the motorcycle. We get chatting to “John” whose son has ridden across Africa on a bike. John is also an intrepid traveller and has worked and travelled in some of the most remote and challenging countries in the world. He is a really interesting man.

Later in the evening Ross the owner of the hostel appears to inform us that there has been an earthquake and tsunami evacuation orders are in place, with most shops in town closing as well. He feels it is an over reaction as the predicted wave is 0.7 to 1 metre, won't even get to the top of the beach let alone over the road. We were walking back from the supermarket and didn't notice the quake at all!

Funnily enough I recall my somewhat flippant words of three nights ago and am grateful I am not camping on the beach. The predicted wave fails to appear and we hit the hay about midnight. For some reason I am completely exhausted so shove in my ear plugs and go to sleep really quickly. About an hour later Skill wakes me as the windows rattle and the building sways (aftershocks). In my half awake but alert state I pull a shirt on over my Pjs, grab my bag and stand at the door ready to make a run for it. No need. Things settle down and we return to bed. For the rest of the night we have aftershocks almost every hour on the hour. Once again I sleep through most of it while Skill keeps one eye open for the rest of the night. It is not the most restful of nights for him. However this is normal life for Chileans.

Next morning things have settled down and there are no more rumbles so we have a day catching up on the mundane chores such as washing and jacket repairs, then it is our usual hunt and gather, chatting to fellow travellers and dinner, Day over.

Arica is not the most scenic of cities but we do head out to the markets and check out the beach.

Aricas Beach

The Mooloolaba Surf Club it is not....

On our last day in Arica we decide to do a day ride up and back to the small town of Putre near the Bolivian border. It is a lovely day and we enjoy the twisty ride up into the mountains. Once again the desert scenery is spectacular. The huge valleys where there is water are fertile and green, a stark contrast to the surrounding mountains and sand dunes.

The ride down from Putre

Just add water …...Fertile valley

Putre itself is a lovely little village and is in party mode, there is a parade and band playing in the square. However the whole place is seething with American tourists, which seems a little odd until we later discover there is a cruise ship moored in Arica.

Skill having lunch in the square at Putre

Copy and paste the following address to see a short video of the ride down from Putre
http://youtu.be/BEntSR5s2HQ

We enjoy our last night in Arica at the hostel chatting with Ross and John about Arica, Chile and South America in general, both men are married to Chileans and have lived here for years.

Next day before we leave Arica, we change our Chilean pesos at the bus station, refuel, give all our left over Chilean coins to the young girl serving us fuel and head towards Tacna.

Although not arduous, the crossing out of Chile into Peru takes a reasonable amount of time, there is a bit of different paperwork at this crossing compared to other Chile/Peru border crossings. Then the Peruvian guy doing the temporary imports is incredibly slow. While Skill is doing this I am chatting to a young Aduana guy who lived in the States for two years and has excellent English. Skill returns and after about an hour and a half we are ready to go. Welcome back to Peru.

We ride quickly through the border town of Tacna and have a nice easy short day to Moquegua as we know there is not much accommodation between there and Camana.

More desert riding on the Pan American - Southern Peru

After 4 goes at trying to find a reasonable hotel we luck in on a little local place we happen to see as we are riding around. It is quite gorgeous, the rooms are incredibly ornate and very clean. They do have parking but it is at the owner 's (of the hotel) house compound just up the road. The day is very hot so after we unload, shower and change we feel semi human again but as it is now 3.00pm (5.00pm Chilean time, we gained two hours when we crossed the border) we need food. We luck in on a tiny cafe just around the corner where we enjoy a delicious 2 course menu del dia for 7 sols each. That is $3.50 Australian. We are also back in the land of Inka Cola (which tastes like Creaming Soda) so of course we partake.

Later in the evening we manage to find a couple of cold beers and a packet of potato crisps, that is dinner done and dusted (still full from lunch) ….......sleep.

We manage to be on the bike by 8.30 am and then begins the hunt for an automatic teller machine, we need some Peruvian cash (Soles). After about an hour and 5 banks we finally have success and we hit the road. Once again it is a pleasant, untrafficed ride to the Arequipa – Camana road and we enjoy the desert landscape. We stop in the small town La Joya (not joyful at all) at a service station for lunch before continuing on. About 35 kms down the road at El Alto our hearts sink as we see a huge line of trucks and traffic, we know what this means. A blockade. Bugger!!!!! We ride up past all the traffic to the front and after checking out he situation and chatting to a few of the protesters we decide to brave it as they are telling us to come on through. It is only a small blockade and we manage to pick our way along the side of it and then past a few rocks and people. It only take a few minutes to ride through and then it is up past all the banked up traffic on the other side and we are away.

However we know, where there is one blockade there are usually more. As we are riding along there is no traffic at all, hmm this does not bode well, but thankfully we make it to the seaside town of Camana without further incident. We easily find a very dodgy (and somewhat grotty) hotel with parking. Once again it is very hot so we unpack, shower and go for a walk around the town, find a supermarket and a bakery where we buy supplies for breakfast. That evening we find a Chifa (Chinese restaurant) and enjoy a beautiful meal along with all the locals, this town is definitely not on the gringo trail. We retire early and are just about asleep when we hear loud music (think of Mr Whippy ice cream van music, only in Spanish) so we look out the window down to the road, and there is a modern looking rubbish truck with 2 huge speakers on top of it blaring out music. It is 10.30 at night, but I guess it is the signal to bring out your rubbish. It is funny little moments like this that I get a fit of the giggles and remember why I love to travel so much.

The next morning we have our lovely ham and cheese croissants, make a picnic lunch, refuel and we are on our way. We enjoy the 70 km ride along the coast to Atico where we hit the first snag of the day. Huge amounts of traffic (mainly trucks) banked up as far as the eye can see. We employ our usual strategy and ride up to the front. This blockade is very large and impenetrable so we park up behind a Danish plated Land Rover and introduce ourselves to Mai Brit and Marlen, two Danish overlanders who surprisingly had done similar journeys to ours over the years.

Mai Brit and Marlen have already been here for two hours so we settle down to chatting and entertaining the bored local miners who are protesting over legal issues. That is the government wants the miners to be registered and pay taxes which of course they do not want to do. There are also issues with unauthorised gold mining and environmental degradation.

The bike seems to draw a large amount of attention and we entertain them with our Spanglish answering the usual questions. Where are you from? How big is the bike? How much does it cost? How much fuel does the tank hold? As we keep answering the rapid fire questions we are conscious of the police helicopter circling above us and the 4 army trucks and bus that have arrived at the service station across the road. Our entourage of miners jokingly tell us “Rambo”.

The Blockade

Skill entertaining the miners

We four gringos are keeping a close eye on things knowing we will have to retreat if the army move in. Fortunately they don't, they form a parade at the service station where they stay for the next hour before getting back in the trucks and bus and driving off back towards Camana.

The Peruvian army on parade at the service station

About an hour after this the protest leaders come over to the queue of traffic and tell us that we can go at 12.00 o'clock. As the miners are now dispersing we are once again the centre of attention, I probably don't help matters as I hand out a few Australian stickers, suddenly I am mobbed and hand out at least 80 of our very cheap Aussie stickers. The boys are pretty chuffed and pose for photos.

At about 11.50 everyone has started their motors and are jockeying for positions, we jump on the bike and while we are backing up, a pick up and a collectivo (taxi) try to push into the tiny space in front of us all the while arguing with each other, even throwing food at each others cars. Eventually we can move and off we go, the miners have disbanded and there is mostly a jovial feel although we do worry a bit about the guys with spray cans.

Copy and paste the following address to see a short video of the riding through the blockade area.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NiFteDtyhRM

Once on the road there is the usual stunt overtaking manoeuvres which we stay clear off until it is safe to over take and off we go, what a glorious ride it is, as we have the next 140 km of road to ourselves.

Riding the coast on the Pan American

Riding the coast on the Pan American

However all good things must come to an end, and about 10 km out of Atico we hit our next snag of the day, a line of trucks that goes on forever, we ride up the wrong side of the road past the first kilometre of trucks where we meet the police who tell us Lento (Slowly) and off we go at a snails pace. It takes us an hour and a half to negotiate the next 10 kilometres of trucks and buses. At some points the road is jammed as both sides of the road have vehicles on them. At points like this we have to squeeze in front of the parked trucks, ride up the very narrow verge and then squeeze back in front of the trucks, then onto the other side where the road is clear again. A couple of times it is such a tight fit that I have to take the panniers off.

When we get to the blockade you can tell it is much more heated than the last one. We listen to the locals who show us where to go along some back streets. A very kind man on a motorcycle then befriends us and guides us along a dirt road, across some gullys and finally across a dry river crossing before we pop back onto the highway having bypassed the blockade. After effusive thanks, a koala and a pen as poor recompense we take another hour to negotiate the 12 kilometres of trucks on the Northern side of town. At one point we follow a police car who is trying to get the trucks and buses to stay on one side of the road.

Eventually after close to three hours we are through.

It is difficult to see but you can just see the line of trucks off into the horizon.

We are now on tenter hooks and know that there has to be another blockade as once again there is absolutely no traffic. We are also a bit concerned about our new found Danish friends, we hope they will make it through. The next 90 km to Chala is an easy ride but about 10km before the town huge volumes of traffic start coming towards us. As we come over the hill into the town we can see a lot of smoke and also a huge line of trucks snaking there way up the hill on the Northern side of the town. Chala looks like a war zone, the blockade has disbanded but there are large numbers of protesters still on the streets, burning tyres, broken glass, grafitti, old overturned car bodies, and huge boulders everywhere. We listen to some locals and take some back streets but still have to negotiate burning tyres and huge rocks. There are riot police everywhere. Once on the Northern outskirts of town we look for fuel but every service station is closed down and guarded by riot police, we wait for a while and I notice that one car has been allowed into the service station so I go and do my best “woman in distress act” and they lower the tape and let us in.

Refuelled we get out of there as quickly as we can and head out of town to Puerto Inka (where we stayed last year). The trucks coming into town are doing crazy things and we have to take evasive action many times in the short 5 kms to the turn off. We arrive at the resort a little shell shocked but also incredibly grateful that we have made it through and have not had to camp out with 1000s of truck drivers, or worse, been stuck in Chala.

We park up, go to the restaurant and have a couple of beers that do not even touch the sides. The young girl at the reception speaks English and tells us that 4 people in Chala have died during the protests. We do not know how the deaths occurred or whether they were a direct result of the protest or not.

We set up our tent just before sunset and are very happy to see the Land Rover drive over the hill, Mai Brit and Marlen have made it. They were hoping to get to Nazca but we had told them of this place as a back up plan. We clean up, order a fantastic fish dinner and pisco sours and have a long, long chat on the days events. It really has been quite a challenging day.

Recompense for such a long day, the view from our tent

Mai Brit and Marlen

We awake to the comforting sound of the ocean quite early, and get ourselves packed up. We join Mai Brit and Marlen for breakfast then we both get going together. At every town we hold our breath waiting to see what will happen but today luck is on our side and we make it to Nasca, although there are huge volumes of trucks on the road we arrive quite early, however there are miner protest marches all around Nasca so we had to do a few detours. We return to the same hostel that we stayed in last year, they remember us and we are greeted like long lost family. Such lovely people.

We don't even get off the bike before we are hit with a barrage of questions from most of the backpackers staying at the hostel. Which way have you come? Were there any blockades? How bad were they? Were the buses getting through? ….............................. “from the South”, “Yes”, “Quite bad”, and “No”. Now I can take my helmet off.

The blockades are the only topic of conversation in Nasca. Locals and travellers alike. Many travellers had been trapped here for a few days, while others have to be in Cusco to make the “Inca trail” treks. Many of them were in a quandry as to what they should do, go back to Lima and fly to Cusco or wait it out.

Once checked in we go for a walk into town, most of the shops are closed (as they are worried about looting from the protesters) but we find a local cafe open and have a great local lunch, before heading back to the hostel. That evening most of the shops have opened up and all the locals are out on the Plaze de Armes. We meet up with our new found Danish friends and enjoy a nice evening together, although the town seems to be out of beer due to the blockades and fuel is also running low so we decide to leave the following day if we can.

Next morning, Skill braves the protesters and goes out to look for fuel, after 5 service stations he finally finds some and returns triumphant. We decide that we will try for Ica today but if we get onto the Pan American and there is no traffic we will know there are more blockades ahead and we will return to Nasca. As we ride out of town there seems to be a fair volume of traffic on the road. The service stations also seem to have fuel. Skill is slightly annoyed that he has wasted time riding around Nasca looking for fuel when we could have just got it here on the highway. My response is “Yes, but you just never know do you?” We have a very easy, trouble free ride to Ica, and ride out to Huacachina, a small oasis village amongst huge sand dunes. There is a small green, smelly pond at the base of the dunes which the village is built around, despite my unflattering description, it really is quite amazing.

We end up in a very upmarket, expensive hotel with lovely rooms overlooking a pool, bar and restaurant, it has views up to the sand dunes. The bike is securely parked in amongst the dune buggies, used to take tourists out on thrill seeking sand dune adventures. It really is very, very hot so we opt for the pool then lunch. We manage to score a sort of Thai curry at a little cafe close by. It is then a quick walk around town and back to the pool. Bliss!!!

Our posh hotel

Our bike parked with the dune buggies

That evening we eat at the hotel restaurant, it takes us 45 minutes to get two beers and a further 45 minutes to get our hamburgers. But as we say “I guess we are in no rush”.

With our funds severely depleted we decide we need to move on to Lima. At breakfast I email the Hitchhikers hostel in Miraflores, Lima booking 4 nights. We leave before we have a response but as we have GPS co-ordinates for the hostel we decide we will wing it and hope they have room. We also have a date at Touratech Lima as Skill has a new tyre waiting there.

We have a reasonably trouble free ride to Chincha Alta although we do notice that the drivers are becoming more chaotic and are quite happy to pull out and overtake expecting us to get out of their way and run us off the road. I am becoming quite good at sign language - #@%^^. After Chincha Alta we hit the Autopista (Freeway) and it is an easy ride. We stop to refuel and have lunch at a very nice, new service station about 50 kms from Lima. They also have wifi so we check our emails, thankfully the Hitchhikers Hostel has room for us. That will make our day so much easier. As we are about to leave we see a huge motorhome with an Aussie flag on it, refueling. We ride over and have a long chat with Gary and Liz, two Tasmanians touring around South America.

Liz and Gary, intrepid overlanders

After half an hour we head off up the freeway before exiting towards Miraflores to our hostel. And so begins the crazy, aggressive Lima traffic, after 45 minutes of doing battle with taxis, buses, ambulances and trucks we arrive a little hot and bothered but unscathed. The hostel is a nice, calm oasis but filled to the brim with overland vehicles, mainly Dutch and Germans. Once parked and unloaded we have a beer and a chat with fellow travellers before going out for a walk to find a bank and supermarket. Success on both fronts.

It is now Wednesday and we have to be at Touratech at 2.00pm. With trepidation we don our helmets and riding gear and set off out into the Lima traffic. Fortunately it is not too bad and we arrive at Touratech at around 1.45 pm. We are met by really friendly guys (who speak a little English) who proudly show us their brand new facilities. Fortunately our new tyre is there waiting. Unfortunately there is no one to fit it and they tell us we will have to come back tomorrow. After a little bit of a gripe from Skill and a long conversation with many telephone calls, we are eventually told that the tyre fitting guy can come at 4.00pm. No problems we say and wait it out. Skill gets them to wash the bike (for 20 soles, about $8.00). They have a brand new washing area complete with pressure cleaner. A lovely young kid spends over an hour cleaning, polishing and detailing the bike, it is pristine.

Bike washing about to start

Touratech Lima

Touratech Lima

Despite the long wait and confusion the guys are kindness itself, they ply us with softdrinks and source oil and radiator coolant for us. Finally at 4.30 pm our tyre fitting guys arrives and by 5.30 we are the proud owners of a new Heidenau K76 tyre. Skill has been so impressed by the last one (Heidenau K60 we got 25 000 km out of it) he wanted to try the same brand again.

This poor old tyre has done 25,000 km

Our beautiful new tyre

After a bit of a problem starting the bike (something obviously got a bit wet) we are off and back onto the wild streets of Lima, despite their mad, pushy driving styles it is not nearly as bad as many cities we have visited, you just have to remember to use your horn and I employ the hand signals for “Stop and let us in” and “Thanks”. Surprisingly in the slower chaotic traffic this seems to work quite well. We arrive back at the hostel 20 minutes later. A pretty successful day all round.