"Long, thin and very expensive..........!"

Arica proved to be a pleasant little place where I did indeed find a half decent cappuccino, although I was shocked by the general cost of everything in Chile. Everything seemed much more expensive than Peru and yet the quality wasn’t in line with the cost of things.

My plan was to follow the coast line all the way down ultimately to reach Santiago about 1,300 miles away. I exchanged the long desert days of Peru for the equally long desert days of Chile!

My next stop was Iquique which is a city by the sea and I made the mistake of heading for the beach front hoping to find a cheapish hotel. After a fruitless hour checking out every hotel and hostal in the area I was forced to pay an extortionate amount for two nights in an apartment block with no wifi and no cable tv.

Apparently I had arrived at peak summer time. Iquique was not a great experience and so I was very keen to get back on the road after my enforced sojourn and make my way further down the coast to the small seaport of Tacopilla. Tacopilla is a working seaport and to be honest a little rough around the edges, in fact, parts of it were completely scuzzy and yet the hotels had the audacity to charge up to $40!!

Certain things were becoming apparent, if South American countries were supermodels, Chile would be Elle McPherson – long, thin and very expensive! At this rate, I was doubting whether my funds would get me as far as Buenos Aires. One night in Tacopilla was certainly enough, and the next day saw me following the coast down to the city of Antofagasta for another $60 room. I had planned to possibly take a couple of days off the bike and rest up but I couldn`t really justify the expense, and also none of the places I`d been to so far really captured my imagination, so I decided to keep moving.

The following day I was heading for the small seaside town of TalTal, which meant the small matter of riding through the famous Atacama Desert, famous for being officially the driest place on the planet. There are parts of the Atacama that haven`t seen rain for over 400 yrs.

Looking at the map, I had two possible routes to take. I could follow the main Pan American highway or taker a shorter, more direct road right through the middle of the desert. I was debating the issue on the road the following day when I came across a long stationary queue of traffic, riding to the front I found another rider on a BMW 1200. Mattie was a German who was riding South America in stages in between flying home to work. We discussed our routes south and he told me the direct route through the desert was actually a good, paved road and not a dirt track as I first thought. Perfect! That was obviously the road to take. I waved my thanks to him as he disappeared into the distance (I couldn`t have kept up with him if I`d wanted to!) and settled into my 60 mph rhythm.

At the next fork in the road I took “the road less travelled” cutting through the beautiful Atacama Desert. Beautiful, and very cold. Much of the Atacama extends into the Andes.

As I climbed to about 2,600m I started to shiver and had to pull over and put on extra clothing. The terrain was unlike any of the other deserts I`d crossed during my journey. It seemed vaguely familiar in a strange way. Then I realised where I`d seen something similar before – on Mars!

Apparently, soil samples taken from Mars by several NASA probes are similar to samples taken from the Atacama. NASA even uses this desert to test instruments for future missions to the Red Planet. After several hours of riding across “Mars” the road dropped in elevation and the temperature climbed steadily as I rode into the little town of TalTal where found a delightfully quaint, and slightly incongruous little hotel. It wouldn`t have been out of place in an English seaside resort, beautifully quiet and peaceful (and of course, expensive!)

I had been aware for the last couple of hundred miles that I was due to do an oil change and air filter change very soon and was waiting for the right conditions to occur i.e. I needed a place with a garage, or safe parking, and preferably covered to keep me out of the heat of the baking hot temperatures I was experiencing daily. So far nothing had materialized until my next destination of Copiapo.

I rode into town the next day and found a hotel with exactly the right requirements. It even had a motorcycle shop right next door where I could buy the oil! This must have been an omen so I had to get on with it. I must admit I didn`t really want to do it as it is such a pain in the ass to take everything off the bike to do what is essentially a fairly simple job. Nevertheless, I parked the bike in the shade and set to stripping off the panels and bash plate only to get to the sump plug and discover that I couldn`t budge it. The BMW dealers in Bogota had obviously tightened it far too much. Shit – bloody dealers. The only reason I`d let them do it was because I was feeling far too ill to do it myself when I arrived in Colombia.

Luckily, the owner of the bike shop was available (after the mandatory siesta) to take a look, and with the loan of a socket extension and a 2 ft long spanner I managed to get the leverage I needed to get the job done. What a stroke of “luck” to find a hotel right next to a motorcycle shop?

With the last oil change of the journey under my belt, I set off the next day for the town of Vallenar, which would be a stopping off point before I made for the city of La Serena. La Serena was a big, modern city but with an attractive centre with pleasant boulevards and plenty of cafes and bars. Sadly, my accommodation left a lot to be desired again, all I could find was an overpriced Hospedaje (guest house). Very nice and friendly people but pretty basic facilities to say the least! It didn`t really encourage me to stay longer and I knew I had a big ride the next day to take me to the outskirts of Santiago.

My original plan had been to head for Santiago and maybe stay a couple of days if the bike needed anything from the BMW garage, but as I have been discovering, my original plans have been changing on a regular basis! Since, I had already done the oil change and Santiago was further south than my crossing point into Argentina I made for the town of La Calera instead, which would put me within striking distance of the Argentinian border and the realisation of my goal.