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Chile
Chile
High altitude rush
In the north of the narrow country, Chile is in top form. Gravel passes climb up to 5000 meters over the grandiose Andes – and reveal landscapes like from another world.
Joachim Deleker
02/12/1999
We have a problem. Andreas` Tenere lets himself hang. The rear fender is almost touching the tire. Either the Yamaha has a previously undiscovered automatic level control, or the frame is struggling to maintain its position. Birgit and I hope the former, but fear the latter. Andreas dismantles the seat and the tank, and the disaster is revealed. The main tube of the frame is broken, almost a hand’s breadth apart. Maybe we should have taken a day off today after all. The date would have been reason enough: Friday the 13th and a full moon at that. Our Andes cruise had started quite harmlessly. A well-developed tar road soon screwed its way up into the mountains in countless serpentines in the Chilean capital Santiago, whose ever-snow-covered peaks were unfortunately hidden behind huge rain clouds. But the storm came from the west, and so we hoped for good weather on the other side of the mountains. A long tunnel cuts through the Andes between Chile and Argentina on the 3200 meter high Cumbre Pass. At the other end of the tunnel it actually stopped raining – it was snowing. Flying blind, we groped our way to Puente del Inca. We were able to spend the night in the mountain troops’ barracks there and were amazed when the sun’s rays tickled our noses the next morning. The snow-white Aconcagua, with 6,960 meters the highest mountain in America, scratched the deep blue of the sky. From Uspallata, a cozy village on the eastern edge of the mountains, we hopped north on a bad track. We had the choice between deep gravel and rock-hard corrugated iron. Two days of shaking and now a broken frame, luckily it’s only 30 kilometers to Villa Union. Andreas tries to avoid every little stone, no matter how small. His Tenere has never been moved so tenderly. The mudguard grinds on the tire unmistakably, but we’re lucky to find a workshop disguised as a junkyard. The modern welding machine inspires confidence, as does the self-confidence of Jose, the mechanic: »Weld the frame? Sure, no problem … «Jose directs his five helpers with brief commands. They bend here, press there, knock down suitable metal sheets, hand the boss welding electrodes and cigarettes. Barely 90 minutes later, the frame is back together. The rear wheel doesn’t exactly follow the track of the front wheel, but who cares in South America? On the Ruta Cuarenta, which we follow northwards, Andreas regains confidence in his Yamaha. Your slight urge to the left side of the street is new, but with a little good will it can be ignored. The Ruta Cuarenta, national road 40, is the longest road in Argentina at 4700 kilometers. It begins in the far north on the border with Bolivia and winds along the Andes all the way down to Patagonia. After Chilecito we leave the Cuarenta and head straight for the Andes. In Fiambalá they fill up again to the brim. Not only 460 kilometers of rough slopes separate us from the next fuel, but also the first “real” pass, the 4,727 meter high Paso San Francisco. In the valley of the Rio Caschuil, the slope climbs slowly. Bizarrely folded mountain walls leave little space for the river and the road. Another sharp bend, then the gorge opens into a wide high valley. Yellow Ichu grass covers the surface like a soft carpet. The last almost blown tire tracks on the slopes must be days or weeks old. We roll slowly on, gaining height almost imperceptibly. The motorcycles are still running perfectly. We drive almost as if in a trance, hardly noticing the shaking on the hard slopes. The euphoria increases with every meter of altitude, which is now 4000. Even red-brown peaks, which easily reach the height of Mont Blanc, bore into the dark blue sky. On the horizon, maybe 20 kilometers away, a snow-covered volcano, the 6,638-meter-high Cerro Incahuasi. This is where the border to Chile runs, but our plan to enter there threatens to fail behind the Las Grutas police station. Snow barrier. We have no choice, we can only wait. The boss of the eight-person team offers us an empty room. In the evening we sit with the officers in front of a blazing fire and pass the time with horror videos. We stay there for two days, in which the sun gnaws heavily on the snow, then we venture further towards the pass. The police chief stamps our papers, “Suerte!” – good luck. The piste winds uphill in wide bends. The engines become short of breath and require full throttle to go beyond walking pace at this altitude. The studded tires dig their way through the first snowfields – until I sink the Dominator into a snowdrift. The three of us push them out again, panting like after a marathon. Damn thin air up here. Two more long curves, then we are at the top of the pass, 4727 meters above sea level. Icy wind sweeps over the snow-covered saddle between two 6,000-meter-high peaks. An almost enraptured atmosphere. The sun disappears far too quickly towards the horizon. Before night falls, we just make it to Laguna Verde, when the thermometer suddenly drops to minus ten degrees. But we hardly feel the cold: a starry sky stretches above us in the clear and dry air as we have never seen it before. We are speechless. And the next morning, too, our enthusiasm knows no bounds. There is absolutely no wind, and the magical world of the snow-covered volcanoes is reflected on the turquoise-green water of the lagoon. Just a few meters further on, we discover hot springs on the lakeshore, just big enough to take a foot bath. We sit in our mini-pools for hours and can’t get enough of this pristine and vast landscape. After two days, elementary needs force us back into civilization. We have nothing more to eat. The piste leads around 400 kilometers down from the world of the Andes to Chañaral on the shores of the Pacific. Long waves roll over the wide sandy beach. We jet north on the well-developed Panamericana. The “Panam” stretches like an endless black ribbon through the Atacama desert. Gray-brown rubble surfaces shimmer in the midday heat. A track leads nowhere. Crooked tracks without a trace of rust, it’s too dry here for that. We only see the Pacific again shortly before Antofagasta, the largest city in northern Chile. A good opportunity to relax on the beach, indulge in the shopping spree in the supermarket, change the oil and call home. “What, it’s snowing here?” Satisfied grin. But then the Andes beckon us again. Hardly half an hour inland, the cool sea breeze is replaced by the hot breath of the Atacama. The oil temperature of the Honda rises to 135 degrees. Nevertheless, we are accelerating to reach the mountains as quickly as possible. At an altitude of 2500 meters, the climate is bearable again. The piste leads directly to a few barracks, the abandoned Imilac train station. A strong westerly wind rattles loose iron roofs, dust swirls between a few forgotten freight wagons. A fox runs away when we arrive at platform 1 with the enduro bikes. The sensation of the Imilac station is a powerful snow plow. A snow plow in the middle of the driest desert on earth. How long has he been waiting for work? The condition of the slope to the Socompa Pass is better than expected. We roll across the plateau in fifth gear, pulling long plumes of dust behind us. The white surface of the Salar de Atacama dazzles on the horizon. The surface of the salt lake looks like it has been plowed deep and then salted. Its salt crystals are extremely sharp-edged and sound like broken glass when you walk over them. Hot air shimmers over the salar. To the right of us extends the Andes chain with its countless volcanic peaks, a little later we see the sand dunes and bizarre rock formations of the Valle de la Luna, the valley of the moon. Wind and erosion have created one of the most diverse desert landscapes in the world. We slowly roll to the oasis of San Pedro de Atacama. We park the motorbikes on the spacious campsite in the shade of deciduous trees. Finally green again. The highlight, however, is the large swimming pool, fed by a lukewarm spring. What a luxury to be in the pool in the middle of the desert. Low, pastel-colored adobe houses, a shady plaza with cozy cafes, the old whitewashed church with its cactus wood roof and green gardens on the Rio San Pedro. The Atacameños culture flourished here over 1000 years ago. Later the Incas came, attracted by the many sources. For them the almost 6000 meter high Licancábur volcano was a sanctuary, they called the mountain on the edge of the Salar Tata Maiko Linkanko – God the Father Linkanko. There is even a gas station in San Pedro. But that doesn’t mean that there is also fuel available. “Master” – later, the gas station attendant puts us off. It goes on like this for four days. From “later” we become “tomorrow”, then “tomorrow morning, but sure”, and finally “tonight.” We have understood and interpreted “the day after tomorrow”. The Dominator and the Tenere have long been standing almost dry on the campsite. Birgit takes over the shuttle service to the village with her BMW, which has the largest reserves with its 36-liter tank. Nonetheless, she watches over her rubber cow with eagle eyes so that we don’t secretly draw fuel. A few days in the pool are nice, but a few days without a motorcycle are less. On the fifth day the longed-for news: gasoline! The most normal thing in the world for the gas station attendant. “After all, this is a gas station,” he assures us, without changing his face. With our tanks full, we set course for the Pacific again, which we reach at Iquique. The city appears like a vision in the desert. Four-lane streets with irrigated green strips, palm trees, countless supermarkets, huge billboards and fat Amish sleds. Iquique’s heart beats in the free trade area. A gigantic market. Everything is available here, and at sensational prices. People even come from Bolivia and Paraguay to go shopping. I push 45 marks over the counter for the new rear tire on my Honda. The dealer in Santiago wanted three times the price. In our hostal we meet Sergio, a Transalp driver from Santiago. He raves about his favorite slope on the Altiplano: a practically unused path that leads from Colchane to the Lauca National Park. Just as we like it. Shortly after Iquique, we pass the ruins of abandoned “Salitrerars” – saltpeter mines. They are called Santa Laura, Buena Esperanza, La Juanita or Victoria. Once huge facilities, today skeletons made of wood and steel, which rise like surrealistic sculptures into the eternally blue sky. With saltpeter, the basic material for the production of gunpowder and fertilizer, a lot of money could be made around the turn of the century – until 1914 a German discovered the synthetic production of saltpeter. No one was dependent on the raw material from Chile any more, and within a few years this branch of industry collapsed. The systems were simply left to the desert. What remains are ghost towns and cemeteries with wooden and tin crosses creaking in the wind. The inscriptions can no longer be deciphered, and bones in an open grave are pale in the desert sun. We cannot imagine a more desolate place to bury the dead; we leave the Atacama behind us. The slope winds through the Andes foothills to Colchane. It is unusually green on the Altiplano, which is 4000 meters high. A herd of llamas, tightly wrapped in shaggy fur, looks curiously after us. A rhea, the South American ostrich, dashes excitedly across the slope. Then a sandy track turns off to the geyser Puchuldiza, which blows a jet of boiling water as thick as an arm into the dark blue sky. A Condor circles high above, not moving its three-meter-wide wings once. Only the hiss of the geyser can be heard in this almost eerie silence. We struggle to find our way through the Isluga, Surire and Lauca National Parks. We didn’t see a vehicle for three days. We dig our way through deep sandy, dry rivers, bump over coarse corrugated iron, through ancient, abandoned villages and finally drive the enduros to an almost 4800 meter high, nameless pass. The view takes your breath away: the Salar de Surire spreads out in front of us and is populated by thousands of flamingos. A herd of vicuñas, the llamas’ wild cousins, trots along the lakeshore. Behind the salar, still 120 kilometers away and yet crystal clear, the giant volcanoes of the Andes stretch their snow-covered cones into the sky. The Parinacota, the smoking Guallatire and the Sajama, the highest mountain in Bolivia, the closer we get to the peaks, the intoxicating they are. A few more harmless passes, then we stand on Lake Chungará, which is considered the highest lake in the world near the Bolivian border at an altitude of 4550 meters. On the other bank, the white cone of the Parinacota swings into the cloudless evening sky. His reflection in the lake couldn’t be more perfect. We sit in the soft Ichu grass and marvel at a landscape that seems out of this world. For a few more days we get intoxicated by the huge scenery of the Lauca National Park. We are more enthusiastic than ever before in our lives simply do not want to come to terms with the fact that we have to return to Germany soon.
Info
The north of Chile is a dream land for enduro riders. A handful of gravel passes wind their way from the Pacific to the uninhabited heights of the Altiplano, almost reaching the magical 5000 meter mark. Unique volcanic landscapes in crystal clear, but thin air are the reward for the effort.
Getting there: Flight tickets from Frankfurt to Santiago de Chile are available from around 1300 marks. There are two options for transporting your own bike: by plane or ship. Air transport is fast and reliable, and organizing everything yourself saves money. A Honda Dominator (with a transport pallet about 220 kilograms) flies to Chile from 1400 marks. Shipping companies specializing in air freight are usually cheaper than the freight departments of the airlines. It is best to obtain information from several air freight forwarding companies and compare them. We had good experiences with MBS-Air-Cargo in Cologne, info at 02203/9338 4143, Mr. Schuster. Also recommended: GGG-Logistik in Frankfurt, info phone 069/69590128 or Hellmann Air-Cargo in Dusseldorf, phone 0211/417090. The return transport is cheaper if it is organized on site (about 2000 marks for two machines). In Santiago, the Lufthansa Aircargo office offers by far the best service. The contact person is Birgit Wollsgat, phone 0056-2-6301671. If you don’t want to organize the transport yourself, GS-Sportreisen in Munich can help. For the return transport of a bike weighing up to 220 kilograms, 4406 marks are due. With two motorcycles it costs only 3104 marks per motorcycle. Information on 089/27818484. Information on sea transport is available from forwarding agents that specialize in sea freight: MBS-Sea-Cargo, phone 02203/933842; Woick Travel Center 0711/7096710, Travel Agency Hamburg Sud 040/37052593. Or directly from the shipping companies. Cost example for a Honda Dominator from Hamburg to Valparaiso or Buenos Aires around 900 marks. In addition, fees of up to US $ 300 are incurred at the port of destination. Documents: Your passport is sufficient, a visa is not required. Neither a Carnet de Passages nor an international vehicle registration is required for the motorcycle. An international driver’s license, on the other hand, is compulsory. Vaccinations are not absolutely necessary. Travel time: The seasons in the southern hemisphere are contrary to ours. In the southern summer (December to March) it is dry and hot. Daily maximums over 30 degrees on the coast. In the mountains above 4000 meters around 15 degrees during the day and down to minus 15 degrees at night. The high passes are only open from December to May, longer snow closures are possible at any time. Overnight: There are hotels and pensions in all places from as little as 15 marks per person. Campsites are – except on the coast – rather rare, prices from seven marks. Free camping is not a problem and unavoidable when traveling over the uninhabited Altiplano. The harsh climatic conditions require a suitably warm sleeping bag and a storm-proof tent. Motorcycles: Those who ride the Andean passes, which are up to 5000 meters high, should take a set of smaller carburettor main jets and install them if necessary because of the low-oxygen mountain air – although this was not necessary on our motorcycles (BMW R80G / S, Honda Dominator, Yamaha XT 600 Tenere). Coarse tires such as Continental TKC 80, Michelin T63, Barum ED9T and Pirelli MT 21 make it easier to move forward in deep gravel or sand. The cheapest way to buy tires is in the Iquique Free Zone. The fuel supply should be sufficient for around 500 kilometers when driving in the more remote regions. Due to the high altitude and the often poor slopes, an additional consumption of up to 30 percent is to be expected. Organized tours: Currently only Prima Klima-Reisen offers a guided enduro tour through the north of Chile. For the two-week trip (March 26th to April 8th, 1999) in the saddle of a Honda XR 650, including the flight, 6990 marks are to be paid. Organized trips to Tierra del Fuego are also possible. Information on phone 030/7879270. Edelweiss Bike Travel has a 3800-kilometer enduro round trip from Santiago to the Chilean-Argentine lake region in its program. Dates from December to March. Prices from 9105 Marks, information by calling 02681/5904. Literature: The Bible for South American travelers is still the English-language, but easy-to-understand “South American Handbook” from Footprint Verlag, which is updated every year and costs 98 Marks. Another good choice is the volume “Chile” by Reise Know-How for 44.80 marks. A useful road atlas is sold for around six marks at the Chilean Copec petrol stations. The equivalent road atlas from Lonely Planet costs 35.80 marks in this country. The Argentine automobile club ACA issues detailed maps for the whole country, which can be bought at every door in the country. The R + V map of South America on a scale of 1: 4,000,000 for 19.90 marks is suitable as an overview map. More detailed TPC pilot cards are available from the outfitters Darr in Munich (089/282032) or Woick in Stuttgart (0711/7096700). Time required two months, distance traveled 7500 kilometers
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