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31st March
Dear all, here's the next and last instalment from the land of very good
but cheap wine. And what a story!
Last time I'd seen the stars and some dolphins, among other things and
was about to depart for the North. And so I did - 18 hours on a bus
with seats that were supposed to recline into beds. They did but
were designed for 4'6" Chileans not 6'4" English people.
There I was peacefully reclined gently drifting into a peaceful slumber
when WHAM! The bi..... er-hem young lady in front of me reclined her
seat to the max pinning my legs between her seat back and my chair,
cutting off all circulation and guaranteeing a sleepless night.
Needless to say, I moved and wedged myself across two other seats in which
I had two possible sleeping positions. I dozed. Other than
that, the only other event was having my glasses nicked - who would want
to steal my bins? Welcome to Chile.
Then the story really begins. We arrived in Iquique no probs, found
a hotel for about GBP6 a night (standard for the whole holiday!),
organised the 4x4 vehicle (Toyota HiLux for those who are interested),
sorted insurance (at the last minute we discovered that standard car
insurance covers the hire company's vehicle and other bods you might
squish but NOT other cars you might re-model - bought extra insurance to
cover re-remodelling costs and to allow us out of the country in the
event) got info from the tourist offices, planned the route, and hunted
for a map better than the average tourist nonsense drawn by a four year
old with a felt tip pen. On this last, we failed, despite the fact
that David and Romi had found a suitable map with lines on it that vaguely
matched reality 2,000 km south near the Falkland Islands! Silly
David ... should have known that maps of the far north would only be
available in the far south.
Next, came the bit where you try to put all that planning into practice
... or where you very quickly go to "improvise, adapt and
overcome". We did the shopping for 6 days and nights basically
camping whilst we were to be out in "the interior" (by the way
the car rental geezer was so worried about us venturing into the great
unknown because of the torrential rains they've had and because roads and
bridges had disappeared, that he made us promise to call him every time we
got near to a serviceable telephone to tell him where we were and to
confirm that we were OK. Phooey we thought ... ) Then we left.
The car was gutless, but just put that down to us being fat and because we
were climbing steeply to 3,200metres (10,500 ft). Night drew in and
we soon realised that the lights were powered by the more traditional
method of candles than the more up to date electrical technology that we
Europeans employ in our headlights. At the same time the road lost
its tarmac and turned into pot holes connected by dirt.  Also, the
drop on my right got a bit vertical and the clouds we'd driven into made
pretty yellow circles in front of the candle powered headlights where the
road should have been. The car meanwhile, got sicker - we thought it
was altitude.
Finally, we arrived near Chuzmiza and had to flag down
a truck to find out how to get into the valley that appeared to be driving
up the mountain side. "Down there" he said. "You're
joking" we said "that's a road?". So bouncy bouncy
we went. The car got even sicker. We asked for directions to
the Hotel Chuzmiza and were told to go to the water bottling plant and ask
for the keys. Odd we thought. So we did. Johnny Needham
(his grandfather was English) jumped in the car and took us up the
"hotel". The car was so sick now that the engine revs got
faster if you 
took your foot OFF the gas. We arrived. When we
asked Johnny how much, he said "nothing - the place is in such a
dreadful state, I couldn't possibly charge you"! Or words to
that effect.
No electricity, one room with two beds, a bathroom with
a huge bath big enough for four people, to be filled by volcanic hot
spring water, and another room with mattresses. Excellent, we said,
just the thing. Back to the car to take Johnny back - it started but
didn't have enough power to move. Hmmmm. As we fiddled about,
we unpacked the vehicle ... sniff sniff ... hey ho ... petrol. One
of the jerry cans we were given by the hire company had burst with the
altitude pissing petrol all over our food and ruck sacks. As I
unloaded, sniff sniff ... cigarette smoke WHAAAAAAAAAAAA! Johnny had lit a
fag no more than 10 feet away!!!! I 'encouraged'Johnny to move away
whilst being reminded of Azerbaijan, Gary's last big bonfire and Karim
and having visions of all our kit, the hotel and the vehicle disappearing
in a BIG puff of smoke. Oh dear, we said (or was it something
stronger), the car died and Johnny walked home.
That's all for now - I have to get on a plane home. The next instalment follows on Sunday or Monday when I get home. And it gets better so
stay tuned!!!
See ya
Dan
   
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