A week of waiting

Back in Santiago, Chile, my plan was to hit the road again after a few days. It was without counting on the winter in the mountains.

My Chilean friends Francisco and Daniela, who hosted me for several weeks in total in Santiago.

Arriving previously by bike from Argentina via the Los Libertadores pass, or by going to visit Valparaíso on the coast, I was able to see directly that Santiago is located at the bottom of a valley, between two mountain ranges. In fact, the entire length of Chile is wedged between the Andes Cordillera and the Pacific Ocean. And to get out of the country and drive east, there aren't many options. There are quite a few mountain passes all along the border between the two countries, but the majority of them are completely closed all winter (because yes, it is winter here in the southern hemisphere). What I didn't know was that even the main passes are sometimes closed for quite long periods depending on the weather.

Winter is not that cold in Santiago. Between zero and ten degrees approximately. But 3000 meters higher, the mercury often oscillates between -20 and -25. Definitely too cold to cycle again. So my plan was to take a bus that would drop me off at the first town on the other side. Anyway, I had already done the road in the opposite direction. On Monday morning, I therefore leave Francisco and Dani's apartment, who are hosting me once again, towards the bus terminal. It's almost an hour of driving around town just to get there. But there, the lady at the counter points me to a poster. The collar is closed. " For how long ? ". " No idea. », She answers a little jaded. Even though I had bought my ticket on the internet, I had not received any message telling me this. Lesson to learn: find the information on my own.

So I come back to my friends' apartment, and contact the bus company who postpones my ticket to the next day. The poster also told me to check out a government Twitter account. This is what I will do ... for a week.

Santiago in winter, with the Andes mountain range in the background.

Waiting

After a few days of pushing my bus ticket from day to day, I just decided to cancel it completely. Information on the condition of the cervix was only provided in small quantities. On Twitter, a terse line was written once or twice a day by employees at the top of the pass to indicate that the pass was always closed due to fog, ice, strong wind or snowfall. But never anything about the possible opening. Perhaps in part for this, more and more people on both sides of the mountains were responding quite curtly as the days added. Many travelers were stuck without being able to return home for the whole week. Sometimes with children, often having to pay hotel expenses. The closest open pass being more than 1000 km to the north, the only other option is the plane, which however costs a few dozen times more expensive. An option certainly not possible for the several hundred transport trucks also waiting.

Despite my inconvenience to be caught in the city, I nevertheless consider myself extremely lucky to be accommodated for free with friends, and not really have a fixed schedule to respect. However, early every morning, I would set my alarm to see if I could get on the bus. Disappointed each time, so I did something else during the day. Like accepting Francisco's invitation to go for a walk in the mountains.

Mountain and smog

My host is an intense. Now a CrossFit enthusiast (which I also tried at the risk of dying on the spot), he competed in cycling, and did extreme mountaineering in his twenties. Our exit is only a march for him. And almost rock climbing for me! It climbs steeply, for a long time, and it slips!

Just outside the city, there are several possibilities for walking at altitude. We will thus go from an altitude of 500 m to nearly 2000, while having the impression of still being able to touch the city. This one, however, was hiding behind a thick fog of permanent smog. The only time this pollution releases the city is immediately after the rain. But barely a day later, the opaque cloud is back. Seeing the air I breathe in the city, I feel even more like going back to the countryside.

It is not the snow that is lacking in the mountains.

With Francisco, at the top of Cerro La Cruz.

Permanent smog over the city.

Finally, the bus

After a full week of waiting, I decide to take a chance. The pass is still closed but bus tickets are increasingly scarce. In fact, there is only one left for the next day and it announces beautiful and sunny for the day. I take the bet that the pass will open. So I buy this last ticket, with a departure at 7:30 am. I get up well before the sun, drive to the terminal, have my ticket stamped at the company kiosk. It looks like it will work. But then I am told that my bike will not be accepted if there is no room ...

Same message from the bus employees as I wait in line to board. "Wait there," they say to me, "if there is room last, you can come in." Otherwise, I lose my ticket and I still stay in Santiago.

I see the luggage piling up more and more, and it looks like the line of passengers will never end. Luggage may fill the hold like a Tetris game, but it does fill up quickly. I'm starting to stress. Especially when I see passengers with huge boxes, like this lady traveling with a 50 inch TV screen! Electronics being much cheaper in Chile than in Argentina, many Argentines come to buy on this side of the border, and return home with their arms full.

Snow on the long climb to Los Libertadores Pass, between Argentina and Chile.

With only 5 people left in a line in front of me, two employees one after the other give me signs that there won't be enough space. I refuse to believe it and start to tear my bike apart. The handlebars, the wheels, the pedals, everything is there to make it as small as possible. In the end, there is only a small space left at the top of the cargo hold. The baggage attendant looks at my doggy look and signals to me that we will try anyway. He weighs with all his might on the huge TV screen and all the suitcases underneath, and manages to barely fit my mount. We finally insert the front wheel from the side and manage to close the door when there should be only a few cubic centimeters of free space. I take several of my saddlebags with me inside. I sit down and breathe a sigh of relief.

Here we go again.