Chili is unlike most countries that build towns along the solitary road link that connects three continents. Filling stations can be over 200 miles apart, so in a state to near panic, running on reserve, I followed a sign to Pisagua some 30 miles away on the coast. The road was a sandy track winding its way down the Pacific and a sleepy fishing village. One dusty street like a scene from a spaghetti Western. No fuel station, no bank, but a little hotel cashed a travellers cheque, and a fisherman parted company with enough petrol go get me to the next oasis.
Spiky vegetation competes with noble cacti pointing prickly fingers at the leaden sky.
This landscape gasps for water, despite it being Winter with perpetual overcast sky, rain has cheated eastern shores and water is severely rationed. This was bad news after a long days desert riding when a hot shower was the only way to shift the caked dirt and warm a shivering body. Santiago is just another big busy Capital with manic buses and little architectural evidence of its Spanish heritage. It is also the most expensive city I have ever visited so, the task of finding a budget hotel at night was more excruciating than usual. After an hour or so switching off at inefficient traffic lights the battery had had enough.