Finally, A Break

It's been non-stop since we started riding; I haven't had a chance to write in a while.  Called Joanna last night and we talked as if we were still in the same town, with a few pauses as one or the other realized the distance between us.

For the most part, Chileans keep to themselves.  They don't talk unless talked to.  I don't know if it's the obvious gringo-ness or if that's standard.  Those that do initiate a conversation are very friendly and seem to have strong opinions about whatever the subject.

I've been getting over the language barrier... slowly.  And with help from Tony.  I've managed to do a few essentials: ask where to wash my hands and order beers and the like.  I can understand far better than I can speak. And I've gotten very good a pantomime! If you make a good effort, the Chileans are more than patient with you as you butcher their language. It strikes me as exactly the opposite of how some American feel about, say, Japanese tourists.

The Lakes region is beautiful.  We camped one night on a river near Esperanza, about 20 km outside of Cunco.  20 km of bang-your-ass, knock-your-teeth-out gravel and washer-board road.  All the vibration stripped one of the screws holding my rear rack on.  I managed to fix it by cannibalizing my extra brake cable.  It held for the 60 km more of rough road to Villarica.

That road was the first major test of my psyche.  It was a hard start, but we made it -- physically and mentally -- and now we're resting up.  Along the way I had to take a breather before I threw rocks at the next car that passed.  They're not big on giving you much clearance and as soon as I hit the soft gravel on the shoulder: Wipe out.

I suppose it's for the better.  I'm shipping my extra camera body, my only flash unit, light meter and 20 rolls of Velvia home.  Hopefully that will help the weight and, thus, my stability.

And my sanity.