I was really worried about biking out of Santiago, but I shouldn’t have been.
I was expecting insane traffic, zero road shoulders, dead-eyed stares from ne’er-do-wells, and at least one dramatic dog chase scene. I guess I was basically expecting Los Angeles, but with scarier dogs.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. My ride out of the city started out on quiet tree-lined streets for about 4km, and then I found myself on separated, protected bike lanes for pretty much the rest of the way out of the city. And if there ever wasn’t a bike lane, Chilenos don’t blink twice at a person biking on the sidewalk, as long as you’re not a jerk about it. I did get chased by a couple dogs, but they were all chihuahua sized, so my heart wasn’t exactly in my throat.
The only real interruption to the beautiful, serene bike lanes was a lively street market that had reclaimed the bike lane as commercial space. I got off and pushed my bike through a maze of tables and tents, where you could buy anything from a watermelon to a Barbie to a pair of pants, or you could sort through buckets of nuts and bolts until you found your perfect match if that’s more your thing.
My map app was very effective at getting me out of the city. Unfortunately, it then took me directly to a road behind a locked gate, resulting in me backtracking quite a ways for an alternate route.
Once I finally cruised past the city limits, I entered an area that reminded me of… well, Northern California. Tranquil granjas (farms), vineyards, and fruit stands lined the quiet highway. The riding was flat and serene.
But alas, all was not well in bicycle land. Two of my panniers (bags for bikes) kept jumping of the racks, and I had to keep stopping to reattach them, which naturally harshed my mellow (is that a cool thing to say?). Every time I went over even the smallest bump, at least one pannier would jump halfway off the rack and dangle by one hook until I stopped and slammed it back on, probably while muttering curse words under my breath.
Turns out, the back one had a broken hook. The front one was suffering from an overly angled rack. Luckily, these were easy fixes. A couple adjustments to the front rack and for the back one – duct tape! I’m no idiot – I watched the Red Green Show as a child (very educational).
So I was pedalling along, making great time, when suddenly a giant hill appeared on the horizon.
“No problem,” I said to myself. “I’ve biked up a giant hill before.”
But there was a problem, and that problem was that I hadn’t biked up a giant hill since August. And that is how I found myself pushing my 70-odd pound loaded bike up a 6 km hill in 35 degree weather. Halfway up, I ran out of water. A little further along, I stood at the side of the road and tried to suck the moisture out of a cucumber I had in my bag. I dreamed of winter destinations and longed for the crisp bite of a cross country ski adventure. I mentally planned my next trip, which will consist only of sitting in a cozy cafe, drinking hot chocolate and watching snow fall outside the window. I imagined the joy on the face of my dog when he bounds through deep snow, and realized that he knows the secrets to life.
I finally made it to the top, leapt on my bike and coasted down the other side of the Big Bad Hill, and stopped at the first store I saw, Ricardo’s Supermercado. I locked my bike to the first lockable-looking piece of metal I laid eyes on, and made a beeline for the cold drinks. After purchasing two litres of water, a PowerAde, and for some reason a jello, I came back out to a man yelling at me in Spanish because my bike was blocking the ramp he needed to use to get his dolly into the store. The ‘moving stuff’ kind of dolly, not the children’s toy kind. So I said ‘sí, ahora!’ which means ‘yes, now!’ because it was the first thing that popped into my head, and then I moved my bike and drank a lot of water and stood under a tree for a while.
I eventually set off down the road again, and it wasn’t too far to my destination – a public campground run by the Boy Scouts of Chile. There were indeed a lot of Scouts there, and they were singing songs and whittling sticks and doing other Scouty things. I met a nice dog and fed her some cheese, because my cheese had melted into a shiny, greasy ball not fit for human consumption.
And then I went to bed.
Comments