Rain: Route 66-km37 to Route 74-km12 - We're So Happy We Can Hardly Count - CycleBlaze

April 14, 2016

Rain: Route 66-km37 to Route 74-km12

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Wild grapes on the fence.
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Well, from having had a clear cloudless sky at dusk yesterday, it is back to business as usual, with dark clouds obscuring the hills giving such an air of utter gloom this morning.

I for once got going early; breakfasting by the light of my head-torch and breaking camp not long after daybreak at eight. It seems to have rained during the night. The road damp but drying out, until ten, when I dive into a shop to avoid a downpour.

The small supermercado with corrugated iron overhang in front upon which I listen to the rain drumming down, while sat eating a tuna sandwich after having shopped, when coming in off the road lurches a young man with a coat pulled up over his head and tiptoeing round puddles until, he's in under cover of the shop front and lets the coat down off his head before he goes inside.

Minutes later he returns out with a packed of cigarettes in hand which he breaks open, puts a cigarette between his lips and lights up and takes a puff, while looking out on the rain with a look of resignation that he like me won't be going any further until the rain's over.

He exhales blue smoke and asks how far I've cycled. I reply twenty-five kilometres, meaning today only, but he counters, wanting to know how far I've come the entire journey. I usually just tell people I've cycled from somewhere near, within the region, but this time wasn't thinking and say Buenos Aires, to which, the expression on his face is that of hearing shocking news. Exasperation at the idea. The idea, when he gets his breath back of having rode a bike over the Andes. He couldn't quite comprehend the idea of riding a bike over a mountain range.

Once it has cleared so I can go further, the road soon crosses via a causeway a narrowed edge of a lake, Lago Rapel; grey water disappears into misty grey lakeshore. Then further there's a steep climb up and over a range of hills. In the valley the other side, of rows upon rows of vines at right angles to the side, the metre wide shoulder ends and I've a tragic feeling of lurking danger from the many passing trucks on the way to port city San Antonio, danger made worse by the rain coming on again, though not too heavy, until I reach San Pedro, where the road splits and I take the right split off the busy trucking route 66, just in time to take shelter underneath a stall selling empanadas as the rain starts hammers down.

I have two empanadas and a coke as the rain drums away on the tin above my head, remaining sat at the table. The woman of the establishment wants to talk, but I'm in no mood to talk and just give short answers to her questions, knowing I'll soon be riding on in the rain and the thought of where will I camp later.

After about an hour it eases off and there would be intermittent drizzle the rest of the afternoon, in which I reach the large town of Melipilla, stocking up at a supermercado therein, before following a sign for Casablanca, out upon a route 74.

Toward six I come to a small plot with broken fence at the road, following along a stream with a grove of trees riverbank, in amongst which, I pitch the tent in a dry and well hidden place.

Not having found alcohol for the stove, I make do with bread and jam for supper.

Dear me.
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Road traffic accident.
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Lots of dairy farms, predominately where the cows remain in a farmyard, or feedlot if American, and feed on harvested grass.
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Well hidden.
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Today's ride: 100 km (62 miles)
Total: 8,491 km (5,273 miles)

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