Copiapo – Antofagasta

After Mario and Elena dropped me off again in Copiapo the day before, I just walked across the road to the bus stop on Sunday morning 3rd September. It was the first time I took this company (just because it suited my schedule), and it was the worst experience. People had masses on luggage with them, as if they would relocate. I was even told there’s no space for my camping back and I would need to take it upstairs. Good on you to find space for this. Thus, I spread it over several free spaces in the overhead luggage rack. While I was waiting for the bus to depart, I could see two youngster couples smoking outside. First cigarettes, but then also sharing a pipe (it was presumably Paco, but I didn’t ask – it’s great of having a bunch of stoned drug addicts in the bus). Should you ever playing with the idea of taking up the profession of a drug dealer, just a small suggestion, try to dress inconspicuously. Wearing always red Nike shoes, a basecap the otherway around, and a fanny pack is semi-smart in that profession. Just a small tip from my side. So finally after several weeks around Copiapo, I was back on Route 5 – who would’ve thought that. On the way out of town the old rails from the Main Southern Railway Line followed us for a while. We continued to the coast, passing the airport, and reaching Calera after about 75 km. Here the 4 lane motorway upgrading ended, and from now on the Route 5 is a normal sealed highway.

Tracks of the Main Southern Railway Line in parallel just outside Copiapo

Reaching the ocean within under an hour…

The bus was really packed, and every little space was used to store things

We followed the coastline for about 100 km. Yes, distances are vast here in the North, even if the road is sealed. Despite the random fishing hut, there wasn’t much along this part of the road, expect of a single port, to ship some kind of minerals. We had our lunch break in Chañaral. I just hopped onto the bus 2 h ago, so I wasn’t hungry. But for the people who already sat overnight since Santiago in the bus, it was a welcoming break I guess. I spoke briefly with one woman. She told me she’s originally from Venezuela, but lived in Chile for a while, and is going now from Chile to the US by bus. She expected it would take her about one month. This bus ends in Arica, directly at the border to Peru. So, it appears to be part of refugee stream. And that’s why the bus was fully loaded with stuff.

Small Single Berth Port on the Coastline

Pacific Coastline was quite gently in this part of the road

Port of Chañaral still has some kind of railway connection, even if it seems to be disrupted to Diego de Almagro

If you don’t have a working North-South Railway Line, then your supply line ends up on the road…with heaps of trucks

After Chañaral there’s not much, except a great desert landscape. I enjoyed driving through that part the most. We climbed up to about 2,000 m, before slowly descending on the other side of that mountain pass. I think we only stopped once to drop-off some passengers at the road junction to Taltal ( you really need to know what you’re doing here, but those looked definitely like locals). There’s no settlement in between, not even any huts or estancias are visible. Only several electricity lines run parallel to the Route 5.

Getting into the desert, just outside Chañaral

There was even a wind farm along the way to my surprise

After the clouds cleared a bit, the surrounding mountains pop out

Looks like an autarkic communication relay station, powered by solar panels behind big walls

The Clouds finally cleared and gave way to a stunning scenery

About 1 h before Antofagasta we passed the Hand of the Desert. We didn’t stop…well it’s a gigantic hand…in the desert…as the title would describe this artwork. Afterwards we reached the industrial complexes outside Antofagasta. Here everything is about mining. Glencore (yes, here we go again) operates a copper concentrate foundry (Fundicion Altonorte) – very clean business, and there’s a cement kiln directly next to the road. I’ve never seen a kiln so openly on display. For the next 25 km we followed a dry valley from about 500 m elevation down to sea level. The railway tracks now run again in parallel to the road. They looked like being in a very bad shape. In Antofagasta, when I tried to get my backpack off the bus, the girlfriend of one of the drug dealers also yelled for her luggage, behind me, while I tried to get my backpack on…well, it can’t work that way. Just wait a second, or go around me, until I got my luggage for god sake. So, I told her that in English. Her cool boyfriend with the red sneakers wasn’t happy about that. So, when I was walking off, he bumped deliberately into me. Well, I thought now it starts. I went into the bus terminal and observed him. But apart from rearing up and smoking a cigarette in the non-smoking area, he didn’t care anymore. I thought later, sure it was useless to say anything, this twat is resistant to advice, either because she’s too stupid, or simply drugged up…or both. But sometimes, I can’t resist to say what I think.