April 13, 2016
5 2 66: Route 5-km227 to route 66-km37.
It is just as cloudy and gloomy today as yesterday, just like the dull way I'm writing it. Sunrise though had shown a ray of optimism in pinkness, which is soon lost in a dirty dishcloth sky.
I was on the road early, determined to make a huge dent in the remaining distance to Valparaiso, despite rain on the horizon.
On the way the meaning was to leave the road in some passing town, to look for a supermercado; on the other hand, supermercados don't exactly stick out here, unlike in many other countries, so content myself to lunch again at a service station and hopefully see some kind of shop from the road before the day's out.
Once I've eaten a hamburger, the only substantial thing on offer in the cafeteria, I have my only human interaction of the day. A sixty-something business type with neatly trimmed grey hair and expensive glasses come over to chat. He throws mainly the usual questions about my journey at me. When I say I'm from Ireland, he smiles and tells me his grandmother came from Ireland; her name, O'Conner from Galway. Then asks my family name. Kane, I reply and spell it, as there are quite a few variations; my variant being popular in the north; which leads him to ask, am I a Catholic, or Protestant. Catholic, I reply, although I care little for the question. He smiled, appearing pleased with my answer. I didn't want to get into a religious and political debate.
Later I take shelter as the rain come down in torrents, having halted at a small shop along a parallel service road, where I bought bread and cheese, the front having a veranda overhang, underneath which, I watch car after car and trucks on the road above pass in a slosh of spray while eating sandwiches. Then after half an hour it clears so I can go further.
The road is drying out quickly as the mid-afternoon sky is brightening up in the wake of the rain.
I reach a second service station where I pull in as I'm still hungry and need to use the wifi for a google map in order to know where to finally turn off this road. Outside is the young French cyclist still draped in glowing yellow rain cape, chatting with a security guard. He is concerned about the rain as although today's downpour has passed, the sky shows every sign of more on the way for tomorrow when he'll make the final push into Santiago.
The turn off for San Antonio, on route 66 is only a few kilometres ahead. A port city and therefore a trucking route, though there's a metre wide shoulder to ride upon. It follows a valley wherein the land is either all culitivated, rows of vines, or continuous housing and village; dismaying, as it is getting late and such itinerary doesn't offer much camping possibilities.
I continue on until what would've been a half hour before nightfall anxiously looking for a hole in the fence to the side. Then come to a strip alongside the road with mounds of dumped soil. I push the bike in among the mounds, to the back of which is an overgrown vineyard, the headland, or edge of which is perfectly level and hidden from view for pitching the tent.
Today's ride: 140 km (87 miles)
Total: 8,391 km (5,211 miles)
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