26.1 mi / 8.9 mph / 2138 ft. climbing
Home: Diego’s AirBNB

It took three hours after our 5:30am alarm to get rolling (a bit longer than normal), partly because we had to collect and pack our laundry which we’d left hanging last night from lines in the covered garage/patio space, following yesterday’s late-in-the-day wash cycle (we’re yet to see a dryer in South America, but thankfully modern machines have spin cycles that present our clothes already 80% dry).

Unlike yesterday’s road which ran a mile or two inland from the shore for most of the day, today it hugged much closer to the beach, which means more beach communities, which means more traffic, at least to start. And while the road’s idea to steer as close to the water as possible seemed like a logical plan to avoid the up-and-down hills blocking the way, that doesn’t mean the plan was a success. In the short 26 miles, there were six 150-to-400 foot ridges to go up and over, along with a dozen smaller ones. Some sections were quite steep, maxing at an 11% grade. Thankfully there was enough space for the road builders to give the vehicles passing lanes for most of the climbs. Even though traffic had lightened by the later climbs, steep climbing is still much easier when you can essentially ignore the chance of vehicles passing too close. Now further from Constitución and its industries, there were fewer (though not zero) logging trucks, but again, they seem to have some of the best drivers.

We had yet another day of clouds, keeping things cool and comfortable, and again validating our decision to keep to the hillier coast vs. the hotter center of the country. It also made the day feel very much like a ride coastal New Zealand, or more, Oregon. And it wasn’t just the gray; the headlands running all the way to the sea, the look of the river valleys, and the covering of evergreen trees all gave echoes of Oregon.

This was our 8th day of riding out of the last 9, an unusually-intense stretch, so Rett reported feeling like she had Jell-o legs for most of the day. But it was hard for me to tell because she still powered through well.

Buchupureo is small town whose main section is a 3-by-3 tic-tac-toe grid of 9 square blocks. Our stand-alone house AirBNB is at the bottom-right corner of the grid, so it has neighboring houses north and west, but then views directly onto to the pasture and forested hills east and west. But that’s just part of what makes it one of the best AirBNB’s we’ve ever stayed in (and we’ve stayed in a few!) The big windows that bring in the views also bring in a lot of light, it was really well-equipped, and at US$59/night, felt like an excellent deal. We were using up one of the rare off-days available in our schedule here, but on arrival we both regretted that we weren’t able to spend more time; it’s a place where we could easily stay for a month. (I was able to use the time, yard, and quiet empty street to finally stop the clicking in my rear wheel that had been frustrating me for two days; it might have just been a loose valve-stem nut.)

Another big regret was that while our off-day was nominally scheduled to celebrate Thanksgiving, we determined that we wouldn’t have the time, energy, or ability to recreate the American holiday here in Chile, so we wouldn’t even make an attempt. Though having the fifth Thanksgiving of our nomadacy being the first one that we didn’t celebrate in some form is actually pretty impressive.

And unusually for Chile, we had people to be thankful for today. Buchupureo is a surprising throwback to Peru, where Google Maps is only partly-helpful; it showed only one grocery store on the map (with minimal info/reviews), but there turned out to actually be at least five markets in the nine blocks. At the second one we visited, Isadora, a young Chilean-Italian, jumped into the English conversation between Rett and I, volunteered to translate between us in and the shopkeeper (a time when translation is relatively unnecessary for us, but still thoughtful), and then led us to the “good” grocery store in town. There she helped to ask one of the workers about the condition of a road we were thinking of taking when we depart.

And earlier in the day while we were taking a roadside break, a propane-delivery driver pulled over behind us, hopped out of his truck, and began asking questions in his indecipherable Chilean Spanish. It turned out that he was just curious and friendly, and that meant he also had the patience to work past our language barrier (which we were somewhat-successful at). As he left (U-turning back down the highway, meaning he went out of his way just to talk with us!), he handed me a little bag of candies and Christmas-gift To/From stickers! We’ve generally found Chileans keep much more to themselves in public than Peruvians, and don’t seem to be nearly as curious about us, so we were thankful to feel a bit of the opposite today.