Mendoza-Santiago-San Antonio-Lago Rapel-Pichilemu-Bucalemu-Boyerucca-Llico-Douao-Constitution.
From the window the night falls slowly Santiago. The lights come one by one and the Plaza d'Italia agitated loudly does not seem to realize that the day ends ... Under my eyes, the same restlessness, the buses that pass crazy on the boulevard to the look impressive, the sounds of car horns, these pedestrians running to avoid these four cars running around the front .... And yet, I feel good here.
Santiago, journey's end for aircraft Aeropostale there are still a few decades ... and I find myself dreaming of Mermoz, landing a few miles away, his face frozen in a rough crossing of the Andes ... the guys who unload the sacks of mail, St Exupery, stroking cabin its Latécoère before returning to Buenos Aires, Natal, Recife, St. Louis and Toulouse finally ... By looking carefully, I wonder if these readings are not the first who called me here ... Santiago!
But I digress and the waitress brings me my empanadas is responsible for me from my reverie.
For the umpteenth time since the beginning of my journey, I pull out the map of the right pocket of my trousers and spreads it on the table in search of a starting point to begin the descent towards the south. Those with whom I have spoken knows how this descent to Earth of Fire made me dream and nurtured my imagination all these years.
It was in San Antonio that I jump on the bus, grabbed my bag and put myself on the road. But what a shock! A good breeze slaps my face like an old friend I would tap on the shoulder to ask me to walk a little. The air is crisp and fresh, the sky filled with these fair-weather cumulus, and beyond the port basins and breakwaters, the clear horizon let me enjoy the curvature of the earth. The port is agitated and I love the atmosphere; cranes are working to unload tons of sand from the Giant of the Sea, the Atlantic Morning which is released here takes care of him I do not know what, but voila two tugs coming out of the harbor at high speed, a door-contenaire is approaching ...
Across the pond, gulls agitated and discuss farm prices the last fishery. Weary sailors, spoof multicolored boxes while two old smoke their pipes and chatting ... it is good that fresh air from the sea, I leave my bag with my fleece and am happy to nibble a corner contemplating my picnic this joyous agitation ...
So here begins my long road to the south and all these names that resonate in my head as much appeal to travel ... Puerto Montt Castro, Chiloe, the Gulf of Peñas, The Messier Channel, Punta Arenas, the Straits of Magellan ...
On the road out of town, four men discussing in front of a grocery store, the shop owner sits on a stool under his banner, while others are standing there, arms crossed or impossible to describe shapes with their hands. My time is stop everything and after riding double, I hear them call me. I turn around, take a few steps back and find myself among them. Immediately the faces light up and it asks me to accept the best place on the stool. I was please tell where I am and where I intend to go. One of them is particularly expressive and heart takes over, slapping his leg, a response in two. For not only my throat dries up and shortens the story, it gives me a bottle of water out of the grocery store refrigerators. When I saw their eyes at the moment to announce my final destination, I understood that I was not alone in dreaming of Tierra del Fuego. It might have ended there and stay as an encounter quite a few others but no sooner had I finished my story that the situation is reversed. And here is my four snowmen that began to tell me a trip that Eric, one French, one bike there. He also put his butt on that stool, here just a year and spent two days with them here. The best stage of his tour of South America are reported to me my greatest happiness ... Almost out of breath, they end up ... and it just arrived in Buenos Aires, the end of his journey ... I've been everywhere!
No doubt, they are fans of that Eric, the French cycling. I'm leaving by walking very glad of this good break and they seem happy, they made two nice trips to the grocery store this afternoon.
I put my bag on my shoulder after having asked a few days Pichilemu. This city is the capital of Chilean surfing for nothing. The wave is awfully good, and I must admit that despite two days of hard, I could not find the entrance. This wave is beautiful kind of powerful and very fast, a little too much for me. I surely will try again on the way home because once inside, it looks really good. So I put my bag on my shoulders in good shape after this short break. My route along the coast to Design. On Road still a lot of meetings and two days in a charming family who invited me to his house for Halloween festivities. When leaving, they offered me a wonderful gift in telling me a shortcut through the hills to join my next step. The forest trail is proving to be one of the most beautiful I've done until today. It rises gradually from the village that lies at sea level, it goes hard but if you take the time to turn around, it's worth it ... Behind me, the lagoon Boyerucca spread, between the peaceful and beautiful wooded hills and dunes which separated from the ocean. She extended by an area of saltmarsh. To my left, the Pacific Ocean sent a nice little wave that breaks at my feet. The horizon is vast and splendid colors despite an overcast sky. On the other side lies a rolling plain and green at the end of which appear in the distance, massive and snow covered Andean peaks ...
I walk between the Andes and the Pacific!
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