Well howdy doody to all you people over there from over here at the centre of the Chilean Cycling Galaxy - where i have not found one racing bike for sale in the shops and my road bike spotting tally stands at 'four' [over a period of 20 days] and where i have collected more punctures in that period than all my time since learning the art of city cycling  - that is, now 'five' , of which 2 have been roadside repairs as opposed to a quick pump and head for home - (not to be misintepreted with the activities of Don Juan)

Well at the moment I am feeling pretty sleep deprived knackered and rooted (not assisted by the pile of pilsner at my left shoulder and apart from the social vacumn I have had the added irritation of hardly seeing anything of le tour - shyte. talk about bad timing - it is on during the day (starts about 11am) but i do climb on the web and have a bit of a sticky

Now some notes on the No 2 bike alias the "Red Peril ". Red Peril travels the world whilst its Jaffa carbon fibre sucessor remains homebound wrapped in cotton wool and incense. Pore ole RP has been taking strain on the roads over here - they are pretty rough and ordinary in places and the poor thing is slowly shaking itself to bits. Even the bolts holding the inner chain ring started to loosen !!  Its not Paris Roubbaix but the equipment is taking strain - the LED lights and the water bottle carriers have come loose then detached and even the pump has fallen apart. The cap holding the rubber collar that slots over the presta valve came off and rendered the whole thing useless. I had to fix it with a piece of camera strap, leatherman and the gas stove. Too long to explain the engineering. Then the whole end of it came off and now it has had an insulation tape upgrade. I also bought a MTB pump in town but it only delivers an emphasaemic 80psi. Anyway a lot better than walking home. I will be going south next week so will get a proper pump or pref one of those sexy gas jobs to get me to the higher levels of erection i mean inflation

Inbetween that I have cycled,  but perils abound in this place. The truckies initial reserve and repect of my personal space has diminished and they seem to now be engaged in sucking me under their tyres (if they catch me on a flat patch) - or the coaches whoosh by trying to get my body signature on their side panels and i live in fear of their slipstream when im caning it back down the pass.

Yes its international driving at its best over here. In Aus we drive on the left....in the States on the right but i think Latino Macho has pushed the envelope into an 'multi national international' status where one can drive on the left OR right depending on the situation. So therefore ... if one is driving up a road with no traffic on the oncoming lane, that is where one observes local rules and one inhabits the  right lane. If however there is a cyclist coming down a hill almost out of control , and there is a solid white line, and there is a steep blind pass, and there is a double trailer truck in front, and one is driving something large like an earth mover or dump truck THEN (and only then) does one transition to international mode and move over to the  LEFT lane and begin that short, sharp, one sided negotiation between 90 kilos of rubber, velcro and slater meat VERSUS 30 or 40 tons of grease encrusted Chilean Steel guided by something not too dissimilar to your average peice of supermarket sirloin (frozen) 

The macho spirit is ubiquitous on the roads. At an intersection, a gap wide enough to drive a train or a small supertanker is treated with contempt, only gaps wide enough to remove both side mirrors or the last coat of duco are treated as a challenge to the macho pacho. And as for traffic lights and zebra crossings - pah! muy facil ...

Trusting I have now set the scene ...

Rides come in three flavours in Anto. Firstly the ride MUST be taken at break of dawn when the Latino passion for international rally driving is at its lowest ebb usually submerged under the cloak  of  late night unconsciousness or a muchos servesa induced stupor.  All rides start with a spine jarring joust down the Costanera (translated=Beach Road  ) .......no need to warm up - after 2 kays all the muscles and bones have been shaken into shape. After 4 kay one turns left up Avendida de Minera (The Mine Road) heading towards Jardines de Sur (Gardens of the South i think) which is where the expats hang out (please note that the outsourced povo yours truly has had to ride 5kay to get there). The road now becomes high grade bitumen ahhhh but alas the small chain ring must be seduced as Avda de Minera greets you with a 6 to 7% grade climb - "hellooo time to wake up, your'e heading into the  real  mountains now sonny" - so onwards, upwards and henceforth no need for a saddle until i go past the Travesia de Serro 2 kay up the road and then its a gentle 5% all the way up to Paso Superior de Jote (Pass of the Vultures). (Perhaps theyre waiting for something) 

The odd mid week ride (or flavour number one) decrees that i turn around and swoop home  to start work  - 15 minutes of hill hammering negated in 5 minutes at a speed of 60 to 70km. I have included a pic me at vulture pass below [pass 1 jun30$05]

For Sunday if am able, flavour No3 means going past La Negra, crossing the Trans America highway and getting onto the Escondida Mine road. After an hours riding This is now seriously out of the way. I have riden another 30 minutes up that road (still 5%). 90 minutes up, 25 - 30 minutes back. It is a rough nugetty industrial bitumen  that offer little solace to the rear end .....Photo No 3 is taken on the mine road