‘The Pan-american Highway is the longest road in the world - and the most deadly’
Our Ducati-mentor traveller hits South America
THE ATACAMA DESERT is vast and varied; constantly evolving and morphing into something new. I’m always surprised at how different the deserts I’ve seen have been from one another. And though they appear barren at first, each has been captivating.
I landed in Chile and, honestly, I felt pretty low. I was sad to leave Australia with its familiarity and friendship. I felt quite isolated in Santiago, not speaking Spanish and being stuck in the cheapest hostel rooms with no windows for natural light.
Getting the bike out of customs at the airport was a nightmare, simply because of the language barrier. I went back after the weekend with Francisco from Ducati and we got it done in a couple of hours. Stopping at a petrol station five minutes later, he warned me about leaving my helmet unattended.
He parked up and went into the shop, then ran out before I had time to fill my tank — his car had been robbed. They’d remotely unlocked it, grabbed everything off of the back seat and gone. I was stood ten feet away and didn’t even notice.
As soon as I was back on the road riding out of Santiago, I felt better. Having taken a break at the end of my time in Australia, I’d had almost three weeks off the bike by the time I rode north to La Serena.
Over the next week, I watched the desert evolve into rugged black rocks, giant mountains, a jagged moonscape and sandy plains. Tornadoes of dust, multiple storeys high, spun through the emptiness and turkey vultures circled above. I’ve been in a fair few deserts on this trip but this definitely felt more like the stereotypical ‘Wild West’ version. I even saw my first wild cacti — hundreds of them.
I was taken aback by the cultural change as I entered Peru. Outside the cities, the lifestyle seems unaffected by modern life, other than the odd smartphone. Locals still dress traditionally and the housing is astonishingly simple — mud-brick buildings with corrugated roofs or sometimes thatch. I didn’t expect to see this lifestyle at all, let alone in such proliferation throughout Peru.
Almost unknowingly, I ascended and descended mountain ranges, 12,000ft here, 14,500ft there. The Pan-american Highway had become a twisting single-lane road through complete isolation. It’s the longest road in the world and one of the most deadly, an accolade supported by the thousands of roadside memorials I have passed. I made a detour to Cusco and Machu Picchu, an amazing yet outrageously expensive visit, and then wound my way up Peru’s dramatic coastline, back on the Pan-american.
I’ve just arrived in Ecuador, which has an entirely different feel. It’s strange — normally the only thing that changes when you cross a border is the flag, while other things are much more gradual. But in South America, it seems that borders define a distinct atmospheric and cultural change as much as a geographical one.