Lisa Simpson: “Hmm. Pablo Neruda said ‘Laughter is the language of the soul.’” Bart: “I am familiar with the works of Pablo Neruda.” View from his study.

The house of Pablo Neruda.

For an excellent description of why I travel by bike check out  Nancy’s blog from Family on Bikes (the family David biked with in Nicaragua) written on January 5th, titled  “Why I Like Bike Touring”.

“Bohemian” is a word used to describe Valparaiso. With its run-down buildings, graffiti filled streets, and warnings of petty thieves, we had heard it would be better to stay in near-by, modern and beautiful Viña del Mar. There is much more to Valparaiso, however, than one might take in at first glance. Though a bit dusty, it is a gem.  It’s heyday was in the late 1800′s when money was flowing as ships coming around Cape Horn made a necessary stop at, then, Chile’s most important port. Grand buildings were built. Funicular elevators or asensores were installed to carry people up steep streets.  Immigrants from Italy, England and Germany established their unique neighborhoods on the hillsides, mingling with the already unique neighborhoods.  Then, an earthquake in 1906 devastated the city.  A further blow was dealt in the opening of the Panama Canal.  In the past few decades people have organized a renaissance, beginning the process of restoring the idiosyncratic (or hodgepodge) architecture of the city which UNESCO classifies as a World Heritage Site. What makes this place so cool are the streets that wind and twist, very steeply and very narrowly at times, up and down the hillsides to the sea. Colorfully painted restored buildings stand next to broken down tin roofed relics. Everywhere is graffiti, both sanctioned and not, some highly artistic and some not. There is even an open air museum where murals from artists in the 90′s adorn the architecture, many now defaced with someone else’s graffiti.

I also loved our hostel, Angel Hostel which we arrived at late in the day, me a little crabby after pushing our bikes up a few steep streets trying to find a reasonably priced hostel with Wi-Fi. Marco and Rodrigo welcomed us into the hostel, an old restored building, with colorfully painted walls, wood floors and views of a large naked woman and existentialist cow graffiti across the street. The hostel had a small common area where breakfast was served each morning at 8:30…well, more like 9:30. The cramped area made it impossible not to converse with the other tourists from Germany, Ireland, Argentina, Brasil and Morocco…a very nice way to start the day. The house was filled with paintings of local artists, as were the restaurants and even some stores…suggesting to me that original art was a valued, affordable and everyday item in the lives of Porteños. Marco, who himself is an impressionist artist, had hinted to me of the artists’ haven that is Valparaiso. I have often worked with students who have a learning disability where school is difficult for them, but who are gifted artists.  I have always dreamed of a place and a time, like Valparaiso, where they might make a living with their art.  We also enjoyed comic, acrobatic street performers who in the evening swung from a trapeze, tumbled, juggled and sketched a 30 second-portrait of yours truly.

The Open Air Museum of murals is in Cerro Bellavista.

Asensores ascend the steep hills for 20-60 cents.

Graffitti seen from our hostel window.

Hector y Hector biked here from Mendoza in 3 days.

Breakfast at the Angel Hostal.

Artistic railings & murals.

Graffitti on grand old building in decay.

reCyclist in need of a haircut.

The essence of Julie, in 30 seconds.

Bumblebee on thistle flower.

We got away from the busy highway along the coast on back roads through the hills of Valle Alegre (Happy Valley); and then took the coast road past beaches and high-rise buildings to Viña del Mar and Valparaiso, where we pushed our bikes up this city’s steep hills looking for a hostel.  We almost stayed at Hostal  La Bicyclette, where the French proprietor Humberto gives a discount to cyclists, but pushed on to find a hostal with Wi-Fi.

Scenic coastal road north of Valparaiso past beaches and high-rise bulidings.

Our first view of the Pacific in three months.

Today we cycled from the mountains to the sea in this long but narrow country. After a long ride, mostly downhill but into the wind on roads ranging from freeways to country lanes past old haciendas; we climbed a coastal ridge for our first glimpse of the Pacific since Paracas, Peru three months ago. The sun was setting when we arrived in this old seaside town now dominated by an industrial seaport. The first hotel we found is owned by Gaston Leones, a mountain bike racer (as is his daughter Josefina) who speaks English. He gave us advice on good roads for biking and made our two days here comfortable.

Las Ventanas is named for the window in the rock (there used to be two).

Intertidal pools filled with barnacles and seaweeds.

Aconcagua (6959m) is the highest peak in the Americas.

Martin is an inadvertant cyclist from Leeds, England. He’s a surfer who spent the winter snowboarding in Bariloche, Argentina and planned to spend the summer trekking (it is now summer in the southern hemisphere). When he met a cyclist selling his bike and trailer after completing a journey in southern Argentina, Martin bought the whole kit and caboodle and is now cycling north, to Alaska. We grilled him for info on the roads he has cycled, as we are now heading that way. Our three amigo ciclistas accompanied us to the border of Chile and helped us with immigration formalities. We almost splurged for a night at the Portillo ski resort, until we realized that the $62 room rate was per person. So we followed the Rio Aconcagua downstream to stay at a nice rural hosteria for a quarter of that price.

The view from Hotel Portillo.

Martin, the accidental cyclist.

We are heading for the 4k tunnel under the border with Chile.

Bikes are prohibited from entering the tunnel.

No charge for transporting the bikes.

Find Julie on the switchbacks below Portillo.

Back in Chile after cycling 2,000 km in a month through NW Argentina.

Jorge Sekaris guards this ski mountaineering military post.

Both the hotel and hostel here are full, the same as in the last town.  A shopkeeper directed us to the military post, where we are staying for $27, the average  price we’ve paid for a room in Argentina (including breakfast).  At breakfast we met an international group also staying here who helped organize the Marcha Mundial.  Over ten thousand people attended the event 16 km back down the road,  where we also met three cyclists from Santa Fe, Argentina.  They cycled the same route we did from Mendoza just a day ahead of us.

We slept in the army barracks.

23-year-old cyclists Javier, Francisco, and Wenceslao.

Thousands congregated for the Marcha Mundial at Punta de Vacas

The Puente del Inca is a natural bridge over the Rio Mendoza. The Inca did not build it, though they did build an Inca road here.

Hot springs that formed the bridge also colored the rocks.

The road winds up from the Hotel Villavicencio

Cerro Mercedario (6770m) is visible on the descent to Uspallata.

On the first day of the New Year we biked up “the road of one year”; a winding gravel road with 365 curves, one for each day of the year. I got two flats on my new tires and saw condors and guanaco, the fourth andean member of the camelid family (together with the llama, alpaca, and vicuña). Arriving in this tourist town we find thousands of young people gathered for the Marcha Mundial por Paz (World March for Peace). Though worried there may be no beds available for us, the tourist office directs us to a new hostel 4k out of town on a hill with a great view of Aconcagua, the highest peak in the Americas.

This used to be the main road from Argentina to Chile.