La Pequeña Gigante And Termas Del Plomo

Originally posted to El Cantar de la Lluvia on Sunday, January 28, 2007


The ride the other day was just a test, a probe, dipping my toe in the water to see how I felt about the whole bike-and-camera thing. Yesterday I decided to celebrate the return to two wheels as one should, with a trip to the Cajón.

And so I did. I also wanted to kill my rear tyre, a Pirelli MT60, which is quite worn, and if I'm going on a long ride this summer, I want new tyres on the bike.



The day I bought them I went back to Alex's house, left the bike, and set off with two of his friends to see the Little Giant.

We took the Metro, a wise decision.



One block away from the Plaza de Armas and it was already practically an elbows-and-shoulders affair just to advance a few metres. Insanity prevailed. A sea of adults, children, all pushing, shoving, exhaling, farting and doing all those things that humans innocently do and that become vile when multiplied by the thousand.

Luckily I'm tall (at least in Chile) and so, camera over my head, I was able to see the Pequeña Gigante.



People watched from anywhere they could.

Things got quieter as soon as the show finished, but in a very Chilean way, people started whistling when the PA system announced that the Little Giant had gone to bed for the night, and the show was over.

To get out of there I shuffled like a cow for ten minutes. That got me a block further away from the Plaza, and I managed to hook up with Alex & Co.

We had something to drink, and headed home.



Half a block from Alex's house is where the car hit me.



And then, off back home.

And so it goes. The next day I calmly went up to the Cajón.

The traditional and excellent empanadas at La Capilla, where I hung around for a while, chatting about life.

Robert called; he said he wanted to go to the Cajón, so we agreed on meeting if chance should have it.

Those clouds that can be seen from Santiago, those that hang over the mountains in summer, those were the same clouds that went rolling silently overhead as I went further and further up the Cajón.

Their shadows cast haphazardly on the hillsides.



Embalse El Yeso.

Up and up I went. It got cold. My jacket, a Polo Mohawk, was perfect. The jeans... that's another story.

I reached the river one must cross to get to the hot springs. Instead of crossing it, I rode up beside it for a while, until I could go no further. For company, only cows and the mountains.

Remember this pic, from my first ride to the Termas Del Plomo?



Well this pic was taken down there, to the right, off-camera.



Drops fell. Fog descended. It started to rain, then to sleet.



The sun came out, but it was still raining.



It stopped raining.



After searching for a safe place to cross the river without being the star of a disaster, I crossed anyway, and soaked my legs (but gladly, oh so gladly!). And on I went to the Termas.



I got off the bike, and something caught my attention. I knew I had lost two of the three bungie cords that gold my bag onto the rack, but I certainly didn't expect to see it there...

There were some 10, 12 tents, some single-person, some large, group tents. I think there must have been about 50 people there in total, perhaps less. Certainly a popular destination.

I decided to go back.

When I was about to cross the river again on my way home, I saw a bike. It was Robert! He had managed to get all the way up here on his KTM 620 SuperMotard. Yes: completely slick racing tyres.

We went back together.

As we descended the weather improved, and the air warmed up.





I would stop every now and then to wait for him, since I was going faster. At one of these stops, ss these things usually go, I waited and waited, and he didn't show up. Retracing my route, I found he had had a light fall. He was dusty and bruised, his shit chinese helmet did its job (barely) and nothing bad had happened to him.

What was serious was that the KTM's gear shifter was broken. I have no idea what the fuck the KTM geniuses were thinking when they made the thing out of solid and fragile aluminium alloy. The XR's shifter is nice, bendy iron.

Luckily the shifter spindle had a nut on the end. The nut came loose easily, but it was the only thing we had. I remembered I had a piece of speedometer cable inside the hose that I carry in case I need to borrow or give fuel. It's made of finely coiled steel, and that would be a great source of wire.



And what about a pedal? Well...



Voilá!



Not ideal but it will get the job done. With difficulty we reached San José de Maipo... nearly. Robert ran out of gas a km or two before getting there. I remembered my 500 cc of emergency petrol in a bottle, and handed him that. It was getting late, and I had to get back to Santiago, but I called, and he managed to get home OK.

And that was that!