Jan 12th – Arica, Chile to Arequipa, Peru

Arica is jammed up against and the border with Peru and it takes no time at all to get to the border full of expectation for a new and exciting day chasing the Dakar across the desert. It then took us almost four hours to get our bodies, bags, and bikes across the border. Forms filled by hand four times to get the bikes out of Chile and a similar byzantine set of processes to get into Peru. Apart from actually stamping our passports not one of these steps added any value at all and most of the officials involved seemed to have no idea why they were doing what they were doing. I remember when all of Europe had two customs and two immigration departments and a money changer at each border crossing but now all of this has gone away. Not so in South America and we wasted half our daylight.

Our first encounter with real people, not in uniform, in Peru was at the town of Tacna where our route took us through the local market where all the other Dakar vehicles were supposed to pass. Even our little entourage was greeted with huge enthusiasm by the local folks. They are genuinely enthusiastic to see the circus pass through town and are really proud that Peru was chosen to be part of the Dakar. Everywhere we have been greeted with warmth and courtesy and I think that people are really pleased that somebody has found a use for this otherwise uninhabitable place. As we came into Iquique the other day we were greeted by both the army and the local nuns waving national flags and cheering on the Dakar competitors. Every day a bizarre experience.

We have now been riding up the Atacama Desert for four days and the terrain is still breathtaking but impossible to describe or photograph. Every time we climb a valley and crest the hills we are greeted by another 50km view of desert and hills and more sand and rocks. I have been trying to think of ways to relate to it all – but it’s not like anywhere else you have been. It has the colours of the Grand Canyon but there has not been for any rain here for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. None of the houses for a couple of thousand km have any gutters – there is no point. As I said, it never rains; never, ever.

Our run up to Arequipa took us along the main Route5 which was shared in a couple of long sections by the Dakar racers and support crews. On these sections they are definitely not racing; in fact they get big penalties for breaking the speed limits. Which means that we less law abiding folk can pass them and take a closer look.