Hitchiking Part 4 of 4

Trip Start Feb 11, 2008

Trip End Mar 2008

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Flag of Chile Futrono, Chile
Thursday, February 21, 2008

At this point, whether we were hitching or bussing out of Temuco was ambiguous since we had to be in Futrono by night time. I didn't feel like going back to outskirts of town to the terminal and waiting for some bus, especially because they're was nothing direct to Futrono. Instead we waited downtown. I would have got on a bus to Osorno if it would have dropped us off on the highway at the exit for Futrono, but none ever came. We took a 20 minutes bus to Gorbea that left us by the exit ramp. From there we had walk 2 km to the entrance ramp to catch traffic going south, as there were no buses. I waited on the side of the highway while Miles on the ramp. Hitching on the highway loses much of the luster as cars and trucks blow by with little probability of stopping, the asphalt is hot and the friction of the speeding vehicles rips into your ears, not to mention the landscape is drab. But I'd done it years ago in northern Chile so I expected we'd find a ride. Miles thought I was crazy for doing this since we had a destination we were expected to reach tonight

Me in the salt truck

. I promised him we'd make it by sundown although I had no idea because I had no control over getting rides.
Eventually, a couple of guys in small truck threw us in the closed container on the back. It was rusty, dusty, and full of bags of salt. We laid on the bags, coughing, looking out of few holes where light burst in. We had no idea what we were passing so we discussed Martin Heidegger. Half an hour later, they dropped us off at another town. We waited at the entrance ramp, but not a single vehicle passed after an hour. We hoped it was like the other town and walked 3 km up the highway and found an entrance ramp. Miles was tired, hot, and sick of it. I agreed if a bus stopped, we'd take it (we had tried to flag down buses while walking, but the drivers ignored us.) We waited at the bottom of the ramp, before it turned 270 degrees. A giant truck passed us. It got on the highway but pulled over. The driver got out and waved us in. We scrambled up the bank and hopped on. He was going all the way to Chiloe a pastoral island south of Puerto Montt, many hours away. I was tempted but knew we had to make to Futrono. He spoke in fairly good English (that he claimed he learned in a week) to Miles. He was carrying fish food for fish farms. He dropped us off outside the hamlet of Reumén. We waited more for the 45km ride to Futrono. A local showed up and said the bus would be coming in 15 minutes. It did and it was completely full, but we squeezed on and stood up.
In Futrono I had set up a meeting with a local school teacher named Ramón Quichiyao. He was leading a group of poets and writers along Neruda's route beginning the next morning. He invited me and Miles and invited us to a gathering tonight where he would talk, poets would recite, a movie would be shown, and wine would be served. It started at 9PM. We arrived at sunset at 8:40. I had to find him and the gathering, never mind that we were exhausted, filthy, and smelly (no showers for a few days and no clothes washing in Chile).