Hey everyone. It's Alexander.
This week, Chile truly delivered. The riding, the landscapes, the people—it’s been a night-and-day difference from Peru. After battling corrupt cops, trash-covered roads, and mind-numbing chaos, Chile has been like stepping into a different world.
But the week wasn’t all smooth sailing. A country-wide power outage left me eating beans in the dark, Hildy (my bike) is struggling with bad fuel, and after thirteen weeks of riding, exhaustion has officially set in.
The days are getting longer, the temps are dropping, and the finish line is just a few weeks away.
Riding for a Cause—Final Push for Donations
Before I get into the details, let’s talk about why I’m still pushing through.
This ride isn’t just about the thrill of adventure. It’s about raising money for Inspirations Studio, a ceramics program that helps marginalized women and gender-diverse people rebuild their lives after facing homelessness, addiction, and extreme hardships.
With just a couple of weeks left, this is your chance to help make a difference.
💥 Donate today and be part of this ride. One hundred percent of every dollar goes directly to keeping this program alive.
Alright, now back to the road.
Monday: Desert Roads, Fuel Calculations & The Atacama
This was one of those dream riding days. Massive Andes mountains on my left, the endless Pacific on my right, and nothing but smooth tarmac, long straights, and wide curves.
I pulled 530 km in 5.5 hours, cruising between 110-130 km/h, but slowing down to 90 km/h when needed. A little trick I picked up from the Dempster Highway—dropping speed can drastically increase fuel range. The rangefinder on my bike showed I had 30 km left in the tank when I rolled into town. Perfect timing.
Chile, by the way, is spotless.
Compared to Peru’s endless trash, this place is immaculate. Even the roadside memorials here are next-level. In Mexico, you see crosses. In Chile people build full-on houses as memorials. Brick structures, patio doors—it’s wild. I stopped to take photos of a few of them but most were in dangerous spots on the road and it felt a little intrusive to photograph someone’s final resting place.
That night? I screwed up the hotel choice.
The online photos lied. The place felt like a detox center—and having been through a few of those myself, I did my time and I did not need that reminder. The room came with a giant five-gallon jug of water with three glasses. The kind you'd typically find perched on top of a water cooler. Who the hell can pour from that? The whole place was creepy. Lesson learned—I’m too far into this trip and already over budget so there's no point in going cheap.
Tuesday: Power Outages & Beans in the Dark
I left Antofagasta, which by the way the Tropic of Capricorn passes through, and blasted through the Atacama Desert. It's one of the most stunning places on earth that I've been to. It's right up there with Tombstone Territorial Park in the Yukon. It's just breathtaking. It's sand and rock and not a cloud in the sky and a very, very strange light. There were no insects there either, and I realized that I wasn't getting pummelled by any insects until I rode out of the desert. The stark emptiness of it all didn't sink in until I rode out of it and hit some vegetation.
After five hours of riding, I rolled into Caldera, a tiny fishing village and beach town and grabbed a room at a wonderful little hotel right off the highway, and settled in—then the power went out.
I ended up making my own coffee on top of my JetBoil in the parking lot and then went for another walk in the town where people were just sitting in bars drinking because you couldn't get any food. I haven't eaten a lot today so I came back and I got the JetBoil going again and had a can of pork and beans, potato chips and beef jerky. So far, this is my evening. Sitting in the dark, eating a can of can of beans and, yeah, shit happens. What can you do?
Power was restored by 2 AM but it wasn't until the next morning that I learned that the outage affected all of Chile and that martial law was declared and a curfew was enforced.
With power back on, I tried to recharge my devices but my little charger that plugs into the bike–kind of like a cigarette lighter thing if you're of that age, but a mini one–went out yesterday. So no GoPro because the batteries are both dead. I do have a backup USB charger I can plug into where I hook up my winter jacket to run the phone. I also have my solar-powered battery pack which is good in a pinch but it takes a lot of sunlight to charge it. We'll see how that works out. I've got my own personal energy crisis!
It's going to be two more nights before I get to Santiago where I can get some supplies, like a new charger, and more beans. LOL. I really should be buying a new helmet. I dropped the bike on it a couple of times and can't even see out the visor, so I'll have to decide what to do about that.
Wednesday–Thursday: Bad Gas & Finally, Santiago
I continued to push southward and slowly made my way down the coast to La Serena, a huge beach town. Trying to catch up on my food intake, I ended up having two dinners and even got myself some candy floss from a beach vendor.
Afterwards, I went back and got my bathing suit and went to go for a quick swim until I hit the water. I was standing there and the water felt like the Pacific Northwest where you can't feel your feet after two minutes, it's that cold. And I realized, as I'm heading south, it's getting cooler.
The morning air was cold and overcast as I loaded up the bike and rolled out of La Serena on Thursday. It was between 16-20°C, and I knew I’d be riding straight into warmer weather, so I layered up—sweater, riding jacket, and rain gear. The rain gear isn’t just for rain—it cuts the wind, keeps the cold from creeping in, and after days of desert riding, I’d take any buffer I could get.
Hildy, the name I've given to my trusty BMW 1200GS steed, was sputtering from bad fuel. She doesn't like Shell and neither did my Mary Queen of Scotts, my previous Triumph Thurxton bike. She wasn’t happy, and honestly, neither was I. I knew she was choking on whatever garbage gas I had unknowingly fed her. The problem with Chile’s fuel stations is that every fill-up is a gamble—you get whatever’s left in the hose, whether it’s pure or mixed with crap. I stopped for gas, hoping to clear out the bad stuff, but the only stations available were Shell. Perfect. I topped up with what I could and kept moving.
The ride south wasn’t bad at first. Mostly highway, nothing too exciting. But then all of a sudden I found myself in this absolutely massive tunnel—the Tunnel of San Cristóbal.
This wasn’t just a tunnel—it was a massive, 4 km long, mountain-piercing beast of engineering, cutting straight through the Chilean landscape. One second, I was in the cold and overcast shadows of the mountains and the next I popped out the other side into blazing, 36°C heat. I had to pull over immediately. Off came the rain gear. Then the sweater. I gulped water. Hydration was key.
By the time I rolled into Santiago, Hildy coughed and stalled. The bad gas was really starting to piss me off. I needed fuel stabilizer, but nobody seemed to know what that even was.
That night, I grabbed a hotel in the heart of the city and let exhaustion take over. I've been riding for five days straight and my body was aching. The desert is tough. It keeps pummelling you, I'm also homesick. I'm missing, Katy, home, and company. It's just endless nights by myself in my own head, and I'm getting a little tired, but we're so close to the end. Still, I decided to take a couple of days off to rest and do some sightseeing.
Friday-Saturday: Exploring Santiago & Eating Like a King
I woke up tired but determined to enjoy the city. No bike today. No riding. Just walking, sightseeing.
The morning started off unintentionally hilarious. I had mapped out a route to a museum and made my way over. At the entrance, security stopped me for my ID and I handed over my driver’s license, because, obviously, I wasn’t carrying my passport around. They checked it, waved me through the metal detector, and suddenly, and unknowingly, I was wandering through one of Chile’s most important government buildings-the Supreme Court of Chile. Whoops! It was gorgeous so I snapped a few photos before casually exiting like I meant to do that.
I found the actual museum shortly after—an art and pre-Columbian history museum, with some wonderful thread art and textiles which I knew Katy would have enjoyed. I sent her a couple of photos before heading out for more exploring.
Wandering through the city, I stumbled upon the stop for the hop-on, hop-off bus. Perfect timing. I jumped on, grabbed a ticket, and for the next few hours, got the Reader’s Digest version of Santiago’s history. These buses get a bad rap, but honestly, they’re the best way to get a sense of a city and learn about its history in just a few hours.
Santiago is massive with almost 5 million residents. There are a few tall buildings but not a lot. Actually, the tallest building in South America is here. Its built by the same people that built the Burj Khalifa in UAE. When I took the cable car up the mountain, you could really get a perspective of how just how big the city is and how spread out it is.
I told Katy if we're coming back to South America, we have to find more time in Santiago. It is just absolutely stunning and I highly recommend it.
Saturday was a no-stress day. I woke up and sat around a bit enjoying a few cups of coffee before heading out. I visited Santiago's equivalent to our Saint Lawrence Market and had a nice light lunch and visited the Museum of Santiago. I also had an epic nap. The kind you wake up from and you don't know who you are or what your name is for a few seconds. I needed that.
For dinner I made reservations at La Cabrera and my God, I had the most magnificent meal–steak, au gratin potatoes with cheese and creme brûlée. I'm so full I don't think I have to eat for a week. It was the best meal I've had in a long time.
I'm planning out for the next two weeks which should get me to Ushuaia. There are not a lot of towns in between and I'm a bit worried about gas and trying to figure out how I'm going to get an Argentinian phone card so I can have Wi-Fi. Well, I'll figure it out like I always do. Tomorrow I'm off to Los Ángeles. No, not that one. The other one. The one with the accent over the A.
Sunday: The Final Stretch Begins
After two days of resting, eating, and exploring Santiago, it was time to get moving again. The morning started mild, around 22°C, but as the day went on, the temps jumped between 16°C and 27°C. I had to stop multiple times to adjust my gear—rain suit off, sweater off, jacket vents open.
The ride itself was brutal. It was flat, straight, and mind-numbingly boring. Vineyards. Orchards. More vineyards. More orchards. For hours. This is the kind of riding that messes with your head. The speed creeps up, 120 km/h feels slow, and the second you start to zone out, that’s when bad things happen. I forced myself to stay alert, stopped for a quick break, and pushed through.
By the time I rolled into Los Ángeles five hours later, I was completely drained. I grabbed a pizza and crashed while watching the Oscars in Spanish.
This ride is almost over, but the impact can last forever. 💥 Donate today to help keep Inspirations Studio alive.
Alright, friends. We will talk soon. The bottom of the world, Ushuaia, is calling.
Stay savage.
MotoAgent out.
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