Fly Fishing Patagonia, Part 5, Osorno

I saw little on the overnight ride. I might as well have been in an endless tunnel. Occasionaly there were lights out in the blackness suggesting life and a large glow when I approached towns. Route 5 south of Santiago was paved but many sections were quite rough.  I kept thinking of my dog in her kennel and if it was bouncing with every bump. If I would have know it was this rough I would have tucked a blanket or foam under the kennel in order to cushion the jolts. I'm sure she was stressed, possibly in a state of shock.

The bus went bumpity bump, bumpity bump, bumpity bump all through the night.

The bus had a big TV screen up front. The sports station on had soccer highlights. I kept hearing excited announcers yell out "Golazo!" which I later found out meant highlight goal or goal of the week. The Golazos' were incredible: unbelievable overhead/bicycle kicks, headers, magical footwork, laser like strikes from great distance, penalty shots improbably stopped by diving goalies. All this occurred in stadiums overloaded with energised fans and all the play by play announced in rapid Spanish. No wonder Soccer is called, "The Beautiful Game."  The station had highlights from all over the Latin Americas.

Bumpity bump, bumpity bump, golazo!, bumpity bump, golazo!... all through the night.

I didn't sleep. I logged the towns passed through: Talca, Chillan, Los Angeles, Temuco. The bus stopped frequently and often for several minutes at a time. During theses stops local women and men, but mostly women, boarded selling snacks, baked goods and other inexpensive items. They walked the aisle with their goods in large display trays at belt level with a wide strap around their neck much like the classic club cigarette girls in the 1920's through the 1940's.

Bumpity bump, bumpity bump, golazo!, bumpity bump... all through the night.

The bus wasn't full but with every stop people got off and others got on. It was well used. It linked the towns along Route 5. It reminded me of how Greyhound buses were popular North America 20 or 30 years ago. I had gone back in time.

Bumpity bump, bumpity bump, golazo!...all through the night.

Then the sunlight travelled the Atlantic. It touched Buenos Aires, then the Pampas, then the eastern face of the Andes. It jumped the mountain peaks and then landed on Chile and me. Morning had come. I had been travelling for about 11 hours. I  arrived in Osorno. Now I would see how my dog faired.