At sunrise I'm awakened by a rooster and discover who was grunting near me all night. It turns out I had slept right next to a llama pen. The town has a church and a few small houses, as nothing much can really live here. But the setting in the high desert valley is incredible in the sparkling winter morning.

There is no food, so not much reason to hang around.Time to hit the road. The starting gun goes off at 8.

A very dusty ride over dirt roads leading down to the Pan Am. The CD player jams with dust. I am chewing it. Everyone feels a little better as we lower in elevation and knowing that soon there will be food.

    We cross the Tropic of Capricorn at Antofagasta.

    Vehicles roar intoTal Tal around sundown. A huge parillada is organized.

    A giant grill is set up on the beach. The coal and woodfire is stoked up nice and hot, providing warmth from the cold ocean breeze. Onto the grill goes a huge whole tunafish, abalone, sides of beefsteak, chorizo sausage, whole chickens, sweetbreads and a leg of pork. along with potatoes, onions and tomatoes Wine jugs are emptied quickly. Everyone is in quite a festive mood, those who aren't still stuck up in the mountains anyway. The waves crash on the rocky beach. Too cold to swim now, but nice outside around the fire. Some of the locals join us. Las chicas are being flirtatious as usual. Also an old Luftwaffe pilot shows up to offer us some fine lager.It's strange to hear Spanish with a German accent but it's common in many areas of Chile. He boasts openly about bombing St. Paul's Cathedral. The gentleman was around 70 and ran a copper mine. One wonders if he didn't have a different job in the war,before he arrived just at the end of 1945, perhaps managing a factory in the old country.As the party winds down I go to sleep outside on beach with the secure knowledge that it rains only once every four years here. It rains!