Tuesday 26th April 1988
We got to the Bus Station at 07:00 hrs. and found that Bill had to buy another bus ticket. He got 10% discount using Karin’s student card, but it still meant for an expensive ride to Santiago for him. We left Calama at 08:00 hrs. on a comfy bus which quickly and smoothly conveyed us to Antofagasta where we had to change coaches.
Antofagasta is a port city in northern Chile, about 1,100 kilometres (700 miles) north of Santiago. It is the capital of Antofagasta Province and Antofagasta Region. After the Spanish American wars of independence, Bolivia claimed Antofagasta as part its territory. Despite having an overwhelmingly ethnic Chilean population, Chile recognised Bolivian sovereignty of Antofagasta in 1866, but in 1879 Chile recanted its recognition of Bolivian sovereignty citing a Bolivian breach of the latest boundary treaty. Antofagasta was captured by Chile on 14th February 1879 triggering the War of the Pacific (1879–83). Chilean sovereignty was officially recognised by Bolivia under the terms of the 1904 Treaty of Peace and Friendship.
The city of Antofagasta is closely linked to mining activity, being a port and the chief service hub for one of Chile's major mining areas. While silver and saltpetre mining have been historically important for Antofagasta, since the mid-19th century copper mining is by far the most important mining activity for Antofagasta.
We had twenty minutes before the 11:00 hrs. coach to Santiago de Chile departed so I spent the time making a monster cheese, tomato and raw onion roll for lunch. The bus was more like an aeroplane inside with overhead lockers for our baggage.
I started to read “City of the Dead” by Herbert Lieberman, a morbidly absorbing novel about a Police Medical Examiner doing autopsies in New York City, first published 1976. In the gritty seventies, Manhattan is a dark, dangerous, and threatening place. One of the bright spots in this decaying metropolis is Paul Konig. As the city's chief medical examiner, he has developed an impressive reputation for his skills in forensic pathology skills that will be put to the ultimate test when a dangerous psychopath kidnaps Konig's daughter.
Awakened by phone calls featuring his daughter's desperate screams each night, Konig finds his life unravelling, not only personally but professionally. Between the case of a serial killer who leaves a trail of severed body parts in his wake, an investigation into the forensic work on an alleged prison suicide, and a nakedly ambitious deputy medical examiner, he is at the end of his rope, and it will take every ounce of his strength to save his own life as well as his family's.
The scenery was a relentless vista of brown sand and low rugged hills devoid of vegetation. We stopped at lunchtime and Bill, Karin and I walked across some sticky grey drying mud flats to the Pacific Ocean.
The sun was bright. We got back on the bus and hurtled on southwards, stopping at a fruit fly control checkpoint during the afternoon. Our bags were searched to ensure that we were not smuggling forbidden fruit.
Towards evening a few patches of green grass appeared and soon some cultivated plots of land. The few towns that we passed through were small and looked pleasant with many modern buildings. We were served a dry cheese sandwich and a very sweet cup of black coffee before the lights on the coach were extinguished at 19:30 hrs.
The coach was half empty so we each had a double seat to sprawl out over to doze through the night.
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