There is a road that starts at the seaside resort of La Serena, heading
eastward into the Andes, ultimately crossing the border with Argentina
at an elevation of over 14,000 feet. It follows the Elqui Valley, a region
where grapes for pisco, the national liquor, are grown.

My goal was a hot springs/ spa on the Argentine side, but I did not
make it that far.

After sleeping next to a river I woke up with the shits... but I kept head-
ing upward anyways. I was able to keep it up for about 2 or 3 hours,
finally giving in to rest under a tree.

Trees were in short supply in this region, but it was critical to find shade.
I laid down in my tent and proceeded to soak my sleeping bag with sweat.
I had a major fever. I stayed in this makeshift infirmary for 2 nights,
hoping I would feel good enough continue.

I was feeling vulnerable in my camp because I was in full view of the road.
Only a few vehicles a day passed by, so there would have been no witness
to an act of banditry. But the only contact I had with anybody while at my
makeshift infirmary was on my second day, when a passing truck driver,
returning from a mine up the road, stopped to see if I was okay. Once
again my roadside experience affirmed my faith in humanity, rather than
the other way around.

When I finally felt good enough to get back on the bike, it was only to
go down, not up-- so I never made it to Paso Agua Negra. But I vowed
to return someday.