This morning we woke around nine and then had a leisurely breakfast while trucks rolled by and windmills turned lazily in the distance. By the time we were nearly ready to go, Silvio was outside chatting with an older couple traveling with their friend. They chatted about where the ghost towns were and how we could get there, and then exchanged contact information. They are a short distance from home, and up the road for us, so we are going to meet with them this afternoon, apparently. We climbed a long way from where we camped, the road winding up through the hills, and before long Silvio passed the baton for me. The truck is easy to drive, although it is easy to forget that it is a large and heavy machine. The main problem is the tolls. We try to pass as a camionita, or small truck, but occasionally we have to pay the real toll for a dual axle. The difference can be as much as fifteen dollars and sometimes it takes some convincing.
We are at another truck stop now, and just had a huge lunch that Silvio made. He has determined to show me a good time, which is partly about cooking and cleaning up. I am writing this as he cleans up the dishes and prepares the drone that I delivered for him. He wants to configure it today and then try to fly it. Outside the dunes rise in the distance and stray dogs trot back and forth across the parking lot looking for handouts. I gave one a piece of bread but he turned his nose up at it; cuico. Perro de mierda.
Silvio was concentrating on his drone when I went for a walk into the desert. Someone had cut the fence down to two feet from the ground—I wonder what the purpose of the fence would be anyway, given that there are no large animals here—so I was able to cross through easily once I stepped past the half full bottles of amber fluid—you can guess what that might be at a truck stop—and walked onto the shifting sand.
There are few live animals here. First I saw beetles
shifting sand and walking around, and then something that jumped swiftly out of sight into a burrow when it saw me coming. I went back for my camera, and then went further into the desert, finally walking about two kilometres away from the truck as I traced the lizards that darted into tunnels and birds lighting on rocks. I followed what had been a watercourse, likely only a few days earlier for some of the low ground was still 
muddy, but there was no more life when I did so. The lizard tunnels are frequent, but few are moving around. Perhaps it is too cold in the desert. There are larger holes as well, but there is nothing stirring around them. As far as animal prints, I only saw some dog tracks, and the stitching that beetles leave on the ground.
I walked back past a large cactus growing on the edge of one of the watercourses and took some pictures of it in the landscape, as well as close-ups of where something had chewed on its bark. By the time I returned to the truck, it was time for us to leave, so Silvio took over the driving and we drove even further north, turning on the highway to see Copiapo, where Silvio has gone into the mall called the Falabella, which for me sounds like Fabella, or slum. He is hoping to get warmer blankets as a backup to the diesel heater, and find internet to download his drone software. I am here guarding the truck, and watching the locals be annoyed that we are taking up four or five valuable parking spots.
Silvio came back a few hours later happy that he`d found two feather comforters and downloaded the software for his drone. I was just walking from a nap so he drove us out of town and before long we were at a copec—gas station chain from here—and he was bringing the manager over to the truck. She was excited to meet the foreigner so I tried not to disappoint. She assured us that the place was secure, and before long we were cooking dinner and readying for the night. I was tired for the nap hadn’t been at all substantial but we still stayed up too late watching The Brand New Testament once Silvio had been unable to get his direct TV antenna working.
