We’re having breakfast on the terrace, warmed by a dazzling sun.
Then we drive to Arica, where we fill up our tank plus a jerrycan in preparation for the next three days far from any gas station.


Next, we take Route 11, the transborder road toward Putre.
The first few kilometers follow the Rio Lluta, a ribbon of greenery cutting through the surrounding desert.


The first hairpin turns start as civilization fades away.
It’s weird—there’s no one around?

Not too surprised by the lack of traffic on this route, which is essential to the economies of both countries it serves, we keep going, admiring the landscapes.

The afternoon is well underway when we reach the village of Zapahuira, about thirty kilometers from our destination.
The rest of the road should just be a series of tight turns.
We’re happy—we should arrive well before nightfall and enjoy some rest at a charming lodge after today’s long drive.
Huh, there’s a traffic jam!
Must be a heavily loaded truck struggling to climb!
10 minutes pass, then 20...
I start wondering if there’s another problem...
Then a flood of trucks appears on the opposite lane.
Strange!
I check online and, after some digging, finally uncover the truth.
The road is under construction, and the worksite requires a full closure of traffic in both directions for a large part of the day.
And this has been going on for months...
It creates a massive bottleneck that takes hours to clear, especially since only one lane is available when traffic resumes...
We’ll have to wait over an hour for our turn.
Then a second blockade is set up a bit further up—another 90 minutes of waiting...
But we won’t find that out until we’ve passed...
So there we are, stuck among the trucks in the dust as daylight fades.

The hotel reception closes at 19:00. We have no idea how long it’ll take to cover these 30 miserable kilometers!
2 hours? 3? 4? Overnight?
Anxiety rises in the car, along with the tension...
We try to reach the hotel owner via Booking, but no answer.
The phone number listed rings with no response either.
We find another number on Google, and—miracle—a voice answers.
A code is given, with the assurance that the room key will be on the door.
A little reassured, we resign ourselves to waiting, wondering how things will go once we get there.
Everything must be jammed every day from the border to Putre, and excursions must be affected!
We didn’t come to Chile to spend hours in traffic jams but to discover vast, empty spaces!
Ah, it’s our turn!
It’s pitch black when we arrive, on edge, at the hotel.
The welcome isn’t very warm, and there’s no apology for the inconvenience or advice for the coming days.
Payment, however, is promptly requested...
The room is comfortable, the decor charming.
But let’s not dawdle—we need to find dinner before everything closes!
We rush out in search of a restaurant without taking the time to bundle up properly.
Big mistake at this altitude, where frost sets in at night and buildings are rarely heated...
We’ll be freezing throughout the meal, only eager to get under the covers!
---/---
You okay? I’m breaking into cold sweats, can’t digest, and feel really uneasy!
My partner thinks he’s got acute mountain sickness and panics completely since it’s impossible to descend quickly because of the roadworks.
I have my doubts. We’ve been at altitude for a while now, and Putre isn’t *that* high (barely 3,400 meters).
I try to reassure him, but it’s no use.
Then comes the mad dash to the bathroom...
I think I’ve got the diagnosis: a classic case of traveler’s diarrhea!
It’s his first time, so he doesn’t believe me, even though I’m a pro at this.
Anyway, we won’t sleep a wink, and I promise to take him back to Arica at sunrise.
We’ll leave the hotel at first light, leaving the keys behind the door and a message on Booking.
We’ll never get a response.
And we weren’t even asking for a refund for the paid nights!
Just a word to say they’d found the keys and wished us a speedy recovery...
So I definitely don’t recommend this stop—it’s nothing but a money-making machine.
Guests should be warned in advance about the access difficulties, what time to hit the road, what’s currently possible, and alternative routes.
A little kindness wouldn’t hurt either...
It’s a shame because the comfort and charm are there.
As for the traveler’s diarrhea, I think it came from the meal the night before.
The salmon wasn’t well cooked, and only my partner ate it.
The cold and stress made the crisis worse.
Better that than mountain sickness!
Ponts du monde : concours de photos amical de juillet 2026
Rubrique Jeux Voyages
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