Chillan, and the wheels fall off

The journey to Chillan was interesting. It was, apparently, supposed to take two hours, but took more like three. We were somewhat delayed by the fact that one of the wheels fell off the trailer, containing all our snowboards. The ensuing line of sparks along the road was pretty spectacular. Luckily, the other van was five minutes behind us, so stopped, and we managed to pile all the boards onto the roof-rack, squeezing the rest between the seats on our van. The plan was for the drivers to return the next day to pick it up. Anyway, after a quick meal consisting of hamburgesas in Chillan proper, we heade up to our accomodation for the next four days. It consisted of a number of cute cottages, each with three bedrooms. Sylv and I were rooming with Darren this time. They were both now getting ill, so our cottage was becoming a bit of a plague house. We also met Aaron, who'd arrived from Santiago to join us. He was, improbably, shorter than I remembered, but was also feeling a lot better. There were also a couple of guys from the US - John and Owen - who'd joined the tour. I haven't spoken much, but I have to be honest and say I took a fairly instant dislike to them. I don't know why.

We stoked up the fire, then went to bed.

And now I´m going to bed. I´m a day behind, now, having just skied Chillan. More on that later. I´ll leave you with this, though. If you´re skiing with the tour guide at the end of the day, it´s just you and him (everybody else is eating or elsewhere), he worked a season in the resort as ski patrol and knows it like the back of his hand, and he says to you, ´Hey, do you want to come on a little adventure?´, what do you do? Right.