Crossing Rivers and Meeting Angels

My alarm rang before 6 a.m., and the first thing I did was start packing up my buggy. Eduardo wouldn’t let me leave without a proper goodbye in the morning—friends are friends, after all. His kindness stayed with me as I left Los Andes, stepping into the slow, serene light of dawn.

The day began with ample space to run along the hard shoulder, which gave me a sense of safety as I got back into running mode. My body was still recovering—not just from the grueling descent from Portillo but also from the cold that had been weighing me down, particularly affecting my breathing. But despite all that, I felt excited to be running again.

My legs weren’t fresh, but they were functional. I could feel the remnants of the past few days in them, yet I was able to switch between different running forms without pain. Breathing, however, was still a challenge. My nose seemed determined to run alongside me, forcing frequent stops to clear it so I could get a little more oxygen.

The route today was a gift for a running restart: slightly downhill, with either a cycle path or a broad hard shoulder for most of the way. But then Google threw in its usual plot twist, guiding me onto a gravel road. As I followed it, I started wondering if this road would lead anywhere at all. Soon enough, I found myself facing the Aconcagua River and a rather questionable footbridge—a tilted wooden structure with some wire for safety.

I initially hesitated. River crossings aren’t exactly my strength, and the thought of attempting this one felt overwhelming. I even checked Google for an alternative route. Still unsure, I was about to turn back when I noticed two women sitting nearby. I decided to approach them and ask for advice. They seemed confident and told me this was the only crossing since the other bridge no longer existed.

They convinced me to take a closer look. Just as I was considering my options, a man arrived, and the women wasted no time asking him for help. Within moments, it all happened so quickly: the women grabbed my backpacks, Alejandro (the man) lifted the buggy’s front, I lifted the back, and before I knew it, we were across the bridge. I couldn’t believe how fast it all unfolded—and how grateful I felt for these unexpected allies.

Carol and Carina, the two cyclists, turned out to be from Catemu, my destination for the day. They stayed with me for the rest of the run, sometimes riding ahead, sometimes behind, and occasionally waiting for me under the shade of a tree. We shared snacks, marveled at the flora and fauna around us, and chatted as much as the language barrier allowed. Their presence lifted my spirits and even my pace—having pacemakers, I realized, made running feel so much more dynamic and enjoyable.

The heat of the day became more intense as we neared Catemu, but running through the small towns leading up to it felt fantastic. After covering just over 27 miles, we finally reached the plaza in Catemu, where Carol treated us to a traditional Chilean drink, Mote con Huesillo. This ice-cold, sweet drink was the perfect way to end a beautiful run.

The kindness of these two women didn’t stop there. They helped me find an accommodation for the night and made sure I was settled in. Carol and Carina, if you ever read this: thank you for being my angels today.

Now, I’m staying with Angeliqua and Louis, who welcomed me with a late lunch of fresh salad, rice, and fries. It was delicious, and I felt so cared for after the long day. Tonight, it’s all about rest, recovery, and preparing for another 27-mile stretch tomorrow.

What a journey this is turning out to be. I’m reminded every day of how much beauty and kindness exists in the world. Take it easy, Andrea. Get well, enjoy the running, and savor this incredible adventure.