Racing the Clock and Facing the Fires

This morning started in a rush—I overslept! I must have forgotten to set my alarm, so instead of my usual early start, I woke up at 6:30 am. I scrambled to get ready, hoping to be out the door by 7, but of course, that didn’t happen. Just as I was about to leave, I realized I had left my hat at Cecillia and Paula’s place last night during tea. A quick phone call (with my well-prepared Spanish sentence) meant I had to wake up Cecillia and retrieve my sombrero. A small delay, but also a chance to say goodbye again.

By 7:15, I finally hit the road, running out through town on the main street. The bus stops were full of people waiting for their daily ride to work. Seeing so many people heading off to their routines while I have the freedom to run always gives me mixed feelings—it’s a privilege to be out here, but it also makes me reflect on the different paths we all take.

Once I reached Ruta 160, I knew this would be my reality for the day—miles and miles on the autopista, surrounded by big trucks, speeding cars, and the ever-present hum of the road. It wasn’t as busy as I had expected, but there was still plenty of traffic to navigate. I ran steadily, stopping only for quick snack breaks and, at one point, to change my shoes. It’s something I do when I start feeling tired—switching shoes helps reset my gait and brings back better running form.

About five miles before reaching Cerro Alto, I saw a thick, gray-brown smoke cloud hanging low in the sky. I hoped it was from an industrial plant, but as I got closer, I realized it was wildfire smoke—right near the town where I planned to stay. As I entered Cerro Alto, the smoke sat heavily over the landscape, and I could see planes carrying water and firetrucks moving through town. Locals told me the fire had started today, likely intentionally, but reassured me that there was a mountain range between the town and the flames, preventing it from spreading. Still, it was unsettling to be so close to the destruction.

Finding a place to stay took some extra effort. I first checked out a hostel but then decided to ask around. It takes more time this way, but it’s always worth it. At a panadería, a kind woman recommended a place run by her friend. That’s how I met Varinia, who welcomed me warmly and had a restaurant where I could get a fresh salad—exactly what I was craving. We sat and talked, and I really enjoyed the conversation.

Other than that, I didn’t interact with many people today. That’s just how it goes when I spend most of the day on the autopista. Tomorrow, I’ll head south and back toward the coast, steering clear of the fires burning further inland.

Thank you for following along—your support means the world! Vamos juntos!