Day 3: Sunday, Vina del Mar

By Gwendolyn

Another late morning - we slept till almost 1pm. We watched a bit of news and congratulated ourselves for not being stuck in New York City due to the crazy snow storms. About 2pm we got out of our room, and headed down to the hotel cafe where we enjoyed a large lunch and an overpriced bottle of wine: the Trio from Concha y Toro, which was a blend of Chardonnay, Pinot Grigio and Pinot Blanc. It was really quite lovely, but, as we were in a hotel, it was overpriced. On the good side, an overpriced menu at the hotel is equal to eating anywhere in San Francisco or New York. So it seemed normal there and when we’re outside of the hotel, everywhere else seems to be a deal. That afternoon we arrived back in our room where we looked out the window at the still gray and overcast skies. The pool was unusable. We watched the waves break over the side of the pool and drench the pavement as we ate lunch. Boredom can overtake you if you are at a beach for vacation and yet there is no beach. Or pool. Or sun. Most of our day was spent watching the waves as they hit the rocks and sides of the hotel. Apparently this is an unusual thing for the weather: chalk it up to bad timing on our part.

Later in the evening the weather did not improve. The overcast sky remained and our hotel did not even put out chairs for aperitifs outside. We had a glass of wine inside the bar and then we decided to try a restaurant we’d seen next to Felini’s called Pasta del Mar. We first stopped by the casino for a drink at the bar. There we found a waiter who spoke perfect English and two that spoke none. I had a very bad Sauvignon Blanc, but I was in a casino bar. At the restaurant, Pasta del Mar, Mike and I both had fish (sometimes it’s hard not to have seafood here). The waiter spoke English fairly well - enough to get by. Of course, most Spanish Mike and I have needed deals with food & wine. We paired our fish with a Casa Lapostalle Cuvee Alexandre Chardonnay, a common bottle even in the US. After dinner we headed to the casino, then to bed we went.

Day 2 Saturday, Vina del Mar

By Gwendolyn

Awaking at noon makes you feel pretty lazy, but it is after all vacation and it’s not like the weather was beckoning us in any way. As we fell asleep before a real dinner the previous night, once awake, we were both eager to eat, although much to Mike’s dismay, I insisted on a trip to the state-of-the-art gym first.

The day was not promising in the way of sun, so we ventured out for a walk similar to the one we’d taken the night before. We found a place for lunch, Fellini’s, which was empty at the time (2pm). At Fellini’s, we enjoyed a big salad as well as a main entrée, swordfish for me, lasagna for him. We also had a bottle of white wine and a half bottle of red (we did not drink it all!). The red was the Errazuriz Merlot, a very popular label in the area. The total at the end? Including tip - $60.00. Quite the deal we thought! By 4pm, as we were leaving, it was packed. We’ve realized that perhaps everyone sleeps in until noon in the city and eats at odd hours. Which seemed to fit our schedule perfectly. Full, we headed back to the hotel. It was finally sunny out and so we put on our bathing suits and headed down to the pool. From 5:30pm through 7pm the sun was the strongest it had been all day. And the pool was packed. During our sunning, we watched a most amazing air show- about 5 planes were flying in artistic circles and crossing over us oh-so-close. Watching that over the water and the rocks and the blue skies was such a treat.

Dinner was at Hotel Vina del Mar. This is a Saturday night, but at 9pm, the place was empty. Again, by the time we left at 11pm, it was packed. Like the Spanish, late eating and long siestas are commonplace. Getting a reservation at 8pm gives you the ‘early bird’ special. At Savinya, we had a wonderful meal and a good bottle of wine: De Martino Pinot Noir from the Leyda valley. Leyda is a bit south of Casablanca and has a winery of the same name with a Pinot Noir we’ve tasted before. Most of the Pinot Noirs we have tasted, from Veremonte to this, have shown great promise. The weather of the Casablanca valley seems adept at producing well-made Pinot Noir. So we’ll see what happens. The service at dinner (as it was at lunch) was excellent. All service here in Chile has so far been wonderful. The servers are attentive and kind and put up with our very limited grasp of the Spanish language and our constant blank stares and inquiries of “habla inglese?”

Day 1 - Friday, Arrive in Santiago, travel to Vina del Mar

By Gwendolyn

We learned some time before our trip that there is a reciprocity fee in Chile and Argentina of $100 dollars for Americans, which you pay when you arrive at the airport. Luckily, arriving on business class assures that you are off the plane early and in the front of the line for customs, hurrah! We watched the line grown longer behind us and gave a ‘whew, we’re glad that’s not us’smile as we approached the next customs agent. He inspected the passports and tells us in broken English that we must go back to the counter behind the line. Confused, we return to the indicated counter,  and line , to discover that you must pay the reciprocity payment BEFORE customs! Note to self: Read all signs when in foreign airport. Waiting there for some time, we finally pay, get our passport stamped in approval and move ourselves back to the customs line, now filled with passengers from the plane that arrived after us. One hour later and we are thankfully stamped through, although our momentum was somewhat dulled. At least the delay meant that our bags were ready and waiting for us at the baggage claim.

The rental car process moved quickly. We were given an old Nissan Sentra that was pretty beat up, but we were driving through the vineyards of Chile, beat up car is good! After exiting the airport, we accelerated the car up to 90km/hr. It was this point when the steering wheel began to shake violently and the vehicle became impossible to use. Alas, another setback in our momentum as we returned to the airport. But we received a second car speedily and were on our way to the beach, Vina del Mar.

Veramonte
On the way to the beach we made a stop at the Veramonte winery, right off Rt. 68 between the city of Santiago and Vina del Mar. Veramonte is a well-respected winery known in particular for its Sauvignon Blanc,  bottled in screw cap for the past two vintages and the first wine in Chile to do so. Running at about $9 or $10, this wine is a fantastic value. It’s crisp and grassy, easy-drinking and perfect for any hot day.

At the winery, we were given a small room to freshen up and rest - we’d gotten plenty of sleep on the plane, but our bodies were still somewhat out of sync,  14 hour flights can do that to you. An hour nap and a shower, we were ready for tasting and tours. The friendly and educational staff first took us on a tour of the vineyards. We rode along the bumpy vineyard roads and we were surprised by the similarity of Chilean vineyards to California vineyards. The hills, like many in California, were brown with patches of green and a valley floor covered in vines. Post vineyard tour, the winemaker took us through the cellars and sat with us for a tasting.

On Veramonte Wines: The winery will put their ‘05 vintage of Chardonnay in screw cap and are hoping to put the reds under the same closure, eventually. Most Veramonte vineyards lie in the cool Casablanca Valley, with lots of sunlight, but tempered by the pacific winds. Strong diurnal temperature shifts help the grapes to cool at night but gain ripeness through the day, allowing for a longer growing season. It has proved to be a great area for producing Sauvignon Blanc and Chardonnay. It is also demonstrating excellent potential for Pinot Noir. Veramonte’s plantings for this varietal are continually increasing. Tasting the Pinot Noir gave us hope that this grape would find a niche here in the Casablanca Valley,  the Veramonte version showed great promise. Right now, the production is too small to take it internationally. 90% of Veramonte’s production is exported, most of that to the US and much of that is the Sauvignon Blanc.

The tasting was followed by lunch, a delicious meal,  an appetizer of thin bread wafers with a goat cheese. The goat cheese here is different from the French and American versions. It was a crumbly texture that reminded me more of a sheep’s milk cheese than the soft, pungent type found here. Next course - salmon was served with three purees,  one of beet, one of carrot and one of green beans. The taste of each went so well with the salmon and so well with each other, it was delightful. We tasted through the wineries’ reserve wines during lunch and their Merlot, showing beautifully, turned out to be our favorite.

After lunch we continued our short drive to Vina del Mar. As expected, being in the Casablanca Valley meant that there were many mountain ranges around us. Directions in the country were better than we expected, and getting there caused no arguments or disagreements and we never got lost! In Vina del Mar, the signs stopped and I reached for the Fodor’s Chile book to continue our journey. The lack of street names and roads that did not exist cause a bit of frustration, but we just followed the water and found our grand hotel in good time.

Our hotel was the Sheraton Vina del Mar,  a recently renovated property sitting on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The pool is the draw here although we were not prepared for the difficult weather that affected any potential pool time.

It was sunny upon arrival, but we took a quick nap to recharge. Little did we know that was the only sun to be seen for some time. At 5pm we decided to take a walk. We walked long the Avenue Marina and then the Avenue Saint Marten. Along this route are a few restaurants and the famous Hotel Vina del Mar ,  the casino being the draw here. Lots of grafiti adorned the columned walls by the ocean and cleanliness was not the strong point of the streets. We returned to the hotel as the temperature dropped and had a drink and some seafood rolls at a bar overlooking the water called ‘Enjoy del Mar’,  we should have known that it was a bit too touristy. They brought us paper placemats that had Spanish lessons written on them. Was it that obvious? Back at our room, Mike fell asleep and needed the rest due to his cold. I watched Law & Order with Spanish subtitles and fell asleep myself. And so while not an eventful first day, we enjoyed a great time at the winery and our bodies recovered well.

Gwendolyn's Trip to Chile

This is a story of my trip through Chile. My boyfriend, Mike, and I decided last Christmas to visit the beach and do a bit of wine touring in the country, we soon discovered that our miles could not take us to Australia or New Zealand. But our second choice turned out to be for the best. We decided to make our trip to just one specific area of Chile—a very long country. First, we’d spend 5 days in Vina del Mar, a beachside town near Santiago. Then, 2 city days in Santiago, with some day trips to wine country. And finally, a few nights near Santa Cruz, a small town in the Maipo/Colchagua Valley area surrounded by beautiful vineyards and many wineries. Mike, who works for wine.com, was able to help set up a few appointments for us enabling us to visit and view some of the top wineries. The vineyards and people were lovely. And while weather did not always agree, the trip overall was a success.

Lauren Survives the Death Ride 2006!

By Lauren

On July 8, 2006 I rode in the Death Ride with my boyfriend Eric, who was out visiting from New Jersey. The Death Ride is a ride that takes place every year in Markleeville, California, just outside of South Lake Tahoe. It's also known as the Tour of California Alps. Why? Because the ride is 129 miles with over 16.000 feet of climbing! Gulp. After a great week of riding and hanging out around SF, Eric and I drove up to Markleeville. [Side-story: My mom and I always butt heads because she's kind of an anal-retentive planner, whereas I like to go with the flow. But admittedly (Mom, are you listening?) I probably should have planned our trip a little better.] We left the city, got stuck in traffic, stopped to eat, stopped to grocery stop, stopped to eat again (we needed fuel for the next day!) and then finally arrived in Markleeville just as registration was about to close. Bib numbers in hand and each $100 poorer (entry fee), we headed back to the car to go find my friend Dave’s trailer. Dave had been the one who told me all about the Death Ride. He’d done it a few years in a row now and this year brought a trailer up to stay in. Minor problem: I’m the idiot who didn’t write down the directions to the trailer park, figuring I’d just listen to the voicemail Dave had left me, forgetting the fact that there is zero cell service out there. Long story short: we had no place to stay at 10 p.m. and had to be up and ready to ride 129 miles in approximately 7 hours. I thought briefly of sleeping in my car, but I drive a Jetta and trust me, a 6’5” man (Eric) would not fit in there comfortably. So we drove back out to South Lake Tahoe and stopped at the first motel with a vacancy sign.

At 5 a.m. the alarm went off, not so fun. But we dragged ourselves out of bed, loaded up and headed to Markleeville. Race participants can officially start anytime between 5:30 a.m. and 8:30 a.m. So we got there at 6:15 thinking we would have plenty of time. Little did we know, most people are on their bikes around 5, so oh well, we started late. But then as we are riding to the start line, I hear the dreaded hissing sound of a tire going flat. Bummer! I had just got a flat a few days before back in the city. Something must be wrong. I dragged my bike up to the mechanic, waited patiently in line, and then learned that there was a very large piece of glass stuck in my tire. Typically a flat is fairly easy to fix: the tube (or tire inserts as I once wrongly called them, which my cycling team in college found incredibly hilarious) just gets changed and the tire fits right back on. But a hole in the tire requires and entire new tire. Luckily, this mechanic had a spare tire. He saved the day; otherwise I would not have been able to ride. I sent him a nice thank-you note and check a few days later!

So finally we’re on the road. The ride is 5 hill climbs: Monitor Pass up and down then back up and down again, Ebbits Pass up and down then back up and down again, and Carson pass just up and down. Eric ditches me at the beginning of the Monitor (which was fine, he’s way faster then me and I definitely didn’t want to hold him up!) But I must admit I was rather lonely. I did meet some people along the way, except it gets hard to hold a conversation climbing a mountain with a 12% grade! Finally reaching the peak of Monitor I began to see thousands of cyclists ahead of me. They were coming back up as I was going down. I began wishing I had set that alarm for 4 am instead. I saw Eric coming back up Monitor. We said hi and kept going. On my way back up Monitor a lady in front of me, pulled over to the side of the road, told me to move over because there was a bear in the bushes. That certainly got me moving! Four seconds later I hear pounding feet behind me and turn around to see a baby bear (when I say baby, I’d guess maybe 300 pounds, so not so baby-like) running right across where I had been!

The rest of the climb continued without much excitement. In fact, most of the ride, I was in somewhat of a trance-like state, just kind of going. So I make it back up to the summit of Monitor, start the descent, which was very fast and scary! Then I’m on my way to the second pass, Ebbits. Word on the street was Ebbits was, and I quote ‘Not as hard as Monitor.’ NOT. Ebbits was grueling. On my way up I passed a dad and his daughter, who was probably 12. She was crying. I felt like crying too. But I congratulated her for making it as far as she did and told her to keep going. I bet she wanted to punch me. I was about 3 km from the summit when I passed this very tan man pulled over on the side. I asked him if he was alright (just to be sure) and in the most macho voice he could muster, he replied yes and he would see me soon (meaning he would be passing me soon). I shrugged and kept going, taking note of the fact that he was decked out in expensive gear, which does not always translate into being a good cyclist. Sure enough I beat him to the top, although when I say beat, he must have been going really, really slow as I was surely climbing at about 4 or 5 miles per hour. Sitting at the rest stop at the summit I debated going down and climbing back up to complete the fourth pass. At this point I knew I would not be getting to the fifth pass, it was getting late and they would have to open the roads soon. I think about how great a Hefeweizen at the bar back in Markleeville would be right about now.

But alas, I decide to commit to the fourth climb and start making my way down. On my way down, I pass Eric on his way back up. This time our “hellos”are not quite as cheerful. At the bottom, I take another break, sitting in the shade of a tree, resting my head between my knees. I dozed off for about 5 minutes and then hear this woman next to me asking if I was OK. I looked up. It was a medic. Yes, I replied, I’m fine. Slightly embarrassed that I caused her alarm, I decide that it’s definitely time to leave and climb back up Ebbits. Luckily the backside was not nearly as bad as the front. I make it to the summit, grab some more Gatorade and water and then hope back on for the descent. The descent can get kind of scary when you’re tired. Your reactions seem slower and you really, really don’t want to go careening off the cliff (obviously). So I took it slow and kept thinking about Hefeweizen. Reaching the bottom, I feel like I’m almost done but then remember I have about another 20 miles to go before I get back into Markleeville. Fortunately, the wind is my friend and pushes me along a bit. The sky was getting dark and a few raindrops plopped down on me as I made my way back to the car. Feeling disappointed that I didn’t finish but glad to be off the bike, I changed and waited for Eric to return.

About 20 minutes later, the sky opened up: lightening, thunder, rain and then hail. The hail on my windshield was about the size of a hazelnut. I started to feel really bad for Eric out there in the elements. I waited and waited, watching all the cyclists come in, looking for Eric’s red helmet and blue jersey. Finally, he arrived, soaking wet and exhausted, but he finished all 5 peaks for a grand total of 129 miles. As a Death Ride finisher he got to sign a poster and buy a special jersey. I felt bad that I didn’t finish, but I had completed 4 out of 5 and rode about 90 miles total. And finally, finally, finally I was able to get that Hefeweizen!

Needless to say, we were both silent on the drive back to my parents in Reno. I think we went to bed at 9 and pretty much passed out cold. Four days later I was back on the bike: I’m determined to be survive/complete next year’s Death Ride!