I managed to find the local mechanic. A few amigos helped hoist Ghost Shad up onto some wood blocks. The head man did an impressively quick chain adjustment and changed the oil. He refused money, but when I insisted they take the bottle of local liquor that was stashed in my saddle bags, one of them looked as happy as I've seen any man for quite a while.
Riding for another few hours, climbing ad descending through the deserts hills, I arrived into a strange town, Antofagasta. I did the usual few laps of a new area looking for a place to stay, only being able to locate what I came to the conclusion were love motels (the big give away was the exceptional array of men's colognes on offer behind the counter). I decided that this wasn't to be where I'd spend this night.
I rode on out of there and into the desert, knowing that it was likely to be where I'd sleep. An incredibly clear night made it feel as though I was riding alongside the moon and the stars. The nights riding was cut short about 50k's on from Antofagasta due to an intense type of cold that made my feet and hands feel as though they were on fire. I put the tent up as fast as I could, attempting to stomp the already bent pegs into the solid ground. After breaking half the pegs, I crawled into what proceeded to be the coldest sleeping conditions in my life even with my many layers on.