Northern deserts, part 3: Uyuni

   The second day of our journey from San Pedro to Uyuni began with another 6:15 wake-up call and the arrival of our new driver Leonardo and his very flashy Landcruiser, which he had christened “Bronco”.  We set off at higher speeds but without any cause for alarm.  There was more distance to cover and more stops to enjoy views over lakes, volcanoes and deserts.  My favourite stop was at the Arbol de Piedra – the tree of stone.  Although that is the structure featured on the most postcards, there were many large rocky outcrops in the immediate vicinity and soon they had tourists clambering all over them.

   It was funny taking the four wheel drive tour.  We had thought of it as a bold step crossing the deserts and mountains where busses fear to roll.  In reality we found ourselves part of a loose migration of 24 four-wheel-drives from various tour operators touting similar routes between San Pedro and Uyuni.  It was pleasant to meet up with some of the same people from place to place.  we were very much aware that the wild and forbidding reaches of the Bolivian high plains had been tamed.  It wasn’t such a bad thing.  We met three girls from England: Ash, Rachel and Sophie; and Josh from Holland at every stop and had a lovely time with them over dinner on the first night.

   There was one German family of five who also turned up at most of our stops.  Kizzy was amazed that anyone could take this route with children of 10, 7 and 1 years old.  But these were relaxed parents.  The scout leader in me was somewhat terrified to see the two eldest boys clambering unsupervised straight up a rock formation 15 metres high.  On reflection though I’m not sure I was any different at that age.  I remember mum getting into trouble on a school trip when she let me and bunch of my eight-year-old class mates get about the same distance off the ground in the trees at Rippon Lea.  The sight of Mrs McColl streaming across the lawns shrieking “get those children down!” still brings a smile to both our faces. 

   Our second day on the road had finished with a visit to the Cementerio de Trenes just outside Uyuni.  As the regular route via the salt flats was flooded, our three-day trip to Uyuni had become a two-day trip with a one-day excursion tagged onto the end.  Day three started with yet another early wake-up call and departure at 5am to see the sun rise over the Salar (the salt flats).  In fact we weren’t dealt such a bad hand.  No sooner had we stepped outside our front door, than we were blasted with some soft-rock in Spanish by way of a fuzzy PA system on the local church.  It turns out they do this every morning in Uyuni.  A call to greet the day as it were.

   March being the tail end of the wet season the Salar was covered in cloud, obscuring the sunrise.  We amused ourselves taking lots of photos playing on the distorted perspectives allowed by the endless flat expanse of white salt.  After breakfast, the cloud had burnt-off and we were able to appreciate the beauty of the Salar against the blue skies and brilliant sunlight. 

   That evening we went for dinner with Maud and Vincent along with a couple of other Frenchmen and a Chilean/American girl, Cote, who has promised to show us the sights of Boston in August.  We set off in search of a local restaurant that came highly recommended.  On having no luck in finding the place, we settled for La Casa del Tourista.  It turned out to be a great start to an evening that ended with a beer-fuelled session of “Pongo en me equipaje…”.

Northern deserts, part 2: into Bolivia

   With early alarms becoming too frequent for my liking, we rose at 6:15 on Monday morning to have our last showers for a few days. We were taken to the Bolivian border by minibus, where we went through the regular border control procedures before being allocated to a four wheel drive for our journey.

   In considering our journey through the high Andes I had resolved not to try the coca leaves, said to help with altitude sickness.  However, after my discomfort at the geysers the previous day I was ready to grab at anything that had even a slim chance at helping me.  I still had my unidentified herbs, which I dutifully added to my tea and took the remainder across the border.  As I don’t know what they are, I have no idea if they are legal, but thankfully Bolivian border control aren’t too fussy at 4,200m.  Fortunately, I wasn’t gripped with nausea and headaches so there was some merit to my combination attack of western medicine, Bolivian narcotic, and heaven-knows-what in my tea.

   Joining us for the trip were Maud and Vincent from Paris, and Simon and Corinne from Bonn.  For the first day we were driven by the enigmatic Quinto, who defied every horror story we had heard for this trip and drove pleasantly and sedately, gently navigating the rough roads on his Landcruiser’s soft suspension. 

   The first day was marvellous.  We travelled past lakes of vivid colours: green, white and red expanses of water coloured variously by minerals and algae.  We ascended to the literal high point of our travels when we reached the Sol de Mañana geyser at 4,800m above sea level.  Having being told that the Geyser del Tatia was the world’s highest geothermal field at an altitude of 4,300m we were surprised to find this beauty.  I enjoyed it a lot more, but perhaps that had something to do with my physical wellbeing.  There was another thermal spring, this one a pleasantly consistent warm temperature and without the freezing cold costume change. 

   Our day finished with an hour or so at Laguna Colorado, a vivid red with its algae active in the afternoon sun and home to a few thousand flamingos only too happy to pose for our photos.  It was a marvellous start to a trip that ranks among the best things we’ve experienced in South America. 

Northern deserts, part 1: San Pedro de Atacama

   Arriving in San Pedro was a breath of fresh, hot air.  At 2,460m above sea level my first act of applying sunscreen was pure comedy gold as the change in air pressure left me covered in the stuff.  We found the way to our very relaxed hostel, five minutes out of town.  It was so relaxed, the door was open and no-one was around to check us in at 8:30am so we dropped our packs and settled into hammocks in the courtyard for a few hours sleep.  At about 11am Kizzy got up for a look around and found someone happy to take our money and give us a key.

   In San Pedro our first goal was to book passage on a 4x4 to take us over the border to Uyuni in Bolivia.  The challenge here is that there are almost no positive reviews online.  Instead, the forums are littered with complaints.  My favourite was the anecdote with the drunk driver who kept falling asleep and was eventually replaced at the wheel by one of the passengers.  On the basis of an overheard conversation at our hostel and only minor complaints online we promptly booked with Estella del Sur.  More on that journey in the next post.

   San Pedro is very much a tourist town and with a full day to fill we set about booking local excursions to the Geysers de El Tatio and the Valle de la Luna.  Our work done, we treated ourselves to a siesta and a good meal at a local restaurant.

   At 4am the next morning we were outside our hostel waiting for collection to see the geysers at sunrise.  At 6:30am we were shivering in a dark volcanic field, surrounded by puffing fumaroles.  At 4,300m the El Tatio geysers are the world’s highest geothermal field and probably also the world’s coldest.  I started feeling tingly as soon as we got there and by the time we had breakfast I felt positively nauseated with a banging headache and had to retreat to the minibus to lie down.  I’d never experienced altitude sickness before – there’s not really any place in Australia that’s high enough.    

   Thankfully Kizzy was largely unaffected and took some lovely photos of the sunrise and soon after I roused myself for a dip in the nearby hot springs.  Given the freezing cold outside I think everyone was hoping for a pleasant warm bathing experience.  In fact we were treated to a fairly shallow thermal spring, with waters that alternated between shiveringly tepid and scalding hot.  The reason you go to the geysers at sunrise is because it’s cold enough for the emissions to project visible steam into the atmosphere.  This does not necessarily correspond with genuine warmth – as Kizzy pointed out, her breath was steaming up and she was freezing.

   The noted restorative effects of thermal springs did not help me with my altitude sickness in this instance, although I was able to appreciate the humour of three dozen uncomfortable tourists trying to pull dry clothes over wet, shivering bodies.  On the way down the hill I dry heaved a few times and had the sympathy of the other passengers as I slumped over looking green, clutching my Tupperware bowl just in case.  We stopped at a local pueblo and I was supplied with a stash of unidentified herbs that I was assured would help me recover and prepare for the ascent to Bolivia the next day. 

   When we got back to San Pedro I collapsed on the bed for three hours, wallowing in misery at the anticipation of our trip the following day at the end of which we would be sleeping, or writhing in pain, at 4,200m. 

   If we hadn’t booked a tour for the afternoon I would have hidden in bed until the following morning but as it was we head out again at 3:30pm to see the wonders of the Valle de la Luna.  By this time I was feeling a lot better and able to truly appreciate the moonscape vistas laid out before us.  Returning shortly after sunrise I was early to bed and somewhat dreading the next day.