Arriving at the bus station in Sucre with just ten minutes before the bus was due to leave, and with that same nervous anticipation of what it might be like, I was greeted by a pretty old, well-traveled bus, but it had seats, some wheels, a steering wheel, a driver and presumably, some brakes; so once more, I was left in a pretty happy state. That was, however, until I realised I had left my iPhone in the hostel (or the taxi) and there was no way of getting off this bus, back to the hostel, retrieving the phone and then on to another bus without missing the salt flat tour I had booked and paid for. My one saving grace was that the phone was broken, as a phone, but it was slightly frustrating to think I would not be able to keep in contact with my loved one quite so conveniently.
Social point for discussion there? Have phones taken over our lives? Bringing people who are far apart together, but making people who are close; further away from one another? Hmmm, ponderous..moving on! Phone issue aside, I was now on yet another winding, bumpy, climbing road heading South (with a suggestion of West thrown in there too) towards Uyuni and the Atacama Desert.
After ten hours on the bus, with intermittent sleep what with the rollercoaster-like motion and truly awful road surfaces, oh, and the seemingly constant stopping to pick up and/or drop-off passengers, we arrived in Uyuni. Disembarking, the first thing I noticed was the cold, the second thing I noticed was the lack of bus station and the third thing I noticed was the cold. Eventually, after a short walk, I managed to find a taxi and was taken to my hostel where I would be staying for the night.
Upon arrival at the hostel I was greeted by a lovely woman by the name of Rosa. She was a larger lady, in traditional Bolivian dress, a huge smile and those permanently rosy cheeks that you get when you are born into a climate such as this; the bitter winds clawing at your cheeks until they are permanently pink. Rosa showed me to my room and although small, it was clean, with a comfortable bed, en suite bathroom and thankfully, it also came equipped with a hundred-weight of blankets as it was, well…cold. Oh well, not to worry…by wearing all my clothes, a hat and scarf, gloves and all of those blankets to bed; I would be fine, I was sure.
As the night was drawing in and I had an early start in the morning, I headed out for something to eat at a local restaurant, which was actually really rather good, if a little expensive. If you are searching for internet, or need to use any form of world wide web; forget WiFi as there isn’t any. In addition, forget a reliable, fast, or even medium-paced connection as you will be frustratingly defeated. My advice would be to let anyone know who might be expecting contact from you that, for 3-5 days…they can expect but won’t receive. So, with an air of frustration I returned to my hostel and to bed, ready for the start of my tour in the morning.
After having my death-shower in my room, “death shower” I hear you say? Yes; in Bolivia, the heating element is found in the shower head, it is a self-contained unit and the method of mixing electricity with water seems to be the perfect way in which to add some heat. Seriously now, it is advised to have a shower wearing flip-flops – just to be on the slightly more safe side! With my bag of clothes with me, ready for the three days and two nights I would be spending in the cold of the desert, I was off, in search of the office where we were to meet before starting the journey. There would be 7 of us in total and that was including Richard; our driver, guide, chef and all-round nice guy! The other members of the team were a couple from Brazil and Bolivia respectively, three girls from Argentina and me – the gringo.
This would be a great test for my Spanish as that was the only language spoken by the other members of the group. After we had loaded the car up with luggage and people, we were off and our first destination was not that far away; the second time I had seen a ‘train cemetery’. We stayed her for fifteen minutes and in all honesty it was more like a budget theme park than a train cemetery: Old engines and carriages were playing home to lots of people swinging on them, climbing them and generally having a lark with them; a slightly different feel than the train yard we visited in Chile. Still, it was interesting and quite fun so it was a good start to the trip.
Back in to the minibus and we were off once more, seemingly coming back on ourselves, through the town of Uyuni before our next stop which were the salt flats. Pulling up in the jeep we were told to put on our sunglasses when we got out and I was so thankful I had paid a budget-breaking £3 for a ‘genuine’ pair of Raybans as the glare and reflection off the salt flat was astonishing and actually rather painful without some form of protection. It was already obvious that we would be joined for most of this trip by at least 15 other cars carrying the same number of people (if not more) than us – it’s not so much of a complaint; this is what people come to Uyuni for – it’s more a warning that if you are expecting to be the only group on an excursion, you’re probably best to stop thinking that way now so you won’t be disappointed. After 20 minutes of the obligatory ‘zero depth perception’ photographs we were back to the jeeps and on the move again.
Our next stop was for lunch and as we were traveling through the salt plains, passing the mounds of salt that workers had literally been shoveling into piles ready for distribution, we were all thinking about where we would actually be stopping to eat as quite frankly, as you might expect in a vast salt plain; there were not many features in which to pull-over and prepare lunch. However, one the horizon a small dot started to grow and eventually became recognisable as a building. This was the place we would be having lunch and it transpired that this was in fact; a hotel made from salt.
After a fantastically well-prepared lunch by our multi-tasking driver, we were back in the jeep and heading for ‘Inca Huasi’ or ‘Fish Island’ which is famed for the simply huge cacti that grow there and dominate the landscape of the island. It’s quite a strange occurrence in its own right, the island as there doesn’t seem to be any logical reason for it to be there, in the middle of nowhere – quite literally. The walk on the island (for additional cost) was a lovely way to break-up this section of the journey; truly capturing the vastness and harshness of this area of the world yet with such a wonderful glint of beauty.
Continuing further South on the salt flats we soon reached a more generic, familiar desert landscape, well…intermittent still with layers and formations of salt, but sandstone and rocky outcrops were punching through, and it was here that we would be resting up for the night; the village (three buildings) or Agua Quisa. We experienced first-hand the freezing cold night as the temperature plummeted to around the minus five degrees mark, but with multiple layers of clothing, hats, scarves and gloves; we just about survived.
We awoke early and packed our things up before boarding the jeep and pushing further south, gaining altitude all the way, and seeing how the landscape started to change once more. The salt flats had been left behind completely now and we had been joined by a backdrop of extinct and semi-active volcanoes. The crispness in which everything could be viewed, and the distances over which you could see the landscapes and the mountains was astonishing – mainly due to the cleanliness and thinness of the air: This trip was fast becoming obvious as to why it is so popular.
Continuing our journey – there really is a lot of driving involved with this trip – we start seeing the famous lagoons of the area, each of which is distinct in the color of the water, or rather; the color of the unique algae and bacteria that grow in each habitat. The black lake and the green lakes being our introductions to this fascinating phenomenon.
Passing several other lakes on the route we were introduced to three species of flamingos living in the region. this was not the first time we had seen wild, native flamingos on our trip, but they don’t fail to fascinate and impress each and every time – beautiful animals.
The next point of interested was a rocky outcrop, well, a gaggle of rock outcrops with the highlight being the ‘tree of rock’. This is another famous Uyuni salt flat picture-opportunity and this was no different as we each queued for our turn to have our portrait captured with our new tree-shaped, rocky friend!
Our final destination of day two was the ‘Laguna Colarado’ and this was easily the most striking, impressive lagoon we had seen, in fact the most impressive point-of-interest full-stop. The algae that live in this lagoon have the most vivid, rich, resonant red color to them and as such the lagoon teases a layer of algae to the surface where the sunlight unlocks a vibrant red sheen which is just magical.
After another fully clothed, freezing night, we awoke at 5am to visit “Sol de Mañana” geysers and see the bubbling mud pools and steam jets. The majesty of this vista was the fact we had timed our departure perfectly with the sunrise and my word; what a sunrise it was. With the steam of the geysers forcing its way to and through the surface, it caught the twilight and danced with the cold air to create an other-worldly experience. an added bonus was the fact that you could still see planets and bright stars even as the sun was beginning to break through the ark of the night – amazing!
With the sun making every effort to warm the air, we soon arrived at our next stop; the hot springs. Once more the beauty of the place was striking and although most people, including myself, decided against a dip in the warm water, there were several who made the plunge and in all honesty; they looked pretty warm. That was, until they got out again and I am pretty sure at least three of them instantaneously developed pneumonia! They could have been the definition of cold.
Returning to Uyuni and to the bitter cold once more, I felt I had to move on, I didn’t think I could cope with another night of being cold, having no real entertainment there, an internet that had been designed to frustrate people to murder and the desperate need of sleep. I booked a hotel room so that I could have a shower and a quick rest, found a travel agent who got me a bus ticket for that night, had something to eat, frustrated myself to almost man-slaughter (I had the self-restraint to not kill someone) as the internet was keeping me away from my inspiration and then grabbed my bag to walk to the bus station.
A relatively short walk and we were at the bust station, well, not so much a bus station as a street where buses happened to stop. Seeing the bus for the first time, we were convinced that we were doomed to perish on this journey. At last, Bolivia had delivered on the expectations of untrustworthy buses! When we eventually boarded the bus and after a further 25 minutes of seemingly pointless pause, we were off. We were sat next to a delightful old lady and we think she enjoyed her conversation with her new gringo friend. The roads once more provided a built-in Turkish and Thai massage as the passengers were thrown around the bus and the sound of harmonious spines cracking filled the air.
As the night drew in and we had stopped for the sixteenth time to close the storage compartments – we were hoping to God that our bag would still be there at the end of this trip – the joyous enemy returned once more; the cold! We can safely say that this was the coldest we had ever been on a bus and so a very important tip; wear layers, take more layers and then a substantial blanket after that. Our new friend; the old lady, taught me this as she pulled out of her huge back what must have been the best part of an entire alpaca which she wrapped around her, increasing her in size, five-fold, and pushing us, quite uncomfortably, to the very edge of our seat. Still, with the little heat she was giving off we could quite easily forgive this encroachment as it just kept us above freezing point.
Several hours later and we had reached the border town of Villazon where we would enjoy a two-and-a-half-hour wait before the border crossing into Argentina was open. Almost the moment we left the bus we were greeted by a man asking us if we needed a bus to Salta – we did, so we followed him to his office. It was an official company and one that had actually been recommended to us by the travel agent back in the Antarctic, sorry, Uyuni, so we parted with our money and were allowed to wait in the office until the border was open and we could go and get the bus from the Argentinian side of the border to take us to Salta. The chap who had originally sold us the ticket to Salta accompanied us at around 7am to the border and it was quite reassuring that he did as he mentioned that Villazon could be a dangerous place, particularly with the number of youths who were already enjoying a shocking intake of alcohol!
At the border it was really straight-forward to obtain the required documents and stamps before the 10 minute walk to the bus station and the bus onward to Salta.
