Part 32 Closure, Apr, May 18

Part 32 Closure

Our day at Iguazu Falls had been a treat. The display of raw power and the sheer number of falls, 229 is incredible. It was good to see the care that had been taken to keep the daily thousands of visitors’ feet from destroying the ecosystem. We had walked over 10 Km on the raised trails that day without disturbing a blade of grass. The next morning, we packed things up and I backed the bikes down the path and out the skinny gate to the street. It was warm as we began riding south, down highway 12.

Three days of riding and free camping brought us to the Uruguayan border. The last night in Argentina was spent in a large private campground on a huge lake near Bela Union. We paid about $8. The attendant at the on-site store/fast food joint asked if we wanted something when we registered. She wanted to close things up. It was low season. It felt a little unusual being the only guests in the huge park.

We took a morning walk through the park before riding 150 Km to the border with Uruguay. The crossing was easy and took about 20 minutes. Once more there was no line up and we had to see only one person to do all our business. Central American border crossings had taken three and sometimes four hours. Border crossing horror stories we had heard included tales of days long waits, fines and vehicle seizures when things weren’t in order.

The culture of the car has not taken over rural Uruguay

Highway 26 took us across the country near its top. The road began well then deteriorated; soon we found ourselves dodging car-sized potholes. It felt like Honduras again as we avoided sharp edged moto eaters. Eventually, continuous sections of good gravel became more and more common. I detected Isa’s nervousness through the intercom but she didn’t complain once during the 100 km of rough stuff.

Fun bridge to ride

Our first night in Uruguay was spent at a municipal campground in the town of Tacuarembo. It was free but you had to register. The park was gorgeous and boasted clean washrooms with showers, an Olympic sized swimming pool and a variety of sports courts. There was a sign in the washroom informing users that the water is good for drinking. The sign finished with the declaration, “Uruguay, un pais con agua potable”. We chatted jovially with the man in the administration office. He too told us about the potable water saying in Spanish, “We are poor but we are modern”. The Sunday crowd pulled out after dark and we had a peaceful night.

The municipal campground in Melo wasn’t nice so we carried on to a town called, Treinta y Tres. We rolled over a carpet of pastoral landscapes all day. Uruguay is peaceful. Argentinians describe its people as, “tranquilo”. The park administrator had described his compatriots as, “poor but modern”. Gasoline is about $3 per liter; Supermarket and durable goods prices are the same as in Canada. Imported manufactured goods were incredibly expensive.

A majority of Uruguayans have not adopted the culture of the car. Architecture and municipal design and structures do not accommodate automobiles. Main streets have store fronts by the curb and a density of services that favours the pedestrian. There is not a parking lot in sight. Houses are not accompanied by a garage or even a driveway. Most farms are conspicuous to our eyes by the absence of a pickup truck or a car of any kind.

Parking where there is not infrastructure for automobiles

How do people with modest incomes live with such high prices? The answer is simple, they buy local products. They shop on market days and don’t patronize the few supermarkets that exist. They build their own houses. Squatters avoid paying for land and have rights that make them difficult to evict. Tiny motorcycles are common. Gasoline is imported and so are cars. Most relevant to us, Uruguayans that do drive do it sensibly and they often follow the rules. This is a first for us in Latin America.

The treehouse at Buena Onda

We rode to Punta Del Este on the advice of local people. We wanted a beach town to kick back in for a while and the road to this one was said to be the best. It was low season. Most things were closed. We got “third time lucky”, arriving at our third-choice campground, Buena Onda.

Breakfast in the tree-house kitchen

We surprised the owner, Laura by our arrival. She hadn’t seen a guest in a few weeks. The dogs barked and growled noisily. Did they resent the idea of having to share Laura and their home with strangers again or were they just being good guard dogs? Laura welcomed us immediately to her little place. Third choice turned out to be a good choice. Tranquil, except for the overprotective dogs, Buena Onda allowed us to rest after two weeks of nearly constant travel. We really enjoyed our three days there. Fate would later cause us to return to Buena Onda, as a refuge of safety and security.

Resting and reading were punctuated by catch up tasks like laundry, bike maintenance, gear repair and working on the blog. A noisy and drenching electrical storm hit on the second night and our tent leaked. It’s a good tent but it’s not MEC (Mountain Equipment Coop) quality. We miss our MEC tent. We loved the relaxed and eco-friendly atmosphere of Laura’s place, dry composting toilets and all.

Punta Del Diablo lies up the Atlantic coast a couple of hundred kilometers from Punta Del Este. We had booked seven nights in a small cottage that was built on stilts above a sand dune. It was a modern place with all the gadgets, even air conditioning. It was a good price because of the time of year. There was not a gate, not even a fence nor were there bars on the windows. A stroll through town on the first day confirmed that none of its residences had those security features. This relaxed approach to domestic security is rare in Latin America and it made us put our guard down a little. Uruguay is one of only a few category one countries on our itinerary; that is to say, the Canadian Travel Advisory website instructs travelers only to, “exercise normal security precautions” while visiting it. Uruguay earns the same security rating as Canada.

Punta Del Diablo

At 4 o’clock on the morning of our second night in Punta Del Diablo the devil had his way and we were visited by two thieves. The neighbor across the street saw them. He shouted, scaring them off. Isabelle looked through a window and saw one thief running far up the road, away from the house.

One burglar had climbed up to the second floor of the house. He had opened and leaned through the kitchen window. Silently, he had removed and dropped the kettle and some dishes onto the sand, one floor below. Once he had removed the obstacles and eliminated the danger of sending something clanging to the floor he had turned his attention to grabbing valuable looking things and dropping them silently onto the sand below.  His partner played the role of look-out. The two of them scattered when the neighbor began to shout.

The police arrived quickly and the neighbor returned several things he had found on the sand below the kitchen window. Either the robbers had doubted the value of the objects and chose to leave them or they fled in a panic, unable to pick them up. Ultimately, we lost nothing. Our “stuff” has little street value, a conscious decision during trip planning, but has much value to us. We use everything all the time and numerous items have multiple uses.

We drank tea and tried to settle down, eventually returning to bed. Sleep came to neither of us as every click or rustle of the wind set off alarms in our minds. Thoughts of violent home invasion struck us and we realized we had been lucky. Things could have been much worse. We knew we couldn’t stay another night.

In the morning, our host agreed to refund us for the remaining five nights. She looked extremely embarrassed that such a thing had happened in her town and on her property. She understood our need to move on. Internet searching had turned up several possible destinations for us. We set off toward Montevideo.

On the road, we came to agreement about our destination. We would return to a place we knew to be safe, Camping Buena Onda. The dogs barked and growled at first but this changed to wags and licks as they remembered our scent. No one, friend or foe, enters that fenced yard without a loud and mildly threatening challenge. We now understand the home security role of the dog in Latin America.  If we ever felt it, we are no longer annoyed at night-time outbursts from the dogs.

The rest of the month was spent enjoying the pastoral tranquility of Uruguay. We rented a house on a hobby farm just outside Montevideo. It afforded a delightful change of pace. Horses, pheasants, peacocks and chickens paraded past the windows. Only the largest of the three dogs tried to enter the house. His name was Caramelo and he has a strong personality to match his impressive physique. The owners, Martha and Alfredo, had him tied up outside their home, next door to the house we occupied. The proprietors’ philosophy of giving all the animals freedom on the farm had one exception when the guest house was rented. Caramelo’s enthusiasm was reported to include jumping up on people. Isabelle and I made friends with Carmelo and at our request he regained his freedom.

The farmhouse

We filled the weeks easily with tasks and recreation. Several days were spent developing our presentation for the travelers’ meeting in May. The riding jackets and pants got washed. It took three days to properly clean the motos with the intent of minimizing the bacteria, mud, plant and insect material that we might carelessly bring back to North America. The accumulated grime from twelve months of riding and dropping the bikes in every condition imaginable was not easy to remove. Some chain maintenance and a change of rear brake pads finished off the list of jobs. The machines were spotless.

A thorough washing

Daily walks to shop in the village resulted in the “Canadienses” being recognized and greeted. The vendors selling nuts and local cheese at the market knew what we wanted and how much without us having to ask. Small towns are the same everywhere, it seems. News gets around quickly and everyone knows everyone else’s business. Things had been similar during the four weeks of Isabelle’s recovery in the small town of Gobernador Gregores. That Patagonian town was literally in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of kilometers from the next nearest bank or gas station. We discovered through conversations in town that news of Isabelle’s injury, indeed details of our whole travel story had soon become well known to local residents.

Through the kitchen window

"This is My place"

At the farm, feeding and riding the horses was especially pleasurable. Access to the alfalfa pile and to hand fed carrots from the market created jealousies and some back biting in the well ordered little herd of eight. “Vainilla” (pronounced Vaeneedja in an Uruguayan accent) was the boss. Martha had warned us to not get in her way if she became forceful. She pushed past us at the gate more than once to get to the alfalfa pile. In contrast, she was well behaved when I rode her; perfectly trained, she responded without flaw to this inexperienced rider.

Saddling Up

Toto gets a pat

Well Mannered Vainilla

Alfredo had protested in the 1970’s, during the dictatorship. He was thrown in jail but fled Uruguay with Martha when he was released. They lived in France for 38 years before returning to their homeland and buying the farm. We spoke French with them.

Home Cooking on the Farm

The animals, even the birds, began to trust us. The three dogs had been loud and threatening at first. They gave greetings complete with “full-body” wags to us when we rode in on the motos, toward the end of our stay.

Monument to Uruguay's Independence Revolution

We spent a few days in the beach town of Colonia, Uruguay before catching the ferry back to Buenos Aires. It felt great to be back in the vibrancy of that European feeling big city. We were there to do the business of shipping the bikes to Miami but that didn’t stop us from taking several long walks in the familiar place. The energy of the city contrasted sharply with the serenity inside the lodging Isabelle had booked, a Buddhist meditation centre and school.

Lighthouse in Colonia

Atop the Lighthouse

In the Old Town

Old Town Colonia

Colonia, Uruguay

Old Car in New Town

Boat dock under a factory

We finally met Javiar and his wife Sandra at the cargo area of the Aeropuerto Internacional. They are well known in the international motorcycling community and their reputation is solid. They gave up operating a BMW motorcycle dealership in Buenos Aires, preferring to specialize in motorcycle shipping. They were our shipping agents and they made a complicated process seem easy. A full day was occupied by the shipping procedures.

Satisfied that the motos were well looked after we turned our attention to packing. We bought a large cardboard box. It was the maximum size allowed by the airline and it would count as our fourth checked bag. Avianca still allowed two checked bags per traveler.  All our camping and personal gear fit into the box and three large dry bags. The motos could only contain a minimum of gasoline and moto related items like riding gear, tools and spare parts. The idea is to keep the weight of the shipment to a minimum.

Evita Peron

Juan Domingo Peron

Too soon it was our last day in South America. A long walk through the city centre brought us to the area with all the money changers. Money business done, we picked one of the fabulous restaurants in the area for a final feast of Argentinian beef, steak to be precise. We were not disappointed and the long walk back to the Buddhist school helped our digestion.

Weighing the moto

It was with mixed feelings that we packed and prepared for a quick 4:30 am getaway to the airport. The business of the past few days had occupied us and kept us from thinking too much about leaving. After little sleep the 4 o’clock alarm roused us. Thus, began our 25-hour journey to Miami, to another world.

Preparing for Shipping

To the X-Ray Machine

Shipping the bikes and ourselves to Miami then riding north was cheaper compared with landing in Montreal. This route had the added benefit of giving us time to readjust. Culture shock was inevitable. Vastly foreign places and people had become normalized within us. Twelve months of highs, lows and continuous adventure were about to come to a crashing halt. On the bright side, we looked forward with anxious excitement to being reunited with our children and families. We even missed the dog!

View from the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina

What have we learned? We have seen and experienced countless new ecosystems. There was a beauty in each one. Harsh and extreme conditions were often met with human adaptability. We saw flood and animal-proof houses built on stilts in the coastal jungles of Ecuador. We hiked past grass roofed, rubble walled houses in Peru. They were among the hand-worked terraced slopes above 4500 meters elevation. Generations of Quechuan families grew “papas hielado”, or frozen potatoes on the frigid slopes. Too high for horses or llamas, alpacas are the only livestock raised for protein. We saw the terribly poor “sand people” of the cool, rainless coastal desert along the Pacific coast. They sheltered from the biting, humid wind behind the woven reed walls of their houses.

Music is inescapably present. Humans need it; it takes many forms. Instruments in Central and South America are made from all manner of local materials, including turtle shell guitars. Music reflects and even helps to shape local culture. Whether it is to the simple xylophone melodies of Guatemala or to the complex rhythms of tango in steamy Buenos Aires, people dance. They dance at weddings and at celebrations for the dead. They dance for fun and to tell stories. They dance in the streets.

Our motorcycles forced us to participate in, rather than to simply observe, the ecosystems and cultures we encountered. They broke the ice and led to conversations wherever we went. The motos make us vulnerable and visible, easy to approach. Curious people felt comfortable enough to come up and ask questions, interested in our story. One person often led to more, sometimes food or mate appeared and we all shared. We met many people and came to know a few. We made friends.

We heard indigenous languages in remote places. We learned to understand dialects and accents within the Spanish language that sounded equally foreign to us. We’re especially glad we put effort into learning Spanish. Cultural connection is important to us and would not have been possible without language skills.

We learned that adversity can lead to kindness and friendship. Adversity also taught us to persevere. Faced with no option Isabelle rode 100 Km to the nearest town and hospital with a broken ankle. A shattered collarbone simply had to be put up with during six days of clinic hopping and airline travel before being seen by a surgeon. If the wind blows you into the ditch you pick up the bike and try again.

Reaffirmed is our belief that people are fundamentally good. Neighboring cultures often fear each other but travelers can see through to the truth. People really are similar wherever one may go. They love their families and they love food. They walk their kids to school. They proudly watch them play and perform. They honour and remember their dead, they search for meaning. They try to make a living and to find some joy. They laugh and cry and they love football. It’s been a great trip, we will never be the same.

Part 31 Covering Ground to Iguazu Falls, late March, Apr 18

Part 31 Covering Ground to Iguazu Falls

(Click on a photo to enlarge it)

Visiting Bolivia’s Lagunas Route was a highlight of the trip. The stunning, surreal scenery had been unforgettable. Re-visiting Salar de Uyuni was a new experience because of the salt flat’s flooded condition.  We had been lucky, getting three windless and clear days. Out first visit to the salar had been five months earlier, during the dry season. It featured long distance riding over the dry lake and camping on Isla Del Pescado.

It was time to say goodbye to the highlands again. We were headed east, eventually to Buenos Aires where we planned to ship the bikes by air to Miami. There was a lot of ground to cover. Ahead of us lay the first leg, a journey of 4000 kilometers from Chile to Iguazu Falls via Paraguay. We still needed to save money to pay for the air freight but we had already reserved and paid for our personal air fares to Miami.

Highlands Desert

Nafta (gasoline) is very expensive, about $2.30/L for premium grade in most of South America. Fuel costs for this leg would be an unavoidable, $1000. In order to stay on budget, we stayed away from restaurants, instead finding supplies in towns and villages along the way. We also camped for free whenever possible. The first night however we stayed in an overpriced hotel in freezing Susques after descending to 4000m elevation.

Highland Salar

The day had begun with an immediate climb from San Pedro de Atacama in Chile which sits at 3600 m altitude. The highest we reached was 4850 m, almost 16,000 ft. It was below 10 degrees up there when the sun was shining, downright freezing after dark. No one lives in that cold desert. There were no houses or towns and no signs of agriculture. Even vicunas are scarce, we saw only two groups of the deer-like creatures in 300 km. Paso Jama, the international border, was deserted and we were through it in 15 minutes; such a change from border crossings in Central America!

Riding Down from the Mountains

The following morning, the lady at the hotel kindly volunteered that there was news of a detour ahead for us. A series of derrumbes (landslides) beginning 100 Km east of Susques had resulted in the closing of the only paved road in the region. With air tickets bought and our return home getting closer, we had resolved to lower our risk tolerance, hoping to avoid more broken bones. This detour would mean crossing hundreds of kilometers of Argentinian ripio.

We talked about our options, including staying at the overpriced hotel until the road was open. An hour later, our emotions were raised a few notches. The hotel manager approached saying she had made some phone calls. She went on to confirm that the road was in fact open again. Relief was visible on Isa’s face.

Snow pellets fell in the two-degree air as we left the hotel. A flashing red light on my dash warned of possible black ice. Snow covered the ground in places. Knowing that it takes days and weeks of cold temperatures to freeze the ground, we felt comfortable leaving before the next derrumbe.

We climbed back up to 4850 m but the temperature didn’t drop any more. The sun felt powerful as it rose in the sky. Spectacular scenery began as we made our way toward Jujuy. There were multi coloured mountains and pointed steeples of rock visible as continuous switchback corners brought us down, out of the highlands. The temperature rose 25 degrees. People seemed much happier in Jujuy than in Susques. They struck up conversations with us at each traffic light, wanting to know, “De donde son?” and, “A donde van?”. There were thumbs up and well wishes were shouted, “suerte!”. Yup, we were back in Argentina.

Switchbacks

Signs of Life in the Valley

Majestic Seniors

Coloured Mountains

That night we camped at the “Camping Municipal”. It was the first of many low priced or free campsites for us. Others included wild camping and camping at service stations in remote areas. It is common to camp at these in rural Argentina, indeed concrete tables and asado pits are often provided. One service station employee looked puzzled when we asked if we could put up our tent for the night answering, “naturalmente, por que no?”

On Good Friday in the farming village of Taco Pozo there was a night parade that began festivities lasting well into the morning hours. Fireworks, loud engines being revved and intoxicated people could be heard everywhere. It was the first of many sleepless nights on our way to Iguazu. We asked around and checked the internet. We think the festivities had something to do with burning or blowing up effigies of Judas.

Days later, we crossed over a bridge into Paraguay. One hundred meters later the border official informed us that as Canadians we had to pay $150 USD each to enter Paraguay. The price was unexpected and high, too high for the three days we had planned to be in the country on our way to the falls. We thanked the official, turned and rode back across the bridge. Although not checked into the country we had technically set wheel and foot on Paraguayan soil.

Back tracking a few hundred kilometers added time but not visiting Asuncion saved it. We found ourselves ahead of schedule by the time we reached the town of Iguazu. We probably should have taken Easter Monday off and stayed still. Holiday traffic was atrocious and peoples’ tempers were high. There was aggressive driving the likes of which we hadn’t seen since Lima. The difference was, where Peruvians simply and routinely disregard the rules in a carefully orchestrated and understood dance, some of the holiday weekend crowd in eastern Argentina sped and passed with an impatience bordering on mean spiritedness.

It was April 4^th, the one-year anniversary of the beginning of our South American adventure. To prepare for this day's visit we had re-watched the move, "The Mission". We visited Iguazu Falls from the Argentinian side. It is known as the “Tri-border Area” and the falls can also be seen from Brazil and Paraguay. Iguazu Falls sit in the once huge, Misiones Rain Forest. Argentina has a system of raised trails here just like the ones installed at the Perito Moreno Glacier, in Patagonia. We walked at least 10 Km on the trails and enjoyed spectacular views of the whole area from the best vantage points, without disturbing a single blade of grass. Iguazu is one of the most visited sites in South America. The infrastructures of trails, rest areas, cafes, restaurants and shuttle trains are capable of handling huge numbers of people per day. In the off season the place seemed deserted. It was often possible to find a bench to just sit and enjoy the sounds of moving water and birds in the tropical rain forest.

Guarani Highway

Butterflies 

Such Numbers and Variety

The falls area is extensive, containing 275 individual water falls. Niagara is impressive, Iguazu is something else. The Argentinian trail system puts the visitor “inside” the ecosystem with plenty of possibilities for one to be drenched by the spray. The thundering power and immensity of the site combine with the lush flora and fauna of a tropical rain forest to create an atmosphere of beauty and majesty. We were not in a hurry to leave. We spent the entire day in the park, they locked the gates behind us when we left.

Butterfly Jewelry

275 Individual Falls at Iguazu

Just a Few of Them

The Misiones Rain Forest is presently one tenth its natural size. It once covered huge areas to the south and into Paraguay and Brazil. Deforestation has caused soil erosion on a massive scale. Rain water that normally would not make it to a rain forest floor now strikes and washes away the thin top soils. The soils colour the Iguazu river brown. Forty years ago, the water was clear. Today, fish can’t see to hunt or to spawn. The entire ecosystem is changing. A rain forest contains biodiversity that holds the potential for unknown “wonder-drugs”.

Permanent Rainbow Seen from Here

Suspended Soil Particles

Butterflies Everywhere

Displays within the park describe the problem of deforestation and support the idea of putting a halt to further destruction of habitat. The same museums have displays on changing land uses in the area and the economic developments they bring. Huge patches of single species exotic hardwoods are farmed alongside food crops. Mills and furniture factories provide jobs in the towns. Riding south the next day through rich, producing lands and pleasant towns, past prosperous farmhouses and neatly painted rural schools one finds it hard to imagine a convincing argument in the rain forest’s favor. Local agriculture and commerce will surely win, and the Misiones Rain Forest will disappear in all but non-arable places. 

Beauty in the Jungle

They Locked the Gates Behind Us

Coati

    

Part 30 Bolivia’s “Lagunas Route” to Uyuni Salt Flat, mid March 18

Part 30 Bolivia’s “Lagunas Route”

(Click on a photo enlarge it.)

The Lagunas Route is a Must See in Bolivia. Towering volcanos watch over a stark high-altitude desert. They push pointed white caps upward into a deep blue colour that can only be seen from high places. The desert’s surface is mostly sand and gravel, smoothed and rounded by the wind. Sometimes debris fields of boulders spewed by angry, exploding volcanos spread out for multiple kilometers. Sometimes it is petrified lava flows that intrude. The few lakes that dot the area are strangely and beautifully coloured by local minerals, principally borax. Temperatures reach as low as minus 20 degrees at night. Being there is like being on another planet.

High Altitude Desert

Mostly Sand and Gravel

Sandy Tracks Through the Desert

Plants and animals that exist in this harsh environment are highly adapted. We saw zorros (dog sized foxes) chasing mice, a few vicuna and lots of flamingos. The few, unusually shaped and coloured plants can be found only in or near one of the shallow, undrinkable (for us) lakes. In the canyons where scarce creeks carry glacial melt water, it seemed that high altitude and low temperatures prevent any kind of plant growth.

A Rare Stream

A van picked Isabelle and I up at the Aji Verde Hostel in San Pedro de Atacama and took us to the Bolivian border. The forty-minute ride brought us from 2600m to 4400m elevation. We noticed frost on the graveled ground as we waited our turn to exit Chile. The tour company put on a nice breakfast for its clients after which we cleared into Bolivia and boarded the Land Cruisers.

Sunrise Frost and Fog at 4400 Meters

At the Bolivian Border

Our Bolivian driver was named Freddy. He was a retired policeman and the oldest driver in our group of six Land Cruisers. He had been driving the Lagunas Route for seven years and was highly skilled. He drove with care and patience, clearly the slowest of the group. Each time it appeared that we were in for a big bump he managed to place his wheels just so, and there was no bump. He brought the vehicle through every kind of surface imaginable without getting stuck. We always felt safe with Freddy. He was an expert.

Freddy

Jeremie and Joy, a young French couple joined us as well as two US young women named Ali and Lauren. They were all seasoned travelers. Jeremie and Joy had already visited Russia and Mongolia. They had ridden the Trans Siberia Express, a week-long train journey through remote parts of the former Soviet Union. Ali and Lauren had traveled extensively throughout the far east.

Jeremie and Joy on the Salar de Uyuni

Isabelle, Ali, Lauren, Joy, Terry Jeremie at Lago Canapa

The Lagunas route began for us at the southern-most tip of Bolivia, 4400 meters above sea level. The route slowly climbed over two days to a maximum of 4926 meters (16,000 ft). It winds its way past numerous lakes and surface features created by volcanism. Soon after the border Lagunas Blanca and Verde came into view. The early morning light was magical, the air calm. The surrounding mountains were reflected without distortion by the wakeless lakes. We hiked around the area to get different views. Porous volcanic rock was everywhere.

Laguna Blanca 

Early morning Light 

Laguna Verde

The Salar De Chalviri is an area of salt, sand and gravel that has been smoothed and rounded by the wind. A non-sequitur had been introduced, that of huge and random chunks of volcanic rock placed there long ago by exploding mountains. Time passes slowly in the remote highlands. From a distance these rocks look small but they are in fact at least the size of a house. It is tempting to think that someone has layered and shaped the rocks but is was the wind that has sand blasted them. Differential erosion due partly to wind direction and to differing lithologies within the rock’s layers has contributed to the resulting surreal shapes. One small area of Salar De Chalviri had been nicknamed the “Salvador Dali Desert”. No one knows if these landscapes inspired Dali’s surrealist paintings but they certainly resemble them. The “Arbol de Piedra” in particular bears a striking resemblance to Dali’s, “The Enigma of Desire”.

Arbol de Piedra (Rock Tree)

Dali's "The Enigma of Desire" (photo from the internet)

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Distant Volcanic Erratics in the "Salvador Dali Desert"

The famous Laguna Colorada (Lake of Colours) was our last stop on the first day. We hiked around it for better views and watched the colours in the water change with the moving angle of the sun. When the sun was gone the water appeared black. The flamingos didn’t mind. They spend each night sleeping on one leg in the shallow briny lake that protects them from preying Zorros.

Intense Red, Sunset on Laguna Colorada (Coloured Lake)

Flamingos on Laguna Colorada

The first night was spent in an adobe refugio that was clean and comfortable. Dinner was simple but tasty and we enjoyed the company of our car mates before retiring early. Sunrise on Laguna Colorada was promised for the next day. No one in our group seemed bothered by the altitude. The refugio was unheated but there were plenty of blankets and sleep came quickly.

High Altitude Refugio at Dawn

Early Morning on Laguna Colorada 

Flamingos on Laguna Colorada

The next day we climbed on huge lava flows and volcanic boulder fields. Freddy described them as “rocas volcanicas petrificadas”. The Three Jewels of the Desert, Lagunas Hedionda, Honda and Canapa were stunning in the still, thin air. The powerful mid-day light at high altitude and cool air make the lakes seem even harsher, again the flamingos don’t seem to mind.

Volcanic Boulders Eroded by the Wind

Geysers

Laguna Hedionda 

Laguna Honda

The end of the day saw all the Land Cruisers moving across the southern portion of the massive Salar de Uyuni on a system of causeways. The salar is flooded in early autumn, making use of the causeways mandatory. One of the drivers tried to overtake another and slid down into the salty muck. No one was hurt. The next 40 minutes were filled with a spectacle of cooperation as the drivers collectively put the stranded car back on the road. Everyone made it safely to the salt hotel, literally made of cut salt, for a group dinner.

Approaching Uyuni (3800 meters), First Signs Human Habitation 

Can You Identify This Relic? 

Back Onto the Causeway

Another early morning and an hour’s drive brought us to the famous Salar de Uyuni for sunrise. Freddy took us down from the causeway and onto the flooded salar. The water was mostly shallow but Freddy seemed a little nervous. We made it safely to a unique and unforgettable view of the sunrise. The air was calm for the third day in a row and the reflected images of clouds and mountains were perfect. We moved onto a dry section of the salar for breakfast. The rest of the morning was spent enjoying the salar and working out some funny distorted perspective photos.

Flooded Salar 

Salar Sunsrise 

 Ali As a Hood Ornament

 Reflections

Playing with Perception 

Huffing and Puffing 

Salty Breakfast 

Not Really Breakfast 

Tonka Toy 

Headed Back  to Dry Land

Easy Does It 

Access from the Causeway to the Flooded Salar

The tour ended in Uyuni where Isa and I had time for a coffee near the Avenida Hotel. The Avenida had been home for us on our previous visit to Uyuni. I had spent an uncomfortable final night there with a fragmented collar bone before flying to Sucre for surgery. An hour later we hopped in a different Land Cruiser with a different driver, Jimmy for the 1 ½ day trip back to San Pedro de Atacama. Our motos were waiting for us, safely parked in San Pedro at the Aji Verde hostel.

Jimmy was a very different driver from Freddy. He was 24 years old and he constantly chewed coca leaves. We must have hit every bump on a road that was only marginally better than the sandy trails of the Lagunas Route. It seemed that Jimmy’s self-confidence exceeded his skills and experience. We arrived well after dark but without incident, perhaps a little shaken, at the refugio in Villa Maria. A simple supper was served to us before we retired to our room.

Quinoa Fields 

An early start in the darkness brought us to the scene of another Land Cruiser off the road. This time it had gone down a steep embankment that was about five meters high. Miraculously, the car was still on its wheels and no one was hurt. All the Land Cruisers that were headed for the Chilean border, about 20, were stuck because of the blockage.

Almost There!

Just a Little More!

The drivers all pitched in to help; the concept of reciprocity in action. Tools appeared out of the thin air. Picks, shovels and long pry bars were used together with bare hands to clear a path back up the embankment. Two tow straps were attached to vehicle below, the first led to a tow vehicle on the road and the second to a team of men. Horsepower and traction were transferred from the road above to the stranded vehicle by the first tow strap. The men, via the second strap, applied deflecting force to prevent the stranded vehicle from slipping along the embankment. Engines revved, men strained and wheels spun. The stranded car bumped and slithered up the embankment and onto the road.

It was a fast and dusty ride for the next two hours. Jimmy, possibly inspired by the early morning events, drove with noticeable caution and we arrived a little after dawn at the border for breakfast. Soon after that Gisele and Adrian welcomed us back at the Aji Verde Hostel and showed us to our room. The four-day excursion into some of the world’s harshest, most remote and at the same time most beautiful places, the Lagunas Route, had been a highlight of our South American trip.