Lost at Last

Bolivia was one of the main reasons we chose to do a trip through the Americas, rather than, say, Vietnam and Cambodia. It did not disappoint. We woke early on Tuesday and got on the “road”. The streams had frozen over night. It felt like driving on another planet.

Sometimes there were roads:

Sometimes there were not:

It wasn’t the easiest ride of the trip, but it was definitely the coolest. Today a guy on a GS asked us if his bike would make it, and we had to tell him honestly that without a knobby tyre, the going would be tough.

We were heading for Laguna Verde, but meandering as the mood took us. When Trevor saw steam out of the corner of his eye, he asked me if I’d like to take a closer look. Uh – we are over 16,000 ft and the ground is bubbling. OF COURSE we should take a closer look!

Talk about weird! The boiling, burping mud looked a lot more impressive than it does in my photos. We couldn’t get the bike any closer as the ground was soft.

We could see a powerful steam geyser in the distance but when we drove up to it, it looked like someone had turned it off. Bizarrely, it was only visible from afar. We could clearly hear it though. This is Trevor throwing clods of grass in it. You can see them shooting right up and out of the frame:

Back on Mars, we continued in what was vaguely the right direction.

There are some natural hot springs in the park. I couldn’t have been happier. The accommodation the night before had been fairly basic (think concrete beds and no running water) and a hot bath was just what I needed. There was a flamingo in there when we pulled up, but he declined to share!

I could have stayed in there all day, but luckily for Trevor a 4X4 pulled up and the tranquility was lost.

I wish, I wish we had invested in a wide-angle lens.

Taco and Mars had warned us about the deep sand (having fallen several times) but I had stopped pooing my pants and Trevor was getting the hang of the way the bike fishtailed about. He was loose with his arms and steered with his legs; we both leaned back and weighted the pegs. We were flying along happily at about 40 mph. And then we were just flying…

Bollocks!

We high-sided and landed a fair way from the bike. Luckily for me, I hit the soft deep sand face first. (This is why we wear them, Mum.)

Trevor landed on his head, jarring his neck. He was pretty winded and staggered around swearing (this is actually a GOOD sign).

We had to drag the bike into shallower sand to haul it up. Trevor was extremely sore but popped a couple of painkillers and we rode on to the beautiful Laguna Verde.

Surprisingly, the immigration office was actually open (we had checked out in Uyuni as we had heard the border office hours were very unreliable). Even more surprisingly, the Aduana’s office was nowhere to be found. It was 25 miles back the way we had just come. We didn’t go back for it. Maybe we can check the bike out at the Bolivian embassy, or a Bolivian/Argentine border?

This is the first border we have crossed where Immigration is in different places for each country. Once in Chile, we descended 5000 ft and several miles to San Pedro de Atacama. Immigration and Customs was a breeze but the hotel prices were a shock! Toto we are DEFINITELY not in Bolivia any more. Trevor was stiffening up. I checked 4 crummy hotel rooms (all more than $50) before caving in and settling for a nice one for not much more.

Cost to the bike: Ripped front panniers and broken tank bag strap. (EVEN MORE) bent front rim. Sheared sub frame mounting bolt. Sand scratches on paintwork.
Cost to us: Pocket digital camera (pulverised as it had been in my hand). Helmet face shield, and potentially Trevor’s helmet. Trevor very sore (recovering nicely). $3 mounting bolt fix (see next post).
Value to us: Priceless.

Although yesterday was off the chart in “cool” factor, it was a little lacking in the “adventure” we had been seeking on the Bolivian Altiplano. We found it today.

The Altiplano (High Plain) hovers between 12,500 and 16,500 feet. It is quite possible the coolest place on earth. The plains are so flat that you can see for miles. The volcanoes and mountains that edge the plains trick you into thinking you are at sea level, at the base of a small valley. Trick you, that is, until you try to run, or otherwise exert yourself. Trevor had me running around snapping photos, and it belatedly dawned on me why he wasn’t huffing and puffing

We got up early, and after Trevor had performed a couple more turns of his favourite “No Hay” dance at the petrol stations, he returned to town and blagged some from the jerry cans of Expediciones Lipez. (That is who we went to the Salar with – highly recommend them, by the way.) They even agreed to lug 20 more litres to Lago Colorado for us, so we could refuel there and not have to carry the fuel with us. Pretty much everyone falls, we were assured. You don’t want to go up in a fiery ball of flame, do you? No, we didn’t, actually.

The beginning of the journey was straightforward, a quick jaunt down unpaved roads:

(Not sure if this sign is for llama or vicuñas. We saw a lot of both The vicuñas are surprisingly wild and graceful – the llamas not so much!)

The Bolivian Altiplano really is the hell and gone from anywhere – even my BB didn’t work there. Finally, off the grid That is apart from the hoards of 4X4 vehicles that cram in 6-7 tourists (plus guide and driver) and tear around in convoys. Guess we are not the only people that think the Altiplano is cool. The gravel roads are loose and gnarly; they leave such blinding dust clouds that it’s pretty dangerous to overtake. Rather than tail-gating the 4X4s and eating their dust all day, we found ways to amuse ourselves.

We also took some smaller alternative “roads”:

(There are more flamingos in the lake behind Trevor)

Off the beaten track (and even occasionally ON it) the roads are really more “routes” – follow a set of 4X4 tracks in the desired direction.

(click for full effect)

I have never been anywhere like this in my life. It was truly incredible and we stopped multiple times just to look about and “wow”. On one such occasion, a few of these popped out of the rocks!

We were headed for Lago Colarado, our stopping point for the night, but not before the obligatory stop and photo at the rock tree:

There was just time for a little more silliness before the sun went down and we holed up inside (and under our 8 wool blankets!)

(Lago Colorado – meh!)

Cost to the bike: cracked rear sub frame, (even more) bent front wheel rim, broken wing mirror (literally bounced off), dented muffler
Value to us: Priceless

The town of Uyuni functions as the gateway to Bolivia’s Salar de Uyuni – the world’s largest salt flat. It is a very long way from anywhere and, predictably, is a dumpy little town with more than its fair share of fall-down drunks.

More surprising, however, was that its main square was jam-packed with pizza places or other bastardisation of “what-does-whitey-want?” restaurants: “Mexican/Vegetarian/Pizza/Restaurant/Fun Pub!!!” It is backpacker hell on earth.

Some early-morning research convinced us that yes, the Salar was indeed under water due to the recent rains, but all was not yet lost. Only “some” was flooded (unfortunately enough to prevent us from riding the bike into the super-concentrated salty water ) but from the Salt Hotel onwards it was dry. We started asking around the myriad of tour operators that offered 4-wheel drive options. We only found one that would allow us to stay out late enough to watch the sun set, but that would mean we’d need to book a private tour – a little too rich for our budget. Trevor went for a quick hair cut whilst we thought about the options

(Shaving with a cut-throat razor)

As luck would have it, another motorcycle couple walked into the same tour operator that afternoon looking for the same thing. Their names were Mars and Taco (“Easy to remember. Sweet and savoury” as they put it.) We were well met by moonlight and our needs agreed so we decided to split a private 4X4 and go together the next morning.

Our first stop was to the train graveyard, just a couple of miles out of Uyuni. It is pretty cool, and very strange.

Then on to a demonstration of where they make the salt, and you can buy salt-related tat (which we opted to skip, thanks!)

Finally, on to the Salar. The Salar de Uyuni is HUGE. It’s more than 4,000 square miles and was created 40,000 years ago when the giant prehistoric Lake Minchin dried up. When the lake dried, it left behind two modern lakes, and two major salt deserts; Uyuni is the larger.

When it is underwater, its flatness allows for the water to provide a mirror reflection of the sky.

When its dry, the brilliant white salt flats stretch for hundreds of miles in each direction:

(How much do I wish there was an orange motorcycle in this picture?)

We stopped for lunch at Isla Pescado (actually Isla Incahuasi – “home of the Incas”). We went for a beer while our driver laid the salt-carved table with a table-cloth and fantastic spread (yes, really!)

Sustained, we made the short hike up to the island’s highest point for a jaw-dropping 360-degree view.

(That’s me at the flag.)

(Bizarrely, this whole island is made from coral, in the lake of salt!)

(click for full effect)

There was enough time for some tom-foolery and more photos before we made our way to the Salt Hotel.

(Inspired by Mars and Taco)

The Salt Hotel itself has now been proclaimed an ‘illegal strucuture”, but you can still visit, stay, or get a beer there

(Sharing maps and stories: Mars and Taco are heading north as we head south.)

Finally it was back to see the sunset reflect it’s last rays onto the flooded Salar. It was magical.

OK, that’s it. No more five-star hotels for me. It’s back to street food and flea-ridden beds. I woke up at 5am with terrible stomach ache. The sunrise was beautiful, but Trevor had to take the pictures.

In fact, Trevor took almost all the photos today. I didn’t manage any of the all-included, all-you-can-eat buffet or freshly-prepared omelets. Nope. Our five-star hotel had given me a nasty case of food-poisoning (from the exquisite meal the night before).

I was determined not to miss out on the day, however, so we boarded our boat and set off for the floating islands of Lake Titicaca.

(Looking back from the pier at Puno)

The Uros islands were indeed beautiful:

Everything (including the island itself) is made from the totora reed that grows close to shore.

Legend has it that the Incas had kept the Uros as slaves, finally releasing them but decreeing they couldn’t live on land. The result was the floating islands. The islands are anchored close to the coastlines in between 10 and 30 metres of water.

We climbed the viewing tower for a few more pix.

By now, I was feeling much worse; I surrendered the camera to Trevor,

(That’s our hotel in the distance)

With the altitude and the sun, the colours are ridiculously vivid (even with the camera on “normal” mode). I adjusted this one DOWN in PhotoShop!

We went from one island to another in one of the islanders’ reed-constructed boats. I sat in the back and surreptitiously threw up a couple of times. Trevor asked if we should try and get a water taxi back, but I thought I would soldier on. What I didn’t know was our next stop was a 2.5 hour boat ride – and they on-board bathroom had no toilet paper. At least when we got there it was gorgeous:

I think this picture was taken after I threw up for the third time, but before my arse exploded (for the first time).

I love this picture. Trevor took this after I had thrown up on the path in front of our entire group, and while he was waiting for me to come out of the toilet (for the second time).

The 824 steps down to the dock were a bit of a struggle:

We were incredibly lucky with the weather. It had poured with rain the whole night before, and as we boarded the boat for the return journey the weather closed in.

As we drew into harbour, I was feeling better and could enjoy the lightening storm and the rain that greeted us. The End.

Although it’s only accessible by train, there are a few different ways to get to Machu Picchu. The easiest way is to get a direct train from Cusco to Aguas Calientes (the nearest town), and a bus from there. You can “do” Machu Picchu in a day trip and be back in time for supper. The main problems with this route are that 1) everyone else wants the same convenience and 2) it’s ungodly expensive. We decided on an overnight stay at Aguas Calientes so we could enter the park at 6am before any of the trains arrived. Our cab from Cusco to Ollantaytambo, the return train fare to Aguas Calientes and our overnight stay was cheaper than just the return train from Cusco. Of course, you get what you pay for. Our hotel SUCKED, but then we were only there for 6 hours, so what did we care?

We woke up to pouring rain! Yes, we were the only people at Machu Picchu, but it looked like this:

I have wanted to see this Inca city since I was a kid, but I almost wrote a one-word report. “Tick”.

I don’t suppose the fact that it was pissing with rain helped much!

At 8.30, the first train arrived from Ollantaytambo.

One of the reasons to get to the park early is to get one of the 400 allotted spaces to climb Wayna Picchu, To get one, you have to be in line by 8am for one of two time slots to climb. It’s supposed to have spectacular views. Today it was shrouded in rain clouds.

WTF, I decided to climb it anyway.

It was the best decision that I have made this trip. My opinion of Machu Picchu went from “meh” to breath-taking. Maybe if we had hiked the Inca trail in, I would have felt the same from the beginning. The location, hidden by the mountains, is truly stunning. The hike to the summit of Wayna Picchu is pretty steep and slick in the rain but the views are outstanding! (According to Wikipedia, the top of Wayna Picchu was the residence for the high priest and the local “virgins”. Every morning before sunrise, the high priest with a small group would walk to Machu Picchu to signal the coming of the new day!)

About 1/2 way up, the rain ceased and I took off my blancmange-coloured poncho, by 3/4 of the way up, I shed my jumper too.

This was the view of Machu Picchu from the top:

Going the down, the steps seem even steeper:

and narrower:

(that step is less than half the length of my foot!)

I was elated by the time I got down and re-invigorated for a few more photos, now that the sodding rain had stopped!

Some of the city is roughly-hewn:

but the temples, observatories and other important buildings are carefully carved to fit:

I’ll let the rest of the photos speak for themselves:

(Wayna Picchu is the distant mountain)

(clinging to the edge of the mountain)