Across the Puna
Turns out that even 3 or 4 blankets aren't always sufficient at altitude, and it also doesn't help when the other jeep crews at the refugio leave at around 5:30am, an hour or so before we were due to, making a great deal of noise in the process. We got our packs stowed again and ready to load the vehicles, and we were glad to see that Carlos had reappeared in the morning (he had apparently been down with something flu-lke the previous night, prompting various of the ladies on the trip to seach their pharmaceutical hoardes for potential cures). We had a slightly surreal breakfast of cake followed by bread and jam, then loaded up and set off to the north again. Our first stop for the day was the Arbol de Piedra (Stone Tree), a natural rock sculpture amongst a whole field of other wind- and water-eroded boulders and, whilst we weren't allowed to climb the "tree", we could and did scramble around on various of the others, to the usual accompaniment of the snaps and whirrs and beeps of digital cameras.
Having snapped to our hearts' content, we piled back into our trusty steeds and rolled on further north, taking in some of the longest drives of the trip on the way to the Lagunas Altiplanicas (high-altitude lakes) - it was at this point that we started counting our lucky stars that Carlos' vehicle had the MP3 cable, as we could iPod our way across the miles whereas Emilio's group aparrently spent quite a lot of the time with a CD of Andean music on repeat! The first of the lakes was Laguna Honda (meaning Deep Lake, nothing to do with the car manufacturer!), then there was one whose name I didn't write down but was actually from Quechua rather than Spanish, and then Laguna Hedionda (literally, Stinky Lake), which had quite large deposits of borax and supur around the edge, hence the well-deserved name. And this was where we broke for lunch.
After our feed, we carried on north, stopping to admire the view of Volcan Ollague, apparently one of the most active in South America, and also to goggle at the bizarre sight of two Swiss cyclists, who had apparently started down at Ushuaia and were making their way up to La Paz, Bolivia's capital. So there we are, transported by 4WD vehicles and with all our supplies and baggage on the roofs, and there they are, with only what they can carry in their panniers. Bit of a contrast. I was defnitely glad to be doing things our way, though! We kept on northwards, crossing the Salar de Chiguana, a smaller set of salt flats just to the south of the main Uyuni ones, and made one of our occasional supply- and toilet-stops in the village of San Juan. One of the features of crossing such a forbidding landscape as southwest Bolivia, somewhat similar to my times in Africa, is that the need to go to the loo becomes quite a driving thing, and travellers (especially guys, for whom the great outdoors makes for easier territory) tend to take the chance to go whenever the opportunity occurs. And when you're traveling through a landscape largely devoid of any trees or other large plant cover, then rocks become your friend. Once there aren't any rocks to hand either, the guys at least have the option of just going a ways away from the vehicle and facing downwind. Ahem.
After San Martin, it was only a relatively short drive, albeit one which took us past an army settlement where the troops were giving each other piggie-backs across a football pitch, to get us to Villa Martin, the little place which was our stop for the night. Some of the companies stop at one of the salt hotels (thus named due to their construction from salt blocks) near the flats, but Estrella actually stays in a little local guesthouse (which we later found out is actually owned by Carlos' parents!) which I reckon scores higher on the comfort front. We had a little time after dumping our bags to explore what little there was of the village, taking in the quinoa fields outside town, before heading back for the usual warming drinks and biscuits before dinner. However, our peace and serenity at this time were tested somewhat by one of the kids of the household, who kept hassling us about whether we wanted to take a shower (it was an extra 5 Bs charge to do so, albeit with hot water), to the point where some of us decided not to just because he was being irritating. Once dinner was out of the way, we all headed to bed pretty early, as we needed to be up and ready to leave by 5am the next morning to go and catch the sunset.
Having snapped to our hearts' content, we piled back into our trusty steeds and rolled on further north, taking in some of the longest drives of the trip on the way to the Lagunas Altiplanicas (high-altitude lakes) - it was at this point that we started counting our lucky stars that Carlos' vehicle had the MP3 cable, as we could iPod our way across the miles whereas Emilio's group aparrently spent quite a lot of the time with a CD of Andean music on repeat! The first of the lakes was Laguna Honda (meaning Deep Lake, nothing to do with the car manufacturer!), then there was one whose name I didn't write down but was actually from Quechua rather than Spanish, and then Laguna Hedionda (literally, Stinky Lake), which had quite large deposits of borax and supur around the edge, hence the well-deserved name. And this was where we broke for lunch.
After our feed, we carried on north, stopping to admire the view of Volcan Ollague, apparently one of the most active in South America, and also to goggle at the bizarre sight of two Swiss cyclists, who had apparently started down at Ushuaia and were making their way up to La Paz, Bolivia's capital. So there we are, transported by 4WD vehicles and with all our supplies and baggage on the roofs, and there they are, with only what they can carry in their panniers. Bit of a contrast. I was defnitely glad to be doing things our way, though! We kept on northwards, crossing the Salar de Chiguana, a smaller set of salt flats just to the south of the main Uyuni ones, and made one of our occasional supply- and toilet-stops in the village of San Juan. One of the features of crossing such a forbidding landscape as southwest Bolivia, somewhat similar to my times in Africa, is that the need to go to the loo becomes quite a driving thing, and travellers (especially guys, for whom the great outdoors makes for easier territory) tend to take the chance to go whenever the opportunity occurs. And when you're traveling through a landscape largely devoid of any trees or other large plant cover, then rocks become your friend. Once there aren't any rocks to hand either, the guys at least have the option of just going a ways away from the vehicle and facing downwind. Ahem.
After San Martin, it was only a relatively short drive, albeit one which took us past an army settlement where the troops were giving each other piggie-backs across a football pitch, to get us to Villa Martin, the little place which was our stop for the night. Some of the companies stop at one of the salt hotels (thus named due to their construction from salt blocks) near the flats, but Estrella actually stays in a little local guesthouse (which we later found out is actually owned by Carlos' parents!) which I reckon scores higher on the comfort front. We had a little time after dumping our bags to explore what little there was of the village, taking in the quinoa fields outside town, before heading back for the usual warming drinks and biscuits before dinner. However, our peace and serenity at this time were tested somewhat by one of the kids of the household, who kept hassling us about whether we wanted to take a shower (it was an extra 5 Bs charge to do so, albeit with hot water), to the point where some of us decided not to just because he was being irritating. Once dinner was out of the way, we all headed to bed pretty early, as we needed to be up and ready to leave by 5am the next morning to go and catch the sunset.
posted by Pat at 12:00 pm
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