Into Bolivia
The early night was probably somewhat of a help, as I had to be at the office for my tour at 8am. Although, again, the company's timekeeping turned out to be somewhat more flexible than ours, so it was at least half past before we actually got on the minibus that ould take us to the border. We first of all cleared Chilean emigration at the edge of town, then drove on for about an hou or so to the Bolivian frontier, where we were met by the Land Cruisers (not actual jeeps, but more comfortable) which would be our steeds for the next few days to Uyuni. The border formalities were relatively rapid for those of us not from the US - our American cousins unfortunately suffer once again in Bolivia from their nation's aggressive aproach to border control, in that they must pay a fee of US$135, equivalent to that which the US charges Bolivians applying to go Stateside. They don't have the facilities to do this at the border for everyone, so their passports are put (safely wrapped up in cardboard and duct tape!) into the care of the tour company until they reac uyuni, where they have to pay at the immigration office. Thus, Ness, Lauren, Mark and Katie were spending 3 days passport-less, whilst Philip (German), Jerome and Estelle (French), Miriam (Dutch) Robin (Canadian) and Jun and myself (British) just had to pay the 21 Bolivianos (just over 2 quid) border tax.
With the formalities out of the way, we got down to breakfast, which consisyed of (surprise, surprise!) ham and cheese sandwiches, though bolstered by apple juice and yoghurts. The latter caused no end of amusement, as they reacted to the 4,500m altitude of the border by exploding somewhat whenever they were opened. Once we had been fed and watered, we split between the two vehicles, with Mark, Katie, Robin and Jun )who had been travelling together for about a week already) joined by Miriam in one Land Cruiser, driven by Emilio, whilst Ness, Lauren, Philip, Jerome, Estelle and I wee chauffeured around by Carlos. My initial reaction was annoyance at being in the more crowded vehicle, but ours was actually a newer model, with slightly more space, and had things like an MP3 interface for music, which Emilio's lacked. And we had Carlos, who was brilliant. He didn't really speak English, but was practiced at dealing with Gringoes with minimal Spanish and spoke slowly and deliberately, making things clear to all of us what was happening. And if there was anything complicated, we had the advantage of Ness, who is dual-national US-Spanish (unfortunately for her currently with a lapsed Spanish passport, so she got caught by the US restrictions) and thus fluent in both languages.
Thus began our little Odyssey across the Puna, through the Reserva Nacional de Fauna Eduardo Avaroa and up across the Salar de Uyuni. Our first stop was Laguna Blanca (White Lagoon), which served as a mirror for the surrounding countryside. Just a few minutes' drive further on from this was Laguna Verde (Green Lagoon), which was coloured a startling blue-green due to the mineral content (particularly a high content of arsenic - not somewhere to think about refilling water bottles or anything!) and also exposed to a vicious wind that whipped across the plains, still basically treeless at this altitude. Moving on from Laguna Verde we stopped at the Termas de Polques, some hot springs where an enterprising soul had built a shallow swimming pool to enjoy the 38-degree water. This was absolutely heavenly to be in, given the chill at altitude outside, but getting out and getting changed back into dry clothes was a brief ordeal at the end of it - 20 minutes' comfort for around 2 minutes' discomfort seemed a fiar trade off to me, though!
After our impromptu hot bath (which we had been recommended to take advantage of as there were no hot showers at the night's accommodation...), we drove onward to the Sol de Mañana (Morning Sun) geysers, which weren't spouting but were giving off clouds of steam and the inevitable sulfurous rotten-egg smell that always takes me back to Rotorua in New Zealand. I should note here that none of this driving was on roads - there aren't any through the park, and even the tracks there are are poorl defined and frequently ignored. Carlos frequently went off-piste, but on that first day, despite being one of the last groups to leave the border post, we were one of the first to arrive at our refugio for the night. After the usual questioning, I found out that he's been driving tours in the region for 16 years, the last 5 of them with Estrella del Sur, so it's not exactly surprising that he knows a lot of the quicker routes. In any case, we made it over the saddle at 5,000m (the highest point of the trip) and back down to around 4,300m, where out refugio at Huaylla Jara was located, near the shores of Laguna Colorada (Red Lagoon - can you see the pattern here?). There we had a late lunch before going out to take in the red colour of the lake (actually more of a kind of dark orange, but still not normal for water - it's caused by micro-organisms) and the many flamingoes who call it home. Unfortunately, this was also when the wind really picked up, just as I'd left my beanie back at the refugio, so I had to botch together a combination of my bush-hat and bandana to try and keep from getting ear-ache. I did get some reasonable photos, though.
Having surived the arctic blasts down by the lake, we headed back to the refugio, initially for tea and biscuits (I know, how English??) and then later on for dinner. In the gap between these, we did the classic backpacker thing and got a running game of Shithead going. Some of us also went to investigate the little store at the refugio, where we got hold of some beer, albeit at prices that seemed somewhat expensive for what we'd heard about Bolivia. But when you're miles from anywhere in the middle of a national park, that's not exactly a huge surprise. After dinner we stayed up for a while longer, reading, writing journals and chatting, until the freezing cold and lights-out drove us to our beds, where we buried ourselves in the multiple blankets provided.
With the formalities out of the way, we got down to breakfast, which consisyed of (surprise, surprise!) ham and cheese sandwiches, though bolstered by apple juice and yoghurts. The latter caused no end of amusement, as they reacted to the 4,500m altitude of the border by exploding somewhat whenever they were opened. Once we had been fed and watered, we split between the two vehicles, with Mark, Katie, Robin and Jun )who had been travelling together for about a week already) joined by Miriam in one Land Cruiser, driven by Emilio, whilst Ness, Lauren, Philip, Jerome, Estelle and I wee chauffeured around by Carlos. My initial reaction was annoyance at being in the more crowded vehicle, but ours was actually a newer model, with slightly more space, and had things like an MP3 interface for music, which Emilio's lacked. And we had Carlos, who was brilliant. He didn't really speak English, but was practiced at dealing with Gringoes with minimal Spanish and spoke slowly and deliberately, making things clear to all of us what was happening. And if there was anything complicated, we had the advantage of Ness, who is dual-national US-Spanish (unfortunately for her currently with a lapsed Spanish passport, so she got caught by the US restrictions) and thus fluent in both languages.
Thus began our little Odyssey across the Puna, through the Reserva Nacional de Fauna Eduardo Avaroa and up across the Salar de Uyuni. Our first stop was Laguna Blanca (White Lagoon), which served as a mirror for the surrounding countryside. Just a few minutes' drive further on from this was Laguna Verde (Green Lagoon), which was coloured a startling blue-green due to the mineral content (particularly a high content of arsenic - not somewhere to think about refilling water bottles or anything!) and also exposed to a vicious wind that whipped across the plains, still basically treeless at this altitude. Moving on from Laguna Verde we stopped at the Termas de Polques, some hot springs where an enterprising soul had built a shallow swimming pool to enjoy the 38-degree water. This was absolutely heavenly to be in, given the chill at altitude outside, but getting out and getting changed back into dry clothes was a brief ordeal at the end of it - 20 minutes' comfort for around 2 minutes' discomfort seemed a fiar trade off to me, though!
After our impromptu hot bath (which we had been recommended to take advantage of as there were no hot showers at the night's accommodation...), we drove onward to the Sol de Mañana (Morning Sun) geysers, which weren't spouting but were giving off clouds of steam and the inevitable sulfurous rotten-egg smell that always takes me back to Rotorua in New Zealand. I should note here that none of this driving was on roads - there aren't any through the park, and even the tracks there are are poorl defined and frequently ignored. Carlos frequently went off-piste, but on that first day, despite being one of the last groups to leave the border post, we were one of the first to arrive at our refugio for the night. After the usual questioning, I found out that he's been driving tours in the region for 16 years, the last 5 of them with Estrella del Sur, so it's not exactly surprising that he knows a lot of the quicker routes. In any case, we made it over the saddle at 5,000m (the highest point of the trip) and back down to around 4,300m, where out refugio at Huaylla Jara was located, near the shores of Laguna Colorada (Red Lagoon - can you see the pattern here?). There we had a late lunch before going out to take in the red colour of the lake (actually more of a kind of dark orange, but still not normal for water - it's caused by micro-organisms) and the many flamingoes who call it home. Unfortunately, this was also when the wind really picked up, just as I'd left my beanie back at the refugio, so I had to botch together a combination of my bush-hat and bandana to try and keep from getting ear-ache. I did get some reasonable photos, though.
Having surived the arctic blasts down by the lake, we headed back to the refugio, initially for tea and biscuits (I know, how English??) and then later on for dinner. In the gap between these, we did the classic backpacker thing and got a running game of Shithead going. Some of us also went to investigate the little store at the refugio, where we got hold of some beer, albeit at prices that seemed somewhat expensive for what we'd heard about Bolivia. But when you're miles from anywhere in the middle of a national park, that's not exactly a huge surprise. After dinner we stayed up for a while longer, reading, writing journals and chatting, until the freezing cold and lights-out drove us to our beds, where we buried ourselves in the multiple blankets provided.
posted by Pat at 12:00 pm
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