14-18/3/2012 - Uyuni salt flats and another farewell

In the evening we caught a bus bound for Uyuni for our 3 day tour of the nearby desert and the salt flats. We'd been warned about the bus ride to Uyuni being rough and extremely dangerous. Interestingly I slept far better on our 12 hour journey than during either of the nights we'd spent at Wild Rover.

Upon arrival in Uyuni we were joined by an English couple, switched to a 4x4 and hit the dusty road heading in the direction of the triple border point between Bolivia, Chile and Argentina. The terrain quickly became scenically bizarre and Francis' comparison to Tataooine (a planet in one of the later star wars films) was very apt.

Rolling sand dunes surrounded by sand coloured rock outcrops would fall away to reveal valleys of what one would imagine the surface of Mars to look like. Our 4x4 seemed to follow no visible path except tire tracks left by other Jeeps in the sandy landscape. Unfortunately a huge portion of the day was spent inside the Jeep with occasional stops to take photos, but being in a Jeep with 3 raucous Aussies made the time fly. Our last stop, not too far from our nights' lodgings, was a green lake filled with flamingoes. Pretty nice, especially with the snow capped mountains in the background completing the picture.

 

Setting off in fairly chilly conditions at 5am the next morning we immediately came across some geysers spitting out jets of god knows what which looked all the more imposing as the sun rose and slowly illuminated the bleak landscape around us.

Shortly, we arrived at our breakfast stop which was located right next to some hot springs. Without much hesitation me and Grace took the plunge and it was the nearest thing I'd had to a hot bath in 5 months. Bliss. 

Refreshed and sated we continued our journey eventually making it to the triple border which was situated on a scenic lake-mountain combo. Cue photo and hilarious border hopping around. The rest of the day was spent retracing our steps but the time went by quickly and I got a comprehensive education in Australian music courtesy of my travelling companions. Arriving back in Uyuni we were cooked dinner in our hostel by the lovely woman who was in charge of the tour. A power cut spiced things up but all in all it was an excellent night.

Our final day of the tour saw us joined by 2 sour Australians who were hating on Bolivia and everything else around them (perhaps understandably since they'd lost all of their travel documents and credit cards). Regardless, the rest of us were in high spirits at the prospect of finally getting to see the ethereal salt flats and have a stab at taking some of those tacky perspective shots that everyone visiting the area is obliged to do. However before we got our dessert we had to enjoy our main course which came in the form of the only actual attraction inside the town of Uyuni – a train graveyard! Groan.

Although initially unenthusiastic (Grace actually lives near to a train graveyard back home) we actually had quite a lot of fun climbing around the wrecks and the thrill of potential tetanus from the rusty jagged edges all over the shop made for added danger points.

Leaving with our joints still mobile, we joined the caravan of 4x4's filled with tourists heading to the salt flats.

The shift in landscape was remarkable in its suddenness. Without warning, the dusty road gave way to a vast desolate white plain spreading out ahead of is in all directions as far as the eye could see. The landscape isn't dissimilar to how I envisage an ice desert to be and maybe this is the closest I'll ever get to one. We spent a couple of hours messing around and taking photos. What I should have realised is that everyone else at the salt flats would be doing exactly the same thing and half the fun was watching the hilariously bad attempts of everyone else. Ours tended to involve mostly removal of clothes and terrifying multicoloured balaclava/face masks we'd bought in La Paz.

Francis: "This has nothing to do with perspective, why are we doing this!?" Good question.

Much more civilized

Having had our fill of photo taking and with the sunburn kicking in due to the reflection off the salt, we headed back after a touristy but undeniably fun experience.

Back in Uyuni we grabbed dinner in a tacky tourist dive and got chatting to some other travellers. I had one of the most infuriating conversations of my life with a Swedish guy. Few things in life annoy me but something about this really rubbed me up the wrong way. Without going into detail, it basically comes down to labelling hallucinogenic drug taking as a form of therapy. This guy wasn't the first person I'd met refer to taking Ayahuasca and San Pedro (types of naturally extracted hallucinogenic substances) as “work” or to the drugs themselves as “medicine” but he was the first I'd had any prolonged conversation with. I wish I hadn't. What I guess gets to me is how people like him try and disguise a recreational and above all FUN activity with serious work and spiritual enlightenment. No, you're not working through your inner problems. You're tripping out and seeing rainbows spiralling out of your hand. It's not hard work. It's fun.

I questioned him on his beliefs and despite his claims that he used to be rational and non-spiritual (“just like you” he said as he looked at me earnestly) his views were wishy washy and inconsistent beyond belief. I really want to meet someone who can actually convey a structured argument or have a bash at having some consistent beliefs but so far my travels have failed to yield fruit. Talking to hippies is probably a non-starter in that respect. Rant over.

Me and Grace got on the bumpy bus back to La Paz but not before saying goodbye to Francis and Scarlett who were heading south to Argentina.

We arrived in the Wild Rover on the Sunday after St Patrick's Day and the place was a picture of tranquillity due to the festivities last night. We spent a day stocking up on more gifts for the folks at home and eating ludicrously cheap restaurant food.

Grace was heading back to Australia in the morning so we had a few drinks in the hostel (the bar being full again in the evening despite nearly everyone we talked to complaining of a horrible hang-over) before ending up at the Hard Rock Café of all places which was inexplicably rammed to the hilt with locals dancing the night away. I said my goodbyes to Grace and vowed, not for the first time this trip, to visit Australia in the near future. Most of the Australians I've met have made excellent travelling companions.