Fifty Shades of Desert

(Nov 13, 2012)

I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m late!  Let’s see, where were we…

Upon arriving in Uyuni on the afternoon of Nov. 6^th, we immediately set to work planning our tour of the heralded Salar de Uyuni. Luckily, we had been asking everyone we’d met coming from Uyuni of their impressions and guide suggestions. Thus, by the time we arrived in Uyuni we were armed with two well-regarded company names and knew all the right questions to ask: What sights do you visit? (I had a list the length of my arm), Where do we stay? How many people per car? Have you ever had problems with drunk drivers (we had heard horror stories to this effect)? How would you handle a situation where a driver were to be drunk? What does the menu include? Is transfer included to San Pedro de Atacama? Does your tour cost extra for an English guide?

Well prepared, it took us only 10 minutes to select what we hoped would be the best company: Quechua Connection Tours. And, as it turned out, oh how lucky we were…

Train cars in their salty grave

We grouped together at the office with the other 10 tour mates on our trip and were on the road by 11am. First stop was the Train Graveyard-turned-playground just outside of town. We arrived to a sea of other guide vehicles and a swath of tourists climbing over every inch of the train wreck. Energetic tourists glided back and forth on swings and teetered on seesaws – it really was a fun place to be!

After a stop at a small village to look at locally-made salt handicrafts and learn about the salt mining and refining process, we headed out into the gleaming white expanse of the Salar, the largest salt flat in the world. Within minutes we were completely surrounded by salt as far as the eye could see and were soon released to crunch across the salt crystals, watch the miners at work, and take ‘creative’ (read: ridiculous)   pictures of ourselves as we jumped and played among the stunningly beautiful desert. After a lunch of llama steaks, vegetables AND PIE (We clearly made the right choice of tour company), we set out to drive across the salt flats.

After two hours driving in a straight line with nothing but white, bordered by jagged mountains, around us, we arrived at the Isla Incahuasi to wander among towering cacti on a search for the famous rabbit/chinchilla-like animals, the viscacha. The first island was inundated with tourists, while the second island was blissfully empty. Here we gazed at the mysterious hexagonal and circular salt formations and climbed into a roomy cave, guarded by a towering cactus.

To break up more driving across the salt flat, we stopped to take in the sunset, which cast golden light around us, dulling the blinding white that we had become accustomed to.

In a small town perched on the rim of the salt flat we settled in and wandered through our salt hotel. From the front door onwards everything was made of salt, from the crystals on the floor, the translucent blocks that made up the walls, the tables and chairs, and, to our dismay, the beds. Gingerly we walked into our salty bedroom and, with a sigh, realized that, thankfully, our salt beds also had thick mattresses.

In the morning we set out on a drive through the Bolivian Altiplanos, a string of diverse deserts united by the many snow-capped  volcanic peaks that surrounded them. Moments after we had started driving, we were approached by a group of tired looking tourists with a request: Their driver was drunk. He was loaded. So plastered from his birthday party the night before that he had barely been able to walk in the morning.  As Peter and I peered through their jeep window we saw the guide in question slumped in his seat, sunglasses firmly in place, and a wad of coca leaves steadily growing in his cheek. After they had pulled their guide out of the driver’s seat, he had instructed them to drive back to Uyuni, cutting the tour short by 2 days. Instead they had hoped they could follow our group to the sights so they wouldn’t get lost and wouldn’t miss any of the sights they had paid for and hoped to see. Luckily, our wonderful guides agreed and together, we drove past smaller salt flats, smoldering volcanoes, hunched and furry viscachas, and flamingo filled (toxic) mineral pools of all shapes and colours. By lunchtime, the deviant driver of our adventurous friends had sufficiently sobered up and regained control of the wheel and we said goodbye as they continued on ahead – we hoped we would see them again. When we reached the rolling dunes of the desolate sandy desert, we stopped at a grouping of massive boulders, thrust there in an especially explosive moment in the area’s distant volcanic past. The wind whistled past my new friend Hayley and I as we clamored up the boulders, searching for the few handholds that would not shatter nor slice at our frigid fingers. We huddled on the top, with the bright sun shining in our eyes and the wind tearing at our hair as we surveyed the sandy scene around us.

Laguna Colorada at sunset

Though tired, by the time we reached the beautiful multi-coloured ‘Laguna Colorada’, we were still energized to explore. We reached the mirador overlooking the red, green, blue, and white lake bordered by yellow, orange and grey as the sun began to set and we forced our way back to the park refuge as darkness fell.

Trying to warm up in the geysers!

At 2am I woke up and checked my watch. Not time yet. At 2:30am I woke up and checked my watch. Not time yet. (I’m sure you’re seeing a pattern here). Finally at 4am it was time to wake up and bundle into the ice-lined jeep to head off through volcano country. Barely able to peel ourselves from our jeep-turned-ice box we tried to thaw ourselves in the hot gases expelled by the geysers that we encountered first. As the sun began to rise, and we began to thaw, our optimism was dashed as our car sputtered to a halt…10 times. Finally after numerous tries, we arrived at the thermal lake and I practically dove in to the warm waters. Within one minute in the natural hot tub I was finally able to regain feeling in all appendages.

After a final stop at the ‘green lake’ (which turns a fluorescent green as the wind mixes dissolved chemicals), Peter and I said goodbye to our group and climbed onto our bus to Chile.

Enrique and I floating around in El Cejar

Peter and I planned to spend about a week in the beautiful boutique desert town of San Pedro de Atacama. We were in and outta there in 3 days. It’s not that it wasn’t beautiful – it was. The streets were made of sand and lined with beautiful candle lit adobe restaurants and boutique hotels. It’s not that there wasn’t anything to do there. The town was surrounded by the sands, salt, and lakes of the Atacama desert, the driest in the world. It’s that the price shock had us reeling. After a $20 night in a smoke-filled dorm room (I have never seen so much smoke as I have seen during my time in Chile), we met up with Enrique, our wonderful couchsurfing host, who invited us to share his flat with him. We loved the time we spent with him, making empanadas and dining at the cheapest restaurant we could find (it was still charming and set in a lush garden) and we had a great time on the tour he lead of a nearby salt lake (just like the Dead Sea but without the disapproving glances  from covered Muslim women). On the morning of the third day we rented bikes and ventured out among the towering red cliffs that bordered the desert. Exhausted, we decided we had seen enough of the desert and we boarded an afternoon bus that would start us on our 4 bus, 24 hour journey along the coast to Arequipa, Peru.

As soon as we arrived in Peru a sign of relief washed over us and we quickly relaxed into the beautiful city of Arequipa, with its colorful colonial buildings, cobblestone streets, and affordable meal options! There is $0.32 ice cream everywhere again! THIS IS MY PLACE! All joking aside, we are loving Arequipa and plan to stay here for the next 4 days to relax and catch up on work (*cough, cough* pictures and blog *cough, cough*).

Coming up next: Colca Canyon (the deepest in the world) and (hopefully) the amazing Andean Condors!