Sunday, Sept. 28, 2003 - 7:36 p.m.
Uyuni & the Salars
I awoke to a knock on my door at about 9AM. It was the travel agent lady again. She asked if I was going to go on a tour today. She once again told me needed people for her tour. I'd been up late the night before, debating, looking at my options and doing a little sewing repair on my travel pants. I'd decided to take a bus to Potosi that day, to see the silver mines and then return to Uyuni, hopefully to meet up with my Israeli friends again.
However I'd also considered instead of taking a 4 day tour of the salars to take a 3 day tour and from there go on to Chile. James and Mike, fellow travelers both suggested going to San Pedro de Atacama, Chile after visiting the salars. I asked the travel agent lady and she said there were people on today's tour that were also going to Chile. I had to make a quick decision. If I went to Potosi, it felt like backtracking, and there was no guarantee I would meet up with my Israeli friends. Also the travel agent lady told me that there were roadblocks again out of La Paz and that no morning bus had arrived from that city. I finally decided to go to Chile.
I had an hour and a half to get ready, not enough time to take a shower, eat breakfast, check e-mail, and buy some snacks for the trip. I was able to take a shower and buy some snacks before I once again found myself in the back of a small jeep with a bunch of strangers.
On my tour, it turned out there were two other Americans (this was a first), James and Talbot. James was from Chicago, but currently lives in the US Virgin Islands and Talbot, originally from Virginia, lived in Portland OR. I also met Mairi and Mhairi (pronounced Vah-ree) from Stirling, Scotland and Vanessa & Ivan who were from France, but also spoke Spanish fluently and a little English. Our guide Andres only spoke Spanish.
So off we went. Soon leaving the little town of Uyuni & soon in the streches of landscape flat, dry and barren.
We rode in the jeep awhile, happily jabbering away. I hadn't met that many other American travelers and having a total of 3 of us was a nice treat, and I think we managed to annoy everyone else in the vehicle.
Our first stop was a tiny village called Colchani, really only a few structures in the middle of nowhere, where a lot of the salt from the salt lakes is processed. We got a little tour of a salt "factory". He showed us where they take the raw salt crystals and refine it to the smaller, softer stuff that is put in plastic bags and sold throughout the region.
Again we were driving along in the jeep, but not along a road, just following a pair of tire tracks in the flat, barren field of dirt and salt. There were no trees, just dry & barren mountains along the far distant horizon. In the distance we could see a few piles of brilliantly white salt. We had arrived in the famous Salar de Uyuni.
It was a flat wide expanse of just salt. I expected it to be hills of soft powdery salt, but here the ground was flat, the salt was hard. It was amazing and other-worldly. I'd seen photos of people who play with the perspective so that maybe one person has their palm out flat and another person is in the distance so it looks like their being held in the first person's hand. Or else I've seen photos of guys wearing nothing but playing a guitar strategically located. Many of these photos are on the wall at El Lobo. I thought we were going to other salars (lakes of salt), so I just took a few photos, marveled at the land scape and then we were on our way again.
Along this strange landscape were tire tracks leading off into nowhere, and a plain of cracked salt. Our next stop was the Hotel Playa Blanca (Hotel White Beach) that is made entirely of salt. The guide book says you can stay in the hotel made of salt and be treated like dirt. We had to buy something to be able to enter and take photos. I purchased an overpriced soda and went inside. I noticed it was made with bricks of salt that had discolored or faded or had some dirt mixed with it as well, like a faded light brown color. Inside was the same salty brick with a traditional costume hanging up on the wall. There were tables and chairs also made from the salt and the ground was covered in small pebbles of salt. The hotel didn't seem to be hosting overnight visitors at the time, just tour groups like us.
Soon we were on our way again, across the wide expanse of nothing...Every once in awhile we'd see other jeeps carrying tourists, just like us.
After about an hour I saw a small hill appear just to our left. As we drove & got closer, it grew, this hill of dark green within the white expanse. It was the Isla de las Pescadores, the Island of the Fisherman. When we arrived and looked up at it, I saw it was covered in tall strange cactuses. We stopped and had time to climb it. I again remembered Amie & Jenny telling me about this island, how strange it was to climb it and look out and see nothing but this white expanse, this sea of salt. And that's exactly what it was like. This strange island seemed to be born out of nothing, nothing else other than salt surrounded it. Other than mountains & a volcano in the distance. The ground was dry and brown. Many rocks surrounded the path as I climbed. It was an easy sloping path and only took about 10 minutes to reach the top. The funny thing is, looking out, it was if the salt were a white sea frozen in action, it seemed as though that's how it should be. As I looked out I saw the two tire tracks we had followed stretch out and lead into the great unknown. I saw a small group of tourists riding bicycles, thier dark silloutes contrasted with the white plains of salt.
After we climbed the island, about half an hour later, we had a simple lunch back at the jeep. Andres wasn't just our guide, he was our cook too. the meals turned out to be quite simple and traditional for S.America. Lots of rice, potatoes & meat, a few vegetables and sometimes a little fruit (read: bananas).
We drove on for a couple hours, finally stopping in a small village of San Juan. This village was just dusty grey brick of mostly one story blocks with dusty dirt roads, all built in the middle of nowhere. The wind would kick up, rushing down the streets just wide enough for one vehicle. Little kids were kicking a pathetic looking soccer ball around or giggling and gawking at us foreigners. We stopped at a small alojamiento hostal, there were about 10 rooms. I was upstairs a rickety steep wooden staircase. I shared a room with the Scottish girls, Mairi and Mhairi. There was one bathroom / shower. Talbot and James said they were going to a bar. The girls and I said we'd meet them there.
When we arrived we found the guys talking to another young traveler. We soon learned this Englishman was traveling alone and cycling from Lima, Peru to Santiago, Chile! He'd traveled for 3 months already, had another 2 to go. The total trip was 5,000 miles. And he hardly spoke any Spanish. We were all amazed. Talbot & James both marveled at just his ability to get out of Lima alive, the traffic there is horrendous.
While sitting and chatting, the sun was setting and it started to get dark. We returned to the hostal and had dinner. At night the village had a generator that they run for a few hours. We were all in bed reading (I was writing in my journal) when the lights were out at 9:45PM. During one of my mid-night bathroom trips I noticed that the stars were absolutely amazing and the Milky Way spanned the night sky like a streak of watercolor on a dark canvas.
