Journals
September 20, 2000
Salt Desert, Bolivia
Salt Desert, Bolivia -- We came to Uyuni, Bolivia for the salt desert and soon realized that was just about all there was to see in this wind-biting barren land. I felt both drawn to and repelled from the sparseness of this strange place. The town is little more than a small grid of run-down homes, accompanied by a line of travel agencies hoping to cart tourists off to the Salar de Uyuni in four-wheel drives. The town's only other claim to fame is the rotting yard of steam locomotives left abandoned in the desert plains.
After a long day waiting for our friends to join us in this isolated town, the train rumbled down the lonely tracks loaded with anxious backpackers, the only travelers adventurous enough to come this far out. We met Steve and Shirley while climbing to Peru’s famed Machu Picchu. The friendly Aussies emerged with their newfound friends, Craig and Vanessa. We found English-speaking travelers often share a similar itinerary and a close kinship in these remote Spanish-speaking parts. So off we went to arrange another adventure, this time a four-day trip to what is touted to be the largest salt desert on earth. Our tour agency of choice promised us a 10:00 A.M. start and well… a lot of things.
By 11:00 the next morning, we were all more than eager to get out of dodge but there was no driver or limousine to be found. Yeah, we knew the drill.... it's Bolivian time and standard "en punto" translated "on the dot" often means an hour or two later. It was times like these that appreciation of different cultures was let's just say, a bit challenging.
We ended up rolling out around 11:30, with the driver/guide/mechanic Placido and our cook Anna. We had been warned that the string of Toyota Landcruisers travel in a caravan, as one or two always ended up a casualty of the salt and sand. Within an hour, the bland blown antiplano turned to a pure white field of salt, erasing any gray area doubts we had about taking this trip. Miles of colorless fields opened up before our eyes, a blinding contrast to the periwinkle blue skies overhead. How could we have been upset? We were in the perfect on-location site for Hollywood's filming of heaven. Besides its purity and quiet, you can't get a whole lot higher than this on flat ground. At about 12,000 feet, there are miles and miles of it; some estimates say 9,000 square miles. We sailed along this glistening sea of salt like a highway to heaven. It was the smoothest road we had driven on in largely unpaved Bolivia, arguably South America's least developed country.
Before the looming threat of boredom strikes, the lone wonder draws its rare visitors back. We spotted an island in the distance, floating like a lost vessel on the ocean. It is lost, in a sense. Some 25 thousand years ago Isla de Pescado, or Island of Fish, bathed in a great salt lake. Years of the sun's ferocity at this high perch has boiled it down to a white abyss, cracked and crusted. If you search this open space carefully, you'll find liquid relics bubbling up from the earth. The locals call these tiny pools eyes of the salt, or Ojos de Salar.
My own eyes were focused on the island, transforming from a khaki splotch of color to a desert oasis. Instead of water, it is the cacti-riddled land that forms the relief from the salt plains. Other than the Ojos, water is not found here. Placido parked on the crusty white shores and we scampered out onto the sandy patch. Giant cacti litter the lonely land, forming prickly uneven tiers to the sky. I couldn't believe my eyes as I gazed past the string bean-like plants out to the vastness of the salt plains. I felt like I knew the real meaning of salt of the earth. We gobbled down bologna sandwiches and left this surreal otherworldly place bound for more.
Lodging in this unpopulated part of the earth is not easy to come by, but then again, there is not much demand. We stopped to test out rumors of a salt hotel and found white blocks piled like bricks, accented with crystalline chairs and tables for lounging, or licking. But Placido informed us he had made our reservation in the tiny town of San Juan, experiencing a boon since tourists discovered these out-of-the-way wonders. We pulled up into the pueblo just before dusk. The sun's rays danced on the church steeple, a small gravesite and the tidy rows of boxy brick houses that made up this town. Blue faded to gold, orange and pink, threatening to leave us in the cold black. But not before one of the most spectacular sunsets I had ever witnessed silhouettes life in this tiny town. We slept 6th grade camp style in a dorm room for adults, sipping rum and coke and telling our life stories to keep out the chill.
We had left the salt for the desert, in search of water. We found it, like splotches of color on an artist's watercolor palette. Deep blue, bright aqua and charcoal gray pools paint the drab sand-colored landscape. Minerals are God's paint here, enriching each in a series of lakes with a different hue. As if unfinished in their stunning simplicity, flocks of rare James flamingos speckled the lakes in pink. We tiptoed on the white gypsum shores in hopes of getting a close up of these most delicate creatures, only to see rosy specks dance off in to the sky. I guess they have lived here long enough without human intervention to start now.
We topped off the day with a rich red. Laguna Colorado offered us puffy mounds of talc to trounce on while admiring her ruby waters. We climbed the odd white islands and noticed how the color changed from every angle and every movement of the setting sun. Pretending to meander through the clouds, I imagined that this was another planet. A flock of flamingos brought me back to earth.
We rose the next morning before the sun in the freezing cold. All we could think was, this better be good. And true to form, we were staring at nature’s steamy display, mouths wide open, as the sun lit up a valley of geysers shooting their fury from the earth. It was like someone opened a string of valves to the earth's core and no one had the nerve to close them. Steam shot up hundreds of feet into the air, casting a shadow on the sunlit mountainside. Excitement and amazement propelled us towards the bubbling basin that fed the geysers. We lurked into the steamy abyss where we found boiling mud pots and smoking fumaroles. Creamy pots of gray goop bubbled up from the pits, some shooting up wads of an unknown earthy substance. All we were missing was the cackling witch stirring her brew. At this point, I was hoping that she wouldn't cast a spell on me and drop me into one of her sizzling stews. Tourists have been known to fall in while lurking about the basin, mesmerized by the sulphur fumes from this surreal scene.
We left Sol de Manana in a dreamy trance and walked up to a spot where the volcanic activity takes a breather, creating gently bubbling steam baths that ooze up from the earth. I soaked my half-frozen red toes in the natural spring haven, looking out on the ice-coated lake shrouded in mist. I thought, as I bathed my soul, what a spot for a hot springs resort. Naaah, that would ruin it. A group of Speedo clad Germans were the only ones with enough nerve, or warm blood, to brave a total body dip in the warm waters. It's not the getting in we were worried about, but getting out wet in freezing temperatures. No thanks!
Even if we had such an adventurous streak, it was time we were short on. Larry and I had opted to get dropped off in Chile, rather than spend a bumpy 10 hour ride back to Uyuni in a rattling rumbling Toyota Landcruiser. We said goodbye to our friends and to Bolivia in one of her more remote spots. Our last stop was the piercing green Laguna Verde, pooling under the dramatic landscape of the 18,000-foot Licanccabur Volcano. It made me forget the cold, the inconvenience and the cultural differences. The stark beauty of this land… these are the scenes forever painted in my mind.
Contact Information:
A growing number of Uyuni agencies arrange tours of the Salar de Uyuni, Laguna Colarada, Sol de Manana and Laguna Verde. It’s not necessary to phone ahead. The four-day trip, including meals, transportation and guide starts at about $100 per person. Here are some recommended tour companies based in Uyuni:
Brisa Tours - Avenida Ferroviaria 320
Colque Tours - Avenida Potosi 54
Tonito Tours - Avenida Ferroviaria 152