03.07 - Day 14 - La Paz to San Juan, BOL

La Paz to San Juan, Bolivia

Saturday 3rd July 2010

After sleeping well for the first half of the journey the road deteriorates and there is a constant bouncing for four hours. Uyuni appears to be a deserted Wild West town – one storey buildings, wide streets with only stray dogs milling around. As the morning progresses it retains that same feel only with added locals wearing brightly coloured ponchos ambling to and forth.

Our designated 4x4 rolls around the corner with Eddy the non-English speaking driver at the wheel. Luckily amongst our group of six tourists the other four speak passable Spanish so act as translators whilst Krish and I simply nod if Eddy speaks directly to us. The other four are a good group – luckily – as we spend three solid days and two nights with them. Anita (28, finance; JP Morgan) speaks and acts at 100mph for everything and husband Jaykar (31, back surgeon) is not far behind. They live in Regents Park in fair London. Alex (22) and Zak (23), an American couple are on holiday in Bolivia for seven weeks. Both fresh out of college; he an aspiring Hollywood writer, whilst she is daughter of the director of CSI Miami.

The six of us, driven by Eddy (a mere 24) head first to a train cemetery just outside Uyuni. Perhaps not as numerous as expected the rusting trains and carriages still make for some great sepia shots and a Health & Safety nightmare of playground. 

Here our 4x4 breaks down for the first time. Despite liquid dropping from the engine, Eddy’s “Vamos” has us back in and off again. Over the three days we must break down/glide to a halt at least once an hour. Each time Eddy calmly jumps out, grabs a cloth and spanner and has us on our way 60 seconds later after a brief bit of tinkering under the car.

45 minutes later we’re on the edge of the Salt Flats seeing how locals take and process salt (up to 8,000kgs a day, all by hand) in a small village. From here we’re quickly onto the Flats themselves – the landscape is surreal; besides cylindrical cones of piled salt waiting for collection, the land is completely flat and a blinding white. Two/three foot wide hexagonal ridges mark where water has risen through the ground and promptly evaporated.

After more driving through this barren landscape we come across Fish Island – where all the touring 4x4’s have stopped for lunch. Here we discover to mine and Krish’s gain that the other four are either vegetarians or vegans: more protein for us then. Fish Island contains no fish, but it is covered in cacti up to 12 feet tall. 

After lunch on tables and stools made of salt we take a “stroll” into the salt desert and after some perspective photos (which it seems only Krish and I can do – so the others have great photos whilst we do not…) we’re back in the jeep and onwards to our “basic accommodation” for the night – no hot water, no heating. The hostel itself is made almost entirely of salt – the walls, ceilings, tables and chairs, even the bed.

There is a pre-dinner kick about amongst the six of us as the sun slowly but surely drops behind the overlooking hill. Whilst it’s very hot in the bright sunshine of the day, temperatures plummet overnight. This hits Alex and Zak hailing from California harder than us Brits. We’re the last table chatting when the generator is switched off and we take the being plunged into darkness as our cue to slope off to our salt beds.