The many colors of Bolivia: from TUPIZA to UYUNI

DAY 22

This is when the fun began.  All of our exhausting travel was worth it once we stepped foot into our entirely non-English speaking jeep with fellow travelers Cinthia and Leandro from Buenos Aires and Tupiza natives Alberto (the driver/tour guide) and Marta (the Quechua cook). 

My Spanish was destined to improve tremendously over the next few days.  Our tour started off on the right note.  Alberto spoke slowly and clearly, as Spanish was actually his second language (Quechua being his first); Cinthia, the sweetest little firecracker of a young lady, helped mom and I understand everything that was said; and Marta was an impressive cook considering the conditions. We all hit it off perfectly from the start.

As soon as we took off on the one bumpy dirt road that would take us 900 km through a vast array of raw Bolivian landscapes, I knew that the next four days would be incredible.  Within the first 30 minutes, we were climbing high above the red clay mountainous terrain and looking down onto a dry river canyon hundreds of feet below.  Dense mineral content in the Bolivian soil attributes to the many rich colors that the landscape has to offer.  The mountains are marbled with bold, copper red and sprinkled with every variety of green imaginable; the honey gold hills rolled along for miles with occasional dustings of bluish white snow; and the sky emanated mixed hues of deep purples and blues. The pictures and description really can’t do the landscape justice.  Each corner that we turned held a new, fantastic view.  Despite our lack of sleep, our eyes wouldn’t stop shifting from one sight to the next as we cruised along the rough terrain. 

By the time we had lunch--a picnic of llama tamales and plantains--we were in the midst of rolling green hills, llamas, sheep, vicunas, bulls, and other livestock.  Although the vista looked like a scene from The Sound of Music, the rolling green hills and valley of llamas was deceiving, as we were actually atop a high mountain range.

Before reaching our destination for the night, a small pueblo of about 30 adobe homes, we passed snow-capped volcanoes, a tiny pueblo, gold mines, and every type of weather that could be thrown our way—rain, hail, thunder, and lightning.  At one point, we encountered a few poor unfortunate fools whose 4x4 had broken down.  They had been stuck in the rain since the night before with no car passing by since.  It was then that we realized how remote our location was and how dangerous it would be to attempt to brave the unpopulated terrain alone.

The night was another bone-chilling one, but the fact that we had a horizontal bed to sleep in was such a comfort.  Marta fixed us a satisfyingly hot meal of soup, rice, potatoes, lomo, bread, and tea before we layered in as many warm clothes as possible and had our first night of sleep in three days.

DAY 23

We awoke at 4 a.m. to catch the sunrise from the ruins of an old pueblo at the base of a volcano.  The stars and moon were so incredibly bright that we were able to navigate through breakfast, load the jeep, and set off without the aid of a flashlight until dawn broke.

After sunrise, we enjoyed more lush landscapes ranging from flamingo lagoons that perfectly reflected the blue sky, outer space-like rocky terrain, more snow-capped volcanoes, and Desierto Dali—a desert speckled with black volcanic rocks in uniform yet oddly piled patches across the desert.  Stepping into this endless expanse of desert felt like stepping right into a Dali painting.  I’m pretty sure the birds were even flying upside down. 

By midday, we had reached a natural hot spring overlooking another flamingo-filled lagoon, where we took a quick dip before lunch.  Although the weather outside was cold, the thermal bath was a perfect pick-me-up (and the closest thing to a shower we had) that revived every cold, aching bone in my body. 

After lunch, we forded streams, visited a toxic lime-green lagoon, and saw geysers at a blisteringly cold and windy elevation of 5,000 meters. 

Later that night, we turned in at an adobe “hotel” built solely for the purpose of providing shelter for our tour group.  Another delicious meal and full night’s rest before setting out the next morning.

DAY 24

Just after sunrise, we visited the most pristine lagoon I’ve ever seen.  The lagoon was once again filled with more flamingos and had a vista of several volcanoes and mountains behind.  We spent nearly 2 hours simply watching the birds and walking from one side of the lagoon to the other.

After visiting the quiet, glassy lagoon, we were astounded by our next stop—rock formations that seemed even more surreal that Dali could imagine.  The rocks were remnants from a volcano that erupted long ago and stayed in position ever since.  This was a fun stop for me to channel my inner child and climb rocks for a good view of our surroundings.

After a lagoon-side lunch watching more flamingos, we visited “Valley of Rocks”, an appropriately named landscape, as the dirt road was shadowed by towering rocks on either side.  Afterwards, we visited a train cemetery, where piles of rusty trains collected dust right outside of the town of Uyuni, our final stop for the night.  Although our hostel here had running water—hence, a shower—the water and temperature outside were so cold that we opted to go without for another night.  I won’t get into the gritty details about how many days we went without a shower.  It was a lot. Let’s just put it that way.  If you’ve been reading carefully, you might be able to make a pretty solid estimate.

DAY 25

Another 4 a.m. wake-up call to visit Salar de Uyuni—the highlight of our tour.  By dawn, we had reached the Salar, a 12,000 square km. expanse of salt flats that are now covered by a few inches of water due to the rainy season.  Cinthia, Leo, and I kicked off our shoes, walked into the dark freezing water, and waited for the sun to rise.  As my toes turned deeper shades of purple, the sun finally poked out from behind the mountains highlighting the beauty of where we were standing.  The sight of sunrise and the feeling of standing on an endless expanse of water is something that I can’t convey.  I can only recommend that anyone who has the chance should definitely see this once in their lifetime.

The water made a perfect reflection of everything within eyesight—clouds, mountains, sunlight, everything.  In the distance, it was impossible to tell where the horizon met the sky.  It was an absolutely incredible sight.  As we crossed the Salar in our jeep, it seemed as if we were floating on top of the water in the clouds.

We had breakfast at a salt structure a few kilometers into the Salar, spent a few hours gaping at the incredible scenery around us, then returned to Uyuni.

After getting back, we had good ol’ Boston-style pizza and a Bolivian beer to wash down the sand, salt, and grit that had been collecting in our mouths for a few days.  We ate with our Argentine friends and another American couple as we waited for our train to depart at 1:45 a.m.  Another sleepless night on a rickety old train, another stop in Carnaval-infested Oruro, and a bus back to La Paz.