28-30/08/24

Day 1

The start to our tour was at a respectable time in the morning, so we didn’t feel too stressed. Inexplicably they came to pick us up despite us being minutes from the tour office where we went to get sorted. It all felt a bit hectic at first, and we were worried it was gonna be 7 of us squished in a 4×4… thankfully due to there being 8 people in our group, we got two cars. Result! The other couples were British, Danish and German and all seemed nice at first glance. We were in a car with the other British couple who were from Liverpool and Newcastle so you can imagine how the Bolivians struggled with that accent combo.

Soon we were off! First stop: Train Graveyard. It was the first rail line in Bolivia and parts of it are still used! All the old steam trains are there, rusting away. Lots of people climbed up for photos but a) I didn’t want to put my tetanus jab to the test, b) I can climb up things but thanks to vertigo struggle to climb down again (nb I am not scared of heights, this is different!) and c) I’m too old for that shit.

It was eerily beautiful, but all the tours arrive at once so it was also super busy. Our guide, Juan, was incredibly knowledgeable and also clearly has a brilliant sense of humour. He also was giving the tour in English… there was an aside mention of “don’t mention the price please” as I assume some paid for English tour and others paid for basic (like we did) but we all got lumped together nonetheless.

Alex and I noticed that left of the main drag of rusty steam trains were more train carcasses, more modern but beautiful in a gritty way nonetheless, so we went that way for a few more photos.

We then drove on and stopped for lunch at a sad little village on the edge of the Salt Flats where they rolled out the tourist markets of tat for the 2 hours that tours stopped for lunch there. The lunch was hearty fair, meat, veg and quinoa which was pretty nice. The highlight was when some of the cheeky local dogs literally jumped onto the table for the fat rinds left from the meat.

Soon we were on the Salt Flats and it is surreal. Looks like snow, goes on endlessly. We stopped at the first ever salt hotel which no longer operates other than a stopping place for lunch and selling more tat. There was also a monument to the Dakar rally when it moved to South America and was on the flats.

So far, so touristy! We then drove off onto the flats until we landed at Juan’s preferred photoshoot spot. He then declared himself Director of Photography, and proceeded to create various outlandish optical illusion shots of our merry band of Northern European strangers. There was no escape. Unfortunately all these photos were taken on the young German lad’s phone and he has yet to share them in the shared album. We may never see them.

Fear not though! Juan then did couples’ shoots which I’m glad of as there is no way I would have been as successful at getting these shots.

After this, we carried on to one of the islands of the flats, so called because once upon a time the salt flats were an enormous lake of salty water, isolated by the rising Andean mountain range, so caused by tectonic activity. All of this Juan explained in a genuinely interesting way. I learned loads! This island was covered in enormous cacti. As they only grow about a cm a year, these spiky guys were proper old. We hiked up to the view point and did indeed take in the views. They were spectacular.

Onwards then, back out onto the flats for wine, nibbles and a spectacular sunset. Juan continued to be an excellent host, full of banter and anecdotes and putting all us frosty folk at our ease. Mostly by getting a football chat going.

We drove on in the dark for our first night stop at a salt hotel. As the name might suggest, it is a hotel (well, hotel is stretching it, hostel at best) made of salt. The bricks are salt, the mortar is salt paste. Works surprisingly well but it is not cosy. We left our room for dinner and chats with the others who were all lovely. Albeit young. Alex and I were the oldest by at least 7 years which was sobering. I had a lukewarm shower and got straight into bed in our chilly, salty room. Everything felt pretty damn dry and I was concerned the static from my sleeping bag would start a fire. Also the pillow was solid and had a consistency of what I can only describe as a loofah.

Day 2

We started early the next morning feeling none too fresh and very stiff of neck thanks to the loofah pillow. First stop was an almost abandoned village. It used to be a rail hub but no longer. We stocked up on water, most of the water in our body having been absorbed by the salty walls of our room. Or at least that’s how it felt. We drove into the desert, having left the salt flats behind us, and onto a Laguna where we saw our first flamingos! The landscape itself was distinctly lunar which was cool. I started experimenting with using my binoculars (yes, I’m a nerd) as a lens for my phone camera and I was quite pleased with some of the results!

We then carried on and befriended some llamas whilst the drivers refuelled from jerrycans. Oh! I forgot to mention, our driver, Yas, spent the entire trip playing a chaos playlist to rival all chaos playlists, but not on shuffle. So we had like 4 Rihanna songs in a row but also some classic rock as well as a few terrible remixes. Anyway whilst this was going on many of us took the opportunity for our first alfresco piss… or “wild wee” as we called them at school when I was teaching. Honestly the experience was more pleasant than most of the toilets we had experienced thus far. WHICH we had to pay for the pleasure of using.

Next stop were some big rocks and a weird tree. Seriously it’s bizarre. It’s the only tree that grows above a certain altitude, and we had been climbing steadily upwards for a while so were at that point around 3700m above sea level. It looks like a rock covered in moss.

Then we went to another flamingo lake.

We continued on to some more cool rocks, one shaped like a tree. The younger lot were clambering all over them like mountain goats. The wind was picking up by this point which meant we couldn’t do our original lunch plan of eating outside, so had delayed it until we reached a farm where we could stop. Similar fair as before, only chicken instead of beef and pasta instead of quinoa. And loads of potatoes. Alex and I befriended a nice cat, and a nosy llama tried to join us for lunch. We then got to pay 2bs for the pleasure of flushing someone else’s turd before hovering over the toilet in the dark. As I said, the wild wees were far superior.

We walked from this spot down a footpath next to the Laguna roja, made red by the red algae that thrives at this altitude and that the flamingoes eat, hence the colour. They’re slightly different to their African counterparts in that the latter eat the shrimps that eat the algae, whereas there are no shrimps or krill up here so the flamingoes are vegetarian and go straight to the source. Anyway it was spectacularly beautiful, and there were also lots of wild vicuña, which are like the deer version of llamas and alpacas and were never domesticated because, apparently, they got “too depressed” and would give up and die. Dramatic. Anyway, I continued with my newfound method of taking photos and videos through one lens of the binoculars.

We carried on through the mad landscape to our final stop before dinner, which were some geysers. These weren’t as violent as their Icelandic counterparts, but were really cool nonetheless. It was worth the eggy smell to walk through the steam and feel some moisture on my face.

We got to the next “hotel” in time for sunset.

Because Alex and I had paid extra for the bathroom and private room this time, we found that our bathroom didn’t have a padlock on it, unlike the other Brits who didn’t realise this was a thing, and who’s bathroom was padlocked with the light inside on. This was unfortunate, as one of them had been really unwell the night before with food poisoning and had had to use the shared bathroom that night. Considering that at this establishment (I’m reluctant to even give it the title of “hostel”) the shared bathrooms were miles away through the dining room and down a corridor and in a shared facility that had no lights (dread to think about the state of the urinal) this was less than ideal. When her partner tried to plead sympathy for the bathroom to be unlocked it was “broken”. Bull, and indeed, shit. They were willing to pay and apparently it could be miraculously repaired for 150bs which is a rip off.

Juan said he would get on the case. Now at this point, it was clear that Juan was already pretty merry; he opened our bottles of wine with a steak knife and his sleeve so he didn’t cut himself… I hasten to add there was actually a bottle opener available. Anyway, Juan got on the case whilst the rest of us got ready to go and use the hot springs, the only reason we were in this most basic of basic accommodations. With hot water bottles waiting in our beds for us, we shivered down to the hot springs praying they were, indeed, hot.

Friends, they were blissful. We were in a generous mood so had brought down some plastic cups of our whisky for those that wanted, and spent a long time chatting and having a lovely time.

Eventually Juan joined us saying he had sorted out the bathroom situation for free which was brilliant of him. I had promised him whisky but we had drank it all! I then selflessly (slightly drunkenly) volunteered to go and get more. It was hard going in flip flops and a towel in the dark up a sandy slope at 4200m ish. But I went on valiantly and retrieved the whisky, checked in on our poor fellow Brit who I think was asleep, and went back down to a hero’s welcome.

Well long story short, the whisky got finished, Alex and I were the last men standing with Juan, some other German guy (not ours, he was nice) was jumping in and splashing everyone and generally being a dick and Juan told him off so he of course came over to plead his case, was rude to me and Alex in the process and generally a complete child. His tour’s driver then came over, totally hammered and started having a go at Juan, “I’ll fight you” kind of nonsense. The original splashy youth was still being a pest and eventually a poor mortified girl from the group came over and took them away, apologising profusely. I can’t say I acted with total decorum in the situation as I was irked and full of whisky, but at least I wasn’t a nob.

We remaining three carried on chatting a while longer, before noticing that the drunk driver was passed out on the edge of the pool a little way from us. We decided to call it a night and Juan went to find the site rangers to come help the poor idiot into bed.

Our beds were thankfully toasty thanks to the hot water bottles and we went to sleep.

Day 3

Needless to say, I was hungover when I woke up. First hangover of the trip so I call that good going! (Sorry mum). We cracked on early again, first stop being the “Dalí Rocks”. Basically, they look a bit like the rocks in one of Dalí’s paintings so even though he never went to Bolivia they like to believe he saw a picture of those exact rocks from a traveller or trades person and used them in his paintings. Personally I think it’s too tenuous and thus a complete coincidence; it could also be said it looks like similar rocks in Colorado or Nevada. The wind was proper bloody windy and it was pretty fresh which helped the hangover no end!

The final stop before the border crossing was the white and green lagoons… but it was so windy that it was a) impossible to hear what Juan was saying and b) difficult to see with so much sand in your eyes. Took a token photo nonetheless.

Then there were hasty goodbyes to Juan and the Danes who were returning to Uyuni, as the rest of us headed for the border with Yas. It was a bit of a shame it all got so rushed due to the weather! We really lucked out with such a decent group and a fantastic guide who made it so interesting and fun and, although it was touristy by its nature, from Day 2 onwards he got the timings perfectly so we were leaving most places just as others arrived. Honestly this tour was one of the highlights of my trip, in spite of the accommodation and loo horrors! Would absolutely recommend the Red Planet tour company… very aptly named as it really does feel like Mars up here!

So we headed to the border feeling pretty happy… though that feeling did not last long when the border greeted us.

To be continued…