San Pedro was, I suppose, a characterful litle town but it was also a bit of a tourist trap so I wasn´t too disappointed to leave it behind and set out on a three day trip across the desert and saltpans of Bolivia to the town of Uyuni. Seventeen of us and our luggage were squeezed into a minibus and taken as far as the Bolivian border, only an hour or so away. Having climbed through the beautiful orangey-red desert and high mountains to get there, we were at 4400m by the time we reached the border, and it wasn´t warm, so I was ready for the hot coffee and breakfast that was laid out waiting for us! Breakfasted and stamped into the country at the tiny border post, we were divided into three jeep-loads for our trips. In mine there was me, Christophe from France, Julia from USA, Kirsty from Dumfriess, and Bine and Tobi from Gemany. It was to prove a really nice group and we all got on well together having many a laugh along the way. Our driver, Franz, was less talkative and proved to be a bit of a mixed bag. Formalities over we set out, still climbing, through the magnificent colours of the plains and mountains to our first stop at Lake Verde. It was certainly quite green but also crusted white with ice and the reflections of the mountain gradually became clearer as we watched. Our second halt was at the Dali Desert - a collection od stones reminiscent of his work with colour and abstract shapes. Moving on again we got t some hot springs at Laguna Polques. There was a lovely circular hot pool in which we bathed. It was like our own little infinity bath wih the view over the lagoon and streams with blues greens and yellows abounding. It was beautifully hot and lovely to splash about in. On leaving there we climbed again to bubbling hot geysers at 4700m! It was sulphury and bubbly and steamy and amazing to see the many pools of grey sludge in the orange surroundings. The gravel road from there rose and fell and twisted along until we reached Laguna Colorado to see the lovely pink flamingosand some vicuñas which were shoreside. The vicuñas are like guanaco but paler and more yellow in colour. After watching for a while we went the short distance to our refugio for the night. It was certainly basic and proved to be VERY cold at night but it was full of character I suppose. Our little group headed out for a walk round the lake and passed through grassy tussocks and marshy ground watching llamas on one side and fantastic pink flamingos on the water. The laguna was dark blue at the edges turning to sludgy red futher out. The path criss-crossed little streams with stepping stones then rose up a hillside before descending to the lake again. The blue edges turned to shades of green and yellow and then further round to a big bank of white. It was a phenominal setting. Walking I was aware of breathing at the altitude- not too bad but just concious of having to do it and with a slight tightness to the chest- whereas when I was still it wasn´t a problem. As the sun set the temperature plummeted in contrast to the day time heat. Waking next morning I had a raging thirst. The air is so dry that your mouth soon feels like it´s turned to sandpaper! When we set out for the day it was across further beautiful empty wide flat valleys with the multicoloured mountains bounding the plains. Our first stop was at the Stone Tree. An incredible collection of tall rocks rising from the plain. The centrepiece did look vaguely like a tree but some of the other multitextured rocks were just as impressive. Meanwhile the drivers of some of the jeeps in the area were piled round ours trying to fix some problem in the engine - honestly I reckon I must be some kind of mechanical jinx on the vehicles I travel in! Fortunately after a bit of a hose transplant to the water coolant(?) we were soon on our way again. Again we climbed up yet morecolourful scenery and at Laguna Honda we stopped to admire the fantastic reflections of mountains in the water, which still had an icy crust on it from the night before despite the strong daytime sun. Next stop was Laguna Hedionda where we strolled along watching flamingos feeding in the mineral rich lake. At Laguna Cañapa, our final one for the day there were more reflections, more flamingos and more laughs. From there we drove through increasingly stoney rugged terraine to our picnic spot amongst super textured red rocks overlooking the grey steep sided and smoking Volcan Ollague. Afterwards we descended steeply through a rocky channel becoming sandier until we came onto a large expanse of rolled flat looking desert. It was a mix of sand and salt and stretched off into the distance in all directions. We trundled across for ages with mirages beginning to appear in the distance. It was hot in the car but if we opened the windows the dust soon became unbearable. We came to and ran parralel to the Uyuni to Calama railway line for a time. The rails glistened in the sun and the dark colour was a marked contrast to the white of the salty desert. Soon we reached the little village of Chiguana which seemed a friendly place with kids playing, a bit ofbanter between locals and so on. Driving off through the dusty mud-brick buildings we played silly number games and were amazed when the previously taciturn Franz joined in. The salt plains got purer and purer and more and more expansive with the mirage looking as iof there were large lakes and high cliffs. Reaching the edge of the plains the hillsides were covered in the spooky towering cacti. The ground became more earthen and cultivated as we passed a few homesteads and then fields and fields of Quinoa - the native Bolivian grain. Not long afterwards we arrived at our hostel in San Juan. It was completely made of salt: brick walls, granular floor, stools, the lot. Having bought some wine to toast our last night of the tour at the wee shop earlier we had a fine night of blethering and laughs, joining up with one of the other groups later in the evening. We had a very early rise the next morning to travel out on the salt flat to watch the sunrise. Franz was in a bit of a doleful mood and we soon realised he had been drinking! As the sun rose there was a super golden red glow on the horizon gradually getting more orange and pink. After an hour or so we reached Isla Pescado and getting out we walked up the path over the rocks and between the huge cacti as the daylight came in. The wind was very cold and chilling and I found the cacti a bit creepy but the light was beautiful, as were the views out over the salt flats. They extend to over 13000km2 in total and with hills in the distance you only really appreciated the vastness when you sawa vehicle on the salt highway and realised how small it looked. Coming down from the rocky hilltop once the sun was fully up it was great to get the stove on for hot water and a pancake breakfast. Franz hadmoved the jeep into the sun but it was still cold. Like all the other tourists about we had fun posing for silly pictuires on the snow-like salt fields and marvelling at the geometric gexagonal markings. Meanwhile Franz was back on the beer and as we set out weaving madly across the pan he derided our protests, burbling on a bit and throwing empty beercans out his window began to look a bit sleepy. Needless to say we were far from impressed and I remained scared and nervous for the rest of the tour. I was so glad we had Christophe in the car who spoke good Spanish and was able to keep talking to him to ensure he remained as alert as possible. Reaching the original salt hostel which is now a museum there were several nation´s flags planted outside. There was a tiny ragged union jack but no Scottish flag. Kirsty hada big St Andrews cross so we managed a flag-raising ceremony and it was great to see it flapping in the breeze as we left. We stopped again briefly, this time to see the pyramids of salt sitting drying out surrounded by little pools of water before being gathered and taken to the processing plant in readiness for exportation all roundSAand beyond. From there we paused at the little village on the edge of the flats and it was good to see Franz reverting to Fanta and seeming to "come to" a bit again. It was then a short drive to the drab little town of Uyuni, only lifted by the colourful traditional dress of the Bolivian women. They wore bright layered skirts, wool jackets, brightly coloured shawls or papooses for carrying their young children and had little bowler type hats (which looked about two sizes too small) balanced on their heads! It hadbeen a great tour but I can´t really say I was sorry to say goodbye to Franz.
Our group had gelled well over the past three days, though, so it was nice that four of us could travel together to our next destination of La Paz. We bade farewell to Kirsty and Christophe, who were travelling elsewhere, and boarded the overnight bus together. With seats at the back it was a bit cramped as we lurched along the desert at alarming angles. Not a bus in the peak of condition, with rattling windows and squeaking springs, no sealed road, many many pot-holes and lots of hills it was like driving across a cattle grid all the time as far as the noise went and like driving across the Findhorn Dunes as far as the angles went! We carried on like that for several hours before I realised we had joined a semi-flat road again and then it was straight through until we reached La Paz. Reaching the outskirts of the city the buildings were of the squat sqare style synonimous with the area, with old or hand painted signs above the doors of shops and businesses. Traffic got more and more conjested with the many many micros, busses and taxis peeping horn at every turn. As we started to go downhill into the city proper I could make out the incredible sight of the tightly packed red brick houses backing all the way up the slopes of the enormous steep bowl in which the city clings. The place has a real character to it and although not usually a fan of big cities I liked the place and enjoyed the few days I spent there.
The little street our hostel was on, like every street in the city apart from the main thoroughfare which runs through the city at the bottom of the valley bowl like a river, was steeply sloping. Even with having already spent time at altitude climbing up the streets in 3660m high La Paz could take my breath away - and not just because of the views! Despite that it was a great city to wander round with all the colour, noise and atmosphere. Most of the woman still wear traditional dress of bright skirts and shawls, there are more shoe-shine boys touting for business than you could imagine - even trying to get you to let them clean training shoes, the seemingly hundreds of minibus collectivos constantly go by with callers yelling out destinations from the windows at the tops of their voices in order to try to be heard above all the others. Its a fantastic spectacle. Even at night its fantastic to see all the lights stretching back up the hills like stars in the sky.
There are dozens of markets and streetside stalls at every turn too, and wandering through them it was a riot of colour. It seemed you could get anything and everything from tissues to toiletries, fruit to flowers, grass seed to glass jars, plastic bottles, clothes, tiles, toilets, screws nuts and bolts. With no particular sectioning either anything could be next door to anything else. You just had to be wary because with so many people packed into a small space and Bolivia having such poverty it was a pickpockets dream. We had no problems, but we had been well warned to be sensible. One of the markets was called the "Witches Market" and was primarily handicrafts. There was some lovely work and was fantastic for browsing amongst aswell.
The city has several good lookout points but the best was Mirador Killi Killi. I thought the steep climb up was going to killi killi me at one point but the effort was well rewarded. The 360 degree views over the city were fantastic. The light reflected on the red brick buildings and the snow topped mountains glistened. La Paz really is unique I think in its shape and geography and was mesmerising to watch over.
Another interesting attraction in the city is the Coca Museum. There was so much information about to take in however that I know at least half of it probably didn´t register. Used simce pre-inca times the coca leaf has aided life and work, particularly at high altitudes, with its stamina enriching and anaesthetic properties for generations. As with many traditional "medicines" it only really became a problem when western society started to process it with other chemicals into cocaine. In its natural form it has been used in Coca-cola, medicinal drugs and as a traditional drink with no problems. certainly as we´d crossed the desert to Uyuni many people were chewing the leaves to alleviate any altitude sickness symptoms, and I enjoyed the Coca tea. Whether or not it helped with altitude I don´t know but it was refreshing and tasty. Coca can grow in the harshest of environments so is a good crop for local farmers. The leaves are also high in iron, fibre and vitamins. The problems of its processing into cocaine can´t be ignored though and despite efforts by Bolivia to crack down (pardon the pun!) on productio it is difficult to ptightly police with chemicals being flown straight into jungle factories by some western pharmaceutical companies. It was also intersting to note that 36 countries, including USA, GB France and germany are licenced to legally produce cocaine! In Bolivia now coca is still perfectly legal in its raw form for traditional use. Its only when processes that it is highly illegal and possession severely punishable.
During my stay in La Paz I also was able to try eating llama on a few different occassions (sorry all you vegetarians) and I´d have to say its quite nice. I don´t think it´d ever be my favourite meat but its quite tasty. The texture is a bit like pork but the flavour is a bit more lamby, and it goes down very nicely with either a beer or a glass of wine!
When it came time to leave La Paz we four had become three, Julia having already moved on, and our next destinantion was Copacabana on the shore of Lake Titicaca. to get there we travelled across the altiplano and I found myself wondering where all the men go and what they do. In the city its mostly women you see in stalls and such and in the country its mostly women you see in the fields. Some men are obviously the drivers and shouters on the collectivos but I don´t know what the rest do. Also its funny that generally the women seem hefty while the men are slightly built! Anyway, carrying on through the countryside I got my firdt glimpses of the lake then we descended to the littlñe town of San Pablo de Tiquina where we had to make a short boat crossing to San Pedro de Tiquina. We bus passengers had to get out as it boarses a few planks of wood bound together with a little bit of edging and a small motor to make the short crossing. It certainly was not robust! Meanwhile we had to board a separate little boat for our crossing. It was small and basic with a loosely floored bottom and the little outboard encased in a wooden shelter which meant that the fumes came back into the hull where we were seated along the sides. It only took 5 minuted to cross but the boat was pretty shoogly - mum, I reckon you´d even have preferred to cross to Davaar in dad´s little dinghy!! Once safely across and reunited with our bus we climbed up the hills which were slightly tiered for planting and in which whole families in national dress seemed to be workimg, many with the help of donkeys. Any animals were tethered rather than in fields as such and stacks were commonplace. Twisting up and through the hills the lake looked lovely with the deep dark blue water glinting in the sun, Then we descended again, this time to the tiny dusty lakeside village of Copacabana from where, after a night in a nice hostel complete with a nice grandaddy type man sorting his tatties in the little courtyard (I thought of both you dad and also of grandad!), I was able to go out to the Isla del Sol.
Setting out for the island it was a slow chugging ride, but nice with the morning sunshine on the blue water. There were only one or two birds to be seen but on some of the cliffs we passed there was lots of flat bushy fronded cactus glinting in the sun. Just over an hour out we reached the south end of the island where some got out then the rest of us carried on to the north end. The southern hillsides looker lovely with lots of planting in little terraces all the way down from the village perched at the top of the hill. At the northern end, where I got out, the path, after leaving the little village, crossed a sandy little beach with a couple of boats in the bay before heading uphill past a few more houses and a grazing donkey or two. The views over the lake were great and there was plenty of green on th cultivated areas but I couldn´t help think bck to lake Baikal. Titicaca wasn´t as enthrallimg as Baikal was, despite them both being huge scenic bodies of water. However, I did fair enjoy the walk along the ridgetops and out to the inca ruins. It was a bit difficult without a guide to know exactly what I was looking at but the stone table and multiroomed stone buildings perched on the hillside with commanding views were certainly admirable in their own right. The trail down to the southern end of the island was well made though rough stoned and a seemingly endless series of long hills to climb in the hot sun, and at mearly 4000m the altitude does nothing to make it any easier. Fortunately with many great views over the grey rocks, tiered plantations, cacti strewn ground, numerous little bays and the miltishades of blue on the lake and high snow covered mountains in the distance on the mainland there was no shortage of excuses to stop regularly. Nearing the end of the trek some local people were laying out tree branches to dry in the sun and the aroma from the foliage was lovely and fresh and reviving. Finally I reached the little village of Yumani and found a nice little place to stay for the night. Eating in a little family reataurant just below my hospedaje the service may have been slow but the food was good. I had lovely vegetable soup then the local speciality of trout with rice and veggies. I had been looking forward to watching the sunset but I sat so long eating and admiring the fantastic view from my table that I was too late for it! Nevertheless I watched the dusky scene and listened to the kids playing and donkeys braying having come up the hill laden with goods as families returned to the village in the evening.
Entertained by the two little girls from the house over breakfast in the morning, I then sat for a final look at the view before setting off down the hill to the harbour and the return trip to the maniland. It was about 15 minutes down the stone path and steps that is the "inka staircase" and for much of the time I was following a woman, her son, and their donkeys as the headed to their terraces for the day. When I got down to the bottom I had time to enjoy the litlle bay with boats in the harbour and the hive of activity in the terraces above before we set off on our very slow chug back to Copacabana. There was a mum with her wee toddler girl on board too who was attempted to be entertained by a couple next to me. the toddler sat big eyed and unimpressed by them for the whole journry though, which in turn entertained the rest of us and livened what would otherwise have been a slow and uneventful crossing!
Back on dry land it was time to say farewell to Tobi and Bine as I headed to the Peruvian end of the lake and to the little town of Puno.
