Strangely enough, from Ushuaia the journey seems to be 50km further, maybe on account that it's uphill? Surely this mystery deserves investigating further.
Monday, May 17, 2004
La Quiaca, Argentina
I got a strange sense of de ja vù on arriving across the border in La Quiaca. This is the northernmost city in Argentina, the furthest point from Ushuaia, some 5121km away.
Strangely enough, from Ushuaia the journey seems to be 50km further, maybe on account that it's uphill? Surely this mystery deserves investigating further.
Strangely enough, from Ushuaia the journey seems to be 50km further, maybe on account that it's uphill? Surely this mystery deserves investigating further.
Sunday, May 16, 2004
Uyuni, Bolivia
Uyuni is a dusty, grey, windwept town on the Bolivian altiplano. In the town itself, a colourful market sells toiletries, pots and pans, tools, shoes and clothing. Small bowler hats sit on the heads of elder ladies, although the younger generation wears more modern clothing. A couple of kilometers south along the railway line is Uyuni's principle (only?) tourist attraction, a cemetery for trains. Rubbish and plastic bags adorn the few shrubs of the surrounding landscape, mangy dogs run around in packs, fighting in the dirt nearby. Many rusty shells of engines and carriages are strewn around between twisted bits of metal, rails and wheels.
I had decided against staying a night in Uyuni, instead opting to catch a train at 0230 to Villazón on the border with Argentina, en route to Salta and Buenos Aires where I had to organize my journey home. In the morning, we came across an unforseen obstacle, several large rocks had fallen off a nearby mound and landed on the rails, breaking these in two and obstructing the way of passing trains. Luckily by this time it was day, otherwise we could have ended up in the cemetery ourselves.
Much to my surprise, instead of rolling back to the last village (10 minutes back up the line), the driver opted to wait, while heavy lifting gear was brought from who knows where, and many men appeared with picks, shovels and sledgehammers. Six hours later we were on the move again, and I made it to the Argentinian border with an hour to spare before the Bolivian immigration office closed.
I had decided against staying a night in Uyuni, instead opting to catch a train at 0230 to Villazón on the border with Argentina, en route to Salta and Buenos Aires where I had to organize my journey home. In the morning, we came across an unforseen obstacle, several large rocks had fallen off a nearby mound and landed on the rails, breaking these in two and obstructing the way of passing trains. Luckily by this time it was day, otherwise we could have ended up in the cemetery ourselves.
Much to my surprise, instead of rolling back to the last village (10 minutes back up the line), the driver opted to wait, while heavy lifting gear was brought from who knows where, and many men appeared with picks, shovels and sledgehammers. Six hours later we were on the move again, and I made it to the Argentinian border with an hour to spare before the Bolivian immigration office closed.
Uyuni Tour Day 3, Jubica to Uyuni, Bolivia
The third and final day of our tour to Uyuni, we had until 10am to lie in, have breakfast and get ready. While waiting for Patrick and Alejandro (our punctual driver) we played frisby a bit with some of the local kids, who'd it seems had never seen anything like a frisby before! Then we set off. Before we knew it, we were in the middle of this 10,000 square kilometer expanse of salt, pure white, almost blinding in the sun.
Here we had plenty of opportunities to take trick shots, using Patrick's guitar as a prop.
I felt small in the middle of the salar, and colourful!
About half an hour driving over the flat white surface (there are no roads on the salar), miraculously we arrived at an island, Inca Huasi (home of the Inca), where the Inca and their llamas used to stop overnight before continuing on to their sacred volcano Licancabur, on the edge of the salar. The island is little more than a rocky outcrop, but is home to hundreds of giant cacti, good fun for erotic photos!
We had a picnic lunch on the salar, one of the most surreal locations at which I've had the pleasure of lunching.
Here we had plenty of opportunities to take trick shots, using Patrick's guitar as a prop.
I felt small in the middle of the salar, and colourful!
About half an hour driving over the flat white surface (there are no roads on the salar), miraculously we arrived at an island, Inca Huasi (home of the Inca), where the Inca and their llamas used to stop overnight before continuing on to their sacred volcano Licancabur, on the edge of the salar. The island is little more than a rocky outcrop, but is home to hundreds of giant cacti, good fun for erotic photos!
We had a picnic lunch on the salar, one of the most surreal locations at which I've had the pleasure of lunching.
Saturday, May 15, 2004
Uyuni Tour Day 2, Laguna Colorada to Jubica, Bolivia
In the night, a few of us were suffering from the altitude and the previous day's exertion, not to mention the cold, so little sleep was forthcoming. An early start to day two, breakfast at 0730, then promptly back into the Landcruiser and on towards our first stop for the day, the Stone Tree in the aptly named Dali Desert. Here, lonely rocks formed a surreal landscape with the surrounding sands.
Back on the road, if it can be called a road...
...until we arrived at yet another altiplanic lake. Here we were lucky to spot an andean fox (not caught on camera, but our driver had a good go at chasing it in the Landcruiser), and more flamingos. Other than that we'd only seen a few vicuña llamas on the way.
After a brief stop at the lake, we continued our journey, stopping for a picnic lunch, where we finally decided it was a good idea to drink the wine that I'd been carting around with me for the last few days. Then onwards again, arriving at an abandoned village, now an army outpost at the side of a railway where we were duly inspected, told not to take photos, and to get on our way.
Our final destination of the day was the tiny village of Jubica, home to a slightly more "luxury" hotel owned by our tour operator, Colque. Jubica is situated right on the edge of the Uyuni salt flats, mountains could be seen rising in the distance at the other side of the "salar", some 100km away.
Back on the road, if it can be called a road...
...until we arrived at yet another altiplanic lake. Here we were lucky to spot an andean fox (not caught on camera, but our driver had a good go at chasing it in the Landcruiser), and more flamingos. Other than that we'd only seen a few vicuña llamas on the way.
After a brief stop at the lake, we continued our journey, stopping for a picnic lunch, where we finally decided it was a good idea to drink the wine that I'd been carting around with me for the last few days. Then onwards again, arriving at an abandoned village, now an army outpost at the side of a railway where we were duly inspected, told not to take photos, and to get on our way.
Our final destination of the day was the tiny village of Jubica, home to a slightly more "luxury" hotel owned by our tour operator, Colque. Jubica is situated right on the edge of the Uyuni salt flats, mountains could be seen rising in the distance at the other side of the "salar", some 100km away.
Friday, May 14, 2004
Uyuni Tour Day 1, San Pedro de Atacama to Laguna Colorada, Bolivia
From San Pedro I joined a 3-day tour to Bolivia, which would take us past some altiplanic lakes, over the Uyuni Salt Flats (the largest and highest in the world) and finally to Uyuni in Southern Bolivia. There were 11 of us signed up for the tour, a strange collection of 5 Kiwis, 2 Irish, 1 American, 2 Israelis and me. A minibus was laid on to take us to the Bolivian border, a tiny outpost at about 4100m altitude next to two altiplanic lakes, Laguna Verde and Laguna Blanca, named for the colour of their waters. We departed early, and the lakes were still frozen in places when we arrived at the border.
From here on, we'd be travelling in 4x4 vehicles, so we were split into two groups. After getting our passports stamped and paying the entry fee to the National Park, we had a light breakfast then loaded our kit onto the Landcruisers. Our first stop was a thermal spring, though in the cold wind nobody dared to bathe, only our feet felt the warm geothermal heat bubbling up from the depths. From there, we had quite a bit of driving to do across the altiplano. The landscape here was pretty bleak.
Our journey took us past a small salt flat where we stopped to take some experimental photos, then past some geysers, and finally on to Laguna Colorado, a large altiplanic lake where flamingos grazed on the biomass which gave the water it's pink colour. We were to stop here for the night, and had almost the whole afternoon free. Instead of walking along the side of the lake, 3 of us decided to attempt to scale a nearby mountain. At the base we were already over 4300m altitude, and the mountain looked at least 1500m high. Sure enough, the altitude made it hard work, we were about 100m shy of the summit but past our turnaround time, so made the wise decision to head back. The sunset was beautiful, pastel shades of pink and thousands of blues above the lake. However, it was getting a bit chilly and the wind was numbing our extremities. Fortunately, we arrived back at the ranch (a very basic hotel) shortly after the last rays of sun had faded from the sky, and just in time for dinner. Our guide and driver took the oppportunity to have a moan at us for being late, he enjoyed moaning.
From here on, we'd be travelling in 4x4 vehicles, so we were split into two groups. After getting our passports stamped and paying the entry fee to the National Park, we had a light breakfast then loaded our kit onto the Landcruisers. Our first stop was a thermal spring, though in the cold wind nobody dared to bathe, only our feet felt the warm geothermal heat bubbling up from the depths. From there, we had quite a bit of driving to do across the altiplano. The landscape here was pretty bleak.
Our journey took us past a small salt flat where we stopped to take some experimental photos, then past some geysers, and finally on to Laguna Colorado, a large altiplanic lake where flamingos grazed on the biomass which gave the water it's pink colour. We were to stop here for the night, and had almost the whole afternoon free. Instead of walking along the side of the lake, 3 of us decided to attempt to scale a nearby mountain. At the base we were already over 4300m altitude, and the mountain looked at least 1500m high. Sure enough, the altitude made it hard work, we were about 100m shy of the summit but past our turnaround time, so made the wise decision to head back. The sunset was beautiful, pastel shades of pink and thousands of blues above the lake. However, it was getting a bit chilly and the wind was numbing our extremities. Fortunately, we arrived back at the ranch (a very basic hotel) shortly after the last rays of sun had faded from the sky, and just in time for dinner. Our guide and driver took the oppportunity to have a moan at us for being late, he enjoyed moaning.
Thursday, May 13, 2004
Excursions in the Atacama Desert, Chile
From San Pedro I made two excursions; the first to Valle del Muerte (Death Valley!) and Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon), the second to the Tatio Geysers.
The landscape around Valle del Muerte was spectacular, rocky geometrical structures, huge sand dunes, barren mountains and volcanoes in the distance. No photograph could do justice to the sunset, which painted the whole scene in a blood-red light, pink fluffy clouds hung eerily overhead. The heat of the day ebbed away as the cold night approached, the planets brightly visible points at dusk. Later on at night, millions of stars shone through the thin desert air, illuminating the night sky.
No rest for the wicked... the following morning we had to get up at 4am for the excursion to the Tatio Geysers, a thermal field underneath the Atacama desert. Here, volcanic activity heats up rocks far underground, over which underground rivers flow. The heated water is forced upwards and bubbles out of the earth in the form of geysers. For some reason, the geysers are most active in the small hours of the morning hence the early start. Hundreds of geysers bubbled up around us, some steaming, some bubbling, some gurgling, some shooting out boiling water into the air, and some just the right temperature to warm up my hands (the night air at this altitude, over 4000m, was well below freezing). On the way back, we had the opportunity to bathe in thermal springs, quite an interesting experience as the air was very chilly, and the water temperature seemed variable, occasionally almost too hot to bare, other times too cool!
We also stopped in a semi-indigenous village before returning to San Pedro, where we enjoyed a cup of tea, a local brew made of coca leaves (good for the altitude), and where a llama attempted to eat our chocolate.
The landscape around Valle del Muerte was spectacular, rocky geometrical structures, huge sand dunes, barren mountains and volcanoes in the distance. No photograph could do justice to the sunset, which painted the whole scene in a blood-red light, pink fluffy clouds hung eerily overhead. The heat of the day ebbed away as the cold night approached, the planets brightly visible points at dusk. Later on at night, millions of stars shone through the thin desert air, illuminating the night sky.
No rest for the wicked... the following morning we had to get up at 4am for the excursion to the Tatio Geysers, a thermal field underneath the Atacama desert. Here, volcanic activity heats up rocks far underground, over which underground rivers flow. The heated water is forced upwards and bubbles out of the earth in the form of geysers. For some reason, the geysers are most active in the small hours of the morning hence the early start. Hundreds of geysers bubbled up around us, some steaming, some bubbling, some gurgling, some shooting out boiling water into the air, and some just the right temperature to warm up my hands (the night air at this altitude, over 4000m, was well below freezing). On the way back, we had the opportunity to bathe in thermal springs, quite an interesting experience as the air was very chilly, and the water temperature seemed variable, occasionally almost too hot to bare, other times too cool!
We also stopped in a semi-indigenous village before returning to San Pedro, where we enjoyed a cup of tea, a local brew made of coca leaves (good for the altitude), and where a llama attempted to eat our chocolate.
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
San Pedro de Atacama, Chile
- Journey across Susque pass, over 5000m altitude, dusty village
- Excursion to Valle del Muerte, Valle de la Luna
- Excursion to Tatio Geysers
- Excursion to Valle del Muerte, Valle de la Luna
- Excursion to Tatio Geysers
San Pedro de Atacama, Chile
The bus journey from Salta to San Pedro de Atacama took us over the Sico pass, reaching more than 5000m above sea level, over the backbone of the Andes and the altiplanic plateau. At these altitudes there is little life to be seen, only a few cactus, spiny grass called paja brava and, surprisingly, vicuña, a member of the llama family renowned for the value of it's skin. The route back down the western side of the pass took us into the Atacama desert, the driest place on the planet. The town of San Pedro itself is 2436m above sea level, a dusty, dry oasis in the desert, but a "watering hole" where travellers chill out between visits to the surrounding areas.
Sunday, May 09, 2004
Safari to the Clouds
One of the principal tourist attractions of Salta is the Railway to the Clouds, which rises to over 4200m above sea level. I took an alternative tour, The Safari to the Clouds, in an odd-looking open-roofed vehicle named MoviTrack, suitable for 18 passengers.
The road approximately follows the railway line, 170km up to San Antonio de los Cobros, a dusty mining village at 3775m above sea level. Further ahead, in the middle altiplano, we visited the Salt Flats, a vast expanse of salt which gave me a taste of things to come in the Uyuni Salt Flats in Bolivia.
The trip back down the valley took us through some spectacular scenery and an through Purmamarca, an old village with a jesuit church, a UNESCO World Heritage site. On the 2 hour drive back to Salta, we enjoyed some wine and had a little party inside the vehicle!
The road approximately follows the railway line, 170km up to San Antonio de los Cobros, a dusty mining village at 3775m above sea level. Further ahead, in the middle altiplano, we visited the Salt Flats, a vast expanse of salt which gave me a taste of things to come in the Uyuni Salt Flats in Bolivia.
The trip back down the valley took us through some spectacular scenery and an through Purmamarca, an old village with a jesuit church, a UNESCO World Heritage site. On the 2 hour drive back to Salta, we enjoyed some wine and had a little party inside the vehicle!
Saturday, May 08, 2004
Salta, Argentina
Salta is a colonial city, capital of the arid province of Salta in Northern Argentina. I arrived at the hostel tired after an overnight bus journey from Córdoba and looking forward to some rest. Unfortunately I was kicked out of bed at midday for the hostel to be "disinfected". At least this gave me a chance to get to know the city a bit.
To the west of Salta, two high mountain ranges and the altiplano (high plane) between them seperate Salta from Northern Chile.
To the west of Salta, two high mountain ranges and the altiplano (high plane) between them seperate Salta from Northern Chile.
Thursday, May 06, 2004
Manu Chao
Manu Chao is a citizen of the world, ex-vocalist of Mano Negra. Clandestino provides an eclectic multi-lingual critique of the state of the world, treating social injustices, immigration, environmental issues. Musically influenced by latin american sounds, reusing similar samples and lyrics in different songs, the album as a whole hangs together almost perfectly.
Todo es mentira en este mundo. Todo es mentira la verdad. Todo es mentira yo me digo, todo es mentira porque sera. Arriba la luna o-eh-ahh. Thanks Manu.
Todo es mentira en este mundo. Todo es mentira la verdad. Todo es mentira yo me digo, todo es mentira porque sera. Arriba la luna o-eh-ahh. Thanks Manu.
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Monday, May 03, 2004
Mendoza, Argentina
Strange things were afoot in Mendoza. I'd arranged to meet up with Hans, a Swede I'd met travelling down the Amazon from Tabatinga to Manaus. In Manaus, we'd had some very strange experiences with Brazilian girls, Mendoza proved to be just as surreal. The girls here (mendozinas locas) outnumber the guys, and tourists are in high demand. The Argentinian guys seem to get quite jealous; at a night out in a club, after just rescuing a friend from a dangerous situation, five guys walked into the toilet behind me forming a wall between me and the door. One of them said, in Spanish, "Let's turn off the light, nobody will notice". I pushed my way out, but afterwards all the guys seemed like enemies.
The day I flew
Mendoza wasn't all about wine, women and song. On one of the few days when I managed to emerge out of bed before 4pm, I decided one of the best hangover cures could be paragliding. I borrowed a magic hat from Spike, a fellow traveller with whom I shared a few drunken nights, then set out to fly.
This was surely one of the most liberating experiences of my life, in the air a couple of eagles circled around us, checking us out and sharing our thermoclimes. Mendoza was visible in the distance below, as was the cordillera de los Andes, a 5000m volcano prominent in the distance.
Damajuana Hostel
My stay in Mendoza wouldn't have been the same had it not been for the crazy hostel in which I stayed, Damajuana. This place seems to be some kind of pilgrimage for crazy travellers, and rightly so. The staff were just the friendliest people, Rasta Max & company made everyone feel at home, organized asados (BBQs with the best Argentinian meats), and could sort out pretty much anything else you needed.
Spuddy, another dorm-mate of mine, had trouble with his top bunk, and didn't quite make it to bed most evenings. One evening he got as far as the floor of the dorm, the following evening the flowerbed in the garden seemed to be a good place to stop for the night.
The day I flew
Mendoza wasn't all about wine, women and song. On one of the few days when I managed to emerge out of bed before 4pm, I decided one of the best hangover cures could be paragliding. I borrowed a magic hat from Spike, a fellow traveller with whom I shared a few drunken nights, then set out to fly.
This was surely one of the most liberating experiences of my life, in the air a couple of eagles circled around us, checking us out and sharing our thermoclimes. Mendoza was visible in the distance below, as was the cordillera de los Andes, a 5000m volcano prominent in the distance.
Damajuana Hostel
My stay in Mendoza wouldn't have been the same had it not been for the crazy hostel in which I stayed, Damajuana. This place seems to be some kind of pilgrimage for crazy travellers, and rightly so. The staff were just the friendliest people, Rasta Max & company made everyone feel at home, organized asados (BBQs with the best Argentinian meats), and could sort out pretty much anything else you needed.
Spuddy, another dorm-mate of mine, had trouble with his top bunk, and didn't quite make it to bed most evenings. One evening he got as far as the floor of the dorm, the following evening the flowerbed in the garden seemed to be a good place to stop for the night.
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