Sparks In The Salt

Well, another week, another country. This morning I arrived solo in Peru, after a quick visit to Bolivia on a tour of the world´s largest salt flat. After almost three months spent in the relative comfort of Argentina and Chile, I thought it was time to experience a different side of South America. I couldn´t have asked for a more dramatic shift.

Jon, Richard and I started the tour from San Pedro de Attacama, a dusty little desert town cum tourist mecca in northern Chile. By law you have to transfer to a Bolivian tour company on the border so it was at the immigration point in the desert that we first saw our homes for the next four days: battered 4x4 Toyota Landcruisers bearing stickers saying things like "I Heart Bolivia" and a decidedly worrying amount of stratches and dents.

We raced off across the desert in search of our first pitstop, the Laguna Blanca. There are no roads here, just the tracks left by the previous day´s vehicles and you just have to trust your driver´s judgement in finding the smoothest way. Which isn´t very, and every bone is rattled.

We took in five or six lakes, an active volcano, hot springs and some terrifying geysers as well as the famous Arbol de Piedra (rock shaped like a tree, woohoo) over two days, staying one night in a stone barn in middle of the desert at an altitude of 4,600 metres. It was officially the longest night of my life, due to a combination of altitude sickness, freezing cold and the large gang of Israelis partying and throwing up outside our room until the wee hours. When the alarm went off at 7am, my first words were, "Thank god!"

The second night was more enjoyable. We reached the salt hotel on the edge of the flats just before sunset. It was little better equipped, but was warmer and did at least have hot water. Jon and I also discovered that running your hand or arms against the sheets generated a massive amount of sparks in the dark. Static electricity in the sheets or something to do with the salt beds? I have no idea, but it kept us entertained for a good 15 minutes.

Salar de Uyuni

The following morning it was up at 5am to drive to the Isla de Pescadores to watch the sunrise over the salt. As we entered the plain (no roads here either), our driver Leo turned off the lights so we were driving in the dark. Scary until we realised that we were shooting across 12,000 square kilometres of nothing but smooth, flat salt. We watched the sunrise across the endless white expanse from an island covered in 10ft cacti and crunched our way through the salt like ice.

We finished the tour, exhausted, in the tiny Bolivian town of Uyuni, where I left Jon and Richard to travel back through the desert by myself (with the driver, obviously) and make my way up to Peru. I have made it to Tacna, just over the border and have yet another overnight bus to catch tonight to finally arrive in Lima where I will want a shower and a bed more than I have ever wanted anything in my life.