A-C-B: Lagoon Cañapa and the Tayka Del Desierto Hotel

We drove off the Salar Uyuni salt flat after a long morning to reach our lunch spot. On the way we passed agricultural fields, mostly brown. This one had some green showing.

It doesn't look promising, but wait ...

Samuel, our Bolivian guide and driver, told us that it was quinoa, which is planted earlier and remains very short until the rains arrive in December and January. (This was October 30.)

We dined in a small village, San Juan.

Samuel had arranged a feast at the hostel/community-center.

Wonderfully decorated.

We ate our fill, but I must advise, be very careful opening a soda bottled at a lower altitude. It was also a good time for a pit stop, which, as always, cost a few bolivianos. Small change is handy.

Continuing on, we soon left the road system and were either driving in or avoiding previous vehicles' ruts, as Samuel preferred. There was a small business where the route crossed a paved road.

A 500 Bs. fine for taking a pit stop among the rocks. Click to check out the sign.

The horizon included a lofty volcano, complete with puffs of steam.

 A closer look.

We continued cross-country, stopping once for tinamou. Carlos and Joan had spotted a tinamou much earlier in the trip, but this was my first glimpse.

This sparse country can support herds of vicuña. Click on the image to enlarge.

Then spread out before us was the Lagoon Cañapa, host to three different species of flamingo, including the rare James's flamingo, which inhabits only the high Andean plateaus. It was thought extinct until it was rediscovered in 1956!

A closer look at the James's; identifiying marks are brick-red legs and black-tipped yellow bills.

There's a juvenile, merely black-and-white, in this group. It takes one two to three years to "pink up" from its diet.

Zooming in on the youngster ...

Flamingos often provide amusing photos.

Flamingos in flight way above sea level.

The wind was howling across the lagoon. The air may be thin, but kinetic energy increases with the square of the velocity. Afterwards, departing the lagoon, Joan and I posed again.

I'm glad my face is in the shade. The expression is not charming!

On Samuel drove. In one place I worried about a tight climb through a rock-bound ravine, but Samuel downshifted and the SUV made it through. I'm sure he's done it many times before.

The braiding created by the vehicles, whose drivers hate to ride in others' tracks, grew astonishingly severe. We're told that the drivers resist adding a formal road in such places, because that might encourage tourists to drive themselves. I think there are major obstacles to self-tourism in this part of country, including a lack of refueling stations and the ability of the government to require a Bolivian guide accompanying.

But there were brave self-propelled souls out here: we passed a duo of bicyclists setting up camp, out "in the middle of nowhere" at 15,000 feet. That's more of a challenge than my legs or my lungs would want to take on.

We arrived at the Tayka del Desierto, an off-the-grid hotel that is part of the Bolivian Tayka group, but in part owned by a local community association.

This facility provides income to the association and training and jobs for the inhabitants of this region of the Siloli desert. Power is supplied by wind turbines and solar panels. There is sufficient hot water, as long as you aren't profligate, and enough electricity to recharge batteries, but not to run hair dryers.

We checked in and cleaned up and went to dinner, which was a huge surprise. This meal was clearly intended as a first-class training ground for the kitchen and staff. The servers were dressed crisply with white shirts and black vests, the fixed menu was excellent, and the place settings white-tablecloth. Every table had a wonderful view of the desert and mountains outside. We noticed that much of the chatter in the dining room was in French; Europeans make up a large portion of the overseas tourists in Bolivia.

After dinner I resolved to try some nighttime photography of the stars here at 15,000 feet. The air had cooled rapidly with the setting of the sun, and the panoply of stars was bright. I wanted to combine the "night sky" setting with the "delay start" setting on my point-and-shoot, so that I could set the camera on the ground facing up. But I kept having trouble with it. Nonsense or pictures of my chilled fingers were all that I could capture. Then I tried several hand-held shots towards the hotel and sky with different fixed exposure times, and I was able to hold the camera steady enough for one recognizable photo. You can see some of the brighter stars. (I have lightened the image using the GIMP just to the edge of having too much noise.) Click on the image to enlarge and see the stars.

I did not linger any longer in the cold, and soon it was time for bed at our highest overnight altitude. Joan had been taking gingko biloba earlier in the trip as a preventive measure for altitude discomfort, but it hadn't helped, so this morning she had taken prescription Diamox instead. Technically Diamox should be started a few days before reaching high altitude, but in just one day she felt much better. 

I thought I was doing OK on my own; however, twice during this night I awoke feeling short of breath. Huffing and puffing to pull in oxygen relieved the feeling and let me go back to sleep, and I never had a headache, but if there's a next time going this high I'm ready to try Diamox.

In the morning, after a basic but filling breakfast buffet, Samuel, Carlos, Joan and I prepared to depart for the adventures of our last day in Bolivia.

Fuel canisters strapped to the top of the vehicle.

Here's a farewell panoramic sweep of this intriguing hotel, a blend of eco-frugal and white tablecloth.

Saddle up!

A-C-B: Salar Uyuni, Dakar, and Isla Incahuasi

The next morning, October 30th, I took more photos of the Hotel Luna Salada, the "Salt Hotel," before we departed.

The hallway is covered in salt, but the staff can cope with getting your luggage to your room. Moving wheeled luggage by yourself is problematic.

The main hall sports a series of alcoves.

Each one has a different design.

 The dining room was more conventional,

A wooden floor is much more practical here.

 and sported a wonderful view in the early light.

Then Samuel drove Carlos, Joan, and me deeper into the largest salt flat in the world, the Salar de Uyuni.

Here a crust of salt lies over brine-saturated sediments. Sometimes water bubbles up.

These are easy to avoid.

The salt is collected.

When the salt is for local use, the work is done by hand.

If it's to be shipped elsewhere, the harvest may be more mechanized.

It was a short drive to the Dakar Rally memorial. This off-road race has passed through the salar every year since 2014, after moving to South America in 2009 due to security problems in Mauritania.

Nearby is the modest Hotel Playa Blanca, the first salt hotel. It failed to thrive due to its isolated location, which created problems with water supply and waste disposal.

We bought a couple of postcards, which gained us permission to wander through the interior.

Yes, another salt hotel. What did you expect?

 A wide shot of the common area.
 
Flags representing the nations of the rally participants were clustered outside.

After another drive, Samuel introduced us to a bit of tourist fun -- optical illusions on the salar.

Joan shrinks her husband.

Then he shrinks the car!

Samuel poses Carlos.

The salt flat fills a large valley, as you've seen, but the old hills and volcanoes have become islands,

Salar de Uyuni is sometimes called Thunupa/Tunupa

and the most prominent is the Isla Incahuasi. At first it looked inconspicuous. As we drew closer I thought I saw tourists climbing all over it, but those figures turned out to be cacti!

The parking area and buildings were hidden on the far side of the island from our approach.

We decided to take the time to explore. Steps are involved.

One of the dazzling views along the top.

The thin air gives the sun an extra punch.

On August 1st each year a ceremony giving thanks to the Mother Earth is repeated. We encountered respect for the indigenous tradition of honoring the Mother Earth, Pachamama, several times on our journey.

Here we met a fellow from Seattle and his guide, with whom we chatted.

A black-hooded sierra finch both rested and foraged on cacti.

A blossom closeup.

There are tunnels in this mountain peak; its torturous history includes volcanic activity, submergence in a lake, and emergence as the salt flat formed. Here Carlos leads the way.

Among the nooks and crannies of Isla Incahuasi there also lurk the furry viscacha.

Looks like a rabbit, but it's a case of convergent evolution.

After visiting the island it was time to drive off the salt flat and head for lunch. There was much more to be seen today, but that'll be in the next blog post.

A-C-B: San Cristobal, Colchani, and the Salt Hotel

The next stop after our morning adventures and lunch was the town of San Cristobal. This village was moved 8 kilometers as the crow flies, or 20 km. by road, at the turn of the century,

to make room for the expansion of a mine producing silver, zinc, and lead. The church was carefully dismantled, with each stone numbered, and reconstructed in the new location.

The front of the church compound.

The bell towers flanking the gate are impressive.

 Unfortunately the gates were locked, but I shot this photo of the church itself through the gate.

From San Cristobal Samuel, our Bolivian guide, drove us towards the town of Uyuní, first visiting the "railway graveyard". When plans for a transportation hub in the salt flats were abandoned the early 20th century trains were simply left behind.

Panorama shot into the sun.

  
There are over 100 railcars here.

Panorama shot with sun to my back.

They are freely graffiti-covered.

Yet another string of trains!

A closeup of a boiler car.

After this rusty photo-shoot we stopped in Uyuní. Samuel dropped us off for a meander, and this statue in median of the main street caught our attention.

Joan and I decided to exchange a few dollars for bolivianos and stopped in a change shop. I handed them two $20 bills. (It would have been a slightly better rate if I was exchanging $100 bills, but we didn't need that much Bolivian currency.) Here we encountered a quirk that we had read about but never encountered. The clerk carefully inspected each bill, and on finding a tiny tear, perhaps 4 millimeters, on one edge, rejected that bill. No blemishes allowed. We fished out another, which passed inspection, collected our bolivianos, and walked over to the market. (Click on the image to enlarge.) It was varied and colorful, with All Saints' Day coming soon (Nov. 1), but we didn't buy anything.

When driving out of Uyuní we noticed political murals painted on several walls. Featuring Ché Guevara, Simon Bolivar, and other revolutionary figures, they also included visions of the sea. Bolivia has never forgiven Chile for annexing its corridor to the ocean after the War of the Pacific in the late 19th Century, turning Bolivia into a landlocked country. Joan, who understands some Spanish, reports that much of the music our guide played in the 4wd was, shall we say, intensely patriotic.

Outside the village of Colchani we visited an artisanal salt processor. The equipment used to dry, crush, and otherwise prepare the salt before bagging emphasized the modest scale of the operation. Note: by Bolivian law, all salt must be iodized, including that produced by these small shops.

The salt ends up with a flour-like consistency.

We bought one bag of unflavored salt -- there were several choices -- for 2 bolivianos, or about $0.30. Joan later pointed out that we would be taking a bag of white powder from Bolivia through customs, but there were no problems.

After a long day we arrived at our hotel for the night, the Luna Salada, "Salty Moon," a salt hotel. This elegant hotel sits atop a small hill about 6 kilometers (a scant 4 miles) outside Colchani, and is constructed largely of salt, including the exterior and interior walls, hallway floors, and portions of the room. It's a vivid sight, which I'll document in the next blog post, with photos taken in tomorrow morning's light.

This evening I took some sunset pictures. First, an exterior shot.

The sunset that was reflected in the windows above.

A more panoramic view.

When I looked back towards Colchani, other lodging businesses were visible.

I'll close with a photo of this wire sculpture, up high on a pole.

A condor, of course.

Tomorrow, adventures on the Salar de Uyuní, the world's largest salt flat, followed by a drive ending at 4600 meters / 15,000 feet above sea level.