A-C-B: Arbol de Piedra, Sol de Mañana, Lagoons

We departed from the hotel Tayka del Desierto on the morning of Oct. 31st headed for the Árbol de Piedra, a famous rock in the high desert of the Potosi department of Bolivia. Howling winds and abrasive sands have blasted away the softer sandstone, leaving the harder pieces behind.

This is the most famous rock of a group of such; there are others.

We weren't the only visitors.

A view from another angle.

 With other rocks in the background.

With one of the many 20,000 foot volcanoes as a backdrop!

There are plenty of other rocks to admire, but we must move on, so I'll spare you.

From the Árbol de Piedra Samuel, our Bolivian driver and guide, drove Joan, Carlos (our Argentinian guide, but just another tourist while in Bolivia), and me to the Laguna Colorada, or Red Lagoon.

The islands are deposits of borax salts; the red tint comes from various species of algae.

 A closer look reveals flamingos.

Llamas were grazing here too!

A bunch of them in closeup.

I like the illumination in this one, and the mists on the water.

The flamingos look like fuzzballs on a stick. Click on the image to enlarge.

On our way to the Sol de Mañana, a geothermal field, everyone agreed it was time for a "rest stop." A wash, or mini-canyon, beckoned.

We just had to find a way down.

Our privacy wasn't absolute: a flock of greenish yellow-finches landed on the rocks to keep us company.

Next up, after a very rocky ride in our four-wheel drive SUV, was the spectacular geothermal field of Sol de Mañana. In North America there would be guardrails and warning signs. In Chile, at the El Tatio geysers, there were suggested paths marked by stones. Here in Bolivia, go wherever you like, but you're warned not to breathe too deeply of the sulfurous fumes.

There were no geysers here, but lots of steam,

and burping mud. Don't touch!

 This pot held floating black pearls, or was it caviar?

Also here was an Australian couple in a van with US plates (Washington state). I asked if they'd driven all the way here, but, no, they offered a vague story about acquiring the van in Uruguay. I wonder if it was a gray market transaction.

Here are four short clips stitched into one video of some of the sights and sounds of Sol de Mañana.

Afterwards we headed for our lunch stop, at Termas de Polques, which had been our initial stop within Bolivia two days ago. Carlos, Joan, and I explored the beach while Samuel completed lunch arrangements.

I managed to capture this flamingo on his runway.

 This bird was checking me out.

Samuel led us to the building where lunch was waiting. The structure was unmarked, with no clue what its function was. Having a Bolivian guide is essential as well as legally required!

Joan took notes: our final Bolivian meal included,

• mixed canned corn and stuffed green olives
• peeled slice cucumbers
• peeled wedges of tomato with chili slices
• rice
• warm canned tuna
• pickled veggies
• canned sliced mushrooms
• canned peaches
• sliced cheese
• sliced lunch meat

During the filling lunch I stepped over to the windows. The small figure at center, on the road, is a woman pushing a loaded wheelbarrow uphill.

Then we were off to see our last two Bolivian lagoons, Laguna Verde (Green Lagoon) and Laguna Blanca (White Lagoon), which were not far away and are barely separated.

The colors come from minerals including arsenic, which deters wildlife from feeding here. However, in the center of the White Lagoon, three flamingos were up to something. (Click on the image to enlarge.)

The Green Lagoon was lifeless, but beautiful, with whitecaps urged on by the relentless wind.

By now it was mid-afternoon, and time to say goodbye to Bolivia and to Samuel. We drove up to the border station, where guides were dropping off their guests, and cars and vans were waiting, as if in a custody exchange, to ferry the guests to the Chilean border station and beyond.

Joan, Carlos, and I entered the Bolivian station, where Joan and I were told we must pay an exit fee of 15 bolivianos apiece. We (especially Joan) had researched this trip extensively, and officially there is no exit fee. Carlos, an Argentinian, was not charged an exit fee. However, we had seen Europeans putting their wallets away when leaving the building. Apparently only citizens of rich countries are subject to this informal tax, which is carefully calibrated: 15 bolivianos is roughly two dollars, not enough to make a fuss about in an isolated border crossing. But the officials were honest about the amount. I had spent all my small money, planning to add the rest to Samuel's tip, and had only a 100 boliviano note to hand them. They made correct change.

We said our goodbyes to Samuel, wishing him well, and boarded our van, where we met Lucy Barnard. This energetic and peripatetic Australian has set herself the goal of being the first woman to walk the length of the Western Hemisphere, from Ushuaia, Argentina to Barrow, Alaska. Chile, being very long, had exhausted her visa, and to renew it she had to leave Chile and re-enter for a fresh visa. Lucy had been advised to pop over to Bolivia and come right back, but the Bolivian officials didn't want to let her go. At first they said she had to stay three days. After argument they said she could stay only one day, and they knew a hotel ... Lucy, a woman traveling alone, was having none of it. She finally deployed the nuclear option, tears, and they let her go. We last saw her at the Chilean crossing, explaining her business in Chile to the border authority. At this writing she is about to stride into Ecuador, and you can follow her journey here.

Back in San Pedro de Atacama, Joan and I decided on a short wander, in particular to check out the town plaza and its old church, which was next door to our hotel (the Terrantai).

This church was constructed in the 17th Century, during Spanish colonial rule, and was built of adobe. Over the centuries it has been modified and added to.

The altar.

In this dry climate the timbers can last a long while.

That evening we were tired enough that the Terrantai's wine and cheese tasting was sufficient for dinner. This was also the evening of Halloween, and the custom of children in costumes begging for treats was in full swing. Some holidays export well into manifold cultures; I still remember the Christmas decorations in the Bangkok airport hotel and in Bhutan.

All three of us, including Carlos, went to bed early, for tomorrow would be a daylong drive from San Pedro to Salta, Argentina. I know Carlos would have preferred an extra day for the journey, but the itinerary had been set long before.