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.

A-C-B: Mountain Passes, Salar de Olaroz, and an International Border

October 26th was a day with a long drive, but lots to see. Carlos would drive us from  Purmamarca, Argentina, to San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, where we would spend the next three nights.

Highway 52 took us west. Our first stop was for birding at a likely looking spot; Carlos was eager for us to see a giant hummingbird.

At first we were merely pulled over on the side of the road.

From here we could look down into a small valley on the right, barely visible in the photo above (click on the image to enlarge). Also in the photo's left are switchbacks with cargo traffic.

Joan and Carlos peer down into the wash.

A wren was nesting in the arms of a cactus.

On the other side of the highway, a weathered corral.

Carlos took his Toyota down a dirt road into the wash. Perhaps he'd been here before, or perhaps he'd spotted foliage that hummingbirds favor, but while there we spotted our giant hummingbird.

 Another brown-backed mockingbird, to bookend the one we saw yesterday.

We also saw the glittering-bellied emerald hummingbird, and the sparkling violetear hummer! These were flitting about too fast for me to grab a photo, but in the binoculars they were spectacular.

We had a long way to go and it was time to shove off. Ahead loomed the long, switchback climb to the next pass.

Those light-colored terraces are our route!

We pulled off at an observation point, not yet quite at the top, looking back the we we'd come.

On the narrow road you have to respect the truck traffic.

Think twice before trying to pass one.

Arrival at the high point.

We paused while another group alternated taking pictures at the marker. Finally, Joan and the piggies had their turn, catching their breath at 4170 meters / 13,680 ft.

Joan and I gave the souvenir table a cursory glance; we're not in acquisition mode these days.

Minutes after we left the pass our first vicuña posed near the road.

What a delicate physique!

The vicuña is an ancestor of the domesticated alpaca, and prized for its wool. Poaching caused a decline to only 6,000 animals in 1974, but the population has rebounded to about 350,000. A roundup is held every year, and animals with more than 2.5 cm / 1 inch of fur are shorn. (That amount of growth takes about three years.) These wild critters travel in small groups.

It's amazing they can sustain themselves in this landscape.

More driving followed, and the clock ticked into the afternoon. When the salt flat Salar de Olaroz came into view,

our stomachs were reminding us that lunch had been delayed. Carlos pulled into the last opportunity to grab a bite before entering the salar, despite not being familiar with the establishment.

It turned out to be a great place. The food was excellent, homemade and fresh, and the tables in the shade were comfortable. The owner had recently installed modern restrooms, very welcome even if the water pressure was feeble.

Many groups had stopped here; unknown to us, this is a popular motorcycle touring route. Many visitors had created a custom decal honoring their trip and these blanketed the windows of the restaurant.

Those blocks are made of salt.

Fortified, we made a quick visit our first salar. (Later in the trip we will spend days on salars.) A thick layer of salt creates a solid ground, but underneath is an inland sea of brine.

Salt sculptures rose here, including this llama.

The salt on the surface is dirty from windblown dust and detritus, but evaporation ponds

turn the brine into tidy white granules.

In the last few years a plant has also been operating at this salar to concentrate the brine made available by the salt drilling, which is then processed to generate lithium carbonate, a precursor for lithium-ion batteries.

The next stretch of time was spent driving; we were not quite halfway to San Pedro. At one town we stopped for some brief birdwatching, including Andean geese,

and replenishing our gasoline before entering Chile.

These poles are also plastered with tour decals.

Driving on we finally reached the Paseo de Jama, a broad pass (we're at 13,000' again) on the Argentina/Chile border. The border stations of the two countries are combined into one indoor facility here. The three of us visited one window for the paperwork to exit Argentina, then another to enter Chile, and then a third for Chilean customs.

Fourth, there was vehicle and luggage inspection. Chile is very stringent about avoiding the importation of pests or invasive species, through agricultural products or otherwise, from the other side of the Andes. No animals are allowed, but fortunately the inspectors grinned when they saw our pigs. I had some chocolate-covered coffee beans in a baggie, which had to be explained. Joan was quicker on the draw than I was, and described them as "chocolate candies," thus avoiding any mention of coffee beans.

Just before or after entering Chile we saw our first flamingoes (there are several species in the Andes.) Click on the image to enlarge.

Our route wiggled, ascending and descending between 14,000 and 15,000 feet through a lunar landscape. When the line of volcanos including Licancabur came into view, Carlos knew we were getting close to our destination. The volcanos straddle the border between Chile and Bolivia.

The summit is 5916 meters or 19,409 feet.

The sun was low when we began the long descent into the town of San Pedro de Atacama, down to 7,900'. Such an altitude difference is a struggle for trucks going up, and a hazard going down! We arrived at dusk, to discover that Carlos' GPS was confused by the maze of narrow and one-way streets. (San Pedro was founded in 1450.) He persevered and found our hotel, the Terrantai. In this old part of town the front doors were practically in the street; parking was a block away, in a fenced and locked plot. We later learned that the Terrantai was opened in 1996, the third hotel in San Pedro de Atacama.

It was dinner time. We three couldn't quickly find the restaurant Carlos had in mind, based on second-hand directions, and chose one close to the hotel. It was somewhat noisy and tourist-y, but the food was OK and we were tired enough to be fine with it. Joan and I collapsed into bed.