Salta, Argentina to Uyuni, Bolivia

"His cheeks were red, roughned by the wind, which for ten long hours had massaged his cheeks. Drops of water trickled from his hair. He had emerged from the night like a sewer-worker coming up out of his manhole, with his heavy boots, his leather jacket, and his forehead-plastered hair, blinking like an owl."

(Southern Mail by Antone de Saint-Exupery)

Felt a bit like this yesterday when Alain and I arrived in the Bolivian town of Uyuni after three weeks of cycling through the wilderness on the borders of Argentina, Chile and Bolivia. It was a brilliant experience, which included, volcanos, bright red lakes, climbing up to a height of 4,800 meters, two days cycling across the world´s largest salt plain, the Salar de Uyuni, a bit of cross-dressing and lots and lots of helpings of fried eggs with rice. The first thing we did in Uyuni was take our sleeping bag liners to the laundrette, then we went for a huge pizza.

Thought my self-imposed exile in this beautiful but isolated countryside during the World Cup would guarantee England´s success. But it was obviously not meant to be. Caught the last 10 minutes of the England v Sweden game in Susques, the last town in Argentina. Spent the night of the Ecuador match high up on a mountain pass in Chile at 4,500 metres in a broken down bendy bus (that strangely enough came from Ecuador). Informed of England´s defeat ("se fue" literally they went) at the hands of Portugal the day after the sad event in the small Bolivian village of San Augustin.

One of the great advantages of travelling with a Swiss industrial mechanic is that they know how to operate Bolivian showers. At the end of the day rather like a general sending sappers into a dangerous minefield I deploy him into whatever is being offered up as a bathroom. A few moments later he returns and reports back with precise instructions ("This one is a bit difficult, first you must turn it all the way on then almost off, then wait a minute then it will be hot").

"Whither are you now bound in search of treasure, O diver of the Indies who has fingered pearls but not known how to bring them to the surface? This desert on which I walk, I who am pegged to the earth like a leaden weight, is not likely to yield me anything. but for you my magician, it is but a veil of sand, an appearance..."

(Southern Mail by Antoine de Saint-Exupery)

The answer to this rather lyrically phrased question is that tomorrow I am pedalling off to the towns of Potosi, Sucre and La Paz to admire Bolivian colonial architecture etc. Am hoping to reach Lake Titicaca by the end of this month. On a more practical level have also read that Potosi has a Chinese restaurant. The guide book specifically states that this establishment serves "large portions". I am keen to verify this point.

Just a reminder that I am cycling to raise money for Medecins Sans Frontieres. If you would like to make a donation, either over the internet or by post please visit my website (www.pushonnorth.com).

Push on

Tim

---

---