Salta, Argentina to Uyuni, Bolivia

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"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

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Photos

The doctor will see you now...
"The sergeant looked at the young god, come from nowhere and now about to fly off. Who had come down to remind him of a song, of Tunis, of himself. From what paradise, beyond the sands, do such handsome messengers so noiselessly descend?"
(Southern Mail by Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
From Tooting...just a very blunt visual reminder that I am riding to try and raise money for Medecins Sans Frontieres. If cycling across the world´s largest salt plain, crossing the Bolivian altiplano wearing a skimpy nurse outfit and sporting a ginger beard doesn´t make you feel like donating, what will? Please send me an email and let me know? Most things considered.
If you would like to make a donation please visit my website, www.pushonnorth.com for more details.

Tropic of Capricorn
Here I am in more conventional cycling clothes crossing the Tropic of Capricorn in Argentina. After you cross this point you start encountering people trying to sell you silly woolly hats with ear flaps, ponchos and llama related products.

Lunch on the Salinas Grandes
Philip, Christina, Alain and I have lunch on the Salinas Grandes in Argentina. Unfortunately at Jama Tina and Philip had to take a break and went down to San Pedro in Chile to rest for a few days. We are hoping to meet up with them again later.

Customs shed in Jama
From the infomation that we had read on the internet we expected to be greeted by the Argentinian customs officers like long lost relatives, showered with roasted meats and ushered into lovely warm beds. Instead they were much more interested in the World Cup and said that we could sleep in their shed, which we did, for two days due to the wind. The stark industrial surroundings reminded me a bit of the film Reservoir Dogs. I suggested we act out a couple of scenes after dinner. However no one else had seen it, so we just ate our pasta and went to bed.

Gustavo the lorry driver
In Jama as a precaution we asked Gustavo, who looks suspiciously like the late James Beluschi if he would drop 16 litres of water for us 80km down the road. He said he would and we were reassured by the way in which he diligently wrote the kilometres down on his odometer. However we never found the water. Perhaps Gustavo, or the Vicunas, got very thirsty and drank it all (we carried 10 litres of water anyway so it turned out we didn´t need the extra water anyway).

Vicunas
Oi! Did you drink our water!?

Jama Pass
Alain and I had had a very hard day on the Jama Pass (the road from Argentina to Chile which we took to get into Bolivia). The extremely high winds that had kept us in the customs shed at Jama for an extra day reappeared after lunch and made cycling practically impossible. We were starting to wonder about how, or if, we would get over the pass and into the next valley to sleep lower down when we rounded a corner and saw a broken down bus. The bus came from Quito, Ecuador and had been there for 4 days. The driver was there with some other people trying to fix it but it didn´t seem to be going anywhere that evening. We asked if we could sleep in it and he said yes (he also asked us if we had any food). We put up Alain´s tent and settled down for quite a comfortable evening at 4,500 metres. It was Alain´s turn to cook so he made his very splendid signature tuna pasta dish on the the back seat of the bus.

Fares please
Our mobile hostal on the Jama Pass.

Jama Pass
The red and brown earth of the Jama Pass. Bleak and hostile but at the same time strangely beautiful. Bit like my RE teacher at school.

Top of Jama Pass
Alaon and I at the highest point on the Jama Pass. Not much going on here really.

Make sure the bugs don´t bite
Chagas disease is a big problem in Bolivia. Beetles that live in the thatched ceilings of houses bite you then lay their eggs and you end up with a potentially lethal parasite in your blood stream. Not good news. For this reason Alain and I erected our tents in this rural hostal. For more information about Chagas disease and the work that Medecins Sans Frontieres is doing in Latin America please visit my website (www.pushonnorth.com).

Easy listening
My Ipod died on the Jama pass due to the cold. It came back to life during a rest day at the refugio at Lago Colorado. Sadly the little boy here seemed to prefer listening to Aaliyah rather than Johnny Cash. Still he has plenty of time to learn the error of his ways.

Radio days
Not many televisions in Bolivia. We were kept updated on what was going on in the world cup by locals with radios.

Raleigh Classic
Took this photograph of an old Raleigh bike, made in Nottingham in the small village of Alota. On the same day at the top of the pass between Alota and San Augustin met an old Bolivian on exactly the same model wearing just sandals and riding without pedals.

Bolivian Rail Freight
Cycled through a small Bolivian village of Julaco and saw this ruptured water tank. Beneath the ice, which somehow seems to capture the poetic grandeur of steam, two llamas nervously discuss the possible consequences of the latest regulatory review. Will they escape with a mere shearing or will they be expected to make a personal appearance on the menu in order to satisfy their owners´ reasonable needs?

Sunset on Incahuasi
Incahuasi is one of the Islands on the Salar de Uyuni. Cactii sprout all over the rocks in the middle of the salt plain. We cycled 40km to get there using a compass and very good directions we found on the internet(www.irisentorreoprice.nl). When we found it we had just enough time to buy a beer and race to the top to watch the sunset. There is a restaurant but no hostal on the island. Cyclists however can stay for free on a really cool room with a great view out over the salar.

Train Cemetery
In addition to being the starting point for jeep tours across the Salar and a military base, if the national anthem plays a sign in a hotel advises you to remove your hat and stand still, Uyuni also has a train cemetery full of the carcasses of old rusting steam trains.