Day 66 - Sucre

We decided to be super posh today and instead of taking a 3 hour bus to Sucre, we hopped in a cab for just a little more cash. 2 and a half hours in a cab, breaking the speed limit for most of it, we passed dogs, cows, sheep, lone bolivian women miles from civilisation, and a hoard of kids playing in the road.



We also pased a small town with a PLAN UK banner at the entrance. Without being melodramatic, my heart skipped a little beat. Thing is, I sponsor some 14 year old dude called Franz Tambillo in bolivia. Its not much, but he's written to me, so I kinda know he exists (he likes to care for animals, and called me his "godfather" which was a bit weird). Anyway, passing this sign, I gushed. Maybe, just maybe, he lives here. and maybe he saw some gringo taxi pass and thought "I bet that's duncan in there". Rubbish, yes. But remotely possible. Franz, if you're reading this, your town looked pretty cool. albeit a bit rubbish and dusty.

We arrived in sucre a couple of hours later, checked in to the hostel which housed almost ALL the travellers we have met in the last 2 months, and promptly headed out for some beer, food and dancing.



In the morning, I went exploring. The city is super pretty. Its apparently the capital of bolivia (erm, really, not La Paz then), and whilst not being quite as special, it was beautiful and relaxed and seemed super safe. There are rafts of chocolate shops and a proper nice square in the centre. But that was the limit of our exploration. Sam and I had to head back to La Paz that night in a horrendous 12 hour night bus ride, so we could catch our flight the next day.



The night bus was, however, sweet. It was our first true "cama" bus, with fully reclining seats and feet rests. Not quite as good as a bed, but sam only complained about 20 times, so it must have been REALLY nice. Of course, I slept like a log.



And after getting even more sleep in La Paz, we had a lazy afternoon in prep for our last day in Bolivia. The streets were RAMMED. It was a city fiesta, and the place was full of drummers, street dancers, on-lookers, and a load of bolivian guys shooting guns in the air. Between catching up on our emails and buying peanuts, we watched the parade and got an early night. Nice and early, we're heading off towards Chile, for one night only in Santiago.

Day 64 - Potosí

Potosí is awesome. A total mining town, this place is cobbled, narrow and beautiful. We checked ourselves into a wicked hostel, went and played some video games in the local arcade (despite beating sam easily, some bolivian dude came and 2-playered me and beat me SO shamefully). The town is huge, and VERY high on the altitude stakes, being the highest city of its size in the world. You can practically see the altitude-sick travellers collapsing around you.



Most people only come here for one thing - the mine tours. 2 hours inside the enormous network of mines that occupy the mountain that overlooks the city. Most people from this town work there (out of the men, that is), and most start work at the age of 14 and continue until they are too ill to work (respiratory disease kills almost all the miners, of course) or have died. Ironically, the average life expectancy of a bolivian man (61 years) is less than the age for retirement (65 years). Killer.

Anyway, we took the bus up to the mountain, and after kitting ourselves out with dust proof clothes and boots, and buying gifts of dynamite and sugar drinks for the miners, we entered the mine in what looks like a scene from Indiana Jones. Actual truck loads of rock come whizzing out of the entrance every 2 or 3 minutes, with two kids hanging onto the back of it. Marcin spotted it first - I was properly nervous for possible the first time of the whole trip.



The mine is nuts. It starts pretty comfortably, with 5-foot high rock ceilings lining the main exit point for this mine (bolivians are a LOT shorter than you think). But then it starts to get smaller. There's no cash to make the tunnels nice, so unless there is good minerals in the rock, the miners leave the tunnels at just big enough to get a person through. At points, we are crawling on our hands and knees, through tunnels no bigger than 2 foot tall, and going down as steep as a staircase.





We chatted to some miners, giving them the presents where they were kind enough to let us take pictures. Our guide told us that they usually work 10 hour shifts, not leaving the mine during that time. and maybe once of twice a week, they work a 24 shift to get more money. again - no daylight in between. Its hot down there. sweaty. and dusty. and you can constantly hear the explosion of dynamite through the rocks from other parts of the mine. The whole thing was sickeningly humbling.





But, humbling and pitying thoughts aside, we had some spare dynamite to blow up. Our goofy guide packed some up, lit it, then passed it to me. I shit myself initially, before realising there was a whole minute on the fuse. so handed it back and let them bury it in the ground about 200m away. After shitting myself AGAIN at the explosion, we headed back to civilisation - hot showers, good food, and no dust.

Day 59 - Uyuni and the Salt Flats

14 hour bus ride to Uyuni. You'd think we would be getting used to it by now. But no. They gave us a blanket this time, but it was still STONE COLD. Killer. But we arrived in town at 6am, below freezing (I had a club foot because it was touching the inside wall of the bus) and we fought off the hoards of tourist operators to get some breakfast. We had survived (there are reports of drunk night-bus drivers, so we were all a little nervous).



Uyuni is weird. Its proper small town. Dusty. Freezing. Bare. Breakfast was rank. Our hostal took our reservation, then gave our room away. At another hostal the owner shouted at Sonia for using a shower without permission, calling her a thief. Dan got offered a discount of 1 boliviano out of 90 he was paying for clothes. And some dude shouted at all of us for trying on some sunglasses. AND we got food poisened on the smallest and most rubbish lasagna I've ever had. This place is a mess. Seriously. But we found sanctuary at the tourist information centre, where we made our salt flats tour reservation, and headed off to get our last good nights sleep before the tour.



The tour was impressive. I know I gush a LOT about stuff on here, how EVERYTHING is AMAZING. But this was pretty special. We booked up for 4 days of jeeping around southern bolivia, taking in the largest salt flat in the world, volcanoes, geysers, hot springs, red lakes, wind-blow rocks, and a shed load of alpacas. We started by jeeping onto the salt flat, where people are chipping away at the salt to sell it to the rest of bolivia. We visited a salt hotel (yep, a hotel made entirely of salt) which has been condemned because it was contaminating the surrounding salt during the floods.



After this, we bombed for 45 minutes across the flawless salt flats. salt stretching for miles. not a hint of civilisation. it was really special. and we stopped for lunch at this amazing island right in the middle, totally overgrown with cacti. Dan was pretty sick at this point, so kept Sam conpany at the bottom, but the rest of us trekked up to the top to get a view over the whole of the flats.



We were given the chance to take some photos on the flats themselves too, since the conditions are great for classic small or far away photos. I took this one of sam, but we ran out of time so the rtest aren't so good. It was pretty fun trying to think of things we could do though.









Before the sun set, we headed to an ancient inca graveyard, which meant another feast of bones on display for us. This time I managed to find ANOTHER ONE that looks a lot like my boyfriend.



Night fell, and after a nice meal we played some cards and hit the sack in our VERY basic accomdation. I went out for a cigarette at about midnight, and this was truely the most amazing night sky I have ever seen. It was STONE COLD, but amazing. The arch of the milky way, and the sheer number of stars. Without being melodramatic, I have a feeling that this nighttime will be the one I remember from now on as being the most impressive. It was properly unreal.

Morning came, and after being told we might not have any accomdation booked and would have to sleep in the jeep if we didn't get moving, we hopped into shape at 6am (outside temps were -5 degrees) and headed across some salt flats to a whole load of wind carved volcanic rocks. Obviously, I was loving the rocks. And after breaking down and having to push the jeep into action (in reverse as well!) we headed on towards the first of the huge lakes.







The first lake was pretty special. We stopped for lunch and walked on the sulphur crust to get near the amazing pink flamingoes. I kinda pushed dan in the water, although he managed only to wet his foot, but the scenery was pretty special.





More rocks, more lakes. Its hard to describe, but there was a proper sense of adventure, crossing the plains, passing volcanoes and mountains and deserts. Its like touring a whole continent, but in 4 days. And despite having left the salt flats behind a whole day ago, the place was still pretty special.











Another nights sleep (this time with a shocking 5am wakeup call when it was still -15 degrees!), we had to be up early to see the venting geysers just down the road. This was a particular highlight for me, and I spent a good half an hour pracing between the billowing red hot steam, bubbling mud and soft sulphur-soaked pathways between the vents. I could have stayed all day. BUT, the hot springs down the road were calling us, and whilst sam was a bit too altitude-sick to jump in, we all braved the 0degrees air temperature, stripped off and jumped in. and it was HOT. as hot as a proper hot bath. getting out, however, was FREEZING.









We visited the last lake of the trip, the Lago Verde, which apparently changes colour to green when the wind blows. But the wind didn't blow. Dan, Marcin and I spent an hour skimming stones (the colour changes when you do that) in near silence, taking in the beauty of the place. Then we dropped Alice off at the Chilean border and headed back to the hot springs again for another dip and some lunch.



Things kinda quietened down from here. I shut up, for once, and just took things in for the next couple of days. even dan quietened down. We drove across the countryside for about 3 hours, stopping only once that afternoon to clamber over some huge towering rocks, that the pre-incas used as a defensive fort.



The next day, after a few too many games of Cheat (Sonia was exceptional at this), we found ourselves at the top of a huge valley. Marcin talked the rest of us (except Sam, of course) into walking down to the bottom of the valley, where we then had lunch by a stream. For about 3 hours we didn't see one single other jeep. It was just us.





Last stop, the train cemetary, right outside of Uyuni. This was pretty cool. Ditched train wreckages everywhere. I did an Indiana Jones style run across the roof of a train, but sam told me off for being a knob. so I stopped. rust can kill, folks.





And then back to Uyuni. Pretty amazing stuff. worth the early morning. worth the hours in the jeep. worth the 30 quid for the 4 days. It was pretty special.

Day 57 - The World's Most Dangerous Road

Despite a huge amount of hype, and Sam's constant whinging that she doesn't "want to go home on a plane alone", I decided to brave the worst, and took a mountain bike ride down the "world's most dangerous road".





Apparently 80 people die on the road every year, and whilst I wasn't sure what to expect, I was pretty sure that it was relatively safe due to the huge number of people I know who had survived and were wearing the complimentary t-shirt all around La Paz. Old mate Joubin apparenty saw someone come off the edge, and they are now in a coma in La Paz General, but aside from this, I've only heard good things. 30 quid later, I was on a bus heading up to the shoulder of a local mountain, where the bike ride descends.

It all starts pretty tame. About 30km on asphalt, sighting some bux wreckages at the valley floor and gliding down the gentle angle with increased speed. I established myself towards the front of the group of twenty within the first half hour, and after 2 hours of casual riding we were approaching the proper death road.



Here's where it got interesting. The road itself is just over one bus-width wide. Its gravel (coarse gravel at that), and is carved into the steep hillside, so that one on side of the road you have a sheer cliff heading upwards, and on the other you have a sheer drop, at points, over 500m high. The reason its so dangerous is because if two vehicles meet along the road, the one going downhill has to reverse BACKWARDS up the winding road until a point where the road is wide enough for the two vehicles to pass. And because of the alignment of the road, the vehicle reversing has to be on the OUTSIDE of the road, i.e. on the cliff edge. Simple error in judgement and a busload of 80 bolivians goes off the edge to their deaths.



So we started down the gravel track. Bit nervous. Bit excited. generally ready, but cautious. Some guy comes off his bike onto the gravel within minutes. Others start skidding around. It was looking bad. And its not til you are cycling at 20 mph, watching the road for every odd rock or pothole, KNOWING that just 1 metre to your left is a half kilometre drop, that you start to really care for your life.



But it was fine. Kinda like any mountain biking, just with a little bit more fear. No one died. No one nearly died. We just cycled down in the dust, sweating from the rising temperatures (we descended over 2000m in 5 hours) and getting pissed off at the amount of traffic to pass in the opposite direction.



Probably the most poignant moment was the human traffic light guy. Apparently, 25 year ago, his wife and 2 kids died when their bus plumetted off the edge. Every day since then he's stood at the point where they died, holding up red and green flags to warn vehicles if someone else is coming from the opposite direction. Totally voluntary, he gets paid by the passing traffic with food parcels and small change. And he was a happy man.

At the bottom of the road, we were met with a beer and a buffet, and after a much needed shower and dip in the pool (Coroico has a tropical climate, unlike the rest of Bolivia which is stupidly cold), I left Dan and Dave to stay the night and jumped on a 3 hour bus back to La Paz. I survived. And I have the t-shirt to prove it. Was it as dangerous as they all made out - not in the slightest. In fact, I would rather cycle down it than get the reversing bus. But it was pretty spectacular scenery, and I got to flex my already tired muscles one more time before heading south to the Salt Flats.