/countries/show/bolivia/1.rss en-us Fancy a trip to Mars but can’t wait for NASA to start colonizing? Don’t despair, because a journey to Salar de Uyuni, the Bolivian salt desert is the next best thing. The remnants of a giant prehistoric lake, the world’s largest salt flats cover an area the size of Belgium and sit as high the Andes. Best experienced with a guided tour from the town of Uyuni, the first stop en route to the flats is the great train graveyard, a stark testament to the Spartan land beyond. Just a few miles out of Uyuni the landscape changes at an alarming rate: yellows, greens and browns are swept aside by a sea of vast, blisteringly white salt. The sensation is somewhat akin to being swallowed. Most striking, after the glare, is how unbelievably flat everything is. The sheer scale of Salar de Uyuni means terms must be redefined: not merely giant skies but gargantuan ones, humongous, not huge horizons. During a rainfall the salt flats transform into the world’s biggest mirror, reflecting the heavens in an experience that is so mind altering that it would even straighten Dali’s moustache. Further inland the optimistically named Isla de los Pescados, Island of the Fish, is a scattering of hills that were once coral reefs, and whose palm trees long ago surrendered to cacti. The colony of viscachas, Andean rabbits, that inhabit these islands seem as marooned as if water still ran here. South toward the Chilean border the terrain becomes weirder and wilder and as you near the Andes, looming purple volcano’s topped with ‘snow’ (sulphur), petrified lava streams, thermal springs and geysers. Wild llamas appear on pink hills and dinner plates. Like any desert worth its salt, the Salar has its oasis: the lagunas, immense lakes colored by the mineral rich terrain. Laguna Colorado is a study in surrealism, a blood red lake ringed with yellow grasses, white minerals, and of course filled to the brim with thousands of pink flamingos. An impossible visage, but just when things couldn’t get any more topsy-turvy witness Laguna Verde. Striking not only for its emerald waters but its wind fashioned waves, effectively creating a beach in the midst of a desert four thousand feet above sea level. Truly an otherworldly sight, and a fitting bookend to your journey into, almost outer space. Mon, 02 Feb 2009 16:09:16 +0000 http://www.thecircumference.org/experiences/salar-de-uyuni http://www.thecircumference.org/experiences/salar-de-uyuni Preparades? Yes, I was ready I said. My guide waved a quick goodbye and got back in his car, slammed it into gear and headed back down the mountain. I moved my bike to the road’s shoulder and while I pulled on my gloves, I admired the tranquil morning canyon below me. I had come to the top of the Yungas Road, also known as Death Road this morning. I had been making the trek northward from Patagonia with no idea of what I wanted to do or where I was going. Along the way I got drunk in a bodega in Mendoza, got the flu in Salta, and ate real locro in Jujuy. Fun, but not real adventure. Then over a cup of coffee in a grimy bus café, an Aussie couple told me about the world’s most dangerous road, Yungas Road. They showed me a map and explained how I could rent a bike and a guide for the Yungas Road which connected the Northern Bolivian rain forest of Bolivia to La Paz through a mountain. It was guardrail-less, paralleled six hundred metre drops, and was often swamped in thick, rising fog. The couple insisted that trek down this road was worth ten trips anywhere. That afternoon I bought a ticket to La Paz, and hunkered down in a hostel for the night. After a long sleep, I inquired about getting a guide and bike. The owner smiled and made a call. Forty minutes later I was in a beat up Jeep driven by a silent yet friendly middle aged man with a greasy yellow mountain bike strapped to the top. I took a breath and began my journey down Death Road. The bike picked up speed and my wrist tightened on the brake. My adrenal glands began pumping. I had been on a road like this one outside of the small Chinese city of Lai Wu. It was smooth and wide. This road was anything but. My front wheel hit a rut and I swung the handle bars to the left. I could see the edge of the canyon on my right and felt my muscles lock. The road got steeper and although the road looked scary, I felt a rhythm in my wrists. I worked the brakes only slightly and let myself go faster down the hill. The gravel popped underneath the wheels and a thick wind came up. The adrenal feeling returned in full force. I continued to steer, fast, steady, and carefree. The landscape beside the road was wide and vast, and seemed to lead me safely to the bottom. In retrospect, I realized it was also handy that there were no vehicles on road during my trip down. Every minute seemed like an hour, yet it was only some minutes. I brought my bike to a halt and looked up. I wondered how far down I had come, but it soon donned on me that it wasn’t important. Just coming down the way I did was enough, knowing that hundreds of people over the years had died on this stretch, both in bike and car accidents. Mon, 06 Oct 2008 02:38:48 +0000 http://www.thecircumference.org/experiences/death-road http://www.thecircumference.org/experiences/death-road