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Here are some ramblings I've been working on about my recent trip in south america.
So here is part one I suppose:
In short, I rode into Bolivia from Peru and had my sights set on the remote high altitude deserts of the southwest portion of the country. After spending a week around La Paz doing other fun rides it was time to get down to the business. I bussed 12 hrs overnight south to the town of Uyuni where I was hoping to meet up with a pair of Aussie Cyclists that I had met over the new Year in a remote valley in Peru. Turns out their plans had changed and I was on my own.
With a certain nervousness I walked around the bleak dusty town trying to get information about water availavility, track conditions and distances from 4x4 tour agencies (there are lots) Then after filling up 15 liters of water I headed out onto the Salar de Uyuni - the biggest salt flat in the world. The salar was a place I had dreamed of biking across for years and I was super excited at funally getting out there on my own. I first entered the salar at a spot recommended by a truck driver, turns out to be totally bad info, the salty mud quickly reminded me of the winter biking currently going on in alaska as I pushed for a few miles into a flat mirage of endless glaring white...
My foray on the Salar was cut short however after an overnight camp on the salt, and hearing reports from 4x4 drivers that the western portions were covered in "mucho agua!" The though of being out there alone walking my bike through 80 miles of salt water quickly made me retrace my route back to Uyuni. Little did I know that I would be back in a few weeks to cross the salar in its entirety from the opposite side...
I headed southeast through desert country, eventually really heading into no-man's land near a little village of Alota. The Ayrama indians that live out in these parts of the Altiplano are some of the toughest people I can think of. They live in adobe huts and heard llamas and sheep which provide much of what they have. Quinoa - a hearty high protien grain- is grown where there is enough moisture. Even looking for simple things like onions are non-existent.
Continuing on, 200 miles out from Uyuni, brought me in to real volcano country, were I climbed up to 13,000' and didn’t drop back down for the next 8 days. The track (not road) conditions varied from horrible to unridable, the volcanic sand at times too soft, or so deeply washboarded that it was less abusive to walk. A full day's effort netted me about 30 miles, 40 miles and I was destroyed. At one point I passed a small spring, realizing that water is gold in these parts I filled up 17 liters, it the last source of water for 2 days and 2 nights. Amazingly enough the lakes in these areas are so full of minerals that they are not-potable, however they take on wild red-white colors which provide the feeding grounds for 4 different species of Flamengos. Seeing the bueatiful birds on brackish lakes at 15,000' in the middle of the desert is something to be experienced!
After an all day climb of the Ramada Pampa I entered a bit of a canyon as black thunderclouds brewed above. I stopped to consider my options, ate some peanuts and put on warmer clothes, waiting sounded like a cold idea and turning around was out of the question. I continued on hoping that the cloud I was seeing was just an isolated event. Wrong – As soon as I crested back on to the flat expanse I was surrounded by nasty black thunderclouds. Nothing scares me now more than lightning! There was absolutely no shelter anywhere to be found. Surged by adrenaline, pushing the middle ring at 15,500’ with a loaded bike on a horrible track I found strength in myself that I had not known. Watching a mini tornado among the lightning strikes over my left shoulder I made my way into a broad drainage of sorts and down into safer ground pushing my bike most of the time through the loose gravel. Adrenaline back to a more reasonable level I suddenly had a very sharp pain in my left knee, couldn’t even turn the pedal over without doubling over in pain! Mother****ingShit! Now what have I done! Guessed I pushed a bit too hard dodging lighting. Feeling beaten I popped 4 iduprophrin, hoped I just inflamed something and continued to hobble down the sandy swale. Anything to get further away from the black clouds of death .
Reaching what is known as the Stoli desert, I began to test out my injured limb. To my surprise and joy I could actually bend it and complete a pedal rotation. Gradually as I reached ridable track did I put a bit more pressure into strokes. As an hour ticked by I was able to stop thinking about walking and just ride the vast rolling terrain ahead of me. The storm that scared the crap out of me was still brewing off to my left and I kept yelling “you cant get me Ha Ha!!” while flipping it the bird. It felt good..
The following day I pulled out of camp at 15,200’, frost was everywhere and it took my toes about 2 hours or riding to thaw out, I was heading to Laguna Colorado this day, where there is a park ranger station, and water source to fill up my bags. Reaching Laguna Colorado was a tough and rocky 18 miles in 4 hours. Upon sighting the enormous red lake in the distance, the winds began to blast, simply blast. It was the strongest headwind I’d ever had, by this point I was really learning that nothing out here comes easy and I was being tested daily it seemed, to see if my skin was thick enough.
Pulling out of Laguna Colorado the winds continued as I walked my bike along an unridable section. Then the thunderstorm game began again… did I have enough energy to ride fast across the next pampa to outrace some brewing clouds? After wavering a bit I decided to go for it, fueled by adrenaline again I starting cruising (9mph that is) across the next vast expanse of volcanic pumice in front of me. Just when I was starting to relax a flash blasted over my right shoulder and I immediately spun around for a hasty retreat. I still had a few more hours of daylight but there was no way in hell I was going to put myself in the same situation two days in a row. Made camp in a marginal depression and listened to the booming around me.
This trip was my third big international mountain bike touring trip, Indian Himalayas in 2000, Patagonia in 2001 and now northern South America. If I was asked to sum up the one thing that I enjoy most about these trips it would be the feeling of waking up in the morning and saying “Lets see what happens today!”. The unpredictability of days or weeks on the road or trail make up for months or years when the outcome of each day is already known.
So here is part one I suppose:
In short, I rode into Bolivia from Peru and had my sights set on the remote high altitude deserts of the southwest portion of the country. After spending a week around La Paz doing other fun rides it was time to get down to the business. I bussed 12 hrs overnight south to the town of Uyuni where I was hoping to meet up with a pair of Aussie Cyclists that I had met over the new Year in a remote valley in Peru. Turns out their plans had changed and I was on my own.
With a certain nervousness I walked around the bleak dusty town trying to get information about water availavility, track conditions and distances from 4x4 tour agencies (there are lots) Then after filling up 15 liters of water I headed out onto the Salar de Uyuni - the biggest salt flat in the world. The salar was a place I had dreamed of biking across for years and I was super excited at funally getting out there on my own. I first entered the salar at a spot recommended by a truck driver, turns out to be totally bad info, the salty mud quickly reminded me of the winter biking currently going on in alaska as I pushed for a few miles into a flat mirage of endless glaring white...
My foray on the Salar was cut short however after an overnight camp on the salt, and hearing reports from 4x4 drivers that the western portions were covered in "mucho agua!" The though of being out there alone walking my bike through 80 miles of salt water quickly made me retrace my route back to Uyuni. Little did I know that I would be back in a few weeks to cross the salar in its entirety from the opposite side...
I headed southeast through desert country, eventually really heading into no-man's land near a little village of Alota. The Ayrama indians that live out in these parts of the Altiplano are some of the toughest people I can think of. They live in adobe huts and heard llamas and sheep which provide much of what they have. Quinoa - a hearty high protien grain- is grown where there is enough moisture. Even looking for simple things like onions are non-existent.
Continuing on, 200 miles out from Uyuni, brought me in to real volcano country, were I climbed up to 13,000' and didn’t drop back down for the next 8 days. The track (not road) conditions varied from horrible to unridable, the volcanic sand at times too soft, or so deeply washboarded that it was less abusive to walk. A full day's effort netted me about 30 miles, 40 miles and I was destroyed. At one point I passed a small spring, realizing that water is gold in these parts I filled up 17 liters, it the last source of water for 2 days and 2 nights. Amazingly enough the lakes in these areas are so full of minerals that they are not-potable, however they take on wild red-white colors which provide the feeding grounds for 4 different species of Flamengos. Seeing the bueatiful birds on brackish lakes at 15,000' in the middle of the desert is something to be experienced!
After an all day climb of the Ramada Pampa I entered a bit of a canyon as black thunderclouds brewed above. I stopped to consider my options, ate some peanuts and put on warmer clothes, waiting sounded like a cold idea and turning around was out of the question. I continued on hoping that the cloud I was seeing was just an isolated event. Wrong – As soon as I crested back on to the flat expanse I was surrounded by nasty black thunderclouds. Nothing scares me now more than lightning! There was absolutely no shelter anywhere to be found. Surged by adrenaline, pushing the middle ring at 15,500’ with a loaded bike on a horrible track I found strength in myself that I had not known. Watching a mini tornado among the lightning strikes over my left shoulder I made my way into a broad drainage of sorts and down into safer ground pushing my bike most of the time through the loose gravel. Adrenaline back to a more reasonable level I suddenly had a very sharp pain in my left knee, couldn’t even turn the pedal over without doubling over in pain! Mother****ingShit! Now what have I done! Guessed I pushed a bit too hard dodging lighting. Feeling beaten I popped 4 iduprophrin, hoped I just inflamed something and continued to hobble down the sandy swale. Anything to get further away from the black clouds of death .
Reaching what is known as the Stoli desert, I began to test out my injured limb. To my surprise and joy I could actually bend it and complete a pedal rotation. Gradually as I reached ridable track did I put a bit more pressure into strokes. As an hour ticked by I was able to stop thinking about walking and just ride the vast rolling terrain ahead of me. The storm that scared the crap out of me was still brewing off to my left and I kept yelling “you cant get me Ha Ha!!” while flipping it the bird. It felt good..
The following day I pulled out of camp at 15,200’, frost was everywhere and it took my toes about 2 hours or riding to thaw out, I was heading to Laguna Colorado this day, where there is a park ranger station, and water source to fill up my bags. Reaching Laguna Colorado was a tough and rocky 18 miles in 4 hours. Upon sighting the enormous red lake in the distance, the winds began to blast, simply blast. It was the strongest headwind I’d ever had, by this point I was really learning that nothing out here comes easy and I was being tested daily it seemed, to see if my skin was thick enough.
Pulling out of Laguna Colorado the winds continued as I walked my bike along an unridable section. Then the thunderstorm game began again… did I have enough energy to ride fast across the next pampa to outrace some brewing clouds? After wavering a bit I decided to go for it, fueled by adrenaline again I starting cruising (9mph that is) across the next vast expanse of volcanic pumice in front of me. Just when I was starting to relax a flash blasted over my right shoulder and I immediately spun around for a hasty retreat. I still had a few more hours of daylight but there was no way in hell I was going to put myself in the same situation two days in a row. Made camp in a marginal depression and listened to the booming around me.
This trip was my third big international mountain bike touring trip, Indian Himalayas in 2000, Patagonia in 2001 and now northern South America. If I was asked to sum up the one thing that I enjoy most about these trips it would be the feeling of waking up in the morning and saying “Lets see what happens today!”. The unpredictability of days or weeks on the road or trail make up for months or years when the outcome of each day is already known.
