The Final Chapter
Leaving Sacabaya I rode for another hour feeling really happy. It had been a day full of unexpected events never knowing what was going to happen next. I had some of the music from the movie "The Motorcycle Diaries" in my head, and for a change, the wind was at my back. The following morning the skies were clear enough that I could see Volcan Sajama way off in the distance now dominating the horizon. I made my way further south across another vast pampa, making several turns at intersections that I had no idea which way to go. After a few hours I reached a new road, that was actually a real road, graded and everything! I was still unsure where the heck I was and stopped in a small village to try to ask someone. Lots of buildings, lots of llama poop, no people. I entered the tiny adobe church for some clues as where I was but still no luck. I had lunch and continued on heading for a large mountain in front of me. On the map there was another route to where I wanted to go, but at this point I was going over the pass. My knees were bothering me quite a bit so I ended up walking my bike for most of the pass, then continued riding down the back side to the village of Huachacalla. It was amazing to gain some altitude and get some perspective on the terrain I had been covering the past few days.
At Huachacalla I arrived in the middle of the day when everything is closed. I bought what I could which was some prickly pear cactus fruits and proceeded on my way.
I had now entered a bit more populated area. There is a main road from Oruro which passes through into Chile serving salt and sulfer mines, near the border and the Salar de Coipasa. My route would take to the northwest corner of the Salar de Coipasa then south the west side of the Salar de Uyuni, then 110 miles across to Uyuni. 4 or 5 days I was thinking but many unknowns. The Salar de Uyuni is the largest salt flat in the world, and is some of the flattest terrain on the planet. At one point in time they were vast lakes, but eventually drained leaving behind mineral deposits leached out from the mountains. I had researched riding on the salar's and knew that first you needed to have your navigation dialed, second you need alot of water, and third if you screwed up or broke down, you were more or less on your own unless a 4x4 happened to come by. My main concern was the amount of water covering the salt, dry you can cruise, a little bit and it becomes a trippy reflective landscape, too much and you are in for a salt bath…
I arrived at the tiny village of Villa Vitalina on the edge of the Salar de Coipasa with more than a fair share of doubts. It looked like a big lake, and it seemed crazy that I was going to bike across it. All of the locals and truckers I had talked too said there was a lot of water, or just shook their heads in acknowledgement that I was genuinely crazy. At this point however I was going for it, besides its not like they knew what a modern bike was capable of, or had ever tried it had they?? After a stormy night I got an early start and made my way across the salt mine road to the large island in the middle of the salar. I made it to a truck stop where a woman was cooking up food for the salt truckers before their long trip to Oruro. At first the truckers just stared a bit, but later once they realized I could crack a few jokes in Spanish, they warmed up. It was pretty hilarious, I think truckers worldwide have the same sick sense of humor. After acknowledging that I needed to be riding a woman more than my bike, or at least have one strapped to my rear rack, I headed out and began the mission across the salar.
Things started out well, I was surrounded by water but was able to connect patches of salt where trucks had been driving. The horizon was a 360 degree mirage as the reflections worked their magic. Not wanting to re-enter Chile I turned off the truck route and south into the unknown. On the map I had about 30 miles of salar to cover, and I didn't want to get caught in another thunderstorm while standing in electrolyte solution. The water was coating everything in salt but was ridable and I was able to make about 10 mph at best. Sometimes things got a bit slushy but overall I was amazed at how firm the salt remained under the 2" of water. As the miles ticked by I entered the southern end of the salar, I began to get away from the real thick hard salt and into mud covered salt. This stuff slowed me down considerably but was still ridable. The patterns of the mud and salt, then 1" of water made for some incredible reflections. Pretty soon I was on the fringe of the salar and got off my bike at a rocky outcrop with huge towering cacti. The expanse of desert, flatness, salt flat and distant volcanoes were beyond my definition of surreal.
Continuing south from the Salar de Coipasa I re-entered solid ground again and began crossing an endless pampa on a gun barrel straight track. The track was so deeply rutted, loose and wash boarded I spent most of the distance either pushing my bike or riding off to the side. I Reached the tiny village of Hizo (yes they are all tiny). It looked like I was going to have another dry evening and poked around for some water. A young girl eventually showed me a hole in the ground, when I pushed the flat stone aside I could see water about 10' down in well of sorts but there was no apparent way to get it out, not even a bucket on a string. Oh well, I thought I still had enough. Leaving Hizo I crossed yet another pampa and a few sediment choked streams before camping for the night. It had been a big day, lots of miles and Salar #1 crossed. My confidence is biking through the water on the Salar de Uyuni was pretty high, but it was three times bigger.
The following day I was feeling pretty tired and needed a rest day. My plan was to get to the town of Llica about 20 miles south, stock up on water, and camp on the edge of the Salar de Uyuni. On the way to Llica I was walking my bike up a hill and found an old motorcycle license plate lying on the ground. Perfect! Bolivia 15999, I got some cord and tied it to my rear rack, should get some laughs from the locals! Arriving in Llica was a bit strange, it is the largest town for a long ways, home to a small university and military base. They don't get too many cycle tourists there either, I got curious looks from just about everyone. After mulling about and trying to get last minute information from locals and truckers about salar conditions it was time to roll out. They all said that the water was either very little or knee deep, why bother asking? Leaving Llica I passed a military checkpoint manned by a crew of teenagers. We had a bit of fun together and joked around a bit before it was time to go. They took note of the license plate and even wrote down my number in their log book. On to the Salar.
The feeling of approaching such a vast expanse of flat nothing was intense. I was self sufficient and had 17 liters of water, enough for three days if I pushed it. I made my way around several peninsulas of land before reaching a point where the route passed a signed entrance to the salar. There actually are busses that cross the salar a few times a week and trucks which connect Llica with Uyuni and two other villages on the north and south edges of the Salar. In addition there are 4x4 tour groups that visit the eastern parts of the salar before heading south to Laguna Colorado. I knew that tracks in the salt could therefore not be trusted for navigation. Camped among ancient coral rocks that night, I plotted my course on government issued military maps - 120 degrees southeast for 60 miles would take me to Isla del Pescado - fish island. From there due east for 20 miles would bring me to another island where I hoped to camp. Feeling a healthy blend of nervous excitement I went to sleep.
Go time! Big breakfast of eggs and was on the bike at 7:00am. The entrance to the salar got me a bit nervous as there were big pools of water and the salt fairly slushy. Soon thereafter though I was riding along making good time on a well traveled route. It was a beautiful morning, sun blaring at me to the east with clear skies. Little by little the track I was following petered out as I was holding my compass bearing. Within an hour of riding there was only a single vague set of tire tracks in the salt. The slushy surface also faded away, replaced by endless hardened polygons. The polygon riding was quite abusive, no where else to go however as I surveyed the vast expanse of salt around me. A bit later a sliver of land emerged out of the mirage on the horizon, must be Isla del Pescado I think to myself and patted myself on the back for sticking to my bearing. Now at least I had something to aim for. Soon enough I was riding on some water. It took just a tiny bit to change things dramatically. A bit between the polygons or just a very thin covering made for awesome reflections. A bit further and the water was about 1" deep, deep enough to make everything soaked in salt water and for the most impressive reflections yet. "I am a salty *****…" I joke to myself as I cake on more sunscreen on top of dried salty skin.
Deeper into the Salar, the water maxed out at about 2" for about 30 miles. As I got closer to Isla del Pescado I was confident that I could pull it off. This was doable after all and my determination was paying off. Reaching the island I went through some pretty deep water before reaching the shore. As I relaxed on the beach all the salt on my body and everything I had crystallized into a thick white flakey crust as it dried out in the strong sunlight "I'm such a salty *****"… I walked uphill a bit to get some perspective on the surroundings. I could see my next island destination as a sliver of black in the reflective mirage, it also looked like there was a lot more water between here and there. Saddling up I headed out.
The feeling of being exposed is unmatched in the middle of the salar, there is no shelter, there are no other people, the closest land is either a deserted island or 50 miles away. It a humbling place to bike across solo, yet at the same time is empowering. The 20 miles to Isla Inca Huasi were "turn off the brain" miles, the conditions stayed the same with 3" of spraying salt water and bumpy polygons. I could easily see where I needed to go so I just grinded away for 3 hours as the island very slowly got bigger and bigger and Isla del Pescado was left behind in my wake.
Isla Inca Huasi is a main destination for 4x4 tour groups. I pulled in around 1:30 just as a whole bunch of groups were making it their lunch stop. I was not quite ready for re-emergence with other tourists. I stopped to talk with a group of young French, and the first thing out of one of their mouths was "its much better from the roof of a land crusier.." as he lit a cigarette. I didn't quite know what to say, only that it pissed me off and decided that would be my first and last conversation at this place. I made my way to the back side of the island to hide and make camp in solitude.
Watching the sunset that evening from the top of the island was beyond words but something like "outrageously stunning" comes to mind. This evening was to be my very last time camping in 5 months of traveling. It was a bit sad to think about, but I had no problems with it once the winds picked up to 40 mph and began pulling my tent apart. "Always going out with a fight" I thought to myself as I re-orientated my tent and tried building rock walls at 11:00pm.
Last day of biking for the trip. I headed out from Inca Huasi on beautiful smooth and fast salt with no water. It was the kind of stuff you could drag race on and I popped it into the big ring for the first time since I left the highway a week earlier. At this point navigation was a bit fun as I was heading to the eastern edge of the Salar where there is an actual hotel made of salt blocks, then access to a road on the land. The maps I had were so outdated that I had to guess on my bearing a bit and hope for the best. Hours ticked by and the riding grew a bit monotonous, I kept seeing 4x4's on various other paths off in the distance and was still hoping I was heading in the right direction. Just as I had hoped however could eventually see the black square shape of the hotel pop up out of the mirage a bit off to my right. Nailed it! A while later I pulled up to the building feeling totally psyched. From there I was home free, 10 more miles of Salt and only 3 more hours to Uyuni. I ate pretty much all my remaining snack food and headed out. I hauled ass all the way back to Uyuni pretty much racing one of the beater busses that travel the Salar. It was an amazing feeling pulling into Uyuni, I had done what I set out to do. Biked the entirety of the western Altiplano and crossed the two Salars. Something I had dreamed of doing for years and the inspiration for the trip to begin with. Next up was finding a pressure washer to clean up all that salt!
That was it for the bike, I made my way to Potosi then to La Paz by buss before 4 days of flying back to Alaska. I don't have the travel bug anymore, we'll see how long this trip will hold me over before changing my life again.
If you want to do something, do it now!
Thanks for reading!
Photos:
Villa Vitilina with the north edge of the Salar de Coipasa in the background.
Salt mine truckers in the Salar de Coipasa
in the salar
Muddy salt in the southern end of the Salar de Coipasa
View of bike and salar
