It was now time to leave Argentina. I had spent a glorious four weeks there, seen many things but the cost of it, especially in Buenos Aires had me worried about how much I was spending so it was time to leave and head north across the border and into Bolivia, the one place where it is near impossible to spend your hard earned cash.

I left Salta early in the morning catching the bus with a company called Flecha to La Quica, the small frontier town on theArgentinian side of the border. I had a seat right at the front giving me a commanding view of the road ahead, right above the driver. It was so hot that day my iphone turned off with the little icon saying that he was too sweaty so I had to give it a rest. The scenery out the window was vast and barren, not alot to see, the odd hill in the distance, cacti, llama's, sand devils and what not. It took seven hours to get to the border, not so bad really as I'm so used to these long distances at this stage. The only thing was that it was during the day, I wasnt used to travelling these longer distances as I'd usually do them at night to save on a nights accomodation.

In La Quica, the town is full of locals not a lot of gringos at all in sight. All that goes on here is people passing through into Bolivia and vice versa, not a whole pile more. I cut to the chase and find a taxi that will bring me to the border, another kilometre or so away from where the bus stopped. Theres a few more gringos at this stage getting their stamps so I feel a bit more assured of where I am, alone at the border. I get my stamp and across I go into Bolivia, to the town of Villazon. A week previous, there had been no buses due to workers union strike. The workers wanted a 100% increase in their government pensions but the head honchos were only offering them an 80% rise. The Bolivians are not like the Irish in this sense, yeah they picket, stoppages and they whinge but what they do better is that they dynamite the bridges and threaten to blow them up if they dont get what they want. How do ya like that SIPTU? I was lucky, the strikes had stopped so I was good to go, otherwise I wouldnt have crossed the border and be left in some gunslinger town all on my ownio. The plan was to get to the town of Uyuni, the main starting point to do the Salar de Uyuni (salt flats), the largest salt pans in the world. Unfortunately for me or luckily as it turned out, the bus to Uyuni wasnt until the morning and staying in Villazon, the kip that it is wasnt an option that I wanted to take up. I farted about the bus station asking the bus times and bump into a group of gringos, Louis and Holly from England, Dylan and Scott from Australia, Caros from Argentina and Vegard from Norway. They had planned to do the Salar from another town called Tupiza and end up in Uyuni instead. The normal route is Uyuni-Uyuni so thankfully they asked if I would like to join and change it up a bit.

The bus from Villazon to Tupiza was onboard this bus that looked like a 1940's warplane with the under carraige stripped away ad replaced with wheels. It was huge and really looked as if there was a gun turret at the top at some stage. The bus took two hours to get to Tupiza and some of that journey was taken up with visualising how rough the women in Bolivia are. This b**** had a young boy, a lovely little fella who was cryinig but she was having none of it. She held him like a sack of spuds and hit him like overflowing clothes in a suitcase. How she could be so cruel, I will never know and the only time I think the little fella smiled was when we smiled back at him, making funny faces as we do. Anyways, we arrive in Tupiza, a smallish town nestled once again along a nearly dried up river at the bottom of a valley. The scenery again is amazing, dark browns, reds and yellows, scathered trees and scrub. The town is kind of cowboy-ish, not because you could rent horses there but because it just had that feel to it. We checked in to our hostel and head to our tour company to settle up, Alexandro Tours. That evening we had some shopping to do, snacks, drink, fags for the next four days. One of the items that I managed to pick up was lip balm. The altitude was rising and was only going to get higher and colder so this was a necessity but what caught my eye with this particular lip balm was its name, Placenta and it was yum!

An early start was required as we headed out for the first day in the jeeps but before we headed to the early market to get some brekkie. To give an example of how cheap this country was to become, the bread there what I bought myself, enough for two days, pretty much equated to 1c (euro), absolutely ridiculous, so we took full advantage. Later we met our driver, Palermo, a local man, late thirties I suppose, no english but had serious panchant for the local music he played in the jeep, something we had to address very, very quickly! I all for embracing local music and whatnot, but this music that they play along the Andes would grind your patience to a halt, pure and utter gack it is. Wheres the USB slot, whack on a bit of Crazy P, please!

The roads we were travelling on we dusty and sprewn with rocks, we didnt get a lot of speed up as we negotiated the rocks, so these four days were going to be slow and arduous for the driver. We were grand in the back though, laid out of the soft leather of the Landcruiser's seats, chatting away checking cocoa, trying to get whatever buzz we could from the leaves. Our first stop was at a red lake called Polulous, red due to the colour of the algae that grew in it but not alot of fish we were tobe found. The one thing that was in abundance though was hundreds of Flamingos, chilling out on the red hued water. The contrast to its surroundings were amazing and made for some great snaps too. Lunch was served there also along the shores, out of the back of the jeep. It reminded me of when I used to go coursing with my grandparents a million years ago, sitting in the boot with the flask and a hang sangidge for fodder. Further along the road, we were to pass a green lake called Cerrilo, with volcanos in the distance ready to burst at any time and then we stopped at an abandoned Inca town called Nazarenito from the 1600's to have a wander. The altitude at this stage was getting to everyone. Not light headed or sick but just tightness in the chest that made breathing and moving somewhere quick a small bit difficult. The scenery was very mountainous but vast at the same time, we were never near the mountains really as the road snaked along the bottom of these peaks but what we did see was the odd wildlife now and then and animals such as herds of llama's, the andean condor soaring above our heads, alpaca's, a rare breed of ostrich only found in the andes and of course, the bright pink flamingos. 4,800masl (metres above sea level) was the highest that we got that day. It was fooking freezing when we got out of the warm jeep to get photos at the wooden marker. The minute I could hear that shutter release from the camera, I ran back to the warmth of the jeep before any external parts of me froze and broke off, and when it comes from a Paddy, it means its cold! None of us in the jeep spoke spanish enough to hold a conversation, so Palermo had to put up with house music and some hipster tunes instead and he absoltuely hated it. The sigh he let out at one stage when we changed over from his music to one of the lads was gas, "aaahhhhhh", poor fella, a sigh of distaste, but he had a s***e taste in music too and this was his job so tough luck bozo. All was going well until the warm afternoon sun hit us. Palermo hits the air con full blast and we're all met with this gigantic dust cloud billowing through the car. Cough, cough, splutter splutter, windows are now down for the rest of the day as we complete the 350km and 12hours of driving. We pull into a small settlement called San Antonio de Lipez for the night, dusty streets with concrete compounds either side. None of these places seem to have a window, probably due to the expense of glass, so we ponder as to what kind of place were going to be staying in for the night. The night was beautiful, clear skies with the most amazing moon and when your this far away from light pollution, the views in the nightsky are surreal. Accomodation was fine, it was clean but it was cold, so that meant no hot showers. It being so cold, you would expect an aul' radiator hear and there, but no, not even the idea of one. God only knows what temperature it was outside but its rather feckin cold when you have to wear two pairs of socks, long johns, trousers, a t-shirt, hoody, a fleece, hat and gloves all to bed as you nestle under about three layers of heavy sheets! Thats cold!

To get the body into motion, taking into regard that theres no hot water, I wash the hands, the face and under the oxters and cannot feel any of them afterwards. I couldnt wait for the warmth of the day to start properly as we hopped into the warm jeeps for the day around 7:30 or so. There was four of us in the jeep, one in the passenger seat, two in the middle and me, sprawled out in the third row, really made for shopping bags and bold children. The first thing we see was a llama coral at an area called Pueblo Fantasma belonging so some farmer. It was a great chance to get up close and personal to these comical animals and get some great photos of them chewing their cud. The flamingos again we back in force today and again at another red lagoon called Laguna Morejon. From there, it was a three hour drive to the natural hot springs high in the mountains at 4,400masl, a place called Quetana Chico. We pulled over beside the house there where lunch was to be prepared and got into our bathers. At 4,400masl, yes it was cold, but not getting into these hot waters was not on option, plus we hadnt had a shower in a few days so there was bound to be a bit of soup coming off us! The water was super hot, hotter in places in this small circular pool. The locals had built a concrete wall around where the water was coming up from the ground, so as you felt your way around the gravely bottom, you could feel the heat become more intense as you dug with your hands throught the gravel below. The heat was great for your body, any aches and pains removed just like a jacuzzi. The temptation to put your head under the water was always there but be aware that when you pull that head of hair out, the bitter, bitter wind chill will have those little ears and scalp frozen off you. Of course, I did it, without thinking and on comes this onslaught something like a gigantic icecream brain freeze. After a meal of rice and veg and what not, we get back in the jeep, a Toyota Landcruiser Amazon, if I hadnt mentioned before, so its got all the bells and whistles and we shouldnt get stuck. We head east towards a volcano called Volcan Licancabur but didnt go any further as the glacier on top had melted and it just looked like a big brown hill. We head higher and higher and soon enough were at 5,800masl, the highest I've ever been in my life. Its as white as Santy's grotto outside as we go through the snow. Suddenly, the other jeep in our party gets stuck so all we have to get out to try and push. Now remember we're in some lovely jeeps, well they were at the time they were new anyways but they havent been maintained to their usual standards, something to what we might be accostumed to in Ireland but in fact nothing in Bolivia is to what it should be as far as mechanical things go. We get out and, poof, we're a foot and a bit deep in the snow and I aint wearing snow boots. The driver asks us to push and so we do, back wheel spinning widly but going nowhere. I suggest him sticking it into 4x4, "quatro por quatro". "No, no" he says. Im like, "what the f***", your stuck, smash her into gear. Turns out, this reputable company has some lovely jeeps with diff's that dont work. A superb job, especially when your on a 4x4 adventure. What did they think, that we'd be driving across a golf course? Anyways, with a lot of pushing and shoving, soaking wet shoes and frozen to the bones might I add, we get the jeep out of the snow and urge him to keep going till he hits gravel. I'm dying at this stage, my chest heaving like an asthmatic after beating Usain Bolt in the 100m's, so I lie in the shopping bag area of the jeep to calm myself down. Next up for our eyes to feast on is the thermal geysers called Sol de Manana, around 4,800masl that are just exploding right out of the ground. The smell of raw eggs (sulphur) is just unnatural if your in the way when the wind blows your direction. We get up right close and personal with the geyser, literally on the edge when the steam blast through so you can imagine, we got some great snaps of people bending over to do massive farts! It was super dangerous being that close for if anyone fell in they'd be a hot mucky glimmer of their former selves. For what reason, I dont know, not being able to breath, I wanted a smoke so I head over behind the jeep out of the wind to spark up. No dice, nada. The smoke wont light due to the thinness of oxygen at this altitude so I waddle back over to the jeep to head for our next place of interest. Back down the hill we go out of that really high altitude to get a breath and what do we come across only another red lake called Laguna Colorado with yet more flamingos. What made this place special wasnt the lake but its surroundings. I said to myself that day, that if there was ever a place for Hollywood to film a moonscape, this was the place, albeit a tad bit inaccessible. Its was vast, barren, not a whole pile of lifeforms to be seen other than the flamingos and even for them, it was only the strongest that survived, the shores of the lake littered with dead young . We're heading for the nights accomodation at this stage when Palermo pulls over and lets us out to wander around these rock formations that appear out of nowhere. We think he's gone to the top of the hill to wait for us but instead has done, right well, left us and headed for grub himself, the p**** Its a good 30mins back with wind blowing that would take paint off a wall and of course Im without a jacket as I thought I'd be only out for a minute or so. Anyways, we follow the road on foot and land into the small settlement that we're staying at called Villa Mar. The town is covered in dust, without nothing really only a covered basketball court. They may not have a pot to piss in, but they can shoot hoops. Lucky them, and their only four foot nothing! Christ, we didnt have a basketball court in the CBS at home, never mind these mountain people in Bolivia. Dinner that night was actually good and they whipped up some cocktails out of nowhere. They were piss poor though, but marks for trying. I hit the hay exhausted, weak and couldnt sleep. Looking forward to getting up at stupid o'clock the following morning.

A piss poor sleep was had the night previous and I struggled to rise the head. Once again it was baltic, both inside and out, so sitting down at the breakfast table, looking across at one another, you'd swear that the whole lot of us were sitting outside on top of Mt. Everest. We found out over breakfast that the small village where we were had a nickname that was given to them from a tour company many years back called Lost Italy. This was due to the fact that a certain tour operator had actually driven off leaving a lonesome 'Gianni' alone in the mountains. It wasnt until after hours or days that he managed to find this small settlement where we waited for days to be collected and brought back to civilisation. Poor guy, as it wasnt a place I'd love to be hanging out. There's only so much cups of tea that one could drink and putting up with local mounties staring at you all day. Back in the jeep, Palermo changed his taste in music as we rolled out of camp to a more modern taste. For days, it was high mountain Andean crap that I cant stand, to now it was Katie Perry, but to be more precise, Katie Perry's greatest hits. Should I just get out and walk back to Uyuni, I asked myself? There was a s*** load of driving to be done that day to our accomodation that night on the salt flats. We even got the whiskey going in the jeep knowing that we'd be on the sauce later that night. We got to the hostel called Hostel de Sal Samarikuna around 6ish, and you bet ya, it was made entirely from salt. Salt floors, salt walls, salt tables, even the bed was made from salt. I even licked the wall to make sure we werent being codded! It was super comfy also and provided the best amount of insulation we had since being on the trip. We were also back down at a respectable altitude so I'm sure that that would have helped with the cold also. It was one of the lads birthdays that night, so we tucked into the vino with 'tucked' being an understatement. Twelve bottles of wine and numerous beers and whiskey later we headed to bed flaming drunk. I was so glad that we had to be up in two hours to drive to a high point on the salt for sun rise. NOT!

Sure enough, awake we were two hours later, still flaming but you know what your like after just two hours kip, sher theres no place for ya only the leaba. It was pitch black outside as we drove along the white salt to the small island in the middle of the Salar called Incahuasi. Dawn was breaking as we neared the island which provided one of the most amazing sunrises I've seen, smashing reds, oranges, purples and so forth lifting over the horizon. Of course, we had to climb to the top of this small little hill to watch the sunrise. Why we couldnt just sit in the jeeps with the radio on I doubt know, but still I was glad to see what I saw once up there. Back on the salt, breakfast was being whipped up from the boot of the jeeps and I horsed out the last of the whiskey I had. I was like a bootlegger during Prohibition times in the US when everyone saw what I had on offer. It was to be the only cure for ailing soldiers at 6am in the morning as we giggled and laugh the drink from our bodies. The Salar itself is just massive at 10,500km squared, flat salt for as far as the eye can see in some directions which made the view even more impressive. We took the jeep out in the morning light and headed away from the crowds that had gathered for sunrise to take some perspective photos of us. This proved extremely difficult for us, not really getting off the shots we had wanted and not giving the toy smurfs I had bought a good run out in the photos. Note to anyone doing this in the future, an iPhone is the best for these as it doesnt have a focus mechanism like normal camera's so you'll be able to get your shots off with ease. At the end of the Salar, lets call it the shore, we stopped at a monument with some of the worlds nations flags handing from it. Ireland wasnt there, so I got a photo with an unimpressed Peter and pissed off. We stopped off in a small town for lunch and then into the nearby Uyuni, our finishing point.

It had been an amazing four days with these people that I just randomly bumped into, leaving me with some great memories of that part of the world. Fantastic scenery, local cultures, rare animals, all in some of the most inaccessible places on the earth. Heading into Uyuni took a bight of the shine off the tour as the town is a fooking complete dump, a kip and I mean it in every sense of the word. I couldnt care less what their excuses are but the locals there are either just down right lazy, dont have a clue or theres someone in government who needs an ass whooping. We had just left some of the most pristine landscape Bolivia has to offer and then to drive along the main road into Uyuni that connects it with the Salar a short distance away but to have the surrounding countryside absolutely covered in black bin bags. It was very sad to see such a poor effort in disposing of waste but then again thats what you have to put with in one of South America's poorest countries. Alas, I didnt let that bother me as new adventures were ahead, all we had to do was bide some time in Uyuni before an overnight bus to La Paz.

South America, as big as it is, is a small place and we proved it that day. Just out of the jeep and walking down the street, who do I bump into only Mike, a friend I met in Praia Pipa some months back on the north eastern coast of Brazil. It was great to see him, to catch up on his travels, so we had a few beers and shot the breeze. He then introduced to me an Irish girl who was in his salar group called Vivienne. I did the chivalrous thing and introduced myself, it wasnt often that you meet a Paddy in these parts and to her reply, "yeah, we've met already". The longest five seconds of my life. Didnt I leave a club in BA a month or so ago and share a taxi with a few more including Vivienne and I never remembered. Perhaps a few shandys to many that night. Later, we had to get on a night bus that was supposed to be a rough ride, so I halved a valium with Vegard and dozed off hoping I'd see La Paz after rubbing the crust from my eyes.