Day 28: Salar de Uyuni

Today we ventured into the Salt Flats of Uyuni, a stunningly beautiful landscape of 360 degree panoramic views of pure white ground and sharp blue sky. We were going to be travelling through a veritable wilderness, the group of 16 split among four cars, for the next three days. Our drivers, all native Bolivians, collected us at 11:45 from the accommodation and loaded up the car with all our baggage.

Excited, Ting, Laura, Shan and I introduced ourselves to our driver Gonzalo, a short, friendly Bolivian with a bad ass cowboy hat and driving gloves. Our first stop was to the train cemetery, not far out of the town of Uyuni. A strange collection of old, abandoned, crumbling trains. Trains had been given to the Bolivians by the English with no instructions how to use or maintain them. The Bolivians used a local biomass fuel which would burn for an incredibly long time instead of coal and the trains promptly fell apart.

From there, we headed towards the Salt Flats, making one final stop at a market seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Behind this dusty, sleepy, poorly connected little commercial venture, was a salt factory. Well, factory may be a stretch. An old man, a pile of salt and some plastic bags basically. A little cottage industry that I was happy to support. 1 boliviano for a bag of lovely, course salt. Nice.

The middle of nowhere would soon have a new point of reference. As we drove, we got further and further away from anything remotely resembling civilisation. Over the course of the next few days, this sense of removedness would only deepen.

Not far into the Salt Flats we arrived at the Salt Museum. Not much more than a shelter with a collection of flags, from visitors from all over the globe, flapping in the gentle wind outside, we stopped and had our first opportunity to marvel at the blinding white and piercing blue that opened out before us in every direction. It was truly magnificent. I think each and everyone of us were blown away by the view.

As we drove, I managed to glean some information from our timid driver (timid only in personality, not in driving attitude!) who told us that the Salt Flats, el Salar, was once a sea. Tectonic movement raised the land and created the Andes, locking in the sea. The depth of the salt here ranges from about 0.5m - 1m at the outskirts to approximately 125m throughout the rest. Beneath lies the largest lithium reserves on the planet. Fascinatingly, as water evaporates from the salt through the dry season, honeycomb shaped cracks cover the surface, reflecting the form of the salt at a molecular level.

An hour into this impossibly white and seemingly infinite terrain, we stopped to carry out our rite of passage: the perspective photos. As usual, my initial cynicism for the "must have" tourist photo gave way to, "ah sure, feck it". In fairness though, the sheer thrill and excitement caused by the achingly beautiful scenery would make you want to jump! Just whether you need to capture that on camera or not (for over an hour), I don't know...

Once everyone had enough of rolling around in the salt, posing our heads off, we went on towards Fish Island or "Incahuasi". This island, which bursts out of the middle of el Salar, is covered in cacti - life, somehow, thriving among all the great big nothing that surrounds it. Parked up, we went for a short hike up through the island. At first, when I looked at the stone of the island, I thought it looked a lot similar to coral. Because that's exactly what it was! When you remember what the Salar once was, it's obvious, but standing in what effectively feels like a dessert, dry and full of nothing, it's hard to think that this place was once full of water. The views from here, as breath taking as the Salar itself. Over the course of the next few days I would see incredible views, each matching if not out-doing the last.

Desperate to get down in time for sunset, Vale rushed us back to the cars, and we drove a short, speedy distance back into the white, where we were marched out and put in a line to watch the sunset. Vale produced a bottle of tequila (tequila sunset?) and as we already had the salt, the only thing we were missing were the limes...

As the sun set, we witnessed something close to divine. The vanishing sun changed the colours in the sky to a mix of oranges, blues and purples to the west, the night sky bleeding from the horizon and into the sky above. Simultaneously, crisp, white light seemed to burst from the horizon to the east, the last bit of light clinging to the sky. Standing in this enormity of space, where the next closest feature in the landscape are the dwarfed mountains which merge with the distant, perfect horizon line, was haunting. It was really, truly special and something I'll never forget. I feel really privileged, blessed even to have experienced such beauty.

It got extremely cold, extremely quickly, so we had to move on. Driving in the dark, out of the Salar and towards a remote village hours away, we arrived late in the evening.

Freezing cold and hungry we arrived at a community lodge where we'd be spending the night. In a small dining hall (the walls made of blocks of salt!) we met our host, a local man who, with their small community of only 20 families welcomed us. A delicious three course meal of soup, barbecued chicken and raspberry mousse filled us to pop.

In our salt filled huts (in was also the floor) we settled in for the night (additional sleeping bag an absolute must! Well below freezing).

Accommodation: Jukil community lodge, Ajencha
Weather: It was cold on the Salar, but not windy, so the sun, bouncing off the Salt, was warm (and also burny); at night, it was well below freezing. But a comfortable bed with plenty of bed sheets, sleeping bag and layers made for a comfortable nights sleep!