It was time to leave Chile (and the country wide obsession with ham and cheese?), and having found a company that promised us a reasonably functional vehicle with a reasonably sober driver (or maybe that was the other way around?), we made our way to the Bolivian border crossing. We've passed through a number of odd border posts in the past but this had to rank with one of the more desolate- a lonely shack in a mountain valley in the middle of nowhere sitting at 5,000 metres above sea level. Even though we had spent a couple of days in San Pedro trying to get used to higher altitudes, we had jumped up almost another 2,000 metres in a short period of time, and just handing over our passports was a breath taking effort. Altitude sickness is a real possibility here- dizziness, shortness of breath and headaches are common symptoms, but extended bouts of nausea and vomiting are not unheard of (although some of our rougher looking travel companions seemed to be fighting hangovers with much the same symptoms). The locals swear by chewing coca leaves to help, and although they do relieve the symptoms, as a finely tuned athlete I was worried about failing a drug test which might eliminate the possibility of the Rio Olympics. We stuck to the legal (probably) substances provided by Kristie, our drug store friend from the Grand Cayman, and outside of a few involuntary twitches and an inexplicable desire to yodel, we seemed to be fine.

Right from the border area, Bolivia was proving to be a feast for the eyes. In addition to the barren and varied geographic landscape, the lakes all seemed to be different fluorescent-colour (due to differing mineral content), and there was another geyser field (which took us to 4,800 metres above sea level- the sulphur smells and lack of oxygen tends to buckle the knees. Even the sparse selection of critters was interesting- flamingos in the Andes Mountains (?), vizcachas (which seem to be the love child of a rat and rabbit), ostriches (??), vicunas and llamas. Stone trees and an island of cacti rounded out some of the bizarre and captivating sights.

But the Salar de Uyuni (Salt Flats) was the star of the show- the reason we came here- and they did not disappoint. The Salar de Uyuni, is the largest salt flat in the world and comprises over 10,000km² in the southwest corner of Bolivia (Bolivia holds about 43% of the world's lithium reserves and most of those are located in the Salar de Uyuni). The salt is over 10 meters thick in the centre. In the dry season, the salt plains are a completely flat expanse of dry salt, but in the wet season, it is covered with a thin sheet of water that is still somewhat drivable.

The tall foreheads of science contend that the flats are the dried up result of a huge prehistoric lake but if you want a better story, local legend suggests that the mountains Tunupa, Kusku and Kusina, which surround the Salar, were giant people. Tunupa married Kusku, but Kusku ran away from her with Kusina and the grieving Tunupa started to cry while breast-feeding her son. Her tears mixed with milk and formed the Salar (forget the science).

Salar de Uyuni is estimated to contain 10 billion tonnes of salt, of which less than 25,000 tonnes is extracted annually- not factual, but I suspect that most of this is purchased by McDonalds to use on their o-so-salty French fries? One of the strange byproducts of this endless sea of white salt are perspective photos, so in addition to far too many flamingo photos, I’m able to attach far too many photos of us taking advantage of indistinguishable horizons.

This salt oasis is another of the big Wows we've seen on our travels but we struggled with the idea that we might be the leading edge of an environmental problem resulting from too many tourists driving all over the salt flats. The other big concern for this world treasure is the Bolivian government allowing for expanded salt and lithium mining.

Environmental problems were highlighted by a hotel made entirely of salt that was located in the middle of the salt flats. A profile of this hotel is what initially sparked our interest in this area but its location in the center of a salt desert (salt absorbs smells and substances) caused sanitation problems, as most waste had to be collected manually. Mismanagement caused serious environmental pollution and the hotel had to be dismantled in 2002.  

And it turns out that the unique opportunity to stay in a hotel made entirely of salt (except for the sheltering roofing material- helps avoid reducing the hotel to a puddle of salt water in the rainy season) is not all that unique. New salt hotels were built near the periphery of the Salar, in full compliance with environmental rules. Given that there are no other building materials in the area, building with salt blocks makes good sense and we ended up staying in a couple of hotels where you could chip the walls, tables, beds, etc, to season your food. DH has a tendency to lick the salt off my potato chips before I can get to them ("if you love me, you won’t mind me licking your food"??) so she was in salt heaven and constantly rolling around in the granulated salt that made up the floors.