San Pedro de Atacama [Chile]

Any idea what it's like to roll into town after six grueling days of crossing the Atacama desert?  Good... damn good!!!

Luckily, the last 50 kilometers into town were downhill, a substantial drop from 4,400 m (14,400 ft) to 1,800 m (5,900 ft); down a perfectly-angled volcano so that braking isn't necessary.  If it weren't for this downhill slide, I don't know if I would have made into town until the following day.

The accumulation of several weeks of minimum food and water have taken it's toll.  The last six days, were particularly difficult; pushing the heavy touring bike through ankle-deep sand, fighting sandblaster-strength headwinds, drinking 200 mL of water a day, and today, the final punishing 4-hour uphill push over a volcano to make it to pavement.

I can't believe how warm it is, and then realize that its' the first time in over four months to be below 3,200 m (10,000 ft).  "Wow, life at low-altitude is pretty nice." I think to myself, and then laugh.  I'm still at 6,000 ft... not very low-altitude.

I'm absolutely starving!!!  But there are other things that must come first, including immigration.  We walk up to the window, exhausted, for the fairly quick entry.  It certainly helps that the officer is jammin' hard to Bob Marley.

Then we ask about food... the officer informs us that it is Independence day in Chile and there is food everywhere.  Good news, but also the certainty that there won't be much sleep tonight.

I want to eat anything and everything in sight.  I know I look a disaster with dirty clothes, severely chapped lips, greasy hair, and sun-cracked skin all over my ears and hands.  But, it must be the smell that keeps even the restaurant barkers from talking to us.... never had that happen before.

Driven by hunger, we quickly settle on a place that is large and open-air... that way our stench won't offend people.  Dinner?  Peruvian-style ceviche, large salad (with ham, cheese, avocado and olives), bread, and two massive pizzas.

Eduardo Avaroa National Reserve [Bolivia]

This national reserve is the fancy name for what cyclists call the "lagunas" route.  Lagunas are the high-altitude lakes, in this case the puddles of water trapped in the high-altitude valleys of the Bolivian altiplano.  And they are spectacular!!!

These lagunas come in ever color imaginable... red, green, turquoise, white, black... one just can't imagine the kaleidoscope of colors the water takes on.

The landscape has an incredibly surreal appearance.  It feels like I'm on another planet.  Or perhaps another dimension... One section is titled "Salvador Dali Desert", an incredibly accurate description of the bizzare landscape.

I'm very surprised to find flamingos in all lagunas.  They are nearly the only living thing that can tolerate this harshest of environments.  One night, we sleep next to one of the lagunas to find that these long-legged birds actually freeze themselves into the water at night.  I suppose it's to protect themselves from any possible predators... even though I can't imagine there could be any other animals willing to live in these extremes.

We battle sun and desert cold with a near constant headwind for six grueling days.  The trip made all the move difficult with limited food and water.  Ankle-deep sand and no roads only add to the excitement.  But all worth the incredible views and isolation!

Isla Incahuasi [Bolivia]

I'm sure that almost no one has heard of Isla Incahuasi, and for good reason; but we should know about.  This is a small peak of an ancient volcano that rises up from the middle of the Uyuni salt flats, the largest salt flats in the world (at 10,600 square kilometers/4,100 square miles).  And it is absolutely stunning.

One enters the "island" by aiming in its general direction and then driving/riding out into the great unknown... literally.  There is nothing but white, flat salt for as far as the eye can see.  I pedal for 30 minutes, then 60 minutes, then 90 minutes... finally, as I'm beginning to really wonder if I'm anywhere close to anything, a small dark triangle appears on the horizon.

Over the course of the next 30 minutes, the triangle mystically grows and becomes an "island".  Details don't become evident until the last kilometer.  It's unnerving how quickly my perceptions have changed and how bizarre my world has become... but that is the magic of the Uyuni salt flats.

Of course, we take a few of the 'mandatory' depth-perception' pictures, but the greater magic happens after the few tourist jeeps leave in the late afternoon.  The try, and seldom seen, enchantment is when the sun begins to set.  This is when vision and perception change radically.

Slowly and suddenly, everything above me is filled with a rainbow of colors.  There isn't a single cloud in the sky, but somehow the colors hang against the sky in a way that I have never seen.  The sun lowers it's sleepy head, but it looks like it is within arm's reach.  My shadow finally has nothing to stop it and it grows and it stretches, for the first time in it's short life.

This continues for an hour, the world morphing in ways that I've never seen before.

Then the nearly full moon rises and my new world looks like a stunning frozen ice crystal.  Everything glitters and twinkles and reflects.  I run straight out into the flats as far and as fast as I can until my lungs fill like they will pop (we are still at 3,700 m/12,000 feet) and then spin around, staring at the sky.

Slowly I return to the tent and sleep, but wake again at 3 am to look at the wonderfully clear, and now dark, sky... feasting on the billions of stars until the cold drives me back into the tent once more.

Challapata [Bolivia]

This will forever be known as the place that I slept above a video game arcade.  Don't judge, sometimes these things must be done...

To understand, one must appreciate that most everything is quite difficult to find in Bolivia.  The entire region is altiplano, a flat, high-altitude (4,000+ m/13,000+ ft) desert.  Almost nothing grows here; the lack of water and oxygen make it difficult for life to thrive.  There is some tuft grass that manages to keep a few sheep and alpaca alive.

And so it is, that I roll into a town of 10,000 people and can't find any type of lodging.... nothing.  After four hours of looking, I accidentally come across an all-in-one video game arcade/auto service/computer repair/lodging establishment.  Do I mind sleeping above the racquetball court and next to a pinball machine?  Not at all!

Oruro [Bolivia]

I love the way that Oruro just doesn't roll off the tongue, not at all... each time I say it, I feel like my lips are numb and my tongue is swollen.  I'm confident that I sound like a blubbering fool, but... each time people seem to understand what I'm saying.

I have to say, that I found Oruro to be much more charming that the pronunciation.  This was a wonderful break from the barren isolation that we've seen so far in Bolivia.  There are trees and murals and statues and food and art.  It's a welcome reprieve from the road.

We take advantage of the services to start preparing for the rapidly upcoming crossing through the Atacama desert.  We eat great food (don't believe what everyone seems to say about Bolivia having horrible food... it is rather difficult to find most of the time, but very good once procured), buy supplies, and wash clothes (always an amazing opportunity when I can have clean ropa, for everyone involved).

Batallas [Bolivia]

It doesn't happen often, but every once in a while, I actually find a camping spot.... a real honest-to-goodness camping spot that is scenic and proper and everything else.  Such was the camping location for my first night in Bolivia.

This particular evening concluded a day of riding along lake Titicaca (supposedly the highest navigable lake in the world, whatever that might mean).  It really was a day of beautiful riding.  It had been relatively flat terrain with enough ups, down, and curves to be enjoyable.  It was chilly (the lake is at 3,800 m after all), but the sun was shining and a good pedal kept me warm enough.  There was wind, but then again, there always is...

About an hour before sunset, I found a small dirt road that turned off the undivided highway.  It looked promising, but turned out to be next to some houses, and even worse, dogs (these buggars have the annoying tendency to bark all night and keep me awake).  About 500 m along the lake shore, I saw a grove of Eucalyptus trees that looked even better... and it was!

In between two small clumps of trees was a wonderfully flat stretch of ground that had a couple of large logs on the ground to make a perfect place to sit.  On the upwind side of the grove was a built-up river bed to provide a perfect windbreak.  Gorgeous!