This past week we left Chile, embarking on a tour of Bolivia´s Southwest Circuit. What is the SW Circuit, you may be asking?
The southern border crossing with Chile, near San Pedro de Atacama, is at roughly 4800 meters. That´s 15,700 feet folks! We were all having a hard time breathing and had to walk at half-speed everywhere to fend off exhaustion, respiration troubles, and headaches. All us gringo tourists were divided into groups of six and packed on to Landcruisers, all our packs wrapped in a tarp strapped to the roof. We proceded to drive into some of the harshest, most barren landscape I´ve ever experienced: a high desert, with very few plants, extremely windy, and very cold and dry.
We did see several amazing salt lagoons, complete with flamingos (they're not just for front yards in Florida) and llamas feeding on the banks.
Unfortunately, headaches abounded on the first day and the cumbia blasted over the 4wd´s sound system by our driver, Jonah, didn´t help much. That night we were treated to one of the worst spaghetti dinners ever to be eaten (how do you mess that up?), and slept in a dark and dingy refugio without hot water, electricity for only a few hours, no shower, and lots of wool blankets. I will say we were a good group of people. Despite the conditions, everyone took it really well. Everyone on the trip was from somewhere different in Europe, although someone joked they were happy about the absence of Germans. Apparently they get a bad rap. There were reps from France, Belgium, Ireland, France, Italy, and Spain. We played a card game called Shithead which was fun to try to explain, translating from language to language until everyone got it.
The next morning didn't start off much better. It was cold, breakfast was horrible, and several of us (including me) were still feeling ill from the altitude. Luckily we were at the highest point of the journey. It was all downhill from there, and as the altitude dropped, our spirits rose (maybe it was the ABBA CD).
We passed several more langoons, interesting rock formations innexplicably in the middle of nowhere (erratic rocks, perhaps?), and scenery that increasingly resembled New Mexico and Utah.
We (including Jonah) stopped for a beer in the small village of San Juan, which existed only to farm quinoa, one of Bolivia´s most important crops, along with potatoes and coca. Next we moved on to a small salt flat, just a small taste (so to speak) of what was to come.
A much larger taste was the salt ecolodge we stayed in that night. This was a refugio made almost entirely of salt!! Salt blocks comprised the walls, the chairs, the tables, and even a small bar. The best part was the salt crystals that made up the floor. It was like walking in the bottom of an aquarium (without the water). Every morning the care-takers raked the salt to remove the footprints and get ready for the next group. And this place had hot water and a passable dinner. All right!
After a great night's sleep and a breakfast made much better by the introduction of Mark's and my peanut butter, we set off into the salt flats. I'm hardly going to try to explain what this was like, but I'll say it was very, very white. Very big, and very white. It was almost like being in the ocean. Landmarks that we drove to (there were several islands of regular soil, rocks, and plants in the salt) never seemed to get nearer, even as we drove 60 miles an hour towards them on no road whatsoever. Well, there were a few tire tracks to follow.
I got to drive the Landcruiser. Yes, that's right, I GOT TO DRIVE THE LANDCRUISER. I was totally joking when I asked Jonah the day before if I could drive, and when we got to the salt flats, he offered to let me drive. In fact, he let each of us take a turn. At first he sat in the front seat, but later he sat in the back seat and was talking to us and inspecting my LP Bolivia book while Mark tried to figure out where the hell he was going. Can you imagine this behavior in the US? Are you kidding me? Yeah, like everything else down here, there were no waivers of responsibility or anything.
Needless to say, we stopped several times and got some astounding pictures.
As the day went on we made our way to the east side of the flats to a village called Colchani. This is where the really nice, expensive salt hotels are, and where very poor souls harvest the salt, 10 Bolivianos (less than 2 USD) for every 1000 kg they harvest. To put that in perspective, my backpack weighs about 15 kg, 67 times less. We ate lunch and finished the trip in Uyuni at the Cemetario de Trenes, a strangely intriguing place where old locomotives and train cars are left to rust.
Welcome to Bolivia!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Valley de la Luna
Traveling is a job. Sure, it´s fun, but it´s also complicated, requiring constant evaluation of trade-offs, risks, and likely outcomes. And though most of the time I feel like I make good decisions, every once in a while I find myself wondering what the hell I was thinking.
For example, the other night Mark and I found ourselves in the Atacama desert, in the dark with only my headlamp, batteries fading, on mountain bikes, 15km outside of San Pedro de Atacama. How did this happen?
True to our DIY-selves, we rented bikes and decided to visit Valley de la Luna ourselves, instead of taking one of the package tours. The idea is to get there just before sunset when the landscape supposedly resembles that of the moon. And though I knew that getting there at sunset meant potentially pedaling back in the dark, the guidebook said it was possible as did the guys at the bikeshop...
On top of the normal practicalities, there was some confusion over the time of sunset. We asked what time ´sunset´ would be. Apparently to some people this means what time it becomes pitch black. We should have asked, what´s the best time to see the Valley de la Luna? So we showed up late. Apparently we missed the optimal moment. A spanish woman walking back from the overlook told us so, angrily. What´s it to her? Still, we got some good pictures...
When we finished it was getting dark. Really dark. Luckily, we had brought our headlamps. Or at least so we thought! Mark had done a last minute bag switch and accidently left his at home. And it turned out mine was running out of battery!
Luckily, for real this time, we had pedaled against the wind the entire way there, and it pushed us back like sailboats. Yeah, we rode the brakes and had to worry about rocks and potholes in the dirt road - it was so dark, we could barely make out the edges of the road. On the flipside, it was so dark, we were treated to the most beautiful night sky I´ve ever seen. I´m talking full-blown Milky Way, so bright you felt like you could touch it. Unfortunately the camera couldn´t do it any justice later that night.
So that was our small adventure, the culmination of a less than stellar decision and some bad luck. But it actually turned into a memorable ride home and yet another accomplishment on this crazy trip of mine.
For example, the other night Mark and I found ourselves in the Atacama desert, in the dark with only my headlamp, batteries fading, on mountain bikes, 15km outside of San Pedro de Atacama. How did this happen?
True to our DIY-selves, we rented bikes and decided to visit Valley de la Luna ourselves, instead of taking one of the package tours. The idea is to get there just before sunset when the landscape supposedly resembles that of the moon. And though I knew that getting there at sunset meant potentially pedaling back in the dark, the guidebook said it was possible as did the guys at the bikeshop...
On top of the normal practicalities, there was some confusion over the time of sunset. We asked what time ´sunset´ would be. Apparently to some people this means what time it becomes pitch black. We should have asked, what´s the best time to see the Valley de la Luna? So we showed up late. Apparently we missed the optimal moment. A spanish woman walking back from the overlook told us so, angrily. What´s it to her? Still, we got some good pictures...
When we finished it was getting dark. Really dark. Luckily, we had brought our headlamps. Or at least so we thought! Mark had done a last minute bag switch and accidently left his at home. And it turned out mine was running out of battery!
Luckily, for real this time, we had pedaled against the wind the entire way there, and it pushed us back like sailboats. Yeah, we rode the brakes and had to worry about rocks and potholes in the dirt road - it was so dark, we could barely make out the edges of the road. On the flipside, it was so dark, we were treated to the most beautiful night sky I´ve ever seen. I´m talking full-blown Milky Way, so bright you felt like you could touch it. Unfortunately the camera couldn´t do it any justice later that night.
So that was our small adventure, the culmination of a less than stellar decision and some bad luck. But it actually turned into a memorable ride home and yet another accomplishment on this crazy trip of mine.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
de Norte de Chile
Getting out of El Calafate proved to be a nightmare. There were 10 flights a day out of town, all of which go to Buenos aires, and all flights were booked for six days!! That's how badly everyone wants to leave El Calafate, after they see Perito Moreno and Fitz Roy, of course.
To leave, we had to backtrack to Puerto Natales, and then continue to Punta Arenas the next morning to catch a flight to Santiago. Muy caro!
Unfortunately our stay in Santiago was short, 2 nights and one day. During that day we went to Pablo Neruda's house, took the funicular and the cable cars to see a huge statue of the Virgin Mary (with radio towers strategically placed behind it) and the city at large (wow, sprawling), and looked unsuccessfully for a book store that would buy my Patagonia travel book. I'm trying to shed weight.
The next day we went to Valparaiso, Valpo for short, a great port town having universities and numerous hills throughout the city, much like San Francisco. Except here, they have these box-like escalator things that take you up them. Take that San Fran! You're stuck in the stone ages! Houses on the hills were all kinds of shapes, colors, and sizes - you could spend all day taking pictures of them (if you didn't spend it people watching in one of the squares, like I did). We could have easily stayed several more days here. This would be a great place to be if you spoke Spanish fluently and had time to burn.
Unfortunately, we didn't. We decided we'd need to light a path to Bolivia if we were to have any time in Bolivia, Peru, and Ecuador (and Mark's going on to Colombia). So we took a 24 hour, yes, 24 HOUR bus to San Pedro de Atacama. We opted for the cama ejecutivo class, complete with three meals, seats that fully recline into beds, and tons of english movies with spanish subtitles and spanish dubbing. Great for practicing comprehension. I watched a great football movie with Mark Wahlberg, a terrible Disney movie called Underdog, and several episodes of McGuyver, the Simpsons, and Seinfeld. I had never seen McGuyver before! I also bought a Harry Potter book, in Español, at a market in Valpo, and worked on reading it. After a total of about hours reading I´d read about 2 and a half pages. Tough!
The ride was great - I really like traveling by bus, but I'd rather not see the accident statistics... Anyway, it was a good ride and makes 5 hour flights across the continental US seem like a drop in the bucket.
To leave, we had to backtrack to Puerto Natales, and then continue to Punta Arenas the next morning to catch a flight to Santiago. Muy caro!
Unfortunately our stay in Santiago was short, 2 nights and one day. During that day we went to Pablo Neruda's house, took the funicular and the cable cars to see a huge statue of the Virgin Mary (with radio towers strategically placed behind it) and the city at large (wow, sprawling), and looked unsuccessfully for a book store that would buy my Patagonia travel book. I'm trying to shed weight.
The next day we went to Valparaiso, Valpo for short, a great port town having universities and numerous hills throughout the city, much like San Francisco. Except here, they have these box-like escalator things that take you up them. Take that San Fran! You're stuck in the stone ages! Houses on the hills were all kinds of shapes, colors, and sizes - you could spend all day taking pictures of them (if you didn't spend it people watching in one of the squares, like I did). We could have easily stayed several more days here. This would be a great place to be if you spoke Spanish fluently and had time to burn.
Unfortunately, we didn't. We decided we'd need to light a path to Bolivia if we were to have any time in Bolivia, Peru, and Ecuador (and Mark's going on to Colombia). So we took a 24 hour, yes, 24 HOUR bus to San Pedro de Atacama. We opted for the cama ejecutivo class, complete with three meals, seats that fully recline into beds, and tons of english movies with spanish subtitles and spanish dubbing. Great for practicing comprehension. I watched a great football movie with Mark Wahlberg, a terrible Disney movie called Underdog, and several episodes of McGuyver, the Simpsons, and Seinfeld. I had never seen McGuyver before! I also bought a Harry Potter book, in Español, at a market in Valpo, and worked on reading it. After a total of about hours reading I´d read about 2 and a half pages. Tough!
The ride was great - I really like traveling by bus, but I'd rather not see the accident statistics... Anyway, it was a good ride and makes 5 hour flights across the continental US seem like a drop in the bucket.
Friday, March 14, 2008
the navimag experience
One of the highlights of the trip so far was the Navimag, a 4 day¨"cruise" on a cargo ferry through Chilean fjords and the Pacific Ocean from Puerto Montt to to Puerto Natales. Along the way we passed through channels you could almost touch on either side of the ferry. We also passed through the most desolate, beautiful mountains I´ve ever seen - many of which have felt nary a footstep (at least not in the last few thousand years).
We saw sea lions and dolphins, and visited the Pio XI glaciar as the sun was setting and the moon was coming up. I would go as far as saying it was a beautiful, spiritual experience.
One of the best parts of the trip were the people on the boat. Tourists from all over the world coming together to eat, drink, and become motion sick together! A true testament to the randomness of the world is that Mark and I queued in the boaring line right behind Fiona who we met in our hostel in Bariloche. We expected to see Fiona on the boat, but didn´t expect to meet her right in front of us in line. We proceeded to eat, drink, and be sick with her for four days, and she even found her king (Mark) and hiked the W around Torres del Paine with him. But I won´t get ahead of myself.
Enjoy the pics!
We saw sea lions and dolphins, and visited the Pio XI glaciar as the sun was setting and the moon was coming up. I would go as far as saying it was a beautiful, spiritual experience.
One of the best parts of the trip were the people on the boat. Tourists from all over the world coming together to eat, drink, and become motion sick together! A true testament to the randomness of the world is that Mark and I queued in the boaring line right behind Fiona who we met in our hostel in Bariloche. We expected to see Fiona on the boat, but didn´t expect to meet her right in front of us in line. We proceeded to eat, drink, and be sick with her for four days, and she even found her king (Mark) and hiked the W around Torres del Paine with him. But I won´t get ahead of myself.
Enjoy the pics!
Saturday, March 8, 2008
looking for a king
At the wonderful Hostel Mundo Nuevo in Ancud, Chile, we encountered a wonderful Israeli girl named Dovi (short for something she wouldn´t let my cras North American accent pronounce).
Dovi, like many of the single-woman travelers I meet, is outgoing, adventurous, confident, and smart. Smart enough to restrain herself from going places and doing things she shouldn´t do alone. So she looked for people to do things with.
Big, strong, and handsome males, to be exact. To use her words, she was looking for a king. She traveled with her South African king for a while on a hitchhiking adventure from southern to northern Chile. According to her, he was a true king. He carried the tent, the food, and all the other heavy stuff.
I suggested that if he was a king, she must be some kind of queen. She insisted that she was a Princess.
At the time (a few weeks ago, now; I´m working on a serious backlog of posts) she was in search of another king, and I´ll bet she´s probably found one by now ;)
Dovi, like many of the single-woman travelers I meet, is outgoing, adventurous, confident, and smart. Smart enough to restrain herself from going places and doing things she shouldn´t do alone. So she looked for people to do things with.
Big, strong, and handsome males, to be exact. To use her words, she was looking for a king. She traveled with her South African king for a while on a hitchhiking adventure from southern to northern Chile. According to her, he was a true king. He carried the tent, the food, and all the other heavy stuff.
I suggested that if he was a king, she must be some kind of queen. She insisted that she was a Princess.
At the time (a few weeks ago, now; I´m working on a serious backlog of posts) she was in search of another king, and I´ll bet she´s probably found one by now ;)
offroad adventure
I am not a biker. I haven´t really been offroad on a bike since I was 15. So it was ambitious undertaking for Mark and I to decide to bike 30 miles, 15 of which would be on some seriously unpaved, gravely, muddy, and especially hilly roads.
Our trip got off to a great start when the only bike shop in town rented us their own personal bikes. In a normal bike shop that might be the greatest honor afforded on a customer, but not this one. My bike weighed as much as I did (ok, not really), and our rentals came with no pump, no helmets, and no phone number to call in case the bike breaks. Ok, fine, this is an adventure, but I´m not going to pay you US20 for this POS.
Suprisingly, the bikes held, even when we were being chased down by crazed dogs, avoiding the occasional road grader, taxi, and tourist van, and drunken fool on a horse (I´m not kidding, must have been the liquor de oro, made with milk, alcohol, cloves, cinnamon, saffron, and anything else Chiloans can find. Yeah, I bought some, too.)
The ride was HARD. The hills were BIG. More than once I found myself cursing my bike, myself, or a nearby farm animal. But I pedaled up some incredibly steep slopes and was especially proud of myself given the terrain.
The pay off?
The penguin colony, 15 miles outside of Ancud. We took a great boat ride amid penguins, sea otters, and all kinds of birds that the guide tried, unsuccessfully, to educate me about in Castellano.
We had a great, relaxing lunch at a beachside cafe consisting of sea bass, salmon, and oyster empanadas, and headed back to town. As I toiled back, passed by several loads of tourists in cushy minivans, I smiled to myself. Days like these are the ones I want to remember from my travels. Mark and I learned a new language (if only a little), acquired all the necessary information and materials, put in the leg work, saw the site, and had a truly rewarding experience. It cost us the same amount as one of the penguin tours, but we did it ourselves and earned both our lunches and our dinners (amazing burritos at a small bar in Ancud).
Our trip got off to a great start when the only bike shop in town rented us their own personal bikes. In a normal bike shop that might be the greatest honor afforded on a customer, but not this one. My bike weighed as much as I did (ok, not really), and our rentals came with no pump, no helmets, and no phone number to call in case the bike breaks. Ok, fine, this is an adventure, but I´m not going to pay you US20 for this POS.
Suprisingly, the bikes held, even when we were being chased down by crazed dogs, avoiding the occasional road grader, taxi, and tourist van, and drunken fool on a horse (I´m not kidding, must have been the liquor de oro, made with milk, alcohol, cloves, cinnamon, saffron, and anything else Chiloans can find. Yeah, I bought some, too.)
The ride was HARD. The hills were BIG. More than once I found myself cursing my bike, myself, or a nearby farm animal. But I pedaled up some incredibly steep slopes and was especially proud of myself given the terrain.
The pay off?
The penguin colony, 15 miles outside of Ancud. We took a great boat ride amid penguins, sea otters, and all kinds of birds that the guide tried, unsuccessfully, to educate me about in Castellano.
We had a great, relaxing lunch at a beachside cafe consisting of sea bass, salmon, and oyster empanadas, and headed back to town. As I toiled back, passed by several loads of tourists in cushy minivans, I smiled to myself. Days like these are the ones I want to remember from my travels. Mark and I learned a new language (if only a little), acquired all the necessary information and materials, put in the leg work, saw the site, and had a truly rewarding experience. It cost us the same amount as one of the penguin tours, but we did it ourselves and earned both our lunches and our dinners (amazing burritos at a small bar in Ancud).
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Volcan Osorno
On Thursday we undertook a scorching 16 mile hike under Volcan Osorno. We were met at the trailhead by two guides who insisted on completing the entire hike with us.
It was a long day and we got some beautiful views.
It was a long day and we got some beautiful views.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
crossing the border
The bike ride was a good overview of the area surrounding Bariloche. I would have liked to done some hiking, but no camping equipment, a general dislike of Bariloche itself, and a stronger desire to spend some time on the island of Chiloe in Chile before boarding the Navimag on Monday caused us to move on. Here are some pics from the ride into Chile.
A word to the wise, don't bring fruit, cheese, or meat into Chile. We would have gotten hassled a good bit, if not arrested, were it not for an extremely friendly steward on the bus who was apparently very friendly with the customs agents. There were all kinds of pictures at the board of apples in handcuffs and things of that nature.
A word to the wise, don't bring fruit, cheese, or meat into Chile. We would have gotten hassled a good bit, if not arrested, were it not for an extremely friendly steward on the bus who was apparently very friendly with the customs agents. There were all kinds of pictures at the board of apples in handcuffs and things of that nature.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
biking Bariloche
On monday Mark and I rented bikes and toured the mountains around Bariloche in Argentina's Lake District. Las vistas estan muy lindo! We went about 25 miles on paved an unpaved roads, up and down mountains, and through small and strange places, such as Colonia Suiza, where buying dried trucha (trout), chocolate, and helado (ice cream) are the top village passtimes. There were of course some great photo opportunities.
The exclusive Resort Llao Llao.
Stunning vistas.
Mr. Entertainment falls in a stream.
More stunning vistas.
My predictably horrible photo finish.
The exclusive Resort Llao Llao.
Stunning vistas.
Mr. Entertainment falls in a stream.
More stunning vistas.
My predictably horrible photo finish.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
first argentine bus ride
On saturday Mark and I took a twenty hour bus to Bariloche. That may sound like a long time, but it was no problem! That's because they know how to roll here.
The bus was a double decker, complete with bathroom, steward, and oversized reclining seats with footrests. You have a choice of buses. Semi-cama (cama means bed), which is similar to buses that we're used to in the states. Then you have cama, which reclines further back, has a ton of legroom, and has good footrests. Finally, there is executive cama, which allows your seat to transform into a bed. We took the cama option.
Activities in the bus seemed to be on a methodical schedule, likely designed to make you go to sleep at certain times. When we started the ride, they showed rap videos with the volume turned up so loud you couldn't talk to the person next to you. When that ended, they showed infomercials about several sandwich, coffee, mate, and jelly companies. Why these companies? Because this is the food they served on the bus.
When the informercials were done, they served us tostados mixtos (ham and cheese sandwiches) and drinks, which I assume were laced with some sleeping agent, because within half an hour, the entire bus was asleep. A break for the steward.
We were all woken up to horrible 80s rock videos, blaring, followed by Ocean's 13. Then more sleep, followed by dinner, followed by the Illusionist with Ed Norton. Then more sleep.
The stars were amazing! This was the first time I'd left the city of BA and had actually been able to see the night sky. I really don't know much about how the stars 'work', but apparently all the stars down here are totally different than what we see in the Northern Hemisphere. I'm on the lookout for something called the Southern Cross. Go ahead, laugh at my naivete.
Bariloche is in the 'Northern Lake District' which, surprisingly, contains a lot of lakes. The land looks golden, like the burned grass of NoCal in the summer, and the land around Bariloche looks like a cross between Lucerne and the Sierra Nevadas.
The bus was a double decker, complete with bathroom, steward, and oversized reclining seats with footrests. You have a choice of buses. Semi-cama (cama means bed), which is similar to buses that we're used to in the states. Then you have cama, which reclines further back, has a ton of legroom, and has good footrests. Finally, there is executive cama, which allows your seat to transform into a bed. We took the cama option.
Activities in the bus seemed to be on a methodical schedule, likely designed to make you go to sleep at certain times. When we started the ride, they showed rap videos with the volume turned up so loud you couldn't talk to the person next to you. When that ended, they showed infomercials about several sandwich, coffee, mate, and jelly companies. Why these companies? Because this is the food they served on the bus.
When the informercials were done, they served us tostados mixtos (ham and cheese sandwiches) and drinks, which I assume were laced with some sleeping agent, because within half an hour, the entire bus was asleep. A break for the steward.
We were all woken up to horrible 80s rock videos, blaring, followed by Ocean's 13. Then more sleep, followed by dinner, followed by the Illusionist with Ed Norton. Then more sleep.
The stars were amazing! This was the first time I'd left the city of BA and had actually been able to see the night sky. I really don't know much about how the stars 'work', but apparently all the stars down here are totally different than what we see in the Northern Hemisphere. I'm on the lookout for something called the Southern Cross. Go ahead, laugh at my naivete.
Bariloche is in the 'Northern Lake District' which, surprisingly, contains a lot of lakes. The land looks golden, like the burned grass of NoCal in the summer, and the land around Bariloche looks like a cross between Lucerne and the Sierra Nevadas.
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