Helen
We cross the tiny border at Kasani and head five miles along the shores of Lake Titicaca to Copacabana. It’s a small town with a seaside feel. Restaurants line the front with multiple small piers for the tourist boats to moor. There’s a beautiful huge white church in the Plaza de Armas that stands out against the bright blue sky. We find a hostal on a side street with room for our bikes, and decide to relax here for a few days. It’s less touristy than I imagined and still plenty of Bolivianos wandering the streets in traditional dress. Their hats have changed slightly again, more Bowler type and their skirts are colourful with many petticoats underneath to ‘plump’ them up.
We spend a day drinking coffee and relaxing on the ‘beach’. The lake is so huge, it even has waves, it really does feel like you’re by the sea and I have to keep reminding myself we’re in the mountains at almost 4000m high! Chris falls asleep for twenty minutes and burns his eyelids! A reminder how thin the air is up here and to cover up! Everyone wears hats around here and all the locals have multiple layers on; I wonder if it’s because they’re cold or if it’s to protect themselves from the sun. I’m positively roasting during the daytime hours and have to wear shorts but my hat stays on.
We take a boat and stay overnight on Isla del Sol, a small beautiful island with no roads, only paths. According to ancient mythology this is where the Inca was born. We walk from the south of the island to the north, it’s very peaceful and we barely see anyone else. The islanders are friendly, one passing woman shows us the muna plant, which is Andean mint that we often have in our tea. There are signs of a once thriving tourist destination but now there are empty hotels and unused restaurants. It’s good for us, we’re so used to trying to immerse ourselves in small towns full of local people, it seems strange when we suddenly arrive in a tourist destination full of ‘gringos’. But the locals tell us things haven’t been the same since the pandemic.
It’s quieter in the north of the island with a beautiful white beach and clear blue water. We sit and relax, watching young children playing in the water, laughing and screaming. It must be an absolute delight to be brought up somewhere like this, days full of never ending adventure, and a safe space to play. I don’t see any of them with mobile phones. Cows, sheep and pigs wander along the beach searching for snacks and drinking water, we could be in the outer Hebrides if it wasn’t so hot!
The following day we get on a bus to La Paz, the driver is really friendly and has no problem with our bikes, it cost less than £2.50 each and four hours later we’re in the worlds highest capital city. We could have cycled but it would have taken us three days, and I’d rather spend time looking around La Paz before heading towards the famous Salar de Uuni, the salt flats. The bus drops us off somewhere in the city and we navigate our way a mile or so downhill to our hotel. It’s fairly steep and I momentarily wonder how on earth we’re going to get back out, but then a honking combi brings me back to the present moment and I focus on not getting run over!
We spend the next few days exploring the city, it’s friendly and vibrant, and although busy like any city, it also has a relaxed feel, people aren’t rushing around so much. The architecture is mixed with some colourful colonial mansions, stone churches blended with modern high rise buildings. We drink coffee and eat healthy food (oh ok with the odd piece of cake here and there!). One night we walk back through town along the main drag, campesinos sit on the pavement selling their wares, and I also see two teenage boys sat separately, selling packs of sweets whilst doing their homework! I don’t know why I’m shocked at this, I’ve seen worse, but once again I realise just how privileged I am. My education was given to me on a plate, and I still complained when I had to sit at my comfortable dining room table and do my homework!
We somehow manage to work out the teleferico gondola system and buy a ticket that allows us to ‘explore’ the city. We’re swept up high into the heights of the city, with absolutely stunning views back down and out at snow capped mountains. It’s fascinating to explore the city this way and I wonder why other cities haven’t opted to do the same thing. Once again it’s getting difficult to leave the comforts of the city, but after four days we decide to head off, eager to get to the salt flats before the weather turns. We have a false start the next morning as we decide to get a bus to Oruro, which will save us a day trying to navigate our way out of the very busy and steep city! We arrive at the bus station, buy our tickets and then an hour later we’re told there are blockades and protestors on the roads and so no buses are leaving. We’re not bothered, it gives us another day to relax, so we head back to the hotel and ask if we can have our room back which they happily agree.
We buy a circular ticket on the telefrique, it cost less than £2 each and we spend the next hour hopping from one to the next, observing the city from above. It really gives you a feeling of the size of the city, it’s huge, sprawling out of its bowl and rising up all the way to where it meets El Alto, Bolivias actual biggest city.
That night we return to our favourite restaurant, Cafe Vida, a vegan cafe run by a young Bolivian called Mineth. The food is great, wholesome and healthy amd exactly what we need, so much so we’ve been there the last three days, either for lunch or dinner. We get talking to Mineth, who’s also a cyclist and cycled around parts of Bolivia and Paraguay during the pandemic. Her English is a amazing and it turns out out she learnt it all by listening to English music, which she loves. It puts my Spanish to shame and I silently vow to try harder! It’s great to connect with someone with similar values. She sends us on our way with some of her home made granola, we hug and promise to keep in touch.
We get the bus from La Paz to Oruro, it takes four hours and again from our second floor seats of the bus it’s altiplano main road so we don’t feel like we’ve missed anything. We stop in a cafe for lunch before heading off from Oruro, whilst we’re in there the heavens open and there’s a big hailstorm. We wait it out before finally heading off, a mile down the road it starts raining again! We cycle along the altiplano only twenty miles before finding a camping spot alongside a ‘river’. The river bed is at least 30m wide but it’s completely dry. I’m shocked as on the map it’s a firm blue line suggesting a big river. I’m glad we haven’t relied on it for water, but I wonder is this another sign of global warming or is this normal for dry season? Talking to Mineth last night she’d said normally their rainy season was December to February but last year they’d barely had any rain at all, hence there being a water shortage.
After a good nights sleep we pack up and set off on what turns out to be a boring flat altiplano, at least on the altiplano in Peru there was some mountains either side to look at, but here there’s literally nothing for miles. An occasional abandoned house or a small hill in the distance to keep us occupied, and some alpacas and vicuñas. Eventually though, we see a small mountain and end up climbing it, I should have been more grateful for the flat road! We stop at a small tienda for coffee and soup, Chris chats away to the Bolivian owner, meanwhile a truck driver rolls in for soup, he lives in Coipasa, where we’re headed, and offers us a lift. It’s very tempting with the bleak scenery but we politely refuse. Another twenty miles further, after just about managing to escape a storm passing over, we stop at an abandoned village called Caripaya. It has tiny adobe houses missing their roofs, but the real draw is the impressively huge church that wouldn’t look out of place in Barcelona. It’s also abandoned but there are some project workers working on restoring the plaza de Armas next to it. One of them tells us they don’t know when it was built as there’s no records, but it’s a replica of the church in Copacabana. He shows us around the outside and then shows us a tiny door at the side of the church that’s barely open, he goes in and we follow. It’s impressively decorated inside, with a huge pulpit and tall ceilings. I laugh to myself, thinking about our health and safety legislations back home, the door wouldn’t even be open, never mind us being allowed to wander in. It’s a great experience, if a little eery.
We ask if we can camp in the village, there’s a moment of ‘lost in translation’ where we think they’re telling us we have to move on, but then they’re showing us inside a building where they must have their lunch and rest. They say we can camp in there for the night, and use their gas and water to camp. Once again I’m completely humbled by their kindness. We cook inside, listening to the wind picking up outside, and feel grateful. It hits me that in the UK we call ourselves a developed nation, and yet we build tall walls and fences to keep people out. Are we losing our sense of community? These people put their complete trust in us, and let us use their facilities, two complete strangers. It would be an interesting experiment to cycle around the UK and see who would help us, who would give us water, who would let us camp in their back garden, who would give us a room for the night? Would we be allowed to camp in a church hall, or would we be moved on?
After a very toasty nights sleep, We chat to Selia, one of the project workers, and leave a donation to help with the restoration, before heading off. It’s another flat altiplano day of cycling and I’m looking forward to getting off this road and onto the salt flats. It’s a hot morning but a few hours later we can see a very dark sky in the distance and before long we’re being pelted by hail. We stop at the next village which turns out to be another ghost town. This one is bigger and has signs of being a once bustling wealthy town but now there’s barely anyone here. There’s a small tienda but she has no fruit or veg, only some bread, biscuits and crisps. I’m getting the feeling this might be the way in rural Bolivia. There’s nothing growing on the altiplano and all the rivers are dry. The sun comes out again so we carry on, but ten miles down the road the dark sky looms on on us from all angles, we just manage to get our waterproofs and gloves on before we’re being battered by golf ball sized hail. To our left I can see huge strikes of lightening and then an enormous clap of thunder. It’s quite exciting for the first 15 minutes but then I realise we’ve still got ten miles to go until the next town and I’m getting quite cold. There’s no shelter on the altiplano so we push on into the headwind. We finally arrive at Sabaya, our final town on the main road before we turn south and head onto the salt flats. We find a ‘hotel’ in the sleepy town, there’s some sort of hairy animals leg lying on the front door of the hotel as I look down! My imagination runs a bit wild but I’m soaked, cold and tired and so try to stop thoughts of where the rest of the poor animal went! It’s very unusual weather for this time of year, and I hope it’s not going to last. I had visions of cycling along the salt flats in the sunshine, watching beautiful sunsets, not head down into hailstorms!
The weather seems a bit better the next morning so we set off towards Coipasa. Immediately out of the village we’re on a dirt road and llamas are crossing our path curiously. A car speeds past us then slows to a stop. An excited couple get out and ask if they can take a photo. We agree, of course, and the next minute a baby is being thrust into my arms! I say baby as I’ve no idea whether it was a boy or a girl, all I remember was thinking we were on a slight hill and I could feel my heavy bike starting to drift. I’m using every muscle in my body to stay upright with my new responsibility! Thankfully they take their photographs and heavy baby is delivered safely back to its mother! We follow the main track, through some small ‘ghost villages’ and then through an abandoned village before we turn off and finally I start to see something that could actually be salt rather than sand! We get excited and pedal faster, the sandy tracks were hard work but this is more compact and after a few miles of salty lumps it levels out, the track disappears and we’re cycling on pure salt! Although it’s not as white as I was expecting, it’s more like Himalayan salt. It feels like cycling over compact snow as the wheels of the bike glide over the crunchy layers of salt. There are a few mountains in front of us that we use to navigate but to our left there’s absolutely nothing but white land against the blue cloudy sky. It’s very novel but behind us once again looms some very dark skies and the rumble of thunder makes us cycle faster! We stop at a small village called Coipasa to pick up some supplies and water. Another ghost town, we have to first search for the tienda and then knock numerous times before the door is opened. Thankfully though, and surprisingly they have veg! So we stock up on potatoes, carrots and green beans and head off. Five miles down the Salar and we can feel small drops of rain, ahead is twenty miles of nothing, no shelter, just expansive open Salar, and so we veer west and luckily find a perfect shelter under a cavern. There are two chinchillas playing when we arrive and the birds are singing. We pitch our tent, make some tea and watch as the rain moves south. I can hear the noise of flamingos in the distance as I sit and watch a hummingbird go in and out of its nest – a small hole in the cavern right next to me. The storm passes and we’re left with what feels like a vast calm sea as the light slowly changes colour, fading into night. The silence is almost eery, but without the wind, it’s perfect to sit and watch the night light change the colours of the salt flats.
It’s a clearer day the next morning as we decamp and cycle back onto the Salar. It turns out to be a day to remember for many reasons. We head off south in the sunshine, the salt crystals glisten in the sun, it perfectly flat and there’s no one around, it’s stunning and this section is pure white! We’re heading for a mountain in the distance, it looks about five miles away but it’s actually twenty two miles away, it’s easy to become confused here, we’re not even sure if we’re cycling in a straight line sometimes, hence using the mountain to navigate. We stop after three or four miles to take some photos and videos. I try relentlessly to capture a photo of us jumping but I can’t seem to count to ten properly and my camera keeps capturing us bending down about to jump. We do some acro yoga and Chris tries to video it, he says his back is painful on the salt so I get the camping mat out. We laugh as we try to balance in the sand and get some pictures. It’s great fun.
We carry on and eventually the smooth salt turns to lumpy layers which eventually turns to slushy muddy salt as we reach land on the other side. We turn left and head around the side of the mountain but after about five miles the smooth track turns to sand. It’s really hard work, really soft in places and we’re now cycling into a headwind! At some points it’s so bad we have to push the bikes, which seems even harder. We’re tired but we have to carry on at least another ten miles to the next village as we don’t have enough water to last the night. Chris is suffering and has a mini meltdown, screaming at the sky. I don’t blame him at all, it’s really hard work, but it makes me feel semi normal at not being the only angry bike person! We eventually reach the village, another ghost town, but at least they have water! There’s an old church on the outskirts of the village and we decide to camp in the church walls to protect us from the wind. Chris isn’t sure about camping in a sacred place but I’m tired and quite happy to, I’m sure god will be willing to help as so many other people have! It’s a beautiful night as the blue sky turns to red, orange and golden yellows.
The next day is also epic. It’s a beautiful morning, clear blue sky at last and it doesn’t take long to warm up. We set off, again on soft sand for six miles until we reach Llica, which turns out to be a big town with lots of tiendas, restaurants and people! It all suddenly feels normal again! We stock up on water and supplies and carry on, more sand until it eventually starts to turn white and we’re on the Salar again. It’s beautiful against the blue sky and some mountains on the distance. Some of the mountains look like they’re levitating in the distance. This Salar is more touristy than yesterday and so there’s an actual salt road to follow. We turn and head south east and in the distance we can see the island we’re heading for to camp for the night – Isla de Pescado. It doesn’t look that far away but we still have 30 miles to go. The salt road starts off fairly smooth but before long it turns to lumpier octagonal shapes and eventually to really solid lumps. These solid lumps along with the headwind and the fact that the island never seems to get any closer starts to make me feel disillusioned. It’s already 3pm and we’re making slow progress. But we’ve got no choice to carry on as the salt is so solid and we forgot to bring a rock with us incase we needed to camp on the salt flats! It’s stunning scenery but our legs are tired and it really becomes a head game, staying motivated. Slowly the miles go by, the sun is staring to set and casts beautiful rays of light on the salt really making it glisten.
We’ve got nine miles to go still. We stop and check the map, I put my mums iPod on and play Runrig to help. It’s amazing how music can suddenly make you feel better. Suddenly I’m cycling faster and singing away, the time passes quickly as I look around at the stunning scenery, I can’t believe I’m here experiencing this, it so surreal. We arrive at the island and find a place to camp, putting up the tent quickly whilst watching the sun setting. The colours are amazing once the sun has disappeared behind the mountains. There’s no one else around, there’s no wildlife, it’s pure silence. We make dinner as the moon brightens and stars appear. Today was really hard work, both physically and mentally, but I feel so alive.
The next morning I notice a distinct silence, a bee buzzes past and disturbs the peace. The sun has risen by 6.30am and warms us up quickly. We enjoy the morning views before heading off east, continuing on the salt flats. It’s an easier day, a tailwind at last and flatter salt! We stop at another island, the main touristy one called Incahuwasi, for water and snacks. It’s quiet there but all of a sudden, 4×4’s start to arrive with tourists getting out to take pictures, it’s strange to see people again. We sit and eat lunch on a salt table, friendly birds come onto the table and happily eat my crumbs. We head off and cycle into the distance, heading for Uyuni, the main town off the salt flats. It’s a beautiful afternoon, there are some 4×4’s and even a couple of buses that beep and wave frantically, but generally we have the place to ourselves. We decide as it’s so nice and we’re unlikely ever to be here again, that we’ll camp on the salt flats. It’s easy enough to do, apart from the fact we can’t get any tent pegs into the solid ground, so we use the bikes to tie the guy ropes to. Once again it’s a stunning evening, the moon rising to the east, the sun setting to the west. We have the place to ourselves, miles and miles of expansive space, it’s incredible. But it’s cold as soon as the sun disappears, I’ve got a all my layers on and a hot water bottle as I get into my sleeping to to stay warm. It’s worth it though.
I wake at 5.20am, my bones are cold and I’ve been shuffling for hours. But I can see daylight so I go outside and the sun begins to rise behind the mountain, turning the sky orange. Chris gets up and makes a cup of tea and we watch the sun slowly rise. We spend the morning relaxing and waiting for the sun to rise high enough to start warming us up. It’s so peaceful and beautiful, it’s the most relaxed I’ve felt in a long time. Eventually we pack up and cycle the final ten miles until we’re back on ‘land’. It’s dry, dusty desert once again with brush and plastic bags everywhere. It makes me sad to see this. We cycle to Uyuni where we stay to recover for a few days. Again it’s a dry, dusty, windy altiplano town and I can’t wait to get out. We discuss our plans for the next few months. We still have a way to go if we want to cycle to Ushuaia. As much as I’ve enjoyed the high altitudes of Peru and Bolivia, I feel I’m ready to head down to some warmer climates now. The wine valleys of northern Argentina aren’t that far away. We’d also like to get to Patagonia in time to be able to enjoy it and not just cycle through snowstorms. We decide to exit Bolivia earlier than we’d originally planned. We book a bus from Uyuni to Villazon, the border, and will head south to Salta.
It feels good. The one thing I’ve enjoyed on this journey is the ability to change our minds. We’re not set on a fixed plan and if something doesn’t feel right we discuss it and change if we need to. I’m also really learning that where my mind goes my body follows. If I’m feeling negative, my body aches, my legs don’t want to turn. I sort of already knew this but I’ve also seen it in action a lot of this journey. I’m learning to be more mindful, to notice when I’m feeling negative and try to work out why this is. Then to be grateful for all I have and for all I’m able to do. How fortunate am I to be able to travel the length of a continent by bike?!
So it turned out to be a very short time in Bolivia, but its all good. It’s a beautiful country but it’s a harsh environment to cycle in. The altiplano can throw anything at you. Intense heat, hailstorms, rain, freezing cold mornings, dust and sand, and sometimes all at once! Nothing much grows, fruit and veg are sparse. I certainly couldn’t live up here, but it was definitely an enjoyable challenge and experience I won’t forget.
