22, the Highlight

We don’t normally open with a teaser photo from later in the blog, but we know you have a short attention span so we felt we needed to keep your interest rolling. How is your van floating on a lake Steve and Jenjen? Well you’ll just have to keep reading to find out won’t you? See, it works.

We’re still in Bolivia, south of the Equator but north of the Tropic of Capricorn. On this day, and for the first time in either of our lives, the sun is directly overhead. We could bore you with the details of the Solar Zenith and the movement of the sun between the tropics over the course of a year but that isn’t why you’re here. Instead we’ll summarise by stating that Steve’s slowly balding head has never been closer to burning.

We’re heading towards Salar De Uyuni, a major Bolivian tourist attraction that is the largest and highest salt flats in the world. In the dry season it is a huge expanse of white salt, a thick salty crust over a huge salty lake on which you can drive. But in wet season (now!) it is the world’s largest mirror, a huge expanse of wetness of varying depths. We’re getting ahead of ourselves, still some driving to do. Watch out for the Llamas.

Note to others, if you park in an area that looks like it was once a puddle and then it rains a lot, you may wake up to find you’re in the middle of a puddle. Hopping over aforementioned puddle, the sunrise was a hoot. And so begins the craziest couple of days of the trip (so far?).

There are a few different places to enter the salt flats, we chose the north which requires driving around a big fat volcano first. Being the organised type we are, we first went to fill up the tank. The price for locals is 3.74 bolivianos per litre but for foreigners is a staggering 8.88. Bastards, so we start haggling and manage to agree on 6 per litre, straight into the tank no faffing with jerry cans and hiding round the corner. Then a policeman wanders over and we think we’re about to be stuck paying the official price, but instead he suggests 7 per litre so he gets a cut too. Steve laughs and reiterates 6, so the policeman smiles and agrees before walking off. It’s all a little weird.

Below is a terribly stitched panorama of a massive meteor crater and how we avoided paying to go up a rickety viewing platform to see it. Because why put a tiny bit of money into the economy when you could just make a bad name for tourists for free instead?

We start on the shortcut across the planes to reach the salar. Bad, terrible, terrible idea. It rained a lot remember? Sandy mud is not the place to be after a bunch of rain. Terrified of slowing down and getting stuck, we pull a massive sick epic mega drift during the “U-Turn” and skedaddle back to firmer grounds. The long way round it will have to be.

And then suddenly, gravel gave way to salt. And things took a sharp turn for the mental.

The shallow rain atop the expanse of saltiness created the most utterly surreal experience. Steve became Jesus in his new floating Flip and Flop.

Our perception of reality began to fade (even more than it already has), as we drove out further from land it felt like we were nowhere. You know how in a cartoon when they wake up in a coma and they’re in a purely white space like the writers forgot to draw a background? We were in THAT EXACT PLACE. The white space, between worlds, where up was down, down was up and no matter how long you walked you never got closer to those distant mountains. Allow us to demonstrate.

We headed towards a small island somewhere in the middle of this nothingness to shelter from any wind that might pick up, and perhaps to dig a hole should nature call… Along the way the water got a touch deeper and a perfect mirror was achieved. Our minds continued to be unable to comprehend this place. Beneath the reflection lay random hexagons of smooth salt, comfortable to walk around on barefoot. We know we were awake, but it was like we were dreaming (kudos if you know the film we’re trying to reference, probably incorrectly).

We found our very own island after seeing exactly nothing else during our drive across this mad place. There was a light breeze and nothingness in all directions. At 12,000ft and reflected by everything the sun was blindingly bright but in the shade it was remarkably cold. As the evening wore on and as the sun was going down thunder could be heard rolling across the flats, and as the sun set the wind picked up and a storm came tearing across from infinity in our exact direction. We tucked up closer to our island and our front wheel punched a hole in the salt… maybe a little too close?

Look carefully below and you might see why we decided to take shelter against the island.

The storm came closer and closer, we counted the seconds between the flash and the bang and when it got below 3 seconds we knew it was less than 1km away. A terrifying wait followed until CRACK, it struck so close that everything was illuminated so bright it overwhelmed our retinas and everything looked purple, the thunder instant and deafeningly loud shaking everything. Twenty seconds later the same again, so close, we were grateful not to be the highest thing around.

In keeping with the weirdness of this place we awoke the next morning to a peaceful day, perfectly still and immaculate blue skies. The rain overnight had deepened the mirror surface and a climb to the top of the island bore the scars of the night’s storm. Two plants had been turned to charcoal just 100m from our hidey spot, we are SO glad we found that island...

Heading away from the thin shoreline salt, we set up camp for the most bizarre and peaceful day that we have ever had, or probably will ever have in our lives. The starkest contrast to the terrifying storm the night before.

We spent the day in awe, minds repeatedly blown at the strangeness of this non-dimension. It was just us, Westy Rick and our little lightning absorber/toilet island. A tiny breeze, baking hot sunshine and slowly evaporating water for an entire day. Jenjen went for a walk towards a distant island and it didn’t get any closer no matter how long she walked, so she did skipping instead as it felt just as productive.

Steve wrote the last blog you maybe did or didn’t read and caught up on the important VW van news. The sun was so unbelievably bright that the solar panel reached 113% of its rated power output and every spec of skin not covered in SPF50 scorched like a baboons bum within minutes.

But that still doesn’t really explain it properly, so we’ll make your imagination do some work. Picture this, you’re sitting inside the van and finish the last sip of coffee that comes with a mouthful of grounds just like every morning but you always forget. Glancing outside the brightness dazzles you so you grab your sunglasses and hop out into the cool water just a touch deeper than your hairy toes. The white salt beneath the water is rough but not uncomfortable. Standing in the shade of the awning a light cool breeze chills you so you step out into the blazing sunshine. As you start walking away from the van you take careful steps to avoid splashing yourself, the ripples you create disturbing the otherwise pristine surface and the gentle sloshing of your footsteps is the only sound. Every step is identical, the view doesn’t change and nothing is getting closer. The reflection disguises the horizon and time is standing still, you’re standing still in this moment, you’re utterly stuck in this very place. But you know there isn’t a better place or time in which to feel stuck, the awe is overwhelming. You head back towards the van for another sit down, is it beer o’clock yet?   

It was the most memorable day of our trip, and not just so far, but the whole trip. Nothing can beat that experience of pure tranquillity in the non-dimension space between worlds. A crazy, crazy place. And as night drew in, again so did the storms.

The next morning wasn’t so tranquil, the clouds remained overhead but we had to leave anyhow. We had 100km to drive east across to the most popular on/off ramp. The storms had flooded the whole salar and so began the most destructive treatment of poor Westy Rick possible. Driving for four hours spraying the most salty water imaginable onto and into everything the whole time. Poor poor van.

The water depth steadily increased and so our speed steadily decreased. Too fast and the spray onto the windscreen meant we couldn’t see a damn thing. You’re probably thinking why not just use the screen wash, well salt water had found its way inside the screen wash bottle so that really was no help at all. So Jenjen went into the back and made lunch as Steve stared at a distant mountain and kept the van pointing towards it at 25km/h.

After a while a weird whistling sound began and then proceeded to get louder and louder. It was so weird, another anomaly in the non-dimension. Eventually the source was determined, an almost entirely clogged exhaust full of dried salt. Now you can see the extent of the torture we are inflicting on this old machine.

 

As time progressed the conditions worsened. The once smooth salt began to get rougher and dirtier requiring a little more attention on the part of the driver. Then small holes started to appear, and light white patches which, as driven across, became more holes. Still having a fair distance to drive our minds began to worry, and having still not seen a single vehicle perhaps there was a reason for this… But eventually we made it to the last 10km where a salt monument to the time when the Dakar rally was in Bolivia existed, and dozens of tourist excursion land cruisers were roaming around.

Ok, last stretch then we’re back to solid ground. Another storm is rolling in and the water getting deeper still, it was around 10cm deep as we closed in on the exit which was now in sight. 1.6km to go and the wind picked up and suddenly the engine died. For the first time in 26,000km the van coasted to a stop. Bugger.

Some thinking began and Steve worked out that the fuel pump was not pumping fuel, like the one thing it is meant to do. So donning his trunks as the wind howled and the storm approached he crawled under the van to find it was his own work that had failed us. In changing the fuel pump previously, the wiring connectors were different so Steve made a small wiring adapter and it was this adapter that had corroded and failed from the salt contact within 3 days, that is how aggressive this stuff is, crazy!

Ten minutes later we were back up and running and finally off the salt, the crazy crazy salt. We headed straight to a car wash to rid the van from the worst of this toxic chemical.

The pressure of the water was insane, and enough to break the new fuel pump adapter which had been hastily bodged together 15 minutes prior. Third time is the charm!

Back to the real dimension (although of course still our own weird van-life version of reality) we started on our way towards Chile through the continuous storms. We passed through flat plains, weird rock formation, snow capped mountains and past teams of people hard at work at 10:30AM.

The salt was still seeping out of every pore and window seal so we are just making a note here that when the van falls apart from the rust we must never regret the time we had in between worlds. And yes we have diagnostics on the phone screen, the aftermarket vehicle speed sensor has also suffered death by salt.

The border crossing was another doddle including our avoidance of attempted thievery. Further thanks to iOverlander and the notes from travellers going before us, we knew the Bolivian migration officer may attempt to illegitimately charge us 15 Bolivianos for our exit stamps. He did ask but Jenjen didn’t catch what he said. When Steve explained Jenjen laughed and said “no”. The officer said “ok” and stamped the passports. Cheeky git, good work Jenjen.

Reaching the Chilean side we found a couple struggling to start their dodge van. After going through customs and migration Steve returned to ask what was wrong and did they need any tools. The starter motor was failing to engage, and so the driver went to demonstrate the issue but this time it started up immediately. Steve got a great big manly hug for being a miracle healer and they were on their way.

Volcanoes, lagunas, more salt flats and a shit tonne of wind was how Chile started. We tucked in next to some abandoned mud buildings, added a few more layers and started to research the country we had just entered, the penultimate country of our trip.

Mop