wayfaringwordhack: (wayfaring wordhack)
for Rabia. I don't know what kind of setting you decided on, but maybe some of this will inspire you.

Too tired for commentary; just some sights from the great salt flat and surrounding mountains/desert.

I did promise you something beautiful, no?


IMG_4525
See more )
wayfaringwordhack: (footprint in the sand)
This a journey through photos post so I shall put it behind a cut.  Come in and walk a while with me.


If there are road signs, they are few )

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Photos: 1) Three Rivers Petroglyph Site, NM, USA; 2) Kemmerer, WY, USA; 3) Wheatfield near Vinon, France; 4) Capitol Reef, Fruita, UT, USA; Yellowstone, WY, USA; 5) Uyuni Salt Flats, Bolivia; 6) World's deadliest road, Bolivia.
wayfaringwordhack: (Default)
I took some panoramas while on the world trip but didn't have a program to assemble them. I thought I would (slowly) start doing that and share a few with you. I did this one today because the place--Uyuni Salt Flats in Bolivia--speaks to me of the Witherwilds in Paoqei, which I am currently trying to get out of my head and onto paper computer screen.

The harsh, hostile landscape really struck a chord with me. Being there was like walking through the Witherwilds myself. But like all memories, the sensations and details have faded, so I'm going through my photo library, remembering.


Colorado Lake, Uyuni

Here's the link to the photo if you want to see a larger version.
wayfaringwordhack: (Default)


 Still trying to catch up on South America.

Our trip into the Salar (or Salt Flat) began true to our South American RottenLuck(TM). The first "site" on our tour is a visit to a train cemetery.  "You have 8 minutes," the driver tells us as we pile out of the 4WD in front of a line of decrepit, rusting train engines and gutted train cars. Liar (the lady from the dreaded To-Be-Avoided Blue Line Services) said that there were very few tourists at the moment and we wouldn't see more than three or four cars at any given site.  There were closer to 30 Toyota Land Cruisers there at the dump site.  I stopped counting after 24.

Julien muttered that he hoped we weren't going to be treated like children for the whole tour as we meandered over to watch swarms of tourists getting their picture taken with the rusted carcasses.  Trash blew around our feet escaping the piles where it had been dumped on the surrounding plain.

More like ten minutes later--eight too many for me--we climbed back in the car and raced off in a streak of dust for the entrance to the salt flat.  We stopped in a little po-dunk town that was supposed to have a museum where they explain the process of gathering and preparing the salt.  The museum was a store selling sweaters, bags, and hats where they charge you to take pics of statues carved out of salt blocks.

And then you had all this waiting outside for you:




We were granted a whole 15 minutes there.  Julien had the sense to wander off "behind the scenes" with his video camera and got some good shots of people cleaning and bagging the salt. (Thinking about all the little irksome details is making me cross, so here are some pictures and basic commentary to keep me from having to rehash all the things that chapped my hide about what should have been a beautiful, blissful visit.)

Then it was back into the Land Cruiser for what we really came to see, the giant salt pan. Our first stop was a ten-minute photo break near the edge of the pan where workers shovel the salt into mounds so it can dry:




The scenery was gorgeous once we started to leave the town and plains behind us.



We stopped to see the* Salt Hotel.  No one is allowed to stay there because it would pollute the salt, but they do allow you to enter and look around for a fee.  I did an about face when I read the sign about the fee and took a pic of the salt furniture instead.



We stopped for lunch at Isla de Pescadores where amazing, 1000-yr cacti grow on an island of ancient coral.  This forked one here is about 6 meters tall, the tallest was over 9m:



We then did a shoot of silly perspective photos, a seeming must on the incredibly flat salt pan:



We finished up the 3 (two) day trip with visits to volcanos:



and "lagoons" with pink flamingos:



Sorry for the boring commentary, but I don't feel like getting my blood boiling again.  More volcano talk--and possibly more pics--later.

_________________
* There were actually several Salt Hotels, and we slept in one on the first night.

wayfaringwordhack: (Default)
It isn’t only the numerous car and cyclist fatalities that give El Camino de la Meurte (officially known as the North Yungas Road) its sinister reputation. From the road’s inception, it has had ties to morbidity and death. It was built by Paraguayan war prisoners, many of whom died during the construction.

War criminal Klaus Barbie, The Butcher of Lyon, fled from French justice* and hid in the Bolivian jungle, where he is said to have helped the Bolivian regime with their torture techniques. He sold and shipped wood from his forest to La Paz and the road had to be maintained for its transportation.** His old house sits right on the Death Road. Sadly our guide told us this information only after we were safely imprisoned in the bus, heading back uphill, otherwise we might have had to defecate on his property.***

When we began the downhill ride, our guide stopped us to explain the upcoming curves and dangers. The first sharp curve had a monument on it dedicated to the "Martyrs of Democracy." In November 1944, Gualberto Villarroel took five of his political opponents to this 3100 ft cliff and threw them off.  

Now that the new, wider, paved road has been built to Coroico, El Camino de la Meurte gets much less traffic, but the old road is still shorter and faster.  That, along with all the thrillseekers and adventuresome souls who tackle it by bike, will assure that Pachamama continues to get her libations, whether they be in alcohol or blood.

______________________
* SHAME ON YOU, AMERICA, for helping the sadistic @#$+%&!!!!

**  Our guide told us that the road was built for/because of Barbie, but the Internet gives the 1930s as its construction date, which was before Barbie's arrival in South America.

*** Probably a good idea to only tell us afterwards since Barbie was finally extradited, tried, and imprisoned back in the early 80s.  It is no longer his property and whoever owns it now doesn't need that happening to their house and land. 
wayfaringwordhack: (Default)
That’s the subtitle they use for El Camino de la Meurte, the dirt road that leads down to Coroico. It is dangerous; one year alone, when the road was still heavily used by regular traffic, over 320 people died on it. Since the first company started the downhill mountain biking, 20 cyclists have passed on to the Great Beyond. That doesn’t mean, though, that the Camino de la Meurte is the most dangerous ride, or the most difficult, technically speaking.

It is dangerous. Twenty deaths and numerous injuries can attest to that, but it isn’t out of reach for someone who is ridiculously useless at biking....in other words, moi. Which means that it is likely, er, very likely, you can do it, too.

However, if you do want to try it out, go with Gravity Assisted Mountain Biking. They are serious about safety, and their motto can be pretty much summed up in one word: respect.

Respect your brakes (they're good, really good; you can trust them).
- Respect the road (20 deaths, only one with Gravity, but it was apparently a heart attack and not truly due to the road)
- Respect others (only Gravity riders have the courtesy to let others know they are passing).

For those that want a technical ride, Gravity does the Ghost Ride and and a Secret Single Track that are more likely to please, but the Most Dangerous Road is still a satisfying descent with gorgeous scenery. Worth doing.

I'm almost positive that this cross was put up in memory of the first cyclist's death on the road:


(the diagonal line or break in the vegetation above the cross is the road...)

Postcard curve:


Not as scary as it looks, but that is a 800ft drop there.  :P
wayfaringwordhack: (Default)
(This post is out of chronological order, but I already have it written because I just had to record the misadventures right after they happened...)

And I don’t mean the bus going to Sajama. You can miss that one with no problem and probably be a lot better off.



If you haven’t guessed yet that Sajama (pronounced “Sahama”) did not enchant me, read on, and you’ll soon see why )

Sajama faded behind us, and I let out breath after breath, gaze fixed on the gorgeous volcanoes we came to see, trying to remember that there is beauty even in the ugliest of places and the adventures we remember the most are the ones that made us suffer just a bit...

_______________________________

*Although NOWHERE NEAR AS BAD OR WEIRD, Sajama reminded me of the terribly creepy, sicked-out village in the freaky, dark French movie, “Calvaire.”

** Two such starches, a healthy meal do not make!
wayfaringwordhack: (Default)
Whatever you do, if you are planning to visit the Salt Flats of Uyuni in Bolivia, do NOT go with Blue Line Services. They will lie to you; they will not write the terms of agreement on their vouchers, no matter how insistent you are; when you call them on their mistakes, they will make promises and then not come through, leaving you stranded on the Bolivian/Chilean border.

Blue Line Services? An agency to avoid at all costs! Please spread the word so that other tourists are not taken in.
wayfaringwordhack: (Default)
If I survive The Death Road here in Bolivia, I'll tell you all about Machu Picchu.

If I don't survive, farewell to you all. It's been a blast...

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