Lagoons and Flamingos

Breakfast in the middle of the desert, as yesterday's dinner, was surprisingly good. As well as cereal with yoghurt (the only milk available was powdered), there were eggs cooked a elección, bread, fruits, and a strange white drink apparently made by boiling fruit and spices. Supposedly supplies are shipped in every fifteen days but it all tasted fresh.

Shipping out in the pristine white Lexus Landcruiser - Wilson, the driver, painstakingly polishes the exterior whenever we stop and clears out the dust we have tramped inside - we ventured farther into the desert, which was dotted with incongruous lagoons.

Laguna Honda

Frozen Laguna Honda, meaning 'deep', was anything but deep. The shallow waters had partially frozen in the high altitude temperatures, leaving a picturesque surface in the shadow of the hill.

Off season

Farther along, we encountered another flock of flamingoes. Despite the works going on to extend the hotel on the lakeshore, the birds had settled there.

More flamingoes. *yawn*

After the final lagoon, we left behind all signs of water for rocks and dust. It was tricky driving at low speeds over a constantly shifting terrain. Occasionally, other jeeps sped towards us out of the distance, leaving Road Runner-like plumes of dust in their wake.

Please don't break down

In the middle of this landscape lay a petrified lava flow, like a frozen sea of rock, forming cresting waves around the base of the volcano that had produced it. It was odd to climb over the remains of such a powerful natural force that had been rendered inert.

Petrified lava flow

Having left behind the volcano, we drove out onto the salar de Chihuana. The large expanse of mostly white salt flats saw nobody else for miles around as the wheels of our vehicle crunched over the salt crystals as though it were ice and snow. Suddenly, our driver pulled off the unmarked straight path he had been following until then and stopped. He and our guide leapt out, opened the boot and started assembling a table and chairs.

Spot of lunch

Having unpacked an entire picnic onto the fold-out table, we installed ourselves on the small green plastic chairs and tucked in. We were the only people for miles around and finished a simple lunch of rice, omelette, and salad without seeing another living soul.

Beyond the mountains surrounding the flats lay the small village of San Juan de Rosario. There an equally small museum told us about the life and customs of the indigenous Aymaras and Quechua people. Alongside the usual impressive creation of tools, vessels and clothes from local materials, there was the unfortunate practice of animal sacrifice, which is apparently continued to this day, and which reminded us very much of our experience of Balinese Hinduism. In fact, the offering of coca leaves, sweets, alcohol and other items as part of a ch'alla* bore a significant resemblance to the carefully constructed canang sari in Bali. This kind of cross-cultural spooky influence at a distance, where no cultural exchange can have taken place, is not isolated. In the same museum, skulls of Inca nobility showing signs of cranial deformation were displayed. Apparently, similar conical skulls have been discovered in Egypt, which our guide explained by a common influence on both cultures: a visit from pointy-headed aliens.

* The ch'alla is offered to Pachamama, a representation of Mother Earth that was allowed to persist alongside the Catholic God after Spanish conquest, in order to appease the indigenous people. The other gods of their animist beliefs were abolished.

The museum is built in front of a necropolis, whose tombs have been fashioned from petrified coral. As the area was long ago under water, coral that has ossified abounds and now houses the mummified remains of ancient cultures.

Coral necropolis and San Juan town

Exiting San Juan, it wasn't long until we experienced our first glimpse of Uyuni's remarkable salt flats.

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Out of the otherwise brown environment, a dazzling expanse of sudden pure whiteness opened out in front of us. Even having seen photos of the environment, nothing prepared us for the vastness of the salar. It stretched off beyond the horizon, meeting the blue sky without punctuation in some directions. Even the hills that apparently signified the end of the flats turned out to be islands in the middle of the 12,000 square kilometre region.

Sun sets on the cacti

The islands are, as the necropolis, made of petrified coral. These were once on the bed of the giant lake that submerged the area, and the salt was left behind as the water evaporated. At this altitude, it is pure sodium chloride for many metres below the surface.

Of the many islands, we stopped at isla del pescado, fish island, which I failed to perceive in the shape of its namesake despite a concerted effort. Incongruously for a dead mound of coral, its sides and top were strewn with cacti. We gingerly scaled the razor-sharp coral incline and perched to watch the sun set over the salt flats.

Fading light on the Uyuni salt flats

Traversing the flats their entire length from south to north, we arrived at the sister hotel to yesterday's desert lodgings, the Tayka de Sal. This construction is entirely made of salt, the bricks forming the walls being cut directly from the salt flats and set using a salty mortar. Yes, we even experimentally licked the wall to prove to ourselves we were living in a more-salty-than-sweet Hansel and Gretel tale.

Saline abode

Again, for such isolated accommodation, dinner was an extravagant three-course affair of cream of mushroom soup, followed by rice, potatoes, and a stuffed tomato with cabbage. Chocolate mousse finished us off, but to be honest I was ready for bed long before dessert arrived. Seeing amazing things is exhausting.