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Salt Plains & Silver Mines
Entry 5 of 14 | show all | print this entry |
I have now reached the highest city in the world, Potosi, Bolivia.
In La Paz, I farewelled the first group with whom I toured Peru, and joined the decidedly more budget (and hence appropriately named) Budget Expeditions.
La Paz is perhaps the South American city most like South East Asia, because although there are some rather nice areas (always near the embassies for some reason), much of the central city is crowded, with constant blaring horns, and the smell of an underfunded or possibly non-existent waste disposal system. The rather frenetic traffic is slowed by incredible numbers of street stalls spilling onto what might otherwise be sufficiently wide roads.
More dire warnings about thievery and other skullduggery seemed a little over the top as I once again felt quite safe walking around purposefully, however there were others who had things stolen.
Unfortunately, because of limited time in La Paz, I was unable to ride the Death Road, the menacingly named stretch of road where mountain bikers descend from 4600m to 1200m with many sheer drops and narrow paths.
Instead, I endured a 5am departure on the new tour, as we headed to Bolivia´s most famous attraction, the massive salt plains in the south. After 12 hours of very bumpy 'roads' we reached Uyuni, the town on the edge of the Salt Flats.
Still in hotels while they remain cheap, we dined in the ´best pizza restaurant in South America´ before heading out onto the Salt Flats in a convoy of 4X4s for an overnight stay in the middle of one of the most amazing sights on Earth. Originally part of a huge inland sea also including Lake Titikaka, the slat flats are just that: expanses of completely flat, blindingly white, unvegetated salt (a phrase unlikely to be used again) as far as the eye can see. Even with sunglasses, at 4000m above sea level, ie. 4000m closer, the sun´s reflection pierces the eyes through the thin air.
Scattered amongst this silent, empty expanse are small islands that you can drive up to, and we stopped at one for lunch, which was really an excuse to take a multitude of cheesy stunt photos ala Pisa. The plains act as a canvas upon which tourists create questionable works of art, usually involving stupid props and the illusion of distance, a practice in which I was happy to indulge.
From here, we headed to our hostel of sorts, in the small community of Coqueza, beneath a volcano.
We then headed outside to watch the flamingos dance in the shallow streams of water as the sun's harsh rays glimmered off the streams' surface as it dove beyond the horizon.
After some extended card games by candlelight, and dinner ironically lacking in salt, a committted few headed up towards the volcano the next morning for great views of both the salt plains and the volcano itself.
On the way was a 500 year old tomb with entact foetal position mummies inside (all the rage in Incan times apparently). However, the guide forgot the key, so we broke in with a crowbar!
We then returned to Uyuni, and visited the cleverly marketed Train Cemetery, which seemed to be just a bunch of old trains. However, the middle of nowhere location and the knowledge that these trains were held up by Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid made the visit worthwhile.
We left Uyuni behind, headed for Potosi, but not before another stop at a place where trains go to die. This time however, the trains were those used in the film, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, which was far more exciting (because movie versions of history are always better than the history itself).
An interesting sidenote is that the army post metres from our hotel in Uyuni were the ones (just 4 not the hundreds in the film) who killed Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
Now in Potosi, 450 years ago one of the richest cities in the world, the city bears little resemblence to those halcyon years, except for the huge Silver mine which still operates today, though nowhere near as productively as before, when it almost soley financed the Spanish Empire for 200 years.
This morning after a rather interesting Halloween party last night (which may or may not have involved scarily well fitting womens clothing), we ventured into the working silver mine.
All kitted out in protective clothing, hard hats etc. we proceeded to buy some gifts for the miners, including a substantial amount of easily accessible over-the-counter dynamite.
We then were treated to a display of said easily purchased dynamite, where our guide lit the (supposedly two minute) fuse, posed with it for photos for about one minute, then casually walked down the hill and placed it in a slight hole, and casually walked back and after about 3 minutes in total, there was a huge explosion that was shockingly loud.
From there, we entered the mine, where 15,000 people still work, although a long way from its peak hundreds of years ago. We spent a total of 2 hours underground, which was more than enough, given the heavy helmets and lamps, and the fact that anyone over 165cm was regularly hunched over or on hands and knees.
The experience did, however, make me respect these miners alot more, hauling one tonne crates along train tracks underground all day for as little as $10 a day. One we met had just turned 18....
Latest Comments (2)
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Cup weekend (reply)
Nov 5, 2007 06:50 EST by libwal
While you have been experiencing the delights of ancient lands and culture we managed a very wet Sunday of the long weekend. Naturally, the rain only fell where it has already flooded before and not in the wheat belt, etc. Hope all is going well. Sounds good so far. Mum
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Cup weekend (reply)
Nov 5, 2007 06:50 EST by libwal
While you have been experiencing the delights of ancient lands and culture we managed a very wet Sunday of the long weekend. Naturally, the rain only fell where it has already flooded before and not in the wheat belt, etc. Hope all is going well. Sounds good so far. Mum
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