It doesnt have to be fun to be fun. That is one of our friend Dallas' more nonsensicle philosophies. After the last 10 days I have realised that while it doesn't have to be fun, it is probably a lot more fun if it is fun.
Sitting in San Pedro 10 days ago me and Dallas sat and planned the next section of the trip, heading through the remote and inhospitable section of south west Bolivia. This was the plan:
Set off loaded up with 10 days of food and 3 days of water, a day and a half up to 4600 metre Bolivian border. Stash the bikes and climb the nearby volcano standing at over 5900ms. Follow this with 10 days cycling through the lagunas, all above 4300metres. A small celebration in San Juan before toodling over the salt flats, another week or so on to Sucre and Spanish lessons. Easy.
This didn't quite happen.
We left San Pedro late due to a combination of bike problems, poor preparation and laziness and wobbled off towards Bolivia with both bike and body creaking under the weight of our provisions, far more than we have ever had to carry before. Progress was slower than planned and it wasn't until the third morning of cycling that we reached the top of the climb, left the paved roads of Chile and descended gently to the Bolivian border.
From here on we would be battling freezing temperatures, high winds and terrible roads.
We camped in some ruins beside two lakes and at a little under 4300 metres, this would be the lowest and warmest night of the next week. We woke at dawn realizing that there was nothing we would like to do less than attempt to climb the neighbouring volcano. As winter closes in, temperatures at these altitudes get bitterly cold.
The following day took us over another pass at around 4700metres, leading us to the beautiful Laguna Chalvari and its thermal baths. After enjoying a soak before the sun descended we buried ourselves in every layer we could find and crawled into our sleeping bags inside a half built house. This night we were told dropped to -15 degrees celcius. At that temperature everything freezes; water, sleeping bags, mats, clothes, food, tent and any skin that exposes itself even for a second. In the morning, boiling water freezes in a minute and as Dallas found, blowing your nose results in a handful of frozen snot. As Anna pointed out - this is not just horrible, this is stupid.
The days themselves were warm enough, fingers defrosting by lunch time but feet remaining immovably icy until much later.
The next day was the highest pass of the trip, it took us the entire day to climb 21kms to 4926metres. The altitude, wind and road condition combining to make the going painfully slow. We descended just a little way to the Sol de Manana, the location of some geysers. This would be our highest campsite and actually not the coldest, the geysers offering some natural underfloor heating.
After exploring the bubbling, sulphur emitting craters we pushed and pedaled our bikes towards the safety of a hostel. The terrain each day offers a single, mostly unridable road and then a multitude of jeep tracks that map out short cuts, long cuts and completely the wrong direction cuts and it is never easy to tell which is which. After tired arguments and debates we ended up camping 7kms short of warmth beside the incredible Lake Colorado, a red and white expanse inhabited by hundreds of flamingos and supporting what looks like an iceberg in its midst. This night was the coldest so far, despite descending back to 4300metres, it was unbelievable. We couldn't bring ourselves to leave the tent until the sun was high in the sky the following day when we crept out timidly to explore the frozen edges of the lake.
We only made it the short distance to a hostel of sorts and a warm bed for the night. This was the most comfortable 12 hours of sleep anyone has ever had.
The next day was one of the worst, the road surface entirely uncyclable. We each picked a track and hauled our heavily laden bikes through sand for most of the day. It was exhausting and frustrating work but we eventually arrived at the famous Arbol de Piedra. Here we basked in our celebrity status with the other tourists and spent some time clambering around the rocks that lie inexplicably in the middle of the desert.
Then came 10 more kilometers and shelter in the form of some more ruins. This was the night that I cracked, and Anna shattered. Being too cold for anything after dinner, we are usually asleep by 7 and awake shivering well before light. This night we barely slept at all. The ground being so icy beneath us we attempted to both lie on top of the other, a predictably impossible feat. In the end most of the night was spent sitting, rocking and shivering like two insane people. It was a night that seemed to drag on forever, and as I eventually attempted to make coffee I found our stove frozen. I hope I never have to spend a night that cold again, I don't know the temperature but it must have dropped as low as minus 20.
After that night Anna was unsurprisingly adamant that she never wanted to camp out in these kind of temperatures again, and I, however reluctantly, was inclined to agree with her. We made the 19 kms to a hotel and managed to bargain a lift to Uyuni, a town beside the salt flats. We had just 3 days left of cycling on our original plan to the next town but we were beaten.
We had spent hours at a time pushing, the wind had made things hard but it was the temperature that finished us. From here plans will change, we still want to tackle the salt flats but are looking at how to have as few nights camping as possible. While we have descended to around 3600metres the nights still drop to -10.
In a month or so we shall be visiting the school that we are doing a pretty terrible job of raising money for. So if anyone fancies giving some money, that would by lovely. Click here to comfirm your status as a fantastic person
Sitting in San Pedro 10 days ago me and Dallas sat and planned the next section of the trip, heading through the remote and inhospitable section of south west Bolivia. This was the plan:
Set off loaded up with 10 days of food and 3 days of water, a day and a half up to 4600 metre Bolivian border. Stash the bikes and climb the nearby volcano standing at over 5900ms. Follow this with 10 days cycling through the lagunas, all above 4300metres. A small celebration in San Juan before toodling over the salt flats, another week or so on to Sucre and Spanish lessons. Easy.This didn't quite happen.
We left San Pedro late due to a combination of bike problems, poor preparation and laziness and wobbled off towards Bolivia with both bike and body creaking under the weight of our provisions, far more than we have ever had to carry before. Progress was slower than planned and it wasn't until the third morning of cycling that we reached the top of the climb, left the paved roads of Chile and descended gently to the Bolivian border. From here on we would be battling freezing temperatures, high winds and terrible roads.
We camped in some ruins beside two lakes and at a little under 4300 metres, this would be the lowest and warmest night of the next week. We woke at dawn realizing that there was nothing we would like to do less than attempt to climb the neighbouring volcano. As winter closes in, temperatures at these altitudes get bitterly cold. The following day took us over another pass at around 4700metres, leading us to the beautiful Laguna Chalvari and its thermal baths. After enjoying a soak before the sun descended we buried ourselves in every layer we could find and crawled into our sleeping bags inside a half built house. This night we were told dropped to -15 degrees celcius. At that temperature everything freezes; water, sleeping bags, mats, clothes, food, tent and any skin that exposes itself even for a second. In the morning, boiling water freezes in a minute and as Dallas found, blowing your nose results in a handful of frozen snot. As Anna pointed out - this is not just horrible, this is stupid. The days themselves were warm enough, fingers defrosting by lunch time but feet remaining immovably icy until much later.
The next day was the highest pass of the trip, it took us the entire day to climb 21kms to 4926metres. The altitude, wind and road condition combining to make the going painfully slow. We descended just a little way to the Sol de Manana, the location of some geysers. This would be our highest campsite and actually not the coldest, the geysers offering some natural underfloor heating. After exploring the bubbling, sulphur emitting craters we pushed and pedaled our bikes towards the safety of a hostel. The terrain each day offers a single, mostly unridable road and then a multitude of jeep tracks that map out short cuts, long cuts and completely the wrong direction cuts and it is never easy to tell which is which. After tired arguments and debates we ended up camping 7kms short of warmth beside the incredible Lake Colorado, a red and white expanse inhabited by hundreds of flamingos and supporting what looks like an iceberg in its midst. This night was the coldest so far, despite descending back to 4300metres, it was unbelievable. We couldn't bring ourselves to leave the tent until the sun was high in the sky the following day when we crept out timidly to explore the frozen edges of the lake. We only made it the short distance to a hostel of sorts and a warm bed for the night. This was the most comfortable 12 hours of sleep anyone has ever had.The next day was one of the worst, the road surface entirely uncyclable. We each picked a track and hauled our heavily laden bikes through sand for most of the day. It was exhausting and frustrating work but we eventually arrived at the famous Arbol de Piedra. Here we basked in our celebrity status with the other tourists and spent some time clambering around the rocks that lie inexplicably in the middle of the desert.
Then came 10 more kilometers and shelter in the form of some more ruins. This was the night that I cracked, and Anna shattered. Being too cold for anything after dinner, we are usually asleep by 7 and awake shivering well before light. This night we barely slept at all. The ground being so icy beneath us we attempted to both lie on top of the other, a predictably impossible feat. In the end most of the night was spent sitting, rocking and shivering like two insane people. It was a night that seemed to drag on forever, and as I eventually attempted to make coffee I found our stove frozen. I hope I never have to spend a night that cold again, I don't know the temperature but it must have dropped as low as minus 20.
After that night Anna was unsurprisingly adamant that she never wanted to camp out in these kind of temperatures again, and I, however reluctantly, was inclined to agree with her. We made the 19 kms to a hotel and managed to bargain a lift to Uyuni, a town beside the salt flats. We had just 3 days left of cycling on our original plan to the next town but we were beaten.
We had spent hours at a time pushing, the wind had made things hard but it was the temperature that finished us. From here plans will change, we still want to tackle the salt flats but are looking at how to have as few nights camping as possible. While we have descended to around 3600metres the nights still drop to -10.
In a month or so we shall be visiting the school that we are doing a pretty terrible job of raising money for. So if anyone fancies giving some money, that would by lovely. Click here to comfirm your status as a fantastic person
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