After a slightly unsettling but enjoyable opening gambit into the vast continent of South America, I bid farewell to the vast plains of Argentina and boarded an overnight sleeper bus to plunge head first into the ninth country on this world wide tour: Bolivia. After talking with some of the current residents of the 7 Duendes hostel in Salta, it emerged that a few of them were also catching the same bus that evening to the town of La Quica which rests on the border with Bolivia. So after a very cold night bus which lacked the essential blankets or heating needed when travelling at 3am, we finally arrived at the sparsely populated Bolivian border tired, hungry and in great need of a warm shower - although all these desires would have to wait until later that afternoon before they would or could be fulfilled. Stumbling off the crowded Gringo bus, we strolled over to the Villazon - La Quica border while the first light rose to the east, illuminating our path towards a country I had very little knowledge of aside from it being the final obstacle between myself and Machu Picchu in Peru. Shivering in the immigration line whilst waiting for the Bolivian border to open at 7.30am, it came as a great relief when the first rays of a new born sun broke through the horizon and started to warm the land and our stiff joints after a bitterly cold night at 3500m.
Walking to the Bolivian border at 7am.
La Quica - Villazon border crossing.
Welcome to Bolivia!
I had initially planned on heading straight to the bleak railway town of Uyuni, which sits dead on the Southern Altiplano in the South-West of Bolivia, as it is the most common jumping off point for the famed Bolivian salt flats of the Salar de Uyuni. Plans changed though, as they so often do, and I ended up sticking with the Salta crew of Damien, Gemma and Donal and so after a simple breakfast which consisted of the waitress of a local "cafe" slamming down a huge chunk of cheese on our table, we all boarded a very rickety metal carriage that apparenly was a bus and set off down an unpaved dusty road towards the isolated mining town of Tupiza that sits alone in the heart of the striking desert badlands. Upon arrival and after settling in at a simple hostel that lay a few strides from the ramshackle bus station, we set off for a walk around Tupiza and I was struck by the dramatic surrounding landscape that this small but peaceful town fits into so sedately. The town itself nestles within a narrow valley defined by legions of cacti, deep canyons and sprawling red-rock formations which fold themselves across this most arid of areas. Here is Tupiza:
Location of Tupiza in Bolivia.
The main high street of Tupiza. The Alamo restaurant was where we ate dinner every night. Proper gringo vibes.
Tupiza high street. Branded.
The town of Tupiza.
As the settlement is so small, it can be explored and covered sufficiently within a single afternoon but the real draw of Tupiza does not lie within the town but in the countryside that spreads expansively into the vast wilderness surrounding it. After having a chat with the friendly Oscar who ran the small hostel that myself and Damien were staying at, we decided it would be a good idea to book ourselves onto one of the horse riding tours which head off out into the cactus-strewn badlands every morning. With the choice of a three, five or seven hour ride we opted for the five hour tour - a decision our backsides would later appreciate - and upon asking the price for such an excursion, I started to realise how incredibly cheap Bolivia is. For five hours we paid a mere 150 Bolvianos which worked out roughly as fifteen pounds and by the end of the day it turned out to be the best fifteen quid I had laid down in awhile! The contrast between Bolivia and Argentina was being starkly highlighted at this early stage and not just by the cost of a dorm bed and the few meals we had already eaten - both of which were turning out to be a fraction of the cost than in expensive Argentina - but also by the animated nature and striking appearance of the people we had come across during our initial steps into this poorer and less privileged country. With the trip booked for the following day, we met up with Gemma and Donal who were staying in a hotel down by the river and upon hearing about our equestrian-themed plans they promptly booked themselves onto the same trip. Getting up for 10am the following morning, we were met by a young lad no older than 14, who guided us down the road to the local bus stand where we were picked up by a local carriage that transported us towards a small horse ranch which lay serenely on the outskirts of town. A small adobe house stood next to a relatively large pen where about ten horses grazed beneath the shade of a dozen trees; seeking welcome relief from the blistering sun that scorched the barren land. Standing around nervously - as I have never been near a horse in my life - we waited and watched as the crew of young men that ran the operation saddled the horses and handed us our obligatory cowboy hats and shin guards despite Gemma´s uneasy desire to have an actual helmet - when in Bolivia and all! Once introduced and hauled onto the saddles of our respective horses - I named my horse Harry in case you were wondering - we set off down the gravel track to the main road where we proceeded to follow a set of train tracks which snaked across the ground leading us hoof by hoof out into the desert:
Saddling up the horses.
Life at the ranch. Harry giving it to the camera. Poser.
The first stop on our tour would be the red-rock ravine at Los Canones which came into view after an hour of trotting up a road that had been brutally hacked out of the side of one of the hills. Reaching the top of the ridge, a bumpy descent followed as our horses sought solid ground amongst the loose gravel towards the canyon where we were greeted by a soaring red-rock formation which had been slashed in two allowing our convoy of horses to follow the path that weaved itself through and into the Los Canones area. Once through the narrow slit we cantered into a small clearing and dismounted from our various steeds; stopping for water and snacks in the welcome shade cast by the towering red-rock pinnacles and mighty cactuses which lined the canyon. After quenching my thirst, I ventured further into the Spaghetti Western I believed myself to have entered in order to satisfy my curiosity as to what lay further at it´s depths. Small snakes slithered over the sun-scorched terrain while spires of rock jutted precariously from the steep sides of the ravine making me all too aware how vulnerable I would be if nature shifted it´s course and one of them decided to tumble down upon my inquisitive head. I came across multi-limbed cacti that grinned down at me with their illustrious smiles as I passed on by until I reached a fantastic archway of volcanic rock which framed the following ravine in an exquisite portrait of nature. Retreating back to the horses after hearing the call from our guide, we all clambered back onto our horses with varying degrees of grace - Harry did not make things easy after trying to pee on me on several occasions - and we retraced our steps back to the main quarried thoroughfare. Here is Los Canones:
Trotting into Los Canones
Entering Los Canones.
Relaxing in the shade of Los Canones.
Biggles on a big old rock.
The archway of Los Canones.
Los Canones.
Doubling back on ourselves, we set off towards the jagged sandstone teeth of the Puerto del Diablo which translates as "Devil´s Door" that sat menacingly in their blood-red hue about 4km from the sleepy town of Tupiza to the North-East. Tracing a well worn route through the cactus projects and green bushes, we straddled a small dusty ridge before descending into the frying pan as the sun lashed down spears of heat from it´s command centre in the sky. Passing through the appropriately named Devil´s Door, large phallic rock formations penetrated the sky and served as a gateway that lured us through the twisting canyon until we came across the final stop on our five hour trip: Canon Del Inca. Once again dismounting - but this time being slightly more graceful about it - I climbed up through the ridges and folds of the land until a small waterfall prevented me from proceeding any further. The peaks of the canyon still radiated vibrantly under the glare of that golden globe we call the sun; exploding in flashes of orange and red that dazzled my vision but due to the sun´s decreased elevation in the sky it was no longer able to enter the ravine´s lower and therefore cooler confines where our group sought refuge. After some group photographs and a half hour rest enjoying the fantastic scenery and amusing myself by seeing how far I could climb up the dusty and slippery rock formations, we headed back towards Tupiza through a late afternoon breeze while the gentle trotting of our horses played as an accompaniment to the vast panoramic views of the immesurable peaks that lay in the distance. Biggle Vision shows you the way out of the badlands as we headed back into town where after a decent nights sleep and some good Alamo food we hopped on board the 10am bus headed for the vast silver mines of Potosi.
good biggle vision riding with cowboys ! mbs
ReplyDeletethanks anon!
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