Date of Entry:  November 12th 2015

Place of Writing:  El Marques Restaurant, Tarija Bolivia, November 22nd 2015

We wake up early, like 3:40 am early, and while the others pack their stuff trying to stay under their blankets I take a walk outside, since I was too tired the previous night.  My instinct pays off and the stars are everywhere, seeming to reach down out of the sky towards me.  I dance around and rap along to Eminem as I continue out into the darkness spending a good ten minutes out there before coming back in for breakfast, and encouraging the others to go out and see.  They decide it can wait until we’re ready to leave, which is too bad as by then 80% of the incredible stars have disappeared.

We pile into the car and I’m surprised by the relative warmth, summer time really does make a difference, even at 4200 meters.  Maybe 25 minutes later we’re cresting the highest point of the tour at 4950 and I’m pleased to find again I’ve managed it without any problems, and then the turrets of smoke in the ancient caldera come into view.

We catch the last moments of the sunset and I jump through the one artificial geyser a few times to get warm before slow jogging down towards the main patch of geysers, the rest of them, not accustomed to cold like a Canadian, opt to climb back into the jeep for the ride down.

As they arrive at one end of the geysers I get to the other, wandering through the bubbling mini craters of strange grey molten mud, sounding and smelling like the results of my stomach after too much pizza hut. I snap some photos of the other’s silhouettes hoping to replicate shots from last time with Sara and Janosch, but alas, the cloudy sky renders them somewhat less impressive.

As I realize my time is running out, I take off at a quicker jog, harder than it sounds at 4900 meters, towards the secondary patch of vents, looping around to the far edge of them to see a small section of the geysers I’ve never seen before, and boy am I glad I did, since it’s perhaps the most active and impressive pool of chaotic boiling mud, as seen in the short video below.

(Video coming soon)

I look up and see the jeep pulling around everyone else already inside and looking ready to go, sop I kick up the pace one more notch, quick jogging carefully through the maze of geysers making sure not to take a tumble into the dangerous mud, and hopping into the front seat just as Miguel starts to pull away.

Miguel smiles and tells us he has another plan, right now we’re not going to stop at the hot springs like most of the rest of the tours, instead we’re going to drive straight to Laguna Verde and hit the hot springs on the way back, with the promise of them being a lot less crowded.

As we drive up out of the ancient Caldera that hides the Geysers from any distance we join the main shipping highway for the numerous mining operations that make their homes in this part of Bolivia.  A few transport trucks pass by, the sun dazzling behind their kicked up clouds of dust and I snap a few more photos.

It’s a decent drive to Laguna Verde but just under an hour later we’re climbing out of the Jeep again, somewhat disappointed to see Laguna Verde isn’t all that Verde.  For me it’s the second round of disappointment and so I’ve made sure to warn the others.  For the lake to be green you need wind and we had a still calm day, that said, the lake below us is so still and calm that it offers up a truly stunning reflection of Volcana Licancabur which towers above it, and is strikingly beautiful in a whole different way than it’s windy turquoise green colours.

For those wondering you can check out pictures of Laguna Verde at about 60 percent green-ess In my entry here.

Eventually we climb back into the jeep and head back towards the hot springs, making a quick stop in the desierto de Dali, named after the Spanish artist not because he ever visited, but instead because some of the strange rock formations remind people of Dali’s artwork, before pulling up to the hot springs and finding only one other group still there, and they are in the process of leaving.

There’s some confusion over ticket prices as supposedly it is supposed to be 3 bs and 6 only if you need to use the bathroom, but the people there insist it is 6bs no matter what. I end up not paying this time around as I paid 6 last time and one of the workers told me not to bother and just go in, but really I’d happily pay the 6bs again, it’s about a dollar and well worth it for the cleansing, refreshing warm waters up so high in the middle of nowhere.

Miguel, the genius behind our altered schedule, gives us an hour at the springs and disappears to talk with some of his friends there while we unwind and let muscles sore from 2 days of rough rides loosen and release in the beautiful springs.  Eventually though I get to hot, climb out and go for a brief walk alongside the lake behind the springs, finding a lone Vicuna with a flew flamingoes lurking in the background, as well as a very friendly and playful, but all together too nippy dog.   We climb back into the jeep now ready for the long drive back to Uyuni, last time around there was one stop for lunch and one stop in a unremarkable valley of rock formations.  (Unremarkable relative to the incredible things we’ve been seeing for three days).  That said, after a few days with Miguel I’m already sure he has a trick or two up his sleeves and sure enough he tells us he’s taking us to Laguna Mysterioso (Mysterious lagoon) a place he only takes a few groups, those who he actually likes.  Now who knows if that’s true, but I know that as we leave the main road behind and start winding through looming volcanic rock formations we start to have the feeling of being utterly alone.

Miguel hits the breaks as we round a corner into a small grassy opening with little streams running through it, and tells us to get out and find the mysterious lake, which is nowhere in sight, while he prepares our lunch.  We’re up to the task but first spend a while marvelling at all the lamas in the glades, grazing and drinking to their hearts content, and looking very surprised t the human and gringo presence here.

Brent and I wander off from the group, my brain relishing the restful calmness of english conversation as we follow the streams cutting through the thick damp grass past countless lamas further and further away from the jeeps.  We’re beginning to wonder if we’ve missed this mysterious body of water when we peek around the stone outcroppings to our left and see it, a deep dark lake in the middle of a maze of pure stone.  Looking back now, I’m vaguely reminded of Maze runner, which I recently watched late at night in a sleepless hostel night.

After approaching the lake from below Brent and I decide we’ve had enough of being stuck on the ground, backtrack a bit and scramble out way up onto the rocks, climbing back towards the lake and marvelling at the birds, Llamas and incredible stone formations all around us as we climb higher and higher.

We eventually end up at the summit looking out at endless, and i mean endless platforms of this brown volcanic stone, weathered and molded by the wind into all sorts of strange shapes.  It’s straight out of a fantasy novel and as the wind blows my way too long hair all about my face I let out a blissful sigh, so glad we decided to go for a climb, even if we can’t see any of the others, and have no idea where they might have gotten to.

Eventually the others emerge below us having found the other side of the lake and stayed on the ground.  Claire and Erwan snap a few pictures of me and Brent up there which I will add here once I get my hands on them, and then a viscacha shows up just below us, the small rabbit like creature staying still just long enough for me to grab a photo of it before we start our somewhat complicated climb down.

Once we make it down the bottom of the cliffs Brent chooses to go with the others to grab some lunch, but I’d much rather continue exploring, now walking along the lake at ground level and washing my face in the refreshing water, snapping a few photos of the incredible landscape and the cool looking aquatic birds seemingly busy fishing in the reeds along the edge of the lake.

I eventually leave the lake behind and find another section of the rock to climb up, finding another viscacha and still more startling views of the endless line of rock which stretches on into eternity.

I’m eventually beckoned down by the others at the car who offer me some of lunch but I find I’m not hungry to exhilarated by all the climbing and this incredible and unexpected gem of the third day.  I thank Miguel, who is resting in the car, several times profusely for bringing us here.  We then decide to take another group picture eating lunch in the Lama filled grove.

After lunch Miguel suggests we take a walk along the road while he packs up, and I do so strolling along the narrow dirt road through the unique and special rock formations rapping along to some J. Cole, ahead of the rest of the group.

We eventually are picked up by Miguel and climb back into the car, for the last long haul drive back to Uyuni.  This whole day we’ve passed the time in the car playing fun competitive geography games seeing who could list the most US states, European Countries, South American Central American and Caribbean countries, and Finally African Countries.  I do well enough but am upset at some of the silly ones I forget, like Slovenia.

‘i stay awake as best I can for the entire ride back to keep Miguel company and so see still more impressive scenery, as we stop in a nearby town where I buy a freezie and popcorn before we drive the last hour or so to Uyuni, without any issue, making us luckier than both of these truckers.

Getting back to Uyuni I hop out of the car too eager to leave Miguel a great review in his office and somehow forget my Ipod in the car, by the time I realize it the next day the cleaners have already gotten to it.  Oh well, as Homer Simpson Says Possessions are fleeting, and I’d gladly trade an Ipod for the incredible experience of the last three days.