While overall, super tiring, it was all absolutely fabulous! 

The Salar is truly incredible, and for me, created a conflict between perception and reality - my being was telling me I was surrounded by snow and ice, while my mind was telling me "no, it's salt."  My being was telling me I ought to be dressed for winter, not in shorts, and be on skis, not a bike.   

On the first day, I didn't understand how someone could get lost.  On the second day, I was smug as I debated which way I needed to go.  Although, I'm sure if anyone gets lost it's because there's a blockade in Uyuni (which started the day after I left) and none of the bazillion jeeps can take tours. (Once the blockade started, I had a total of one jeep, one motorcyle and one campesino on bike pass me... over the course of four days!)

The Uyuni Salar to Calama, Chile provided me with some of my toughest "cycling" - not cycling at all... but pushing through sand, or over crazy unrideable terrain.  This, coupled with a whirlwind visit to San Pedro de Atacama and surrounding sites left me in a state of recouperation these past few days.  But, now!  I'm ready to roll!  Hopping on my bike in just a few minutes to head down toward the Panamericana (back into traffic!)  Am a bit sad to say goodbye to the highlands, and to soon be catching a ride (for the Panamericana to Serena or Santiago) but with time now "short" before flying home (yup! flights are booked!) I'd rather not use two weeks to cycle more desert.  And got a date with Lorena for next weekend -- wooohooo!  Next "chat" -- Santiago!

xo Shauna

-- the details --

**  Every kind of snow.. er, salt conditions  **

The Salar was incredible.  Having grown up in a land of snow and ice, my entire being was telling me "Shauna, it's winter-time.  You are on a frozen lake, covered in hard-packed snow."   This was a surprise for me -- I did not expect to draw strong parallels between salt and snow.  

For friends and family in Canada, Northern USA, and many parts of Europe - imagine yourself on a frozen lake. Extend the lake as far as the horizon.  Flatness 360 degrees around you.  You can see the shore in three "spots" - mountains in  the distance.  White white white hard-wind-packed snow everywhere. Brilliant blue sky, bright sun, and the reflection on the "snow".  Not a sound, no birds, no insects, no nothing.  Maybe an ever so slight movement of air over your ears is the only sound.  To get to where you are, in the "middle", you crossed an area where the snow/ice was like pavement; then pavement with the little pebbly bumps of ice; next, hard-packed crunchy snow; and now granular.  

You are in the middle of a frozen lake...and you are on your bike, in shorts. It was super interesting observing the "conflict" I was in, between what I "know" from my upbringing (this is snow and cold) and the reality of what I was experiencing.   As the sun began to drop, the air cooled down significantly and had a chill to it just like "home".   Donning more clothes, my mind was doing a double-take - expecting to see my cross-country skis where my bike was parked.  I realize, even with my sunblock precautions, I'm burnt - the worst was my lips, and under my chin and nose.  Ouch!  I'm told my chin isn't very red, but it sure feels it due to the rubbing of my clothing.  

The second day, while still interesting, was just plain hard - no doubt a combination of: the change in terrain - really rough, very slow going (I'm sure if I hadn't gotten off to walk a few times, my brain and internal organs would have been well scrambled); being tired from the previous day, not realizing how much the sun and endless white had taken it's toll; and here I was in it again! - psychological de-energizer when you think you're almost there and you're not, not, not, not even close; uncertainty of where my route was - I had been told, "Easy. Aim for 10 kms from the point.  It will be obvious for the path made by the tour-jeeps, and you'll see streams of jeeps coming and going from San Juan.  Don't worry."  

Weeeellllll.  While I could follow a path for a while, it disappeared in the hardness of the snow, er, salt (btw, this "snow" insertion was an unintentional slip!).  Reappeared, disappeared, and reappeared again, along with a bazillion other jeep-marks.  Going every which way. Like I was standing in the middle of a maze of snow-mobile tracks!   Which one to follow?   And the rows of jeeps I was to spot?  Not a one.  It just so happened that same morning, a "strike" started in Uyuni - the roads were blocked and no-one could leave, so there were no tours.  

Hot!  It feels hotter today than yesterday?  Even so, I don't remove the (black!) neckband (normally for cold weather) that I now use to prevent increasing the level of sun-burn on my neck/chin.    

The first night, barely into the Salar, I camped beside a salt hotel - built out of  salt. Inside, the tables and chairs are made of salt.  Second night, I camped on the island, "Inkahuasi" - a refuge from the vastness, with it's stark form jutting  out from the white all around.  A dry island, covered in gigantic cactuses, some supposedly 7 m tall.  I had wanted to camp in the Salar but was told the wind could be ferocious at night; and visiting with the tours both nights was fun!   

Given two windless nights, my desire to camp out in the open, I took my time getting to "mainland"  (okay, so "taking my time" was, in part, unavoidable given how slow the riding was!) and set up camp on the Salar. Just me, my bike, the bitter coldness of night approaching, the beauty of my stark open surroundings, ... and wind.  Oh, yah, this was wind!  I zig-zagged my bike and trailer, and put an impermeable sheet over my bike to block the wind - worked great until I woke up about 10:30 and the wind had changed directions pushing my tent far from upright!  A quick zip out of my tent, into the chill to move my bike.  It made absolutely no difference. So, settled back into my sleeping bag hoping I wouldn't find myself blown back to La Paz by morning!  

In the morning, as I was about to pack up, one lone jeep rolled up to check out the curious site.  The driver directed me to where I needed to go, and informed me I'd be seeing a line of jeeps.  Not so. He was the only one.  And the road to land was no better than the day before.  Yuck.  Add some areas of slush and water to the "snow conditions".  

** Back onto Land **

Ready to be off the Salar, and onto what I'd been told was a hard-packed dirt road, I was at first elated to be riding on the "pavement" type of salt. then deflated when I found myself either bump-bump-bumping over a washboard or pushing through sand.   Would I *ever* get to San Juan?  (a pueblo around 40 kms off the Salar), let alone Ollagüe, Chile?!   With a dwindling supply of both food and water, I made the short detour pushing my bike up a steep sand road, and into the first and only pueblo between the Salar and San Juan, Colcha K.  I was told by a military boy, on his bike, riding along with me that there were no restaurants; but yes, there were small tiendas.  My energy dropped in the images of only being able to get soda crackers (or maybe only sugared biscuits?), candies, and perhaps a squashed tomato if I was lucky.   

Wooohooo!  As it turns out, the store on the corner - normally open as a restaurant for weekends only - was serving food a couple days earlier for two fellows from the city, Sucre - they were putting on a seminar for municipal administrators of the area.  Man, it felt good to sit down, inside, with a bowl of quinua soup!  My new friends invited me to stay the night - the small hotel was paid for, but all the other seminar facilitators would be arriving the next day. Eager to get to San Juan, I just about declined the invite.  But a check in on my energy level, and I knew I would not enjoy the road ahead.  Better rest, and wash my bike of the salt.  And!  Lucky me, the once-a-month-fruit/veggie truck was in town!  

Again, contrary to what locals told me, the road is sand and washboard.  But this time, I thoroughly enjoyed it - what a difference being recharged from a good night's sleep, washed skin, hair re-braided, and restocked water-bottles and food supply.  Many times thought "I could not have done this yesterday."  

** Lost? And getting to San Juan ** 

My road took me to a deserted town on a railway crossing.  Standing on the railway, there were a number of options of roads through the sand.  Shoot! While I enjoyed where I was, I really didn't want to be "exploring" toooooo much!  I decided if there wasn't anyone living in this ghost-town, I would take the road off to the left. It seemed the most traveled.  Entering the deserted town, a dog barked. I supposed "this doesn't mean anything".  It looked pretty scrawny, like it could be surviving on - what?  An open door, and a woman and 5 year old came out.  She informed me that while she hasn't been to San Juan in years it was over on the other side of that mountain - the opposite direction of the road I was going to take!  I would have ended up back in Uyuni! 

Following the train-tracks I calculated food - I could make it to Chile without going into San Juan.  Not.  I found myself dismounting my bike numerous times to cross "bridges" - great for a train, awful for a bike.  On one, I was in a bit of a predicament - how does one person maneuver a trailer tire caught between railway ties and up-ahead the front wheel twisted and caught between another set of railway ties? Trying desperately not to have the gears crash down on a railway tie and needing Inspector Gadget arms to dislodge the trailer tire. "Here is a situation, where it would be awfully helpful to have a second person!  Or, panniers instead of a trailer!"

The quality of my path changed, making riding a little shaky.  Another bridge.  The ties are too far apart - better go down off the tracks. But then there's the challenge of turning around a bike with trailer in an area only slightly wider than the bike itself. Ergh.  And backing up a trailer is not the easiest, especially in rocks! Double ergh.  Whew, finally. Maneuvering down a steep gravelly sloooo-p ...crash.  And my bike lands smack dab on top of a recently dead baby llama.  Recalling that llama fetuses are considered to be good luck, I wonder if the babies are as well, and my bike is now blessed?   The path below the bridge was a yucky mix of slimy mud and salt.. sliiiiiiiiiippp and slidiiiiiiiing to the other side.  

Shortly after the baby llama incident, a motorcycle came into view (this was about 3 p.m. and was the only vehicle since the morning before on the Salar).  The fellow riding motioned for me to come down from the railway track and I ran down to chat with him.  He assures me the riding is better on the salt, and where we stand I am convinced.  A few minutes later, I'm not so sure, as I'm riding through what could assimilate cycling through thick (sickeningly sweet) bakery icing. In combo with a head wind, this made for some tough riding! More pushing through sand...more bakery icing...sand...icing.    

Finally got to an area that was a bit easier terrain to ride on (spotted with sand and pushing), but now the wind was on *full*force*  wow!    Where, oh where, is San Juan?   With the sun on its way down, I was beginning to have my doubts I would even reach the town today. When I rounded a curve, and there it was!! Wooohoo!  (Yes, I celebrated out loud, to no-one but the wind!) 

Entering this small, rather desolate town, a little girl, Angela, overheard me asking some other kids if they knew a "Marygold", my Peace Corps contact given to me by Tim in La Paz.  Angela knew her. I had to double check, as Angela said "Yes, I know Margarita; she helped my Mama," and then took me by hand a few blocks away where I met Elvira, Margarita's "sister" here.  A supreme welcome from Tiofilo (the father) - "mi casa es tu casa" (my house is your house) - inviting me to stay inside his hostel free of charge and help myself to one of the all time best *hot* showers I've had in ages.  (Of course, with all the sand and wind, I also felt the grittiest I have in ages so it's a bit relative.  But really, it was a great shower!)  

 Later, Margarita and I visited with her "family" - she's in beautiful hands!  What a wonderfully warm and loving family!  And watched part of one of the sappy soap operas.  Sshhhhh. No one says a word until commercials, intent on what is playing out on the tiny black and white television.  As it flips from one conflict to another, Tiofilo comments on how everyone in this show has problems.  Marygold says to me in English, it's incredible - they watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and they have no concept of what a vampire is to understand the premise of the program, nor understand what is real and that the program is make-believe.  

Some delicious "stew" from "Mom", tickle-fights with the girls next to me, dance displays by Margarita, and laughter all around as this tall blonde "gringa" stomped out a demonstration of Bolivian "tinko". And it's time to excuse ourselves. Margarita wants to check in with some of the tour jeeps in town to try and get a ride out.  While they are all, indeed, bypassing Uyuni for other locations, they're not in the position to take on another passenger. 

At a local tienda I am able to pick up bare minimums - some bread, crackers and  some eggs I later hard-boil to take with me.  Marygold gifts me with a few tomatoes, and *bonus* banana bread. mmmmmmmmmhhhmmmmm!   

**  Lost again?!   - to -  "Luckiest girl in the world" ** 

I was told normally there's little or no wind in the mornings until about 3 p.m. After that, wind picks up.  So, eager to get some kms under me I set out in the a.m., and "of course", right from the get go I had a strong head-wind.  Argh!  Once again I was on a salt lake, but hard-packed.  With the wind, and "deceptive distances", it felt to take forever to get across.   I followed the road, and found myself a ways away from the railroad on another sand-pit of a road.  Shoot! The map I was given from Tiofilo and his instructions are that I would follow the tracks.  And, on his map, he's indicated a road veering from the railway with a "no" written along it.  

To make a long story short, I met a local campesino on bike (the only traffic this day) who instructed me to go to a hill in the distance, on the other side of that was the tracks and I would find the road to Ollagüe.  Again, distances deceptive.  And over a variety of terrain, including a great bike-path weaving through some sort of mounds of - is it of the moss family?  And then walking (impossible to ride) over what seemed to be the veins of a gigantic, dried up, hardened, brown brain.  Ever push your bike over a brain?  It's not easy! 

Finally, I got to my destination just as the sky was turning colours for a sunset.  I parked my bike in some "ruins" of a small deserted, adobe community and walked out on the tracks to see both the sunset, and find my road for the next morning.   No road.  

"Oh well, this is where I am.  At least I know if I follow the tracks I'll get to Chile. And, while I have no idea where I went wrong in my path, this last part (hard brown brain and all!) was all worth it - spectacular!  I wouldn't change a thing!"  I have a great camp shelter from the harsh wind. A glimpse of the sliver moon high in the sky -- my "connection" to home. A smile.  And the strong feeling that, "I'm the luckiest girl in the world."  

**  Off or on "track"?  ** 

I woke disoriented - expected to see the sunrise when I opened my tent door and was looking straight into an adobe wall instead.  Unlike previous mornings, my tent was placed north-south, not east-west.   More pushing. And more painful lips - I can't believe just how sore my lips are from the wind and sun of the last few days.  I stop many times just to add more Vaseline and/or lip-balm.  (Note:  First aid antibiotic cream at night helped a lot!  Then sun-block and Vaseline in the day to protect from further damage.)

 I experiment with different paths near the railway tracks, and conclude there's not much rhyme or reason to what was hard-packed and what was soft. The majority (of course!) being soft.  I pushed around 5 kms when I discovered the road - apparently coming from the direction of where I was told by the campesino to leave the road.  

Sigh.  Oh well. while I might have gotten to here yesterday, there's no shelter around to protect me from the night wind.  And I would have missed out on a pretty cool "bike trail".   

**  Bolivia Border ** 

The last bit of road was hard-packed and while bumpy due to volcanic rock outcrops, I wasn't about to complain - at least I could ride!  A row of trains stationary in the "middle of no-where" greeted me.  Desolate.  Could I be at the border?  I just about rode by, but decided maybe those two Bolivian flags waving above on the other side of the trains were an indication of something.  You'd think the road and immigration office would be on the same side of the railway tracks?  Still, best be certain. Sure enough, this was my stop!  Due to the strike in Uyuni, there's a stockpile of trains - normally immigration would be more obvious.   

Passport in hand, the immigration officer needs to decide what to do with me.  A surprise to me, this is one of only two  border crossings that require a 15 Bs exit fee, of which I don't have (I've become an expert of having almost exactly the right amount of money to take me to the  border).  I ask if they have Chilean  pesos - I could give them a $5.00 bill, but am not really keen on getting a bunch of "Bolivianos".  He nods in understanding, and goes off to consult someone else.  They decide to wave my fee.  Thanks!  

** The "in-between" - the last two kms to Chile **  

Wow!  I'm riding into Chile!   And there is no-one around. How will I get a photo?  Of allllll my border crossings, this is one of the most significant to me.  

In the short (2 kms?) distance between Bolivia immigration and the "Welcome to Chile" sign, I have many reflections of "my" Chilean family - Marcelo, Nora, Lorena and David.  Lorena, my very first girlfriend.  She's currently in Santiago, and we've made plans for the weekend of Nov. 2/3.  I glance at the mental image of  the photo we have - this photo image has accompanied me many times on my journey to here.  The two of us at age 4 and 5 on my very first bicycle... well, tricycle.   It's red. Mmmh. My first bike was red, too. As is the one under me now.  Who would have guessed then, what was happening now!  Who would have guessed our neighbour family way back when, in Saskatoon, and my little Chilean girlfriend, would have inspired a desire to know Latin America and learn Spanish... and that I would do so by bike!   Did my Mother ever think that in taking that photo, she would provide me with a mental image to keep going... keep going... keep going... to here?  I revisit in my mind the now slightly tattered map I've charted so many times, wondering at how far away... how many kms... to where I am now.  What "little" things can inspire!  

I shake myself from self-reflections when I meet Janeth and Ramiro walking back from Chile to the Bolivian border posting.  They are carrying back goods from a store in Ollagüe, and are kind enough to accompany me the rest of my way to the Chilean "Welcome" sign for my "photo-op".  I'm here.   

** Ollagüe, Chile **  (Ollagüe - pronounced, Ol-yah-way) 

Quite a crossing, this is!  First off, this initially seems to be a ghost posting. No-one but the wind. Second, to go into the immigration office, I need to wipe my shoes on a foam mat soaked in some sort of disinfectant to ward off whatever bugs I might be carrying in from the desolate part of Bolivia from where I entered. As if the wind wouldn't have already carried whatever it is in across the imaginary line we call a border! Third, I have to pound on the door a couple times, then wait. The immigration officer is in the shower (it was about 1 p.m.). Fourth, they agree I don't have to "declare" my half-package of crackers (not allowed to take anything that is a product of fruit or animal). Fifth, stamped passport in hand, I walk toward my bike to find the wheels are being hosed down with disinfectant. Where were these guys after my march through the sludge in Oruro?! Sixth, the sterile cleanliness of the offices did not make it into the women's washroom. I've been in some pretty bad bathrooms, and this one ranks way worse than "hold it until next opportunity".  Unusable. Seventh, when I see someone carrying a bag of bread, I ask if there is a bakery in town.  "Yes." Then in a proud voice, "We  have a restaurant."  And I head off to find this one town restaurant. After a soup, refilling my water bottles, and guarding some pasta in my Tupperware for later, I scour the town for remnants of food to cart with me - bread, tomatoes, apples.  

And I'm told that there are various places en route to Calama (or San Pedro de Atacama) where I can pick up stuff - - Hardly!   

** Ollagüe to Cebollar -  almost out of food - just a tomato **

Left Ollagüe and only made about 15 kms in three hours due to the horrid head-wind.  Camped in the salt, and the next morning made 15 kms in 25 minutes, with no head wind.   Hit a cross-road - and a decision - follow the road where I've been pushing through sand, or cut direct across the salt-lake?  Eeny, meeny, miny moe.  Either way could be better than what I'm on now.  Either way could be worse.  Chance it on the lake.  Wrong!  This was worse than the hardened "brains" I'd gone across the day before!  Awful.  Not an option to ride.   The first part was worth it - I got to see a small lake reflecting the reddish mountains, and home to pink flamingos!  In the middle of the lake, I am thrilled to find that in my "emergency reserve" I still have not one, but two Power Bars  (carried all this way from southern USA!!) and savour every bite of a vanilla crisp(?). AND, two small fruit leathers sent down as part of a gift from Kathie and Fred - you two are saviours!!! These were an awesome surprise!  I forgot I had them, and were soooo perfect!  And, yes, the pushing was all worth it.  It is quite something to be in the middle of a small salt lake surrounded on all sides by volcanoes and mountains. Overhead blue blue sky. Pumped with restored powerbar energy, the second half of the salt went a lot faster...   

Yaaah!  I made it.  

Cebollar - a tiny Borax mining town. 

Where can I get food?  Oh, this isn't a business.  We only serve food to the employees of the mine. Okay, I understand but what can you provide me?  What do you want?  Well, I have no idea what you have.  All I know is I need food - I am completely out of all of my food, except for one tomato.  And cannot make it to Calama on one tomato. (This brought a smile.)  No, you can't.. it's still very far.   I got fed royally and was sent off stocked up on bread, tomatos, lettuce and cheese (the best cheese I've had in a long time!) (I was soooo sick of bread by the time I got to Calama!)

Once again, I was told the road was good, hard packed with the wind at my back.  And, once again, I found the contrary - sand, sand, and more sand.  Wind in my face. Hard going.  Oct. 22.  No way I'd make it Calama by the 23rd (my personal "deadline" for reserving air-flights home).  The one truck that passed in my whole day, stopped when I waved.  I accepted the ride for about 100 kms, to Chiu Chiu which is about 35 kms away from Calama. And while I had the feeling of "do I really want to be doing this", in the end I was very glad I did - the road only got worse and worse, before getting better.  And there was no real place to restock on food.  While I was thankful for the supply of bread, it wouldn't do me, 
given the slog I would have had, to Calama.  

Camped at Chiu Chiu and rode into Calama the next day. Straight to a Travel Agent. Stored my bike at the business of the husband of the Agency owner, and hopped a bus to San Pedro de Atacama. Slept for a few fitful hours (worried I'd miss my  3:40 a.m. alarm) and caught my tour to the geisers two hours away.  The tours are set to get to the geisers with the sunrise, as this is the only time they are visible.  With the sun, the steam dissipates.  Fascinating place!  With boiling hot water bubbling up from the ground, and steam escaping from holes all over the place. Our hot water and hot milk for coffee and tea were heated in the geiser water.  A contrast to the verrrrrrrrrrry cold air around us!  We readily welcomed the warming sun!  And a bath in thermal waters on the way "home".  Lucky me!  Among the chatting tourists, from various tours in the thermal bath, I meet Juan Pablo and Andres - Chilean lawyer working at the mine and Spanish HR prof visiting during a course he's giving in Santiago.  They are planning on visiting the Valle del Luna (Valley of the Moon) and a few other local sites before heading back to Calama later this same day - I'm invited along.  Perfect, as I wasn't sure what was in store for me for the afternoon other than a bus back to Calama.   On the way back to Calama, they suggest a tour of the largest copper mine in the world - which I did not know is situated just outside of Calama.  And, somewhere in the midst of conversation, the fact that I visit schools along my journey came up.  I barely had the words "connecting classes" out of my mouth when Juan Pablo says, "that!  I want you to visit my school."

Nothing more was said.  The next morning, after my mine tour, I got to his office and he was busy arranging for us to meet the Executive Director of "his" school.  Turns out Juan is the current President (finishing his first year).  And, now, it is from the comfortable warmth of the Director's home that I recount of the last two weeks.  

**  Calama and Chuquicamata - moving an entire town ** 

I am really interested in the transitions that are happening here.  To meet international standards, this copper mine, Chuquicamata, must not have people living within a certain distance of the mine.  As it is, an entire town has lived practically *in* the mine since the creation of the mine many years ago.  Imagine the challenges of moving an entire town!   In the circumstances here, people of Chuquicamata don't want to move.  Some of it is sentimental.  Some have lived all their lives there.  Some is for perception that Calama is of a "lower class"  (it was majority "professionals" that built Chuquicamata). There's supposedly more alcoholism, prostitution, and violence in Calama.   Planning this move has created some unique challenges and great opportunities - how can the entirety of both communities benefit and create a new, healthier city/community?    Alejandra, where I'm staying, is working on a pilot program through the Calama schools where teachers, students and parents are involved in a  series of workshops/activites exploring experientially, the roots of violence and discovering tools for preventing and resolving conflicts.  

** last thoughts **

Yesterday, I joined my hosts and their friends going to nearby Chiu Chiu for an enjoyable lunch and a jaunt out to see a nearby, small, "bottomless" lake.  I felt at moments I was surrounded by, and partaking in, activities with friends at home -- of which I'm looking forward to re-entering soon!  Much love to all of you, Shauna 

p.s. Yesterday was also the only overcast day I've had since between La Paz and Oruro.  And one of only two overcast days my friends have had in their two years here.  Sunshiney smiles through cyberlines to ya! 

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