Salvador Dali Desert

Hotsprings in the desert

Last bath opportunity before Chile

There was an early morning rush; really early morning. The sun hadn’t come up yet, and we were expected to be at breakfast at no later than 6, with departure time set for 06.30. In the dark without electricity we made do with whatever flashlights we could find and packed up, still sleepy, and without a thought for a shower in the near-zero temperature we made our way to the breakfast room. Several tables had been set up, one already taken over by one group of travellers who had more or less completed their breakfast. The other table, ours. Plates were there, cups, and cutlery, but no food. Exactly one kettle of hot water stood on one corner of the table, and we looked around for coffee and tea, eventually finding the tea and making do with that. There was no noise from the kitchen, and certainly no smell of food cooking. From another direction of the building someone appeared carrying a few slices of bread. We waited for more, having been assured by our driver/guide that there would be more to the breakfast, and so we quietly waited. The other group finished, got up and left. We sat and waited some more. After another long wait I finally stood up to take a look in the kitchen to see what was being prepared, but found no one there, only another kettle boiling. I indicated the lack of any other human being in the kitchen area to the guide, who then set about hunting for edibles in the cupboards and shelves. Soon enough he came back with a few things which he deposited on the table, and we set to. It would have to do, and to be honest, none of us were really that hungry. Having had our carbs, we retrieved our bags and in the early morning light heaved them up onto the roof of the 4×4 and got everything packed away. It was going to be a long day; a number of places to see before a dash to the border with Chile where we would have to cross and be stamped out of Bolivia before noon or find ourselves waiting for at least another 2 hours for the afternoon siesta – if we were lucky enough to be assisted at all.

Salvador Dali in a Desert

Without grumbling we settled ourselves in the vehicle, the only warm place to be found, and as the sun slowly crept up over the horizon, haltingly spreading its warming rays across a cold and desolate landscape, we started to make our way to the Salvador Dali desert. Before we reached this point, we passed by a final lake, a lake that supposedly turns green at the right time of the year, but at this point was still a cold, flat, dark pool – “December” we were told, would be the right time to see it totally coloured, the result of algae growth during the summer months. We climbed higher into the mountains, moving from an altitude of around 4,300 meters to slightly more than 5,300 meters before descending again (Everest base camp is at 4,500 meters). The drive through the desert was interesting, and true to its name, it really did appear like the surrealist paintings of Salvador Dali.

A bubble bath…Hot springs

Hot Springs

From the desert we carried on to what was promoted to be the highlight of the morning’s trip, a visit to some hot springs, with one facility offering the possibility for a quick soak. For a while we continued our drive across the empty landscape before finally climbing and then descending from a mountain and below us we could see small wisps of steam emanating from the ground. We stopped a distance away from the boiling mud pots and steaming geysers, were duly warned about the dangers of collapsing land, and so the necessity for sticking to the outlined trails, before being allowed to explore the area on our own. Having wandered around for a while and taken the necessary pictures we moved on to the site of the thermal bath. As we drove up I could see several dozen people all crowded into a pool of steaming water, sweating in borrowed bathing suits. There was a small cafe with some comfortable tables and chairs, and more importantly, electricity, and I opted for sitting down, enjoying a coffee, and charging my much depleted telephone battery instead of exchanging my clothes for some dubious shorts and sliding into the cauldron of what looked to be unfiltered bathwater doing service the umpteenth time over.

A dash for the border

The coffee finished, and our group reassembled, we once again got on our way – none of the group had ventured into the scalding water – and we were well on our way and ahead of other groups also making their way for the border. It was an interesting sight to see; from all corners of the desert four-wheel drive vehicles were making their way to the same two small buildings strategically placed at the bottom of a small valley. I could see the small dust clouds all around, and it seemed to be almost a point of pride with the drivers to see who could reach the Bolivian border post the fastest with the least bit of jostling of passengers. We slid into a spot not too far from the buildings and within moments bags were being handed down to us from the roof of the car. We had made it in plenty of time, and there was no real crowd at the post, yet. We bade our driver/guide farewell and proceeded inside. Within 20 minutes I exited on the other side of the building and was pointed in the direction of a waiting bus – I had officially left Bolivia behind me, but it would take another hour before we arrived at the Chilean border post in San Pedro de Atacama.