Alaska to Argentina – de arriba abajo

Heading south out of La Paz we had some hard routing decisions to make, the rainy season is catching up with us and we’ve booked an Airbnb in Mendoza for Christmas. Unfortunately we just didn’t have the time to ride all the routes we wanted to in Bolivia and northern Chile. Nevado Sajama and the bikepacking.com Vicuñas route will have to wait until next time.

We took an overnight bus from La Paz to Uyuni and from there headed west across the Salar de Uyuni. The original plan was to spend 2 days on the salt flat but once we hit the white stuff the wind wasn’t in our favour. Instead we cut a diagonal across the salar and surfed the tailwind for 70km, zipping along at 30km an hour on the dead flat with nothing around in any direction was a novel experience. About 15km short of the “shore” of the flats we set up camp for a night under the stars in one of the weirdest places we’ve ever been. I’d carried a rock with me from outside the salar to help smash the tent pegs in to the concrete like salt but still only managed to get them a few centimetres deep. Seemed solid enough though so fingers were crossed that they’d hold.

2 minutes later the wind changes direction and picks up in strength, the tent was getting battered and the looming rain clouds had us worried. A quick decision to pack down the tent and try and find a more suitable spot at the edge of the salar. Not the dreamy camp we’d hoped for but these things happen. A quick 15km and we were off the salt and found a hostel that let us camp in the hallway for £2. Shortly after arriving it started pissing down so we were very glad not to be on the salt flat (with 0 drainage).

Pedalling on the next day we crossed more salars (although none as white and pristine as the Salar de Uyuni), at times flying with tailwinds, at times crawling along with horrendous headwinds. We spent the night in an abandoned rail station next to a remote
military base. The wind continued to howl outside and before dark it was raining again, riding in the shoulder season wasn’t working out and the rains were coming earlier than we’d hoped.

Waking up it was still drizzling and the surrounding flats were soaked, huge puddles and barely a trail to follow it wasn’t ideal but we had no option to push on forward. The route back was just a shit and there were no real options to reroute. The first few km weren’t so bad but things quickly deteriorated and before long our bikes were clogged with salty peanut butter mud and the trail was none existent. Fuck. We dragged our bikes 20m across the quagmire and got on to the single track railway, a 1m wide strip of chunky gravel was our only ticket out of the muddy hell.

20km of pushing along the tracks was on the menu, just had to hope we didn’t get run over by a train. The military guys had said there were only two trains a day, had to trust they were right. After a fairly miserable hour of pushing and stress we’d made it 3km, the surrounding flats were looking drier though, time to make a break and try and get to the parallel road 2km away. Luck was finally on our side and we made it across without too much bog, finally a gravel road where after some mud scraping we could ride again.

More headwind and more swearing ensued but we finally made it to a small village on the Bolivia Chile border. We bought some food and paid for use of a tap, bucket and broom to clean the sludge of the bikes. Morale was low and we were doubting if it was going to be possible to ride the Lagunas route, 250km across sandy tracks across the alitplano with little in the way of resupply or options to bail if things aren’t going to plan. After finding a camp spot in the covered sports hall we decided that if there was rain in the morning we’d cross the border and take the low road in Chile but if there was sun we’d take our chances on the Lagunas road.

Sun and blue skies greeted us in the morning, the decision was made and we pedalled towards the Martian landscapes of the high lakes.