The taxi driver pulled into the bus station. "No Senior, no autobus. Tren! Station de tren". He looks at us confused "No tren, autobus a Potosi". "No no" we insist, "station de tren!" He shrugs off the idea. "No tren... autobus". We're starting to get a little worried that we're not going to make it in time. "Senior, por pavour, um... moi reservation de tren. Reservation. Cemetary plus plus. Train Si!". Either he doesn't understand our perfect Spanish or he just doesn't believe us. We tell him to take us back into town, maybe we'll get another taxi from there. On the way he radios his radio lady and she said the train leaves from the siding near the cemetery and as if we never knew there was a train he excitedly tells us that there is in fact a train. Scared we're going to be late he drives right up over some embarkments and drops us off on the actual platform.
Our train for the day not only costs more than the bus, but it's several hours slower, but according to my theory of if there is a train line servicing the places I go, I must take it regardless of all other reason. We had to have a little chucked when our "train" arrived, as it was no more than a bus with train wheels. Not something that looks like a bus, but an actual Mercadies Benz bus. Complete with gear stick and steering wheel. We pilled onboard for what was to be a spectacular journey into the Andies, past waterways, and up countless switchbacks as we traversed the beautiful mountains. We picked up and dropped off people in places where there was no visible towns, or farms for miles in any direction. Dog played chasy with the train with furious passion.
By the time we arrived in Potosi we had climbed 2000m to make it 4070m above sea level, making Potosi the highest city in the world. We gasped for air with every step as we climbed the streets, weighed down with our packs on our backs. It's amazing that anyone would ever choose to live at such altitudes, but for a period of time Potosi was larger than Paris or London when the grand mountains flowed with silver. The city left behind much of it's wealth in it's grand churches and impressive (but seriously boring tour) mint. Unfortunately the mines were excavated by slaves who were places on 12 hour shifts, where they ate, slept and worked underground for six months at a time. Today, now that most of the silver has been extracted, the mines are now in the hands of the miners co-ops. But their future is still bleak. Children as young as 12 work in the mines where the average life expectancy is 10 years after you enter the mine due to blackened lungs.
I don't know what to say about the three day Salt Flats tour that we did that could ever do it justice. It was like a journey to another planet. We started off by visiting a "train cemetary". In the same way elephants know when they are going to die and travel to their solitary place, these trains all suspecting death end up here, left to rust and decay in the salty cold mountain air. At an amazing altitude we travelled across vast, seemingly endless salt flats stopping here and there to take crazy photos where thanks to the lack of foreground and background we can create photographs with forced perspective. We climbed a beautiful little "island" covered with wild west cactuses before watching the sun set over this amazing landscape.
We spent our first night in a salt hotel and a quick lick of the walls proved it was indeed made of salt and left my mouth a little dry. Our second day was diverted away from the flats and through some amazing landscape that resembled the moon more than earth as we plowed through rock canyons and over some of the driest desert in the world, past volcanos created by the tectonic plates that made the Andes the beautiful place it is. Our third night was spend at -20˚C in an unheated hostel but our dinner was warm and delicious and kept our bellies full through the night.
A 5am departure lead us to the creator of a volcano where gas was spewing violently from the ground that was bubbling like a gigantic stew pot. As the run rose over the creator we had reached a staggering 5,200m above sea level. The highest I've ever been, and probably ever will be. Still frozen solid though we appreciated the warmth of hot springs, naturally heated to 35˚C. We visited a few lagoons tinted red or green or white thanks for algae and metallic deposits, where thousands of flamingos played. We sadly said goodbye to Iron Chef Bram, our Dutch companion we've travelled with since Sucre and completed the long trip back to Uyuni. Dinner was both a joy and a saddening experience. Joyful because it could be the best pizza in South America, but saddening because we were leaving The Steve and Viky, two travel companions we've shared since Samaipata almost a month ago.
Waiting at the train station at midnight for our 01.45 train we rugged up and had a few games of pool, sill very much in awe of the previous days, but filled with excitement for the next stop in our journey, the Bolivian capital, La Paz.
*NOTE TO TRAVELERS - we travelled with Andes tours and despite the face we specifically asked not to eat at the illegal salt hotel built on the salt flats (any building on the salt flats are illegal, salt hotels off the salt flats are okay) and despite his guarantee that we wouldn't, we did anyway. Please search out a company that will not stop here.
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