We watched the bleak film ´The Devil´s Miner´ in Sucre, about two young boys who work the mines in Potosi, but even though it prepared us for what we would see, it didn´t make the impact any less potent.  Once the 3rd richest city in the world and Latin America´s boomtown, the Cerro Rico mountain that looms over the city has now been ransacked of all is silver and miners now drill is shockingly harsh conditions for a pretty measly amont of zinc or ore.

These days tourists venture into subterrania in questionably safe mine shafts to witness the miners in action, and it proved to be no less scary than the Death Road tour...Bolivia is certainly the place to test your ballsiness!  In the near darkness you descend slippery ladders some 40m, avoid trolleys carrying ore and minerals colliding into you and feel the vibration of explosives below as you wonder how hollow the whole mine structure must be, a bit like a giant piece of Edam.  17 yr olds (going on 50) work around aspestos and silicone, knowing full well that their lifespan can be as low as 10 yrs with continued exposure.  Somehow though there was a real sense of pride in what they were doing and some even told us they loved their job.  As for me, at the moment when electric wires sparked and danced about crazily next to my ear, I realised I was quite happy with my predictable little office job.

We visited the ´tios´ which are monster-like shrines that the miners give gifts like coca leaves and drinks to daily as they believe that god cannot protect them underground from the perilous mines.  They take this very seriously, even though the tios themselves look like Guy Fawkes dummies made by eager 5yr olds!  Our guide then gave us a controlled explosion which was around 15m away from us, which was without doubt the loudest thing I have ever heard.  Let´s just say when I saw natural daylight again I felt a surge of relief to be out of there.  How those guys do it every day for up to 40 years (if they are lucky to still be alive) is a mystery. 

Potosi itself is the highest city in the world at 4060m, making it a cold place and with an eerie, tragic feel to it too; a place that has experienced true glory and lost it all, and whose people endure daily torture.  Plus it´s pretty freezing as soon as the sun starts to disappear, all the more reason to spend as little time here as possible.

So on we marched to Tupiza, the Wild West of Bolivia, an area whose crimson ravines and creeks make it an interesting, dusty place to explore on foot or horseback.  Dom tried his best to get me on a horse but I resisted (Julia will know why!).  I have decided I am going to conquer my fear but in Argentina gaucho territory where I imagined I would saddle up.  So instead we did lots of day hikes to Canon del Duende, Toroyoj etc and enjoyed the endless cloudless days and icy cold pool we had whilst we waited for a group to form to Uyuni.

People take the tour of the Salt Flats of Uyuni from Tupiza as you slowly build up to the main flats on the last 4th day, and we were not disappointed.  The scenery we saw on this trip was the most surreal and logic-defying we had seen anywhere else, like being on the set of a Sci-Fi film.  We also knew the weather would challenge us as we ascended higher than 5000m with temperatures under -7oc, but the cold was at times so bitter we couldn´t feel our hands or feet!  We resorted to wearing virtually all our clothes and sleeping bags at night, an absolute must on this tour.

We were constantly moving in the jeep, passing through llama country and some sand dunes, dusty villages with a smattering of rickety houses, we bathed in natural hot springs (avoiding our eyelashes freezing out of the water), and in the morning of the second day the wind noticably gathered pace.  Our guide told us these were some of the worst winds he had seen on the trip, and we even drove through some sandstorms which were crazy - you could barely see out the windscreen!   We stopped for bubbling geisers of various orange, red and greyish colours.  Then we passed Laguna Verde with its greenish appearance, and the Laguna Colorada which is a red lake full of pink flamingoes.  We were totally amazed by the variety of dream-like landscapes, including the Arbol de Piedra (stone tree) which looked like it has jumped out of a Dali painting, its strange curves and thin base defying gravity, whilst the sandstorm whipped it into semi-obscurity. We obviously remained in the jeep, occasionally winding down the window for photos -still getting a mouthful of sand in the process!

The next morning we awoke at 5am, bleary-eyed but way worth the pain to see the white Salar emerge slowly before our eyes under the red tinges of the rising sun.  The first sight of this bizarre 360o patterned plain silenced us for a while - the wind had died and it had an unfeasibly serene quality to it.   Any noise seemed like sacrilege. We then drove to Inca Huasi, the most baffling island I have ever been to.  Surrounded by the white salt terrain, this island is full of giant cacti, its forest reaching the peaks of the island giving you incredible views, almost like a giant green hedgehog sitting in the snow.  Some of the cacti soared in excess of 10m high, as if desperate to reach cacti heaven, and others were over 1000 yrs old.

Our guide told us the flats were some 15-45m deep, and we found a few holes where we saw giant salt crystals and their geomteric patterns (we even kept a couple of souvenirs... well there is enough of it to go round!).   Then it was time for the obligatory optical illusion photos.  The lack of perspective on the all-white terrain makes it easy for objects to lose all sense of scale, so ensued a frenzy of photos.... me coming out of an egg shell, Dom being squished by my giant foot, everyone sitting on my shoulder, and my downing a giant bottle of red wine.  Brilliant fun and we probably could have stayed all day being kids again!

Our tour finished in ugly Uyuni, battling to beat Puno for the title of most aesthetically challenged Latin American town!  We explored the train graveyard, its sad carriages half submerged and covered in graffiti, forgotten by all except for Uyuni tourists trying to find something to fill their time.   Then we took an overnight train to Oruro and straight to the border of Chile, marking the end of our whirlwind 45 days in Bolivia. With the migration office out to lunch and manner-immune Bolivians edging in front of us in the queue, it seemed fitting to feel so ambivalent about moving on from here. 

Extreme Bolivia has showed us more than any other country; challenged our perceptions of safety, comfort, make us pant in breathless panic at being so high, make us sweat in its humid jungle, given us fear we had never known, but with it landscapes we never knew could exist.  Very mixed indeed... but after all is said and done, isn´t this what travelling should be about?? So we salute you Bolivia, as we make our way into Chile.