In the morning we met our travelling companions, Ben and Naomi, a pleasant young English couple who had arrived here via Brazil. Uruguay and Argentina, our driver-guide, Marco, and our cook, Elena. Neither Marco nor Elena spoke English; the three hard weeks of Spanish lessons in Pucon were to prove their worth. The 4WD loaded with backpacks, food and sundry equipment tied firmly to the roof, we set off, soon leaving the town behind and, passing the dark rock spires of Palala, headed up a track along a wide dry quebrada, packed with yellow-flowering wild tobacco.

Leaving the gravel river bed, we started our climb up through the arid hills of the Cordillera de Lipez on a steep, narrow and rutted track, stopping to take in the impressive landscape of La Silla, where erosion has carved a lunar landscape around the base of a deep valley. From this point we could also take one final look back toward the coloured hills of Tupiza.

The climb continued up to 4400m, and we soon appreciated the driving skills of Marco as he navigated the ruts, corrugations, washouts and various obstacles that regularly cropped up on this winding track. The landscape became increasingly arid, vegetated by low shrubs and small tussock grasses, with llareta, the hard bright green cushion plants, adding a dash of colour. We saw our first llama - Marco and Elena were amused at our enthusiasm for this encounter. As they knew and we would find out, it was one of many thousands of llamas that we would see on this trip.

The dryness of the landscape

From the lunch spot, we descended alongside a barely flowing creek before climbing once again to reach the Altiplano proper.

We were driving along a high plain covered with large expanses of yellow paja ichu (tussock grasses) on pink-tinted soil, surrounded by low rounded bare hills with the more distant higher mountains on the horizon. The going was slow to avoid the many washouts (it rains rarely but when it does the run-off carves its way through the soft soils).

We passed small villages in the middle of the empty plain, isolated llama herders huts with their herds of llamas, the odd person walking along in the middle of nowhere - the people who live here are hardy souls. A meandering salt-encrusted stream bed led us gently down, followed by a climb over one more lot of arid hills to reach the village of San Pablo on the river of the same name.

Finally, one last steady climb toward Cerro San Antonio, in the brilliant late afternoon light with the yellow tussocks and purple mountains, brought us to the village of San Antonio de Lipez (4200m) and our rooms for the night in a comfortable adobe refugio. We were well fed, the full moon shone brightly and the stars twinkled.

All would have been well except for the headache and nausea that we four gringos suffered to varying degrees. We had climbed 1200m in a day and at this height there is a price to pay for such quick gain in altitude.

Village of San Antonio de Lipez

We woke to a sunny, but icy morning. Outside it was -10ºC, but inside we were relatively warm and appreciated the insulating properties of adobe bricks. The fair Nello and I were still feeling the altitude somewhat, but felt better after breakfast with a bit of food in our stomachs.

We were off on the road again by 8.30, following the river bed down along the broad tussock covered valley floor, bright yellow in the early morning sun. The ice crunched in the frozen stream as we crossed it.

After a short exploration, we left the ruins to its animals and its phantoms and descended into a valley dotted with the huts of llama herders and hundreds of llama scattered on the hillsides. Climbing again to the next pass at 4820m, we saw our first herd of vicuña, their graceful tan forms blending in with the background vegetation.

From the pass, we dropped into the valley of an ice-filled stream, to climb yet again to our high point for the day at 4910m. Here we entered the Reserva Nacional de Fauna Andina Eduardo Avaroa, a sanctuary for the many species of this desert region. On cue, a ñandu strolled casually through the tussock grass alongside the road.

Nandu

This was a land of mobile vegetation, where tussock grasses move slowly across the landscape in semi-circular patches, growing out on one side as they died on the the other. The views opened up to the spectacular sight of the twin cones of 6010m Volcan Uturuncu above the salt white surface of Lago Morejon. It had last erupted four months earlier, a reminder that we were in an active volcanic area.

Passing the lake, we crossed one more saddle at 4750m to reach a low wide gorge. It provided a nice sheltered spot for lunch.

Replete after another great meal from Elena, we pushed on, climbing up to a broad flat plain covered in flaking slabs of pinkish-tan shale. As we drove around their bases, the spectacular views of Volcan Uturuncu, with its white streaks of sulphur, and a neigbouring nameless multi-coloured mountain changed continuously.

Eventually we reached Laguna Negra, with its reflections of the volcano, followed by the beautiful Laguna Celeste (4560m). This lake, reknowned for the sky-blue colour of its water, was our main objective of the day and we spent some time wandering along the shores absorbing the atmosphere of this isolated spot and watching the flamingos, ducks and other waterbirds.

Doubling back to the gorge, we picked up the road again, checking in at the Fauna Reserva office and crossing the trout-filled waters of one of the larger streams tha drain this region, before continuing on to our accommodation at a hostal in the small dusty village of Quetana Chico, back at the now more normal altitude of 4160m. During the day our symptoms of altitude sickness had slowly faded away and our appetites were restored.

It had been a spectacular day, completed by the sight of a full moon rising over the Volcan Uturuncu, as the sky changed to the grey and pink colours of an Altiplano dusk.

 

Desert sunrise over Volcan Uturuncu

The landscape was becoming distinctly more desert-like as we gently descend past salt-laden Laguna Hedionda and our first flock of flamingos, filtering out algae in the shallow lake waters.

We also realized that we hadn't seen any llamas for some time; this extremely arid region is the land of the vicuña, grazing the tiny grasses and herbs that grow in the desert gravels.

Not much later, we crossed over to the blindingly white bed of Laguna Kollpa, where a small enterpise harvested the salts to make shampoo. From there, we traversed a broad gravelly landscape before descending to Salar de Chalviri, framed by a range splashed in many shades of ochre colours. We crossed the salar on a borax highway, our smoothest road of the trip, before turning south to pass the Termas de Polques, hot water springs that steamed in the morning cold and sun.

We would return, but first we had a detour to cross the barren flats of the Dali Desert, surrounded by surreally coloured mountains and dotted with unusual rock pillars.

 

Even in this apparently vegetation free habitat, a herd of vicuña were eking out a living.

Climbing over another rise, we descended along a gently sloping bed of gravel, dotted with volcanic rocks, heading towards the 6000m peak of Volcan Zairecahul.

At the end of the gravel, we veered south through a rocky area to reach Laguna Blanco and Laguna Verde (4500m), seperated only by a narrow white neck of salt-covered land. Two very different lakes, one a pale coffee colour, but home to flamingos and other creatures, the other a bright blue-green colour, but completely sterile. The arsenic and magnesium salts that give its aesthetic colour ensure that nothing can survive in its waters.

Nonetheless, it was a beautiful setting, directly in front of the reddish-brown cone of 5950m Volcan Licanbur, which was reflected in the still waters of Laguna Verde. We took in this tranquil scene as we waited for the desert wind to spring up; as it rippled the surface, the lake colour changed to an opalescent green.

After lunch at Laguna Verde, we doubled back to the Termas de Polques for a dip in the hot spring - out first experience of volcanic activity in the area. It was very pleasant soaking in the hot mineral-rich water in the warm afternoon sunshine. The only problem was that it was a meeting point for all the jeep tours, so many people had the same idea, which detracts somewhat from the experience. We were now on the main jeep circuit where tours originating in Uyuni and Tupiza follow the same path - La Ruta de las Joyas Altoandinas.

A dip in the hot springs at Polques

Leaving the hot springs behind, we skirted the northern end of the Salar de Chalviri before starting a long steady climb up through the barren brown gravel of the high desert to reach the Sol de Mañana, a small area of geothermal activity much different to the hot springs below; geysers of steam roaring out of vents, sulphurous fumaroles, pools of bubbling mud in greys, pink and tan and ponds of boiling grey water in a lunar cratered landscape.

Moving on, the track crossed a gently rounded saddle on this high plateau, at 4935m according to my GPS and the highest point of our trip. Still not quite as high as the 5000m claimed by a sign next to the track. I prefer to trust my GPS, as it has never been out by more than 20m in altitude, so sadly for all those who have completed this tour feeling pleased at having been higher than the magical 5000m - maybe not!!!

Unlike the postcards, the water was not bright red, but more an opaque pink, fringed with the brilliant white deposits of sodium, magnesium, borax and gypsum. However, as expected, it was home to hundreds of flamingos, wading in file to feed on the algae and plankton that gives the lake its colour or flying low across the lake surface with flashes of bright rose-coloured wings. Like the penguin, the flamingo is one of those iconic birds that fascinate people. We were duly fascinated.