Salt of the Earth

Day 46-49: Reserva Nacional de Fauna Andina Eduardo Avaroa, Bolivia. I've never been to Mars. Or Jupiter, or Saturn or even Venus for that matter. But if I did, I bet you that I would have seen some more familiar, earthly like scenes than Karen and I witnessed during the past few days in South West Bolivia.

One of the most remote and hostile environments on earth, this was a job that not even our hero bus driver from Tupiza could help us with. Teaming up with 4 like minded travellers from Norway and Switzerland we managed to secure a 4 wheel drive vehicle, a driver and a Bolivian guide so that we could really get off the beaten track. And whilst our trusty Landcruiser may have had over a quarter of a million miles on the clock it also had a couple of 'extras' that every self-respecting yuppie will be wanting on their Chelsea Tractor - like an altimeter and oxygen mask for instance. But these accessories weren’t just for show, as our 600 mile trip through this harsh, isolated land would take us over Andean passes at altitudes greater than 16,000 feet.

For days we travelled; the landscape constantly changing. Hour by hour becoming more or more incredible, more and more bizarre. In the north, the breathtaking Salar de Uyuni, formed as the Andes rose from the abyss creating a great isolated inland ocean, that dried up over the eons to leave the world's largest salt flat: 5,000 square miles; about the size of Northern Ireland and estimated to contain around 13 billion tons of salt and 70% of the worlds' lithium reserves. In the dry season apparently, the salar is a pure white expanse of the greatest nothing imaginable – just the blue sky, the white ground and you. In the wet season though the flats are filled with a few inches of water perfectly reflecting the clouds and the blue Altiplano sky and forcing the horizon to disappear completely. For Karen and I driving across through this immense shallow lagoon was positively surreal – it felt like our aged Toyota was flying through the clouds.

In the south, red lakes, blue lakes, green lakes. Green deserts with red rocks, orange deserts with green rocks. Yellow mountains, black mountains, white mountains. Snow capped volcanoes, geysers, hot springs and boiling superheated mud. Metallic veins of iron, copper, arsenic, silver and boron. Pink flamingos on frozen lakes and woolly llamas with coloured ostrich feather ear-rings.

Viewing this unearthly scenery, it's hardly surprising that one of these Bolivian deserts is called Rocas de Dali as it feels like the landscape has been meticulously placed here by the surrealist master Salvador himself.

Bathing in the hot springs of Termas de Polques to warm ourselves from the cold winds that ripped across the Andean desert plateau, it made me wonder what awesome natural forces must have been in play 45 million years ago to form this spectacular mountain range. As Pangea began to break apart, the ocean floor was thrust skywards and world's longest continental mountain range was formed; 4,300 miles long, 200 miles wide, with and average height of 13,000 feet, peaking at almost 23,000 feet. When all this was going on it must have made the Hiroshima bomb look like a candle by comparison. And as I felt the hot water bubbling from the active earth below me and as I gazed up at the crater of Volcan Licancabur above me I realised that mother nature hasn't quite finished with her game plan for these mountains as the Pacific Ring of Fire continues to be one of the most active volcanic regions of the world.

Life out here is just as tough as the environment. Basic accommodation, no hot water and only sufficient electricity to power the village for around 2 hours a day, so it's lights out and time for bed by 9pm! Thanks though to our excellent guide and cook we didn't starve. With nowhere to buy provisions in the desert, Juan brought all the food and drink we needed from Uyuni strapped to the top of the Toyota and considering the limited ingredients available to us those impromptu picnics on the tailgate of the Landcruiser were some of the best and most memorable meals we have eaten on our travels so far

That said though, I've eaten so much llama since we arrived in Bolivia that I'm getting quite a taste for it now. When we get back to Steeple Morden, please can somebody keep a count on those alpacas otherwise one or two might just end up on the Brown's summer barbecue!