Julie has updated her posts to Touring Isla del Sol, Touring Ollantaytambo and Touring Machu Picchu if you would like to scroll back to Nov. 9, Oct. 30 and 29.

The 3°C dawn quickly warmed to near 40°C as we descended another thousand meters with sand in our teeth (from the previous night’s bivouac).  The barren terrain looks flat, but we coast for 50 km at 25 to 40 kph, at times even seeming to coast uphill.  There are mountains of tailings from huge copper mines across the valley.  Chile has a more highly developed economy, and entering Calama reminds me of southern California.  The first hotel we stop at charges $60 for a room.  We paid an average of $13 in Bolivia.  After checking several more, we check into a residencial for $24, but soon regret the smoky, cramped quarters.  Tomorrow we’ll move to a much nicer hotel for $37, including breakfast.  We visit our families celebrating Thanksgiving (via Skype picturephone for free!)

Madonna & child in the Ascotan Salar.

On Thanksgiving Day we made our first bivouac.  We slept in the Atacama desert at 3400m without a tent or sleeping bag.  We had to change our Bolivianos before leaving the border, but no one in Chile wants them.  A Bolivian bus driver crossing the border was willing to exchange enough Bolivianos for Chilenos to last us a couple days.  The road here is better than in Bolivia, but still gravel for most of the first 70 km, winding around two salars ( salt deserts). At 6 pm salt mining workers got off the bus in a company town as we stopped for snacks.  This, the only town on the way, has no room for us.  Then a steep climb into a stiff headwind delayed our exit from the altiplano, where we’ve been most of November.  The sun set just as we started our descent to lower elevations.  When it got dark we put on warm clothes and our headlights.  A bright, waxing moon directly overhead also lighted our way.  After an hour of cycling in the dark, with very little traffic, we chose to bivouac rather than continue on to another settlement that has no accommodations anyway.  Wearing all our warm clothes, we snuggled into a silk sleep sack inside an emergency space blanket, a thin Mylar fabric with a reflective coating that is surprisingly warm; especially with two bodies in a sack made for one.  We watched Orion rise in a clear sky; and before dawn the Southern Cross rose as the moon set.  I slept little as I had to hold close a rip in the fabric.  We got up before dawn to a temperature of 3°C (38°F).

We climb up from the Ascotan Salar before exiting the altiplano.

Julie crawled into the space blanket before I snuggled in with her.

Morning has broken at 3 degrees C.

A hotel in San Juan built of salt blocks, sort of like the St. Paul Winter Carnival Ice Palaces.

Now the roads are really bad.  We ate a second breakfast at a nice hotel in San Juan, a stop on the tourist circuit, then dropped onto the Salar de Chiguana, which has a better surface. A late afternoon headwind slowed our progress to the Chilean border. We’ve been pushing hard for the last week in order to Skype our families on Thanksgiving, and even altered our route from Argentina to Chile to do so.  The sun set as we cycled the 5k between border posts, and the Chilean side was just closing as we arrived.  But the officials here stayed open to let us through.  I looked out the window for Julie to arrive and saw a young immigration agent fall while taking a joyride on my Cruzbike.  Our only two time zone changes this trip have been into and out of Bolivia.  Central America and northern South America are on Eastern Standard Time, which was the same as Central Daylight Time.  Bolivia is one hour east (ahead) of that, and though Chile is west of Bolivia their time is one hour east of Bolivia. Chile and Argentina are in the same time zone, so for the rest of our South American adventure we’ll be three hours ahead of Central Standard Time.  We spent only 17 days in Bolivia, cycling 1,000 km in ten days of travel.

Eating lunch in the only shade on the salar.

Rainbow reflections in the clouds.

Sunset between the border posts on the Bolivia/Chile border.

reCyclist and Inamorata on the Salar de Uyuni.

We crossed the salar, 85k north to south, stopping for lunch halfway at Isla Incahuasi, not visible from either side.  All the jeep tours stop here to see petrified coral and thousand-year-old cacti. Bad roads and a strong headwind slowed us late in the afternoon, but a local cyclist showed us smoother tracks that looped back onto the flats.  A sudden gale pushed us into Colcha K (also called Villa Martin) and spartan accommodations just as the rain fell.

Early morning departure from Volcan Tunupa.

A net of ten billion polygons covers the surface of the salar.

Coral arch on Isla Incahuasi.

A busy road darkens the salar.

A young suri, a large flightless bird, inhabits this barren terrain.

Bolivian cyclist Jose Lopez

Jose Lopez showed us a smoother off-road alternative to the loose sand & gravel on the road on the mud flats south of the salar.

Tire tracks on wet salt look icy.

Cycling on the salt flats today reminded me of driving on an ice-covered lake. Salt has a crystalline structure, and so does ice. The Salar de Uyuni, the world’s largest salt desert, is about 130 km long by 130 km wide ( 80 miles²). That’s twice the size of Lake of the Woods (the bump on the northern border of Minnesota), much bigger than Lake Mille Lacs. Watch out for slushy spots, water eyes (think ice fishing holes) and open water. Our bikes got covered in salt slush, just like winter biking in Minnesota, but today’s temp was 30C (68F). Other differences from North Woods lakes include: cacti growing on the islands, vicuňas grazing, flamingos in the open water, and volcanos on the shore. We got in early enough to do our laundry at the pleasant Posada Doňa Lupe, where we met Phillipe Boulet-Gercourt. He is the American correspondent for the French magazine Nouveau Observer, doing a story on lithium extraction from the salt flats. Lithium is the key ingredient for electric car batteries, and the world’s largest source is here.

Someone shoveled a skating rink out on the salar.

Derailleur coated with salt slush.

A water eye. (But this one looks like a mouth)

Ninas, ninos & Abuelita travel in a pickup bed.

Today was our first day of unpaved roads, that other cyclists warned are terrible in southern Bolivia, and it wasn’t half bad. Half the time the surface was firm enough to cruise at 20 kph, but the other half we alternated between wasboard bumps, loose sand, and avoiding big rocks. A bus got stuck in the loose sand. Passengers got out to help free it; women furiously shoveling sand and men hauling rocks to put under the rear tires. We are staying in a nice tourist hotel that looked like it would cost much more than the $9 room rate. After a long & tiring, hot & dusty day we enjoyed a decent Bolivian wine with dinner.

Llama herds cross the not-half-bad road.

Lunch stop on the bad half of the road.

PushmePullyou, llamas play King-of-the-Hill.

Choqui Morales, El Presidente's cousin, herding llamas on a bicycle.

Sunset towards Orinoca from Quillacas.

We took a rest day in Challapata after cycling 360 km in three days from La Paz. A Japanese cyclist heading north, Minoru Hamaguchi, took the room next to us and we ate together last night and this morning. Primo’s family had him write everyone’s name in Japanese and Chinese characters. We thought we’d run out of pavement today, but did not. The road to Uyuni did turn to gravel 18k south of Huari, but we turned off on a road to the north of the Salar de Uyuni which is currently being paved; probably because Bolivian President Evo Morales is from Orinoca, the next village 50k NW of here. We had the pavement to ourselves since other vehicles are blocked from driving on it. We stopped to chat with the road crew who did not prevent us from using the new road. We saw a coyote cross the road in front of us, and more llama herds than previously. We met an SUV cooling off here belonging to tour guide Rodrigo with a couple of Japanese honeymooners. We are staying in simple quarters with no shower or bathroom. There is a bathroom below us, but no water to flush. So we are advised to go out in a nearby field.

Minoru Hamaguchi is on a three month tour.

Where the pavement ends in Bolivia.

Juan Carlos, road crew chief, supports Evo Morales.

Santiago de Quillacas with Lake Poopo in the distance.

Afternoon thundershowers come with a cool wind change.

This is our last full day on paved roads for a while. We made good time despite a flat tire and thunderstorms threatening in the mountains on our left; while sun shines on the plains to the right. There are several simple residencias here, with no televisions or private baths. We have to pay extra for a shower, but a hot shower is well worth the 75 cents. Primo, the proprietor here, offers info on the roads ahead. We decide to head to the north side of the Salar de Uyuni, a great salt flat, instead of to the town of Uyuni. We’ll travel half the distance on gravel roads; then cross the salar which should be like biking on pavement.

A Ford Ranch Wagon. We had a red one like that 50 years ago.

I think we're headed for that thunderstorm.

Hail covers the ground.

An early start and nice tailwinds made this an easy Century ride, Julie’s first of this trip. The altiplano is pretty flat and we could see thunderstorms developing 80 km away. We took refuge in an empty building in a schoolyard along with three other storm refugees; a man on a bike and a woman with a baby, as hail hammered the metal roof. School children swarmed into the room when school got out and peppered us with questions, just as the storm ended. We rode through wet plains just starting to green and saw vicuňas, who run gracefully with long necks bending to keep their heads level, much like their camelid relatives: camels and giraffes.

Two hours later the storm closes in.