Cycling on the 4750m high Pampa de Guayaques.

Our first scenic overlook in South America, at the Salar de Pujsa.

We awoke  this morning to a temperature of -1°C.  I had been warm and comfortable, sleeping most of the night.  David had slept fitfully with cold toes.  After a hurried breakfast, we packed the bikes and began our climb of 800m to an altitude of 5000m, happy to warm up in the steep grades.  David was looking forward to reaching 5000m, a record for us.  I was hoping our information was wrong and the climb would be less.  Today, however I would have more to contend with than the grades.  As we climbed higher I felt myself get physically weaker, not just from the climb.  I knew the altitude was affecting me.  Finally after about 2 hours of climbing, reaching about 4750m, we arrived at what looked like the top, a high, desolate, rolling plain with volcanoes to the left, to the right, and in front of us.  I was exhausted in a way I had never been before.  We had a short downhill run and I strained to pedal my legs.  I really did not enjoy the following uphill.  We continued at that altitude rolling up and down that morning and into the afternoon.  I was feeling weaker all the time and then I began to feel nauseous.  I knew I needed to eat to fuel the physical activity but food repelled me (another sign of altitude sickness).  I was ready to take a bus or hitch a ride with a pick-up (I felt this was better than turning my bike into an on-coming semi), but on this lonely stretch of road no small trucks or buses passed.  Finally a long downhill opened up leading to a partly salty, partly blue, partly green lake hundreds of meters below us.  As we made our way down, I just wanted to sleep.  At a roadside overlook, we stopped and David suggested lunch.  I suggested a nap and I made my bed on a warm spot on the gravel, feeling more comfortable than I had all morning.  I asked David to keep an eye out for passing trucks or buses to flag down and I slept for about 20 minutes.  When I woke, I felt better.  At David´s insistence I forced myself to eat an energy bar.  Then I got back on my bike.  My legs, thankfully, had regained some strength.  I thought it was that power nap, but I realized later that we had come down to 4200m and that drop in altitude made all the difference.  The rest of the afternoon was better.  The terrain flattened out some as we made our way towards the border and there was a stiff west wind at our backs.  We decided to camp on the beautiful Salar de Quisquiro, 25km from the border. Wanting to get out of the wind, we pitched our tent in a small depression in the gravel, near the flamingoes on the lake (who moved quickly away when we drew near).  I, happily, was able to eat my avocado and cheese sandwich, though I didn´t feel hungry. At 4200m, we knew the night would again be cold.  We put on all our warm clothes and David wrapped his toes in an alpaca scarf as we climbed into our sleeping bag for the night.

The Salar de Pujsa flows down a valley inhabited by flamingos & vicunas.

The high point of our trip: 4782m (15,689')

We coasted down through a monument valley to Salar Aguas Calientes.

Let's camp down there at the edge of the Salar de Quisquiro.

Camping at 4175m (13,697'). Volcan Licancabur is 5916m (19,409'), higher than Kilimanjaro.

We went just 40km today-but what a 40 it was. We left San Pedro de Atacama in the middle of the morning and began a long gentle climb out of the valley of the salar. Ahead we could see the volcanoes and the steep incline that led to the high Altiplano of Chile where we would bike 150 km to the border of Argentina. It is an empty stretch with no water, food or hotels, so we were stocked with provisions for one night of camping (we now had our tent and light sleeping bags) and two days of food and water. At about 11:00 we began the real climb. Through some weird optical illusion the road ahead appeared to be only slightly steep as it stretched far into the distance. But the grades were actually between 7%-12% (6% is the average mountain grade on main roads in the Rockies). There were no switchbacks. When we looked back from where we had come the road appeared very steep indeed. Certainly my legs, heart, and lungs felt how steep it was. It was the longest climb at these relentless grades we had yet done. At 7:00, after climbing 22 km, 1700m to a 4200m altitude, biking about 5.5 hours (not including breaks) we stopped to discuss our options. Information from a couple who had stopped to chat with David earlier said that we had 800m and 10 km left to climb, with difficult climbs yet to come. It was clear at our pace we would not reach the border tomorrow where we could get more water. David suggested we camp and then climb to 5000m in the morning (a height he really wanted to reach on a bike), then turn around and head to the sea. It would be a hell of a ride back down and we would run out of water otherwise. The last thing I wanted to do was to turn around after making such a climb, but I also knew we did not have enough water.

We were stopped next to a broken-down semi on the side of the road that was carrying used cars to Paraguay. Of the little traffic on this desolate road, 1/3 of it seemed to be semi´s loaded with cars headed for Paraguay. Tomás, the driver, stepped out to talk with us. He had been here in this lonely spot for the last three days and he would wait another three days until his company would come to take care of the problem. He offered us water, food, candy and a place to sleep that night (in one of the cars on his truck). He had a huge amount of supplies in the trunk of one of the cars (Did passing semi´s stop to help him out?). We gratefully accepted the water, refilling our water bottles, but declined his other offers. With renewed spirit (Thank you, Tomás!), we climbed a small bit farther and set up camp. Views of a setting sun painting the expansive drop in elevation and the dry, salty valley below gold, enlivened our dinner. We snuggled into our joined sleeping bags wearing all our warm clothes, settling in for what we knew would be a cold night at 4200m.

Tomas' truck is visible on the road down to San Pedro de Atacama.

The approach to San Pedro de Atacama.

Anders Dale, a Norwegian cyclist, approached us as we were leaving our hotel. He’s heading north on a year-long adventure. He advised us on cycling along the coast of Norway; and told about the adventures of Helge Hjelland, a friend of his who cycled over 50,000 km in a one-year world tour. Anders had just cycled the route we are doing today and said it took him seven hours. So we rushed our good-byes in order to hit the road. Until midday yesterday we were still planning to bike along the coast of Chile, but today we are heading back across the Andes to northern Argentina. We’ll need to camp-out either way we go, and the winds are more favorable going to Argentina; we hope it may be a bit cheaper, too. We bought two thin sleeping bags that zip together and a cheap tent that is not waterproof. It rarely rains in the Atacama desert, and we may not need the tent after reaching Argentina. We climbed for 60 km through an almost lifeless desert; no water, no plants, no animals, no birds. I was surprised to see a fly land on my nose. We did see one Caracara , a stunning black and white falcon, and a single llama at the top of the 3500m pass. Zooming down the other side I hit 80 kph (50 mph) with a tailwind, my fastest yet on this bike.

Full Moon rising above tommorrow's 2200m climb.

French cyclist Roger Langelus (70) was the only tourist here in 1982.