At Hell's Gates

Well, a lot has happened in the past week or two. I’ve crossed two borders, camped on the edge of the driest desert on Earth, saw geysers at 5000 meters, crossed the largest salt flat in the world, visited one of the most dangerous mines in the word, eaten heaps of coca leaves and seen the Bolivian president in person. Piece of cake.

After a week in the glorious northwest of Argentina I left that wonderland for good and crossed into the desert oasis town of San Pedro de Atacama, Chile. San Pedro is quaint and located amongst amazing natural beauty and wonder…but is overrun with gringos. Fortunately I was able to jump on a thee day 4x4 trip into and through the SW of Bolivia and ending at the Salar de Uyuni…the largest salt flat in the world.

The entire trip was surreal, like being in Alice’s wonderland. Driving off-road at 5000 meters in a volcanic desert sprinkled with multi-colored lagoons, Vacuña’s (a wild relative of the llama), geysers, smoking mountains, pink flamingos, rocks shaped as trees, hotels made of salt, and sees of salt with cactus covered islands…all to finish in a graveyard of trains. Who could want more?




After ending the hallucinogenic escapade in Uyuni, Bolivia I traveled to Potosi, the site of the once second biggest city in the world, the current highest city in the world (4060 meters), the once richest silver mine in the world and site of over 8 million slave and miner deaths (all related to mining and silver purification). Whew, that’s a mouthful. In Potosi I experience the absolute worst environment I have ever been in…a couple of hundred meters inside a 400 year old (yet still) operating silver mine at 4350 meters. It was hot, claustrophobic (think crawling down vertical tunnels on your stomach when you can’t breath or turn around), dark and had extremely dangerous gasses and rock dust floating around…nothing to fret about, unless your one of the five thousand miners who still spend a majority of their lives inside this hellhole. It’s so bad inside that the miners worship a devil named Tio to protect them. On a bright note, we got to blow up four sticks of dynamite and I saw Evo Morales, the president of Bolivia, speak (not inside the mine)!

Here's a pic with miner-me and some dynamite...an explosive combination!

Whew, writing all that makes me feel almost as exhausted as doing it was. So, now that I am in Sucre, a beautiful colonial city at a much more manageable elevation, I think I’ll have a rest and a beer. Cheers!

Devil in the Details

I hiked today into the Quebrada de Humahuaca to see the Garganta del Diablo. In fact, this is the third 'Garganta del Diablo' that I have seen here in Northern Argentina in the past ten days. It got me to thinking...

There are certainly a lot of demons here...I mean, to have three 'throats of the Devil' just in one country. And, amazingly, they all have been distinct geological phenomenon thus confirming my hypothesis that distinct demons have imparted their own unique blueprints to create these geological wonders. Given that I have, in reality, only seen a fraction the surface area of Northern Argentina, I am certain that many other Garganta del Diablo's exist. In this light, the tight embrace of Catholicism here fits here quite nicely...surely the local inhabitants are worried about the proliferation of demons and look to The Church to 'save' them. In fact, with all these demonic sign around me, I have begun to wonder if I have in fact died and entered Purgatory and these signs signify my proximity to Lucifer.

This is one Hell of a place……

I find myself with little to write that seems important…so I’m gonna babble. I’ve spent the last weeks wondering through northern Argentina with little aim and little enthusiasm; I guess I’m on a bit of a ‘downer’. I suppose this happens to most people who travel for long periods of time…eventually you start to question why you travel at all. Why am I here? The simple act of traveling seems somehow hollow and ultimately selfish. There is nothing concrete about it…you go to a new place, get yourself sorted in some form of accommodation, and then walk around to see the ‘sights’. I don’t wanna see any more sights! The only thing that really gives me purpose and energy to move on is the people (and mountains), not other travelers, but the locals. So many people come to this part of the world and fail to capitalize on this aspect of travel…talking to the people, getting to know their culture, sharing their maté, and accepting their hospitality, whether it be a bed or a free ride. I feel that a large part of the reason for this seclusion of the backpacker population is a lack of available communication…they can’t speak the language and it is so, so important to speak the language down here. So, I suppose I am a bit worn out and disinterested in the ‘backpacker culture’ down here…it seems that everyone is the same only with a different face and a different accent. It’s hard to avoid, though, because when you check into a hostel you inevitably will be meeting mostly or only English speakers who want to connect with other English speakers to go out together to party. Camping is the only salvation because the campgrounds are mostly filled with South Americans. One does meet the occasional bright spark in a hostel that defies the norm, but it gets rarer and rarer.

I’ve been stewing on this for days while feeling sorry for myself and contemplating packing it all in and going home to do something ‘constructive’…but then, as sometimes happens, you arrive in a new place and meet new amazing people and WHAM, your re-charged, ready to keep going. This is what Cafayate and an amazing young Argentinean/Brazilian artisan couple has done for me…and I thank them. In fact, more than anything, just being back in the mountains is rejuvenating. I am thanking myself now for picking a traveling route that follows one of the greatest mountain ranges in the world for thousands of kilometers (pat on the back Ian). Also I have re-doubled my language learning efforts…the Spanish is definitely improving, but I won’t be giving any lectures on metaphysics anytime soon.

So onwards! Soon I will be leaving Argentina behind, briefly stopping in northern Chile and then exploring (dare I say it) the heart of darkness or more like 'the heart of highness' …Bolivia. Yippee!!

P.S. I’m including a picture of Iguazu Falls, where I was last week, because it was one of those few places that words don’t equate with…a very powerful place, aside from the little raccoon like critters that steal your lunch, bastards.

Balmy in Buenos Aires

A week of waiting in the shimmering heat of Buenos Aires for the (possible) arrival of the parents has made me realize that I have lingered too long in the southland. The north calls. A change is needed and I'm hoping that Bolivia can provide it...if nothing else at least the spanish is clearer there. So, tomorrow is the day of reckoning...either the rents arrive or they don't. Regardless of the result I will be leaving this sweaty city and heading to 'La Garganta del Diablo' (the throat of the devil)...aka Iguazu Falls. After that, the road points north and each kilometer will bring me closer to the country with the 'highest everthying', or so they say.

Update: No parents...I've been orphaned in Argentina, so I continue solo...