tioned the magic word “Bolivia”.
“Ah, Bolivia!”
That explained everything. Chileans
and Bolivians have spilt blood
over borders, we must use the strongest
antibiotic for this foul Bolivian
bug.
Behind San Pedro a perfect stratovolcano,
Licancabur, shone like a
beacon on the horizon, nearly 6000
metres up in the sky. Later, at the
Museum of High Altitude Archaeology
in Salta, we would see moving exhibits
of pre-Columbian ascents and
human sacrifice on peaks like this.
We climbed 2000 metres up the
slopes of Licancabur on Ruta 27. We
cautiously followed the tyre tracks of
other vehicles to avoid black ice as
snow had fallen on the desert overnight.
Vicuña grazed alongside the
road, flamingo strutted and laguna
glowed in pastel colours in the weak
sunlight.
From the 4800m summit of Paso
de Jama we descended to the bleak
border post and joined the queue behind
a bus load of t
were stamped throu
a problem with the
rental agreements w
not Spanish. We wa
the floor for five ho
ing to retreat to San
Back we went ove
riding bent to one s
freezing cross wind
gale force, threaten
mets from our head
descended and slee
The gauge on my
play registered -5ºC
the reassuring shou
ur, signalling we ar
this scary ride. We
as we descended th
watching the tempe
rise. Zero. Five. Ten
cyclist who was tuc
plummeted down.
we cruised into San
pleasant 25 degrees
Our guide said to
try again on the less
TRAVERS