Acclimatising to the altitude is apparently vital before the salt flats. Thus was borne a rather spur of the moment trip to The Driest Desert on earth. Luckily, we had no problems at high altitude. Our new friend (whom Mo had invited to travel extensively with us) was unfortunately bed-bound for a good few days. How very unfortunate for her.
Kick start high altitude place with a morning run. Sent Pigott to find the Six Nations – find him in a deserted cafė with only an Escudo (yum beer) for company. During the course of the match, the cafe filled up with San Pedro’s finest workmen on their lunch break, who seemed to find 30 huge men running about and slaying each other down in a field quite bizarre/fascinating.
La Valle de la Luna
Although we hadn’t quite signed up for the hike we were presented with, after climbing to a peak through the red, sandy, bleak terrain, the views really were out of this world (sorry).
The evening brought a red, hazy sunset which extended from one end of the expanse of rocky terrain to the other, until the huge, golden beacon was sucked behind the distant mountains in an instant.
The Salt Lakes
At 30% salility (the Dead Sea being a mere 27%) you can actually FLOAT! For a non-swimmer, this much buoyancy is magical. Only piece of advice is not to let yourself flip over, else you end up with a face covered in v crusty, v salty flakes which, I had not been warned of, sting like a mofo.
Also I forgot my towel and the wind gets really, really cold after the really, really cold showers which are imperative to wash off said crusty, salty flakes. The pisco sours at sunset improved matters immensely.
We made lunch.
This dog is wearing a bandana.