¡No quiero morir!

"¡No quiero morir! - I don't want to die!" shouted the young Mexican as the waves around our little boat got higher and higher. We raised our glasses filled with warm beer and toasted him back, trying not to spill a single drop.

So far, the trip on the Beagle Channel had been nice but uneventful. We had visited a rocky island and watched sea lions, then we circled the small lighthouse alongside another five boats. Later we stopped off at Bridges Island and had a quick wander around looking at the Patagonian and Fueginian (we were in Tierra de Fuego after all) fauna. The mighty south-westerly wind was tearing at our windproofs and our guide crouched down to show us how the indigenous people had sheltered from it between the bushes. If it hadn't looked incredibly stupid, we would have given it a shot. They didn't have five layers of Gore Tex and fleece to keep them warm, in fact, they were just covered top to bottom in sea lion grease. Only when the early missionaries forced civilisation upon them, their health began to deteriorate. Once their clothes got wet, they became ill - oh, and the obligatory viruses they hadn't been used to, didn't help either. Interesting fact was, that only the women would swim in the Beagle Channel and the entirely naked men didn't ...


Our nutshell, the Ché Guevara, was still bobbing up and down as we handed our glasses over for a refill when the unimaginable happened: the engine stalled. Quick glances where exchanged as the captain climbed into the hull. The engine was not going to come back on. This time it was my turn to shout ¡No quiero morir! - and it was not well received. Eleven pairs of eyes told me to keep stumm. After some frantic phone calls, help was on its way. A yacht on the way to Ushuaia towed us back home but it was a rocky ride. The waves battered the boat and the beer we had just had, made itself felt. And in the harbour, we had to change into Ché's sister ship, the Tango. Oh, you know when you're been tangoed. ;-)

This is the "End of the World"

Okay, not really. The world is round, I'm told, so there is no beginning and there is no end. BUT, in terms of having reached the end of the road, the end of a country, the end of a continent, it definitely holds true. Ushuaia is the southernmost town in the world. Going south from here means a few Chilean islands that Argentina would like to call her own and Antarctica - quite a few people actually set sail from here. The close distance to the South Pole is felt and there are suitable souvenirs to bring home: thick fleece jackets, T-shirts and penguins in every shape, size and colour.

Sitting in a small café in the main street, I notice a large map on the wall. There is just one tiny thing wrong with it: Antarctica is actually missing. The map is old and by then it probably still needed discovering.

When we had crossed the Magellan Strait a few days earlier, some black and white dolphins swam in our bow wave accompanying us for a while. We were glad to be in Tierra del Fuego (Land of the Fire) as the monotonous Patagonian steppe was due to come to an end giving way to trees, lakes and snow-capped mountains. This made a welcome change. Unfortunately, there are lots of dead trees caused by beaver damage. Many years ago some clever clogs had the idea of introducing a couple of beavers to Tierra del Fuego in order to make it attractive for fur hunting. However, the beavers' fur changed for the worse and they started to breed uncontrollably. A single beaver fur now brings only 50 Pesos, which is little more than ten bucks. The population explosion of the beavers is only rivalled by the growth of Ushuaia itself. Some 20 years ago there were just about 10,000 inhabitants and nowadays it is pushing 100,000.

The weather is not too bad either. A little windy, though. I might just have another look at those fleece jackets.*

*I have been bad. I bought some penguins in the end ...

Uyuni Salt Flats

With 3665m above sea level, the Uyuni Salt Flats on the Bolivian altiplano are not only the highest but also the biggest in the world. The white expanse seems to go on forever, but on the edges, white mounts indicate that salt is being mined, eventually enriched with iodine and sold to the Bolivian market for very little money.


Underneath the salt crust still lies some water but another resource has recently come to light: Lithium. A metal that no modern battery-powered equipment can do without. There were doubts whether mining would destroy the uniqueness of the natural wonder but there now seems to be a consensus that mining along the outer rim should not really pose too great an interference - maybe it will even become part of the tourist circuit alongside Isla Incahuasi - an island where thousands of huge cacti grow.



Tourists also love the salt flat for another reason. They get up to incredible photo sessions because of the white background and the clear atmosphere. They are able to create great distortions and special effects in distance and size. However, not every camera lends itself to this kind of image trickery. As the depth of field of digital or film based SLRs is too narrow, small digicams are at a definitive advantage. But one word of caution: many recent digicams that come without viewfinders are virtually useless because of the strong light rendering the viewscreens unusable.

One unmissable attraction on the Uyuni Salt Flats is the "Cemeterio de los trenes" - a place on the edge of the salt flats where old, unused trains have been abandoned. We got there early in the morning when the sun illuminated them very nicely.

How safe is Santiago de Chile?

I ask this question not because I felt threatened, I ask this question because all Santiaguitos who approached me in the Chilean capital advised me to put away my camera because they were afraid I might get mugged. Looking around, everyone seemed to be carrying their bags at the front with one hand firmly attached to it. So, I assume, pick-pocketing and muggings must be quite a frequent occurrence. But if a photographer is too scared to use his/her camera, then they might as well just pack it in. So, the camera stayed out in the open and nothing happened to it. Luckily.

As we were in Santiago just before Christmas, here are two images. One from the cathedral and the other one was taken on top of one of there hills where these is a nunnery.





Walking into town, I found the Barrio of Bellavista. A kind of "Bohemian" quarter with lots of bars and almost every other house was covered in fabulous graffiti. Actually, calling them graffiti doesn't do it justice. They are great street-art displays.

Then in Chile. WHAT!!!???

After visiting the salt flats in Uyuni, the largest and highest salt flats in the world, we set off to Laguna Colorada in the deep south-west of Bolivia. You haven't missed the blog about Uyuni or Laguna Colorada yet, I still need to write them. Please be patient.

I do like Bolivia, don't get me wrong, but as someone brought up in Europe, there is one essential thing missing: paved roads. Almost all the way down from La Paz to Uyuni and then on to Laguna Colorada, there were NO bloody roads. Dirt tracks, some tracks left by other drivers and we did actually need a guide to direct us to the Laguna. I had a seat at the very back of the truck and it did my back in a bit. Although Renee, our tour leader, let us use the roof-top seats for a while so we could enjoy the stunning scenery a little more, I'm a city kid at heart and it took me half a bottle of shampoo to get the dirt out of my hair.

But why am I talking about Bolivia when the title of the blog is Chile? Well, what a bleeding nightmare that was. After negotiating the Bolivian border without any problems, we hit the "tarmacked" road (cheers throughout the truck) leading through "what we thought it to be and trucks used to get away with it" a 60-kilometre stretch of so called no-man's land to Paso Jama, the Argentinian border. Well, suffice it to say, we didn't get away with it. When the Argentinians saw that our passports had a Bolivian exit stamp, they refused to let us in because, officially, we had come through Chile. So we had to get back on the truck, turn it around, drive some three hours to San Pedro de Atacama where we were searched top to bottom and finally let in. After a quick dinner, we pitched our tents at midnight at the back of some hostel and left quite early in the morning for the road we had started to call our home. Around lunchtime we finally hit the Argentinian border again and now, in possession of a valid Chilean entry and exit stamp, they let us in without any problems.

Lots of stunning images on the way - especially the clouds.

Stuck in La Paz

There will be Presidential Elections this Sunday and we have encountered a slight hick-up. As no-one will be allowed to travel on Sunday, mainly to prevent people from voting in different areas and more than once, we will be stuck in our La Paz hotel. As Evo Morales seems to be well liked by his fellow Bolivians, the results seems to be a foregone conclusion.

Cholinas with their bowler hats and scarfs wrapped around their shoulders dominate the street view. For miles, the local street markets - neatly divided by the products on sale such as electricals and ironworks in one road, wool in another - wind around the La Paz streets behind our hotel. If you need something, you are bound to find it here. The bowler hats of the Cholinas don't seem to be sitting on their ears, instead they appear to be perched on top of their heads - without ever seeming to fall off. Oh, and they don't really like to be photographed. That's when the hats come off and they are quickly held in front of their faces.


One area I particularly liked was the Festival/Carnival area where lots of colourful costumes and masks were displayed. In London, there is a special Latin American carnival festival (or carnaval as the South American call it) where these costumes can be seen in action.

Just south of La Paz, a mud-cum-rock area is called Moon Valley (Valle de la Luna) because of its appearance. Water seems to be the cause to these rock formations that look very much washed out. Honestly, I didn't know they had these kinds of rock formations on the moon. I'm being sarcastic, of course.

Tomorrow I'm off to Tiwanaku but there might be a problem because of the impending elections as we may encounter road blocks etc. Ah well, we shall see.

Machu Picchu

There are two ways to reach Machu Picchu. One involves a lot of time and stamina and the other one is a train journey. Reaching Machu Picchu by Inca Trail takes four days following old Inca routes in the mountains and three base camps. Definately a very ecological way of travelling and Machu Picchu is reached for sunrise. Taking the train from Poroy station just 20 mins outside Cuzco whizzes you there in just three hours. What then follows is a short bus trip up a long and extremely winding dirt track. As you move up the hill, you become aware of the architechtural feat the Incas managed to accomplish building the place. Between the peaks of Machu Picchu (the Old Mountain) and Huayna Picchu (Young Mountain) the small Incan village sits like a saddle on the mountain ridge. Places for whorship, storage and accommodation neatly fit into the agricultural terraces which lie on the outside. From the top, where the caretaker's lodge stands, the best views can be had. Well, in theory. When I got there, the clouds had engulfed the entire area. And as if the clouds weren't bad enough, it also rained pretty hard. The first couple of hours were basically spent seeking shelter in various huts and drying out the camera gear. At around 2pm, the hordes of tourists in their brightly coloured raincoats began to subside. They left because many needed to catch the trains back to Ollantaytambo or Poroy (Cuzco). Around an hour later, the rain also died down and the downpour gave way to a constant drizzle. It was a relief to be able to just spot the entire village below including the peak of Huayna Picchu. And then, completely unannounced the sun came out. Slowly but surely and restored the place's magic. The grey blankett was pulled away to reveal the bright greens of Machu Picchu's grass areas and the darker greens of the adjacent mountains. Persistance does pay.


I spent the night in Aguas Calientes and went up again the following morning hoping for a better day but the rain proved equally bad. At least, now reunited with my group, we tried to make the best of it.