High Hopes. . .

Hello all! Tuesday last began our adventure into Bolivia. We went from San pedro de Atacama to the large mining city of Calama. The main reason we even re-entered Chile was to visit this city, which boasts the largest open pit copper mine in the world. The mine tour was worth the adventure, but Calama was quite the calamity- a decent room was terribly expensive. It was however so clean and peaceful that we decided to splurge and rest for a couple of days before our adventure into Bolivia. It proved to be quite an adventure.
We decided to cross the border at Ollague, Chile. Upon our arrival at customs there was no one to be found, so we sat and ate a snack. After a while the customs people returned from their lunch and stamped us through. We then proceeded to the Bolivian border. I had to go to the bathroom, but was advised not to enter it by the border officials. I held it until we found a bush.
We reached what appeared to be a fork in the road with a Bolivian flag and a sign stating "bolivia customs" pointing across some train tracks with some dilapidated trains and buildings that apperaed to be ruins. We parked Bee and walked across the tracks (and time) to the customs office and were stamped and processed. Upon completion of this the customs officer clarified our direction on the previously mentioned fork- one way looked like a road, the other a "cart track". Of course the route we needed to the village of San Juan was the "cart track".
After about 20 kilometers of this "cart track" the "route" became a salt flat. The road resembled spaghetti, with countless tracks leading in infinite direction. It was rather frightening- we were in the middle of a Bolivian salt flat and completely lost, with nothing but the smoking volcano we had just passed as a landmark to return to the border. But by some miracle a jeep appeared at our greatest moment of fear! We were able to follow it along a route only a seasoned guide could possibly know. The jeep driver hauled ass too. We could barely keep up with the witless bastard. I think Bee blew a shock chasing the lunatic!
Upon arrival in San Juan a new adventure began-finding food! everyone in San Juan was preparing for a tour group of 40 Brits and there was hardly a morsel of food to be spared-the tour group took precidence. We were able to knock on a villagers door and a kind old woman named "Gomercinda" fixed us a bit of quinoa, llama, and soup. Wer were fed alright, but of course Val was still ravenous. She had to tough it out with only some "indigenous" tea. Ha!
Our next goal was Uyuni. But how to get there?- two possibilities presented themselves; the route across the largest salt flat in the world, or across the high, dry, uninhabited Bolivian desert. We opted for the desert (Vals call - she was still suffering from the hangover of fear caused by the spaghetti incident yesterday). Whoops! We made it about 50 miles when the sand pits became impassible. For the first time in our entire (5,000 mile) journey we had to turn back. I could only push Bee through so many sand pits while Adam burned out the clutch. Back to San Juan with our tail between our legs. Somehow I saw one of the sand pit crashes coming and pleaded to get off and walk. I watched with horrr and amusement as adam crashed Bee in a sand pile while the railroad workers looked on, unamused.
Back in San Juan. We decided that nothing would stop us from making it to Uyuni via the worlds largest salt flat- Not even the 2 miles of 6 to 8 " water we had to cross to reach "fish island" (so we were told by local "experts")
Friday morning we set out determined- we would reach Uyuni. We took the advised road. Then another. then a circle.... AAAAARGH! Lost again. Fortunately, we spotted the convoy of 8 Jeeps carrying the 40 annoying, food scarfing pig brits from San Juan. The guides let us follow them to the Salar over an obscure route, one we would NEVER have found on our own. We nestled in, racing along between the jeeps. The road was awful and scary but there was much comfort just in knowing we were not lost. Adam is amazing at handling the bike. The terrain was so awful. Halfway through, Adam lost it going a bit over 30 miles an our. It was quite a fantastic little crash, and the jeep load behind us was fortunate enough to witness it. They watched, mouths agape, as we righted Bee and re-attached the strewn luggage, Bee's horn sreaming in agony the whole time. We were upright and ready within minutes and on the jeep trail again. We were dusty as f%¡* yet totally unharmed, and feeling quite studly for our rapid recovery.
The salar! We approached the mirage - Volcanos reflecting off of salt and water. We observed the route that wasn't. The only way across was to follow the guides who knew where the holes in the salt weren't. The guides assured us the water was "mas o menos diez centimetros" We set off after them in blind faith, through the saltiest watewr on earth. Within seconds Bee was encrusted with salt, and the engine temp guage dropped three bars (nothin cools like water, especially with an air cooled engine) We had to go painfully slow to keep Bee from "underheating" All the while we tried to keep sight of the jeeps, and the mountains in the distance. After an hour, we reached dry salt and sped to "fish island" , a saguoro covered island in the middle of salt hell. It was a fantastic juxtaposition - ten foot cacti encapsulated in snow white salt flats. I got a few good pictures. We waited a few hours for the tour group to leave, all the while uninformed tourists spouted gloom and doom to us, They told us the water on the exit side was "at least a meter deep, mate! you will never make it!" The morons.
We set off accross the salt, following the jeeps at 50 mph plus. We made it to the edge of the salar, and encountered our worst enemy after sand: salt sludge! for over a mile we fishtailed through the menacing salt sludge, tring to keep the jereps in sight. The guides told us only a ten meter stretch of the shore was shallow enough for us to cross. We had to follow them at their breakneck speeds to find the right crossing spot. Val was horrified, I was mortified. We managed to keep bee on two wheels, and followed them to the croissing spot. The water wasnt a meter deep! it was only 2 feet deep! Darn. I prayed to the BMW gods that Bee wouldnt suck in any of that nasty salt water. As the jeep ahead of us forded the deep zone, I pulled in the clutch and reved the engine, hoping any salt water sucked in would be quickly expunged. When the jeep had cleared the water hole, I went for it. Gunned it, trying to mainyain balance. Out of nowhgere, this total idiot guide passes me! the nerve! He threw up a huge wake gunning it through the water, trying to show off to the brittish girls. His wake nearly toppled us, but we made it to shore unschathed. We rode the next 40 kilometers to town, and had Bee (and ourselves) presure washed. Val was dry until she fell into a hole at the carwash. She was then soaked with oily goo. REI boots are the best.
Today we enjoyed the spoils of the town, endulging in the best pizza in the world made by a Massachusets expat. What a guy. He helped us out alot getting cleaned up and finding us a room at his hotel. more later. Tomorrow, Potisi, the highest city in the world.
A&V