Crossing the Frontier

Welcome to Bolivia


There are two options for crossing into Bolivia from northern Chile—one: take a cramped bus for a multiple hour ride over neglected roads, or two: the more adventurous option, hire a Land Cruiser and sail across the Altiplano, Bolivia's high-plains frontier. We of course chose the latter.


Bolivian Immigration



The outhouse at Bolivian Immigration



The highways of the Bolivian Frontier


Because it is a border crossing, no trip is possible without first stopping at the little shack that passes for Bolivian immigration. American passports are dealt with delicately since US$135 is required for the visa. Since they can't accept money on the frontier, our passports were bound in an envelope that we were to deliver to Bolivian customs upon arrival in Uyuni. This system, based on the honor code, can be exploited for those unwilling to pay the large "reciprocity tax". At least one person who I've met absconded with her passport and, upon exiting Bolivia, bribed immigration and her bus driver to let her pass into Peru.

After a cheap breakfast of bread and tea we boarded the Land Cruisers, which were waiting at the border, and set out across the volcano and lagoon-dotted plains. A short while later we had arrived at the Eduardo Avaroa National Reserve for Andean Fauna. For the next two days we would travel through the reserve, passing multiple lagoons speckled with the three local species of flamingo, peak after volcanic peak, jacuzzi-like hot springs, bubbling hot pots, and rocks of every shape, size, and variety.


Directional map at Laguna Verde ("Green Lagoon")



Fuel Stop



Volcanic rocks below Mt. Licancabur



Tough grasses of the Altiplano



The road often turned into a less formal track


Flying across the jagged, barren landscape, it's hard to imagine that much life is supported here. Yet, as soon as you enter the park, vicuñas, a high altitude-loving cousin of the llama, can be spotted grazing on small, tough grasses. On arrival at the first lagoon, you're almost certain to spot a few flamingos. The frequency of vicuña and flamingo spotting increases the deeper you move into the park's interior.

The earth is also very much alive on the Altiplano. The geologic events that created this wild landscape are still in play. Although there are no active volcanoes, geothermic springs bubble from the ground. It's easy to see where the occasional rain and constant wind continue to erode the wide valleys carved by glaciers from millennia past. Raw layers of rock display a mineral rainbow flowing down from the peaks above. Occasionally you'll pass what looks like a neatly kept Japanese rock garden where ancient glaciers deposited huge volcanic boulders on open prairies. Since there's not a single tree masking the earth's contours, and time moves slower on the high, dry plains, both ancient and modern formations can be easily discerned.


The Dali Rocks (said to resemble Salvador Dali's artwork)



Thermal Hot Springs



Thermal waters flowing out onto the flats



Sol de Mañana Mudpots



The Mighty Land Cruiser



I'd recommend Estrella del Sur if you're going to make the crossing



Road leading down to Laguna Colorada



Flamingos on Laguna Colorada, so named because of the lagoon's red hue in the afternoon



Racing across the desert. Many times I felt like we were in the Dakar Ralley. (photo by Melissa Meyer)



Our driver taking a siesta



Laguna Colorada ("Red Lagoon")



The striking rainbow strata of the Altiplano



Laguna Blanca ("White Lagoon")



Flamingos on Laguna Blanca



Flamingos on Laguna Hedionda



Flamingos on Laguna Onda



Vicuña and flamingos at Laguna Onda



Descending from the Altiplano



Volcano Ollague



The Chiguana Salt Flats and surrounds resemble the environment of western Utah



The rail line leading from Uyuni into Chile



Yellow Quinoa



Quinoa Grains (photo by Melissa Meyer)



Red Quinoa


Although the frontier Altiplano, sitting higher than most peaks in North America, is a spectacular place, the highlight of this crossing is Salar de Uyuni. This ancient seabed holds the title as "World's Largest Salt Flat", dwarfing the second-place holder, Utah's Bonneville Salt Flats. It still resembles an immense, white lake dotted with small volcanic islands once teeming with marine life. Today, the primary inhabitants are several species of cacti and vizcachas, a relative of the chinchilla, but ancient corals live on in fossilized form.

Our entire last day was spent sailing our 4-wheeled motorboat across the dried salt sea. Before sunrise we stopped to watch the Morning Star's fall as the primary deity rose bright in the sky. Once the glowing orb breached the distant mountain gates, flooding our world with warmth, we headed to the most famous of the Salar's isles, Incahuasi ("House of the Inca"). From the short peak, there's a spectacular panorama of the bright expanse, ringed with mountain ranges and volcanic peaks. A circumnavigation of the island revealed seaside caves and colonies of petrified sea life. It's a place where earth and time are displayed in crude form, where human existence seems irrelevant. Prolonging as much as possible, we finally accepted the relentless cries of our driver, pulling us back toward civilization. The Altiplano and Salar where amazing sights that well prepared us for the beauty that Bolivia had in store.


Salar de Uyuni at first light



Watching Ra rise



Desert Yoga



Incahuasi's Stats (photo by Melissa Meyer)



Isla Incahuasi



Sea cave with petrified corals



Petrified Coral



Melissa snacking on our Land Cruiser after taking the giant pills



Salt production outside of Uyuni



The small desert town of Uyuni, where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid are rumored to have died



The streets of Uyuni, a modern-day wild west


p.s. I had never before sat and watched the Morning Star fall. It was and is one of the most beautiful things that I've ever witnessed, especially due to the eerie surrounds of the salt flats in early morning. Watching the bright star (planet, actually), who had outlived thousands of peers in the brightening sky, fade into the light I remembered a song by AFI that captures what the Morning Star must feel.


Venus, often known as the "Morning Star", setting in the East


Morningstar, by: AFI

I saw a star beneath the stairs
Glowing through the melting walls
Who will be the first to begin their fall?
Or will we become one?

Am I the star beneath the stairs?
Am I the ghost upon the stage?
Am I your anything?

I saw a star beneath the stairs
Glowing bright before descent
And in the morning there is nothing left but what's inside of me.

Am I the star beneath the stairs?
Am I the ghost upon the stage?
Am I your anything?
Am I the star beneath the stairs?
Am I the ghost upon the stage?
Am I your anything?

And I don't want to die tonight, will you believe me?
And I don't want to fall into the light
Will you wish upon?
Will you walk upon me?
I don't wanna die tonight

Will you believe in me tonight?
Am I the star beneath the stairs?
Am I the ghost upon the stage?
Am I your anything?
Am I the star beneath the stairs?
Am I the ghost upon the stage?
Am I your anything?

Breadbasket of the Andes

Andean Farmland, near Sucre


A few days ago we took a 35-minute flight from Sucre, Bolivia’s constitutional capitol, to Santa Cruz in lieu of the 20-hour bus ride. As soon as we were airborne, it was easy to see why there’s such a disproportion in the times of air vs. land travel. North-to-south-running parallel mountain chains stretch into the distance in all directions. Dirt roads snake across razorback ridges and down steep, eroded slopes. In between literally each ridge flows a waterway, ranging in size from the smallest mountain stream to raging river, each supporting a local agrarian community.


Like a giant accordian, parallel valleys stretch into the distance, each cradling a waterway.



A wider valley containing several plots of land



The Andes fade into the Lowlands, dumping out dozens of rivers to slowly wander the fertile plains


In a land that’s notorious for being the “poorest” country in South America, there’s a noticeable lack of destitution. Venture into the mountains and you find no mansions, no McDonalds, no SUVs rollin’ 22s. What you do find are different types of wealth—agricultural wealth, cultural wealth, environmental wealth—and no one appears to be in want of the essential ingredients for a happy life—shelter, sustenance, and liberty.


Maize is the most popular crop in the areas surrounding Sucre



A farmer delineating his or her squash field with brambles



High-mountain farming. Because of the distance to large markets, the majority of crops are stored and traded in local indigenous communities.


On a recent trip through the mountains near Sucre, each vista presented rich farmland sweeping into the distance. I kept thinking of Thomas Jefferson’s vision of the Americas. His outspoken admiration of the Yeoman Farmer helped to shape the United States as an agricultural nation. Of course, most campesinos (small farmers) in this region lack an essential quality of Jefferson´s ideal Yeoman, which is an education, at least in the Western sense. A local farmer may be able to walk you through a high-Andean field and pick out 20 different plants to use in cooking or herbal medicine, but ask him or her about civics or regional economics and the conversation will likely flop. This may be changing. Now with an indigenous president, a former coca farmer who should understand more than any past president the plight of the indigenous farmer, Bolivia has an opportunity to revive its agricultural class and shift from subsistence farming to a strong agricultural export economy.


Wakatao (sic?), a local herb similar to rosemary used to spice potatos



The kiwi-like fruit of a local cactus



Taku-taku, a sweet bean pod that is chewed on as a snack


This argument, however, assumes that the people want to participate in a global market. At the moment, they grow their own food, trade with local farmers for other essentials, and live relatively removed from global society (other than the occasional tourist). Opening this Pandora’s box would expose traditional societies to potentially harmful elements of Westernism, primarily materialism and classism.

For thousands of years, pockets of civilization have matured and died in Bolivia’s highlands. Now peering down from the air, it’s easy to see why small, local populations were able to remain culturally isolated, a fact supported by the 36 languages spoken throughout the region. In a rapidly globalizing economy, Bolivians are going to have to decide whether or not to participate and potentially endanger their cultural diversity and traditional lifestyles. Of course, there are other ways to become involved without abandoning the past. Many are riding the tourism wave, providing venues for eco-tourists and the culturally curious to learn about local ways of life.


Drinking Chicha, a traditional maize refreshment, with our adopted grandmother



Grind Stone



"We take care of the animals to maintain balance of the ecosystem"


If this sounds like your cup of tea then Bolivia is the place to explore. But you better hurry. As Bolivian politics shift further left, and President Morales implements social programs that increase ties to other socialist governments in Latin America, a rift is threatening to divide the nation. Several eastern provinces, which control large agricultural, oil/gas, and timber industries, are calling for autonomous governance, citing disapproval with taxation and nationalization of industries. Talks are currently underway that could potentially unify or further disrupt national politics. Growing pains are evident, but Bolivia has a strong backbone. Containing both the Altiplano, breadbasket of the high Andes, and the fertile eastern lowlands, it’s a rich land that has potential to grow into a large player in the agricultural and natural resource market. The quandary facing the people is whether they want to continue regional and political isolationism or step into the global arena.