Day 2: Salt in the wound I didn't know I had
We trek across the salt flats. I've been on salt flats before, two months ago on the other side of the side of the Andes.
On Border Crossings
Since those early days of travelling solo I've passed the border of Argentina and Chile no less than five times, each time forcing myself full of fruit, sometimes giving fruit to fellow travellers and other passengers travelling internationally. I learnt my lesson the hard way in early December with Fanos - see Forced Midnight Snack. However, I am pleased to say that, touch wood, the authorities have been much more relaxed since then and border crossings have been relatively smooth and much less dramatic.
Back to the flat
At 3700m above sea level this salt flat is of a browner shade then the ones (Salina Grande) I visited in the province of Jujuy in Argentina. Nevertheless, both have something in common; the blinding sun and reflections from the salt we stand on. The lake bed has long since dried up leaving a solid, baked surface layer of salt that crunches under food like a Jacob's cracker. The intense light makes my eyes water even behind the protective UV filtering lens I am wearing. A smiling, Chilean lady on the tour puts her straw hat decorated with pink flowers on my head and off we go across the salt flats equipped with trekking poles; she carried two hats just incase a fair haired, ill-equipped Geordie like me came on this trip. The people of Copiapó are treasures.
Un elemento reivindicativo inesperado en el alto andino.
Was it irresponsible of me to come unprepared? Well, not everything fits in my bag for 3 months - one has to make sacrifices. I left my straw hat in Buenos Aires thinking I would never return to a landscape where I'd need one. I wrap a green bandana around my head given to me some really fun-loving and caring Argentines I met in Caldera at my hostel - they take me in their group and accept me as one - offering me mate* on the beach more than once. They ask me whose mate is the best - I avoid this polemic hot topic by commenting that they are all nice - just different. And it's true, each person prepares the tea in a different way giving a subtle difference in taste. The green bandana is the symbol for free abortion; people carry it with them to promote free abortion in Argentina. The pill is not available. They tell me vividly they know of cases where poor women, unable to pay privately, provoke a miscarriage with a clothes hanger in their vagina and die in the process. The result? Two lives are lost. Is this right? Abortion exists for those with the funds to go abroad. It is something to think about.
They give me the green bandera to me as a present and tell me to tell as many people about the predicament of Argentine women - so here I am doing just that high up on the salt flats in the Atacama. But, alas the sun is strong so on top of my green bandana goes a straw hat too.
Fresh Water
I've been told to carry at least a bottle of drinking water to keep well hydrated - It's not just the heat you have to worry about at this latitude - It's the fact that you have to drink plenty water to avoid the onset of altitude sickness, which once started is harder than a hangover to shake off; the only solution is bottled oxygen and to go down to lower climbs.
Our guides tell us that at sea level we should drink about 1.5l a day but at this altitude we should be aiming for four litres. I'm told to drink even more because I'm taking a prescription drug that encourages the kidneys to generate more red blood cells and as a side effect is a serious diuretic. Consequently, I am at the loo every hour.
Into the water
Along with the drinking water we carry a bottle of fresh water to wash ourselves with. I find it difficult to imagine that there are pools of water up here but suddenly after a thirty minute trek we find a shallow pool a few centimetres deep. One of our guide wanders off and comes back and tells us to go to our left. We traverse more salt flat and then a shimmering light blue spectral sight appears before us; a pool of water more than 2 metres deep shows the real depth of the salt flat. White banks of salt sink down deep into the pool and shades of an almost unimaginable deepening blue shimmer in the light below the outline of the brown grey slopes of the stratovolcano of Doña Ines.
We change our clothes into swimwear and then carefully immerse ourselves in the lake. The intense salinity means that everything floats but we are warned; do not touch the salt. It's a delicate operation to enter the water with flip flops and let yourself float without touching the sides. <<a la izquierda>> I'm told "to your left there is less of an incline." The water is icy fresh and I lay back and the sensation is sublimely unique. Then, I feel a slight tingle on my left calf and it turns out I have a small graze; salt in the wound I didn't know I had.
Getting out
My guide offers me a hand because we are told again not to touch the salt. The salt has micro crystals that lacerate the skin and create micro cuts in any skin that comes into contact with the crystals. I get out of the water and the sun evaporates the water on my body in seconds. I am covered in white. I immediately wash off the salt with my bottle of fresh water; we are told any traces of salt on the body rub with our clothing and will lacerate our skin; this landscape is hostile. Nothing lives here. There is silence around; not even a bird song and no animals dare enter this certain graveyard.
Refreshed and slightly salty we set off back to our pick up trucks to continue our route.
I tell the guides that
"Me siento como fish n chips."
"Solo falta vinagre"
These Chileans have a sense of humour - success!
Miércoles el 23 de enero 2019
On Border Crossings
Since those early days of travelling solo I've passed the border of Argentina and Chile no less than five times, each time forcing myself full of fruit, sometimes giving fruit to fellow travellers and other passengers travelling internationally. I learnt my lesson the hard way in early December with Fanos - see Forced Midnight Snack. However, I am pleased to say that, touch wood, the authorities have been much more relaxed since then and border crossings have been relatively smooth and much less dramatic.
Back to the flat
At 3700m above sea level this salt flat is of a browner shade then the ones (Salina Grande) I visited in the province of Jujuy in Argentina. Nevertheless, both have something in common; the blinding sun and reflections from the salt we stand on. The lake bed has long since dried up leaving a solid, baked surface layer of salt that crunches under food like a Jacob's cracker. The intense light makes my eyes water even behind the protective UV filtering lens I am wearing. A smiling, Chilean lady on the tour puts her straw hat decorated with pink flowers on my head and off we go across the salt flats equipped with trekking poles; she carried two hats just incase a fair haired, ill-equipped Geordie like me came on this trip. The people of Copiapó are treasures.
Un elemento reivindicativo inesperado en el alto andino.
Was it irresponsible of me to come unprepared? Well, not everything fits in my bag for 3 months - one has to make sacrifices. I left my straw hat in Buenos Aires thinking I would never return to a landscape where I'd need one. I wrap a green bandana around my head given to me some really fun-loving and caring Argentines I met in Caldera at my hostel - they take me in their group and accept me as one - offering me mate* on the beach more than once. They ask me whose mate is the best - I avoid this polemic hot topic by commenting that they are all nice - just different. And it's true, each person prepares the tea in a different way giving a subtle difference in taste. The green bandana is the symbol for free abortion; people carry it with them to promote free abortion in Argentina. The pill is not available. They tell me vividly they know of cases where poor women, unable to pay privately, provoke a miscarriage with a clothes hanger in their vagina and die in the process. The result? Two lives are lost. Is this right? Abortion exists for those with the funds to go abroad. It is something to think about.
They give me the green bandera to me as a present and tell me to tell as many people about the predicament of Argentine women - so here I am doing just that high up on the salt flats in the Atacama. But, alas the sun is strong so on top of my green bandana goes a straw hat too.
Fresh Water
I've been told to carry at least a bottle of drinking water to keep well hydrated - It's not just the heat you have to worry about at this latitude - It's the fact that you have to drink plenty water to avoid the onset of altitude sickness, which once started is harder than a hangover to shake off; the only solution is bottled oxygen and to go down to lower climbs.
Our guides tell us that at sea level we should drink about 1.5l a day but at this altitude we should be aiming for four litres. I'm told to drink even more because I'm taking a prescription drug that encourages the kidneys to generate more red blood cells and as a side effect is a serious diuretic. Consequently, I am at the loo every hour.
Into the water
Along with the drinking water we carry a bottle of fresh water to wash ourselves with. I find it difficult to imagine that there are pools of water up here but suddenly after a thirty minute trek we find a shallow pool a few centimetres deep. One of our guide wanders off and comes back and tells us to go to our left. We traverse more salt flat and then a shimmering light blue spectral sight appears before us; a pool of water more than 2 metres deep shows the real depth of the salt flat. White banks of salt sink down deep into the pool and shades of an almost unimaginable deepening blue shimmer in the light below the outline of the brown grey slopes of the stratovolcano of Doña Ines.
We change our clothes into swimwear and then carefully immerse ourselves in the lake. The intense salinity means that everything floats but we are warned; do not touch the salt. It's a delicate operation to enter the water with flip flops and let yourself float without touching the sides. <<a la izquierda>> I'm told "to your left there is less of an incline." The water is icy fresh and I lay back and the sensation is sublimely unique. Then, I feel a slight tingle on my left calf and it turns out I have a small graze; salt in the wound I didn't know I had.
Getting out
My guide offers me a hand because we are told again not to touch the salt. The salt has micro crystals that lacerate the skin and create micro cuts in any skin that comes into contact with the crystals. I get out of the water and the sun evaporates the water on my body in seconds. I am covered in white. I immediately wash off the salt with my bottle of fresh water; we are told any traces of salt on the body rub with our clothing and will lacerate our skin; this landscape is hostile. Nothing lives here. There is silence around; not even a bird song and no animals dare enter this certain graveyard.
Refreshed and slightly salty we set off back to our pick up trucks to continue our route.
I tell the guides that
"Me siento como fish n chips."
"Solo falta vinagre"
These Chileans have a sense of humour - success!
Miércoles el 23 de enero 2019
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