Mina La Casualidad to Salar de Archibarca
Just as we rolled away from Mina La Casualidad, Neon discovered his tire was flat. He tried pumping it up, but it wouldn’t hold air. He finally added more sealant, which seemed to fix the issue. A long descent brought us to Salar de Rio Grande. It was hot and Neon had to stop several times throughout the day to add more air to his tire, discovering the leak was at one of the spokes.
What was supposed to be an easy day turned into a long, bumpy, hard ride to our next campsite, waypoint label “Epic Spot to Camp Next to Cliffs”. Frank and Steph were already there when we arrived. And epic it was. A beautiful flat spot nestled up in the cliffs, with warm clean fresh water flowing nearby. Neon and I spent the remaining afternoon washing our bodies and clothes, and gathering and treating 12 liters of water each.
The night and the morning were warm. Frank and Steph headed out first, wanting to investigate a possible shortcut that avoids the next pass. Neon and I took the standard route. Soft, steep, sand became the theme as we slowly climbed the day’s pass. The bikes still heavy with food, and now another three-day’s supply of water too. It was a difficult push to the pass. Half way up, Steph and Frank came up from behind—the shortcut was a bust. Steph blows by, fast and strong, and the last time we see him.
Near the top of the pass I watch the wind dance across the horizon. My gaze fixated, its movement mesmerizing, like a genie without a bottle. Frank is struggling with the sand and we ride some of the afternoon, after the pass, together.
As we draw nearer to the evening’s camp, we pass a small mining encampment. They honk and catch up to us to tell us they have food and showers. I’m blown away by how they chased us down to feed us. When we get back to their camp they have stew and salad and juice and bread waiting for us. It goes down in one bite, real food with fresh vegetables! Then they give each of us two oranges, an apple, and a bag of cookies, and offer to take our trash too.
Even after arriving at our camp, a few miles away, I’m still blown away by how the miners chased us down to give us food. The people along this route have been more generous than any I’ve ever met on any of the trails we’ve hiked or biked. On the long trails in the U.S. we call them “trail angels”.
We camped inside some old stone ruins at the far end of Salar de Archibarca. There are a couple of small rooms and a large area enclosed by a short rock wall. It blocks the wind completely. Around the enclosed rock wall there are knapping shards everywhere, hundreds of them. At first I think they are made of obsidian, but then decide perhaps they are made of onyx. It’s warm in the sun. I watch the vicuña in the nearby water. I ponder the knapping shards, wonder what this place was, and who once lived here. I think this is my favorite camp—there’s just something haunting about this place.
I wake in the night to flashes of light over the mountains. Neon wakes too and says the flashes are lightening in a storm on the other side of the mountains. But they’re otherworldly, more like seeing the northern lights for the first time, than just looking like lightening. Nothing out here is ordinary. And the stories forming in my thoughts are extraordinary, mysterious—so many oohs and ahs and woahs! The sky is clear and full of stars, more stars than I’ve ever seen anywhere. The flashes of light continue, greenish-yellow flashes here and the there and then over there—and with each one I let out a low “woah!”. It’s like I’m watching my very own private light show. I watch until I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. The last thing I remember was a shooting star, fat and a little yellow, falling with a slow burn.
PS, if you click on the smaller images that are grouped together, you can view the full size photos.