The Andes are extremely high mountains.
It´s not entirely obvious when you´re on the altiplano, which looks a lot like the high deserts of the southwestern US. Those are also high. Basins around a mile high, ranges around twice that high. The altiplano isn´t very basin-and-range-ish. It´s mostly flat, and the mountains that poke up out of it are either humble rolling hills, enormous rugged teeth, or perfectly-shaped strato-volcanos.
As I´ve said, you just need to try to breath to realize you´re pretty high. But it all looks so flat that it´s hard to believe. Which is why I was so excited to experience just HOW high we´ve been by riding from the altiplano to the Pacific. Is there anywhere else in the world where you can ride from 15,350´to sea level in 189 kilometers, and on PAVEMENT no less? I kind of doubt it, but let me know if you know otherwise.
First we had to get out of Bolivia. The town of Tambo Quemado is just a customs office, a few restaurants, & a gas station at 14,100´. Volcan Sajama, which is something like 23,000´tall, dominates the stark surroundings. The south face of Sajama reminded me enough of the North face of Mt. Hood that my heart ached. The scale was about the same too. But Mt. Hood starts about 12,000´lower. Wow, y´know?
Most of the traffic from Chile is trucks carrying new automobiles. Most of the west-bound traffic is buses and empty automobile-carrying trucks. Add to this two bike tourists crawling their way up the 7-km climb to the frontier.
As we neared the top these two similar-sized white volanoes reared up to the north. They looked almost exactly like the pictures of mountains that I often drew in crayon when I was in second grade. Even more than Oregon´s Middle & South Sister do. To the south another volcano showed off it´s activity with a thin, constant jet of steam. And then we reached the border, at 15,350´. Nothing but volcanos and signs warning us in four languages to stay on the road because there´s land-mines everywhere else. Apparently there´s been some border disputes in the last century. I wonder, do the vicuñas ever set them off?
Chilean customs is 5 km further, next to one of the highest lakes in the world. Flamingos, goose-sized long-legged black ducks, and about five other entirely unfamiliar kinds of waterfowl reside in the shallows. Vicuñas abounded. The most perfect of the volcanos rules the scene like a cold, impartial, impossibly large diety. I tried to swim there but the water refused to get any deeper than my knees by the time I was far enough out for my toes started to go numb. Darn, swimming at 15,000 would have been neat!
It was, all-in-all, the most etherial place I´ve ever been. The colors were wierd. But I was a little out-of-it from breathing so hard.
Moving on, we had to camp without loosing any of our altitude. Sleeping at 15,100´. My personal record. Ouch! I´m surprised we slept at all. Thank you Ibuprofen. Good óle Vitamin I to the rescue.
That night it got down to 9 degrees. No, not centigrade. 9 degrees F. Another personal record. Double ouch!
Our food situation was rather weak too. Customs wouldn´t allow us to carry any fruits, veggies, spices, or meats into Chile and there was no town or store. Quinoa, bullion, powdered milk, & canned tuna got really old really fast, but at least we had plenty of it.
The next day we only got down to 12,000´. We went down some, then across a flat basin, then climbed again. I had the sense we were near the edge of it all, but it took awhile for the real descending to begin. Finally we dropped into a canyon and followed the icy creek for awhile as the walls grew to our sides. Then we emerged on a plateau of sorts and could just tell from the color of the sky below us that the ends of the earth lay down there. Sweet! A gorgeous alpine descent lasting 10 km reinforced the notion. But THEN we had to climb another thousand feet. No fair!
The road continued to snake across rather than down the mountainside until the next morning. Then we lost another 2,000´ before finding ouselves riding across an extremely dry desert for a couple hours. The cordillera rose like a wall behind us. We managed to buy a few vegetables at the only town on the whole road, and got 30 lbs. of water at the only creek.
We lost another thousand feet and entered an area that looks alot like southern Arizona, minus all the vegetation. Then we left the planet Earth and rode through a Martian valley. I mean, except for the blue sky it looked like Mars. ZERO vegetation. I´ve never seen a drier, more dead place. Isn´t there an ocean nearby? What gives?
The next few hours were an exercise in wearing out brake pads. The valley got drier and warmer, became a canyon, and just kept going down. We lost 5,000´in that canyon. I had two tubes fail at the valves from using too much front brake. (Yes Brett, that´s my diagnosis!) The air got soupy. The only life was the rather large Candelabra Cacti, which get their water exclusively from the fog that rises from the sea. It never rains there. Ever.
The canyon finally ended and we crossed a plateau of stark stark desert. Then a vivid memory of Cape Hatteras, North Carolina popped into my head. Wierd. Oh no, that´s why! ¨Hey, do you smell that?¨
“Is that the ocean?”
“Yeah!”
We were still over a mile above sea level though.
Soon a canyon around a mile deep opened up below us. It´s walls were entirely covered with sand. They look exactly like mile-high sand dunes. It must blow all the way in from the coast. The floor of the valley was green irrigated fields with a river snaking down the middle. The road down was a ribbon of pavement that seemed to belong in Egypt. We spent the night next to the river, still 40 km from the coast, breathing.
I love me some oxygen!
So now we´re wrapping up a few days in Arica, where we ate good food and caught some waves on our thermarests. From here we´re bussing it to Valparaiso, since we´ve gotta fly home in a couple weeks.
Pictures will be posted soon, promise!
Hasta,
-Andy