Pass the Salt Please

At 3,669 meters, Uyuni is slightly higher in elevation than La Paz, but it is considerably colder with the wind chill and remote location.  At night, I wore two pair of socks, pants, two shirts, fleece jacket, gloves, and hat.  This wasn't enough, so I bought leggings and a hoody sweatshirt. 

From here, we loaded up into a Nissan Land Rover, the vehicle of choice for the salt flats.  Normally, they cram 6 people into one vehicle, but the other couple bought four spots, so Bev and I lucked out with a small group and extra leg room.  The three-day tour began with a visit to the Train Cemetery.  Huge metal carcasses, well past their life span, lay beside the track gathering dust, likely forever.  They were used to transport salt across Bolivia, Chile, and Argentina.  Now, they serve as a photo opportunity/playground for tourists who can't resist climbing all over them.

A 45 minute drive brought us to Colchani: population 528.  This is where the salt is processed for human and animal consumption.  25,000 tons are processed annually.  The process is fairly simple.  First, they make a pile of salt and let it dry for 5-10 days.  It is placed in a fire oven for an hour.  Then, it's crushed, and iodine is added (by law).  Finally, it is packaged by a teenager who simply scoops the salt into a plastic bag and seals it with a torch.  No scale is used.  We were told that if we wanted to purchase one, we could choose a bag that seemed heavier.

The Salar de Uyuni is one of the world's weirdest places.  It is vast.  It is empty.  It is enchanting.  The landscape creates a sense of exhilaration that causes you to run towards the blue sky of the Antiplano.  Hexagonal shaped salt tiles extend out like the brilliant white web of silk worms.  Nothing grows here.  It is just a thick layer of salt over an ancient lake.