Bordering Chile - Flamingoes, Thermal Springs and Geysers

Up in the highlands the wild descendants of llamas still graze the dry bush seemingly devoid of any nutrition. These are vicuña and are more graceful and slender than the llamas.  Personally, I go with what the Argentine gaucho preferred ( you know the Limerick). 

We visited some real Wild West Country interspersed with very isolated villages where the Adobe houses could have been hundreds of years old.

Here is the llama - much cuddlier don't you think? And very tasty too especially in pizza.

We finally rolled into a small desolate village where we had accommodation after the quinoa soup and llama steaks.  Bizarrely there was a school brass band practising - Bolivians seemed to be very big on marching bands - and a disused military establishment. This was a reminder that we were close to the "C" word in the title of this post.  Cxxxx stole Bolivias coastline leaving their navy with only Lake Titicaca to sail on. There is no love lost there.

Next day we set off in convoy again with a first stop at the hot springs.

Even though the sun burns brightly it's cold in the shade at altitude and thes hot springs were gorgeous and as hot as a bath at home.

Further on we came to more evidence of the volcanic activity in this part of the world. As you can see from Verity's expression she feels that being close to one smelly old geyser in her life is enough.

Not far away was another photographer's delight and a highlight of the trip so far. We are the nerdy birders of the group so seeing hundreds of flamingoes so close was fantastic. 

Another spot where we could have stayed for hours trying to catch them in flight. We thought it a pretty inhospitable place but on the way down (and back) we saw two cyclists pushing their bikes with trailers  up from the lake.  We supposed they had been camping by the lake. All respect due.

The long trip ended with us rolling back into Uyuni in the early evening to a welcome shower, cold beer and llama pizza ready to take the night bus to La Paz and and an early start for "Death Road".

If only we had known the bus would be colder than the salt flats and bumpier than a sleeping policemen's convention. Imagine trying to pee accurately in the dark while riding a bucking bronco.  That was the bus toilet. But hey! We are travellers not tourists...