Ever since the trip entered its final half, Bolivia reared its icy boundaries as the final challenge laid before us. A high altitude gauntlet of sorts, after which the civilized pavement of Chile and Argentina beckoned our wearied bodies. But first, the blinding white expanse of the Salar de Uyuni must be crossed. While it could definitely be completed unaided, the prospect of 3 days riding without luggage proved too strong and thus, we teamed up with a Land Cruiser tour group, proving immeasurably valuable in the days to come.
Rocketing across a dead flat expanse of salt is an experienced only cheapened by words. Every direction stretches out for dozens of miles with the same unending sea of white. Which of course inevitably leads to experiments in new motorcycling techniques that are difficult to perfect under normal circumstances. Like riding with your eyes closed for example. Starting with several 10 second sessions, the confidence slowly worked up to a count of 40. Though the brain reasons quite logically that nothing but cold air awaits your foolish ambitions, it is still an extremely unnerving experience. Every fiber in the body screams its protest at the sensation of doing 80 mph without the benefit of sight.
Most amusing though is realizing the profound difficulty of holding a straight line under such conditions. Attempts to break the 40 second barrier quickly dropped off when upon opening my eyes I found myself heading the completely wrong direction cutting a high speed path between a pair of trucks. Satisfied with our foray into the world of driving by brail we moved into more prudent arenas. No hands, no feet, etc. Quite ridiculous but pragmatism is discarded at the salty shores when presented with such a rare opportunity.
But nothing lasts forever and sure enough a price would soon be extracted for our foolish antics. Dark storm clouds presented their ominous message, reassuring us that we're still amid the grip of Bolivia. The following day passed uneventful, the blood thickening temperatures of a 7 am departure the only reminder of our harsh surroundings. Though merely a practice run for the 6 o'clock start our guide calls for the next morning. And to top it off, my supply of migraine medications ran out, leaving some rather entertaining effects from the withdrawls.