Tupiza Passage

Naturally, the river marked the lowest point in the area. The road from here went up sharply, again eschewing switchbacks. This must be the second of the two passes they had told us about back at San Antonio de Lipez.

Brice fought for the first saddle and made it without putting a foot down. The way was too steep at times, and my rear wheel lost purchase. At such slow speed, a moment of slip brings the whole endeavour to a close. At such a steep incline, it just isn't possible to mount and stay upright, much less get your feet into the toe clips. I pushed up to the rise.

The next section was a bit less steep, but still solidly uphill. We pressed on with it.

This section rose up to an amazing vantage point back to yesterday's pass. The road found a small stream which spread out to create an unusual sight up here – a grassy pasture. It looked like an inviting place to cool one's heels on the green grass, amid so much grey and red arid stone. But we simply need to press on.

The road from here chose to go up the streambed, which became steeper as one ascended. What a pass! We will call it Backbreak Pass.

The road comes out to the bottom of a falling high plateau, gently angled upward from here. The wind is blowing into our faces and at a good clip. This ensures that the final kilometre to the actual top is a slog. We know it will be the top because there are some cairns bracketing the road up there.

Brice summiting Backbreak Pass

The road stays at this high level, skirting a moon-like area with exotic wind-eroded rocks, before beginning a big descent into the basin of Laguna Morejon.

Brice suggests that I start down the descent to the basin so he can get a long-range photo. I set off, eager to crunch up some time with this downhill section. I let the gravity pull the bike quickly down the road, making sparing use of the brakes. I said under my breath, "I'll make short order of this," a second before the front wheel grabbed some soft dirt and twisted, sending me hurtling off the bike and straight into the ditch. It was a moment when a nanosecond seems to pass in a minute, in slow motion. "This is going to hurt…"

Slam! My head took part of the brunt, the whole thing finishing in an instant. I lay flat on my back wondering how I would be. I had to rest for a minute to collect my senses. Then, I slowly got to my knees and stood up. Brice was on his way down.

"Are you all right? I had you in my lens one second, the next second you disappeared."

I was actually no worse for the wear.

We descended to the basin, at a very gingerly pace in my case. Once there we faced the cold winds blowing off the laguna waters. These lagunas are heavily laden with minerals and remain liquid well below 0 degrees. As a result, they super-cool the winds rushing over them. We bundled up and made our way slowly, on bad, soft, sandy road, around the basin.

Laguna Morejon

At the far end of the basin the road runs into a mountainside and tacks to the right to climb up out of the basin. At this point sits a small hospedaje, with seemingly little to speak for it. There was not much on offer here. They kindly boiled some water and sold us tea and coffee, as well as some cookies, jarred fruit and a few other items.

After lunch we saddled up and tackled the pass out of the basin. Again, it took a sharp angle up the mountain. Brice was pulled over feeling unwell. He had already wretched twice from the exertion and the full stomach from lunch.

We rested at the top and again bundled up.

We carried on and began eyeing some suitable spots for a camp site. The last hour of the day is very cold, and setting up the campsite is tricky if you leave it too late. My hands tend to turn white and it gets difficult to manipulate the poles for the tent. It is classic Reynauld's condition. Very inconvenient. Yet, on the other hand, we absolutely need to reach out for a solid kilometre achievement each day if we are to make it out of here. In this extreme area of Bolivia, 35 kilometres in a day is our goal. We haven't clocked that up yet (judging from the cyclometers) so we press on.

Uturuncu – unbeknownst to us

The road tacked to the west and climbed a small rise. Nothing here offers shelter from the wind, which is preferable for a camp site. On the other side of the rise, the road jogs to the right and falls into a small salt flat nestled between the rise and an adjoining mountain. This is our home tonight.

Landmark	time*	temp (°C)	odometer (kms)	altitude (m)**
River Overlook	10:30 am	?	0	4343
Backbreak Pass	11:55 am	24	7	4704
Laguna Morejon Hospedaje	3:19 pm	23	19	4435
Cuesta Crossing	4:06 pm	17	21	4600
Camp -- Salt Flat	6:21 pm	9	34	4316

See the day's journal entry.