The only problem was how.
When we studied the maps we thought we could take the road to Calama in Chile and then go to Atacama. Now we knew that this road would have been a nightmare on the bike (much worse than the one from Oruro to Uyuni!).
How about the road going south straight to Tupiza? Once again we were told that it was 400 kms of dirt road with nothing in between.
In the end we opted to go east towards Potosi, not ideal but at least we could count on 3/4 of the road being paved!
And in fact after only 20 kms we finally touched asphalt!
We are feeling a bit down, mainly because you never know what to expect; Then, as the road turns into asphalt again, we cross path with a young french girl on a pushbike.
"this is beautiful" is what she says while catching her breath.
When you are feeling down sometimes you just need someone to remind you how lucky you are.
With 3 simple words she has magically opened our eyes again. we carry on our journey finally seeing again the beauty of the sorrounding valley.
We reach Potosi at 4060 M over sea level where we spend the night.
The hotel is unfortunately short of staff due to the "all saints" holiday break.
We have to carry all our luggage upstairs, which at that altitude and after one day on the bike is quite taxing.
We wander around town for a bit, looking at churches and cobbled streets with the famous "cerro" which has been mined for its silver for hundred of years looming at the end of every corner.
We feel dizzy and deflated when we leave Potosi.
Our hope is that by dropping down to 2800 M in the next few hrs we will find again a bit of energy.
They tell us that the road to Tupiza is all asphalt, which is an added bonus.
Now, what did I tell you about Bolivia? You never know what to expect.......
We cover another 280 kms with a mixed road that switches constantly from asphalt to dirt and we reach Tupiza when my driving skills are tested with a bit of river crossing.
Tupiza is the village where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid spent their last days before being captured and killed.
100 years later that far west feeling is still there, the only missing thing is a saloon.
We check in into a $10 hotel to rest our bones before one last push.
Maybe is because we are now at 2800M over sea level, or maybe is because we are only 80kms away from the argentinian border but a renewed energy is flowing back in our veins.
We leave early in the morning. Nothing can stop us now, and yet only 1 km out of town we find some people holding a thick rope in the middle of the road, stopping the oncoming traffic.
Elena gets off to find out what they want.
A chap (the boss) in the shack asks to see our documents.
I get off as well.
He says that our documents are not valid.
I reply that if the documents are Ok for the border authorities they must be good for him too.
He now feels that his authority has been challenged and threatens me to call the police.
I call his bluff. "yes, lets call the police, but i warn you, my time is valuable and if you waste it I expect to be compensated".
All of a sudden the documents are fine, but they still want some money (at the end of the day this is what it is all about!!)
"what for?" I ask.
He says is to pay for the toll of the road.
At that point my eyes go red and I start shouting: "what roads, you don't have any roads, only rocks sand and goats!"
I throw the 20 bolivianos on the table and leave the shack shouting "ladrones!"
While they lower the rope they reply "go back to your country".
But I am having the last word. "I am trying, as fast as I can, if you let me go, back to civilisation!"
We wizz through the last 80 kms of Bolivia with a bad taste in our mouths.
What a shame. This place is full of beauty and yet the lack of infostructures makes it difficult to enjoy it.
Even at the petrol station before the border they steal our last bolivianos "the price for foraigners"-she says-"is 8 bolivianos per litre, not 3".
it does not really matter anymore, at last we made it to the border.
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