Winter Solstice

As a kid, I had a friend who always said, “My birthday is June 21, longest day of the year.” As a child, I assumed this was something her mother told her, either to appease her child that she got to celebrate the most or perhaps it had to do with the many hours she had been in labor. This year, for the first time in my life, I experienced June 21 as the shortest day of the year.

First, I want to tell you about our traveling companions for these three days. Iris was originally from China, but had recently graduated from Wake Forest and had a job lined up in New York upon her return from several weeks of solo traveling throughout South America. Henry, a German, was on his third solo trip. After high school, he spent months traveling through Australia and New Zealand, then after his bachelor’s degree, he spent months in South Africa and Namibia. He had just finished his master’s degree, and so was celebrating with a months-long solo tour throughout South America. Kiri, the half-Greek, half-Austrian who grew up in Germany but was currently living in Portugal was seeing as much as he could before taking his first true job back in Germany. I felt sorry for Jacob who joined us on the second day after we had already had so much fun together but the young Englishman was a perfect addition to our group. He had graduated from university, spent a year working in a pub, saving money and now he and a buddy were spending about a half year traveling throughout the continent. He and his mate were unfortunately unable to be placed in the same tour, but he seemed okay to have a bit of time apart.

Much of our time on the second and third day was in the car, but with the wide variety of scenery, that was perfectly enjoyable. We headed south from Uyuni and spent the next two days in the high deserts of Bolivia near the Chilean border.

We started on a paved road through desert landscapes with small bushes, like a high tundra. No trees, and nothing was green, but the small patches provided food for the animals that lived there. We saw vicuñas, which are small, llama-like wild animals. When we couldn’t remember their names, we called them cappuccinos, as that was what they looked like. Although they were always fun to spot, they became like spotting prong-horns out west, frequently spotted in groups, but quickly shying away. We saw herds of llamas with their ears decorated showing they were claimed, much like dairy farmers mark their cows with numbers in their ears. Axel said it would be very rare to see wild llamas and that alpacas were not as common in this area as they were not as hearty as llamas. We also were surprised to spot ostriches along our drive. Although it was cold, the landscape was similar to where I picture them living in Africa. They have obviously found ways to adapt. Axel said there were foxes and pumas that were the predators of the area as well.

The farther we went, the less life we saw. Not only fewer animals, but fewer communities and fewer vegetation. And then there were even no roads. There were vast expanses of nothingness. I’ve seen expanses of nothingness in South Dakota and Kansas, but there were no signs of life over the miles of rocks we traveled. 

We would stop frequently to take photos of the changing landscape, but as the temperature was below freezing and the powerful wind was often hard to walk in, our time outside the car was not very long. There were giant rock fields where we searched for faces or animals like we do passing clouds. 

Axel said he was taking us to Mars, and well, the red rocks filling the landscape were very reminiscent of the red planet. At our highest point of the day, not a peak at all, just a plateau, we got out and fought the wind to stand at just shy of 16,000 feet.

We were on the hunt for a particular animal you don’t expect to live here at all. I was fortunate enough to see flamingos on a tropical isle in the Caribbean, and so it was hard to picture them also in this high desert. We stopped at two lagoons where they often gather, but they were frozen over with no pink dots to be seen. At the third we spotted A flamingo. Yes, a single one. We were able to get fairly close as he searched for the plankton that also have adapted to live here. 

After another hour or so drive over pockets of frozen snow and red rocks that somehow Axel knew the way through, we stopped at a National Park. The sun was near setting and the wind made the temperature barely bearable, but Axel encouraged us to walk around. Despite being miserably cold, we were overjoyed to see flamboyances (just looked that one up, what a fun group name!) of flamingos braving the cold, facing the wind as to not ruffle their feathers and continuing to search for plankton. It was well worth the long drive and the frigid temps! It was while watching flamingos fly off that we watched the sun set on the shortest day of the year.

Our hostel for the night was truly in the middle of nowhere, with no heat and electricity for only a few hours at night to allow us charge our devices. But the building was simple, sturdy and welcoming inside. We had warm tea, soup and pasta to fill our bellies and heat us from the inside. We took turns asking questions to the group to get to know one another as well as different cultures, and as the questions died down, I decided to introduce them to a favorite card game. In high school, I remember many happy hours being spent during breaks and free periods playing Spoons with whatever objects could be found in our backpacks. I remember lots of laughter, occasional scratches between players and sometimes fights “to the death” over the grip of an item. I taught this game to our new friends using chapsticks, rolls of tums, small hand sanitizer and a roll of Dramamine as our “spoons”. It was a hit, and we had so much fun laughing the night away as our fingers slowly lost feeling, but our elevated heart rates during the game seemed to help fight the cold.

Despite the high winds and unbearable temperatures in this heatless building, we were very warm when we slept! We had rented sleeping bags that were well worth the $10 and put them under multiple layers of thick blankets. It was only the getting out of bed the next morning that was difficult!

We awoke early and drove across the barren landscape as we watched the sky lighten and begin to show the faintest color of pink. Mountain peaks showed color before the ground around us, and when we arrived at the geysers, we were able to finally see the sun show her face after the longest night of the year. Some geysers were more bubbling pots of sulphur while others emitted steam. But the wind was so strong that the clouds of steam didn’t go upward but rather blew in front of the sun creating a mystical world.

Our next destination was one we were all excited about but equally nervous. We headed to a pool of hot springs where we were going to get the opportunity to soak. This sounds amazing, right? But what about the part from the changing room to the pool and back again? Yep, getting down to our bathing suits and stepping outside in sub-freezing temperatures just didn’t sound appealing. We were the first group to arrive, and just outside of the pool, in the streams that flowed from the warm water, seagulls were enjoying baths and a lone flamingo meandered about one hundred feet from us, oblivious to our presence as he searched for plankton. Thankful the dressing room was only a few feet from the pool, so we took off our many layers and ran with haste into the steamy pool. It was just deep enough for us to sit in with our heads above the water. We continued asking questions as we admired the stunning scenery around us and the bright sunshine. Our fingers were prunish when Axel told us we must finally leave. The dressing process with two layers of socks, two of pants and four tops is never easy, especially in a small, damp dressing room, but the warm pool was well worth it.

Back on the “road”, still baffled that Axel knew where to go and which tire tracks to follow, I was amazed to sometimes see speed limit signs out here, in the middle of no where. And also baffled that vehicles could even reach those speeds!

We stopped at another part of the National Park for lunch and had another delicious meal (indoors, thankfully). But, just outside, surrounding the mostly frozen lake, I was thrilled to see vicuñas a little closer, and especially see llamas who had no fear of us whatsoever and seemed to enjoy posing for the camera. 

We had seen sheep near by, so when I saw them approaching after lunch, I grabbed by camera and ran back outside. There were young lambs and about a dozen sheep who took off into a side yard next to the building. I’m not sure what was there, but according to the actions of the old cholita who yelled at them, threw things at them and chased them back to the lake, I can assume that they were not supposed to be there.

There were several hours left of our drive back to Uyuni and although we made a few stops to admire the scenery, you remember me saying there was very little signs of life, right? Well, that includes toilets. For the boys, life was much easier. But for us girls in the group, we only had opportunities where there were boulders around, and even then, exposing bare skin to the harsh winds was challenging and incredibly uncomfortable, but it was a tough balance of trying to stay hydrated at the high altitudes and becoming accustomed to using “llama toilets”.

We arrived back in Uyuni just as the sun was setting, and although it was still cold, it was nothing like the cold we had encountered in the high deserts. Bolivia, partway between the size of Texas and Alaska has so much to offer! I can’t wait to see more!