It was time to get out of La Paz and make my way south towards the tales and stories of the famous Salar de Uyuni. 

This is the one place all motorcyclists fear; the worst roads in South America, the possibility of running out of gas, flat tires, breaking down or simply getting lost, amongst the world’s largest salt flats.

Once out of the city, I was riding a nicely paved highway heading south on the Altiplano, which was formed during the uplift of the Andes mountains.  

The air was brisk riding above 4,000 metres of elevation, but the brilliant sun kept me warm. Scraping the sky far to the west  was the giant Nevado Sajama. At 6,542 m, it is Bolivia’s biggest volcano bordering with northern Chile. 

Setting up camp that night at an abandoned church, I found flat ground behind some bushes far enough from the main road so I could not be seen and set up my tent. I peacefully fell asleep until the next morning when the sound of my alarm awoke me in the freezing cold. Frost covered my bike and tent. I waited for the sun to rise over the hill to warm things up; meanwhile, I warmed up some water to brew coca leaf tea (in Bolivia, you can buy coca leaves anywhere; they are brewed as a tea because it helps with the altitude).

Arriving in the shantytown of Challapata, there were no stores to buy food. I bought bananas from a street vendor and freshly squeezed orange juice from a lady across the street. Kids were running towards my bike to check me out – “Who’s the alien in town!”

I took out air from my tires and got back on the saddle. 

“Uyuni?” I asked a man standing next to me with his bicycle, staring at my bike as if it came from outer space. He pointed down the dirt road that led through old adobe mud brick homes, and I made my way leaving behind a trail of dust.

From now on, the perfectly paved road was over. It was time to get dusty and keep my eyes on the road. The altimeter on my watch read 4,400 m. The scenery was changing to a more lunar landscape. Riding was getting harder as deep sand covered the road and at high altitude, it’s even trickier since your brain reacts a little slower. 

I had heard many horrible road stories, but I found the sandy road nothing but pure fun after getting the hang of it. Ripping along while standing on my foot pegs, I felt as if I was riding the Paris – Dakar race solo, surrounded by stunning landscape under a vast blue sky. Reaching the top of a short hill, I came around a corner; far in the distance (it seemed like an illusion), there was a massive white field. It was my first glimpse of the Salar de Uyuni, a place I had long waited to touch and see with my own eyes. 

The road continued along the edge of the Salar. Riding got tougher as the sand got deeper for another two hours until finally arriving to the dusty town of Uyuni.

Sitting 3,600 m at the edge of the Salar, Uyuni is a tiny town. It didn’t take long until I found a cheap room since no more than a handful of hostels and restaurants line up the streets. It is the gateway for tourists coming to visit the world’s largest salt flats. 

Needing to find road information, if any gas was available along the way and also buy food and water; I took a rest day for the upcoming journey ahead. I tried to get a map, but I only managed to find a small pamphlet from a tour agency with little pictures describing their trips across the Salar. I wrote down the distances between what seemed to be attractions along the road to calculate my gas. I had over 500 kms to cover to get to San Pedro de Atacama in Chile. 

Gas is hard to find in the area, so I kept my fingers crossed and rode 25 km along the deep sand to Colchani, a place with just a few salt worker homes and a petrol station at the entrance to the salt flats. I rolled in at the station and trucks were lined up, but at least they had gas. I filled up my bike, two five-litre jerry cans and a couple of two litre pop bottles. My bike looked like a recycling bin on wheels, loaded with gasoline and water. 

I took off from the station nearly crashing from the deep sand in front of all the jeeps. My bike felt off balance with all the loaded fuel. A few guys having a smoke gave me a thumbs up and a big grin, I regained my grip and waved them goodbye.

There it was in front of my eyes, white as a snow field but salty and perfectly flat. At 3,656 m and covering an area of over 10,582 square km, Salar de Uyuni (Salar, meaning salt flat in Spanish) is the world’s largest salt lake. Some 40,000 years ago, the region was covered by the giant salt Lake Minchin. At some point the lake dried, leaving behind two smaller lakes (Poopó and Uri Uri) and two salt lakes – Coipasa and Uyuni.

Underneath the surface, there is a lake of brine saturated solution of table salt, which is exceptionally rich in lithium. Bolivia holds over half of the world’s lithium reserves. It is estimated to contain 10 billion tons of salt, with less than 25,000 tons extracted annually.

The centre of the Salar contains a few “islands”. They are the remains of the tops of ancient volcanoes, which were submerged during the era of Lake Minchin. They include unusual and fragile coral-like structures and deposits that often consist of fossils and algae. 

Incahuasi is the largest island on the Salar where giant cacti grow; some are thousands of years old and reach up to 10 m high. Most tourists come here on a day trip from Uyuni or continue on towards Chile with a four-by-four jeep.

I thought this could be a cool spot to camp for the night, but a big sign warned “no camping allowed”. It was still early in the day, so I decided to ride to the other end of the Salar to find a camp spot with a good sunset location to shoot photos.

Arriving at the other end, there was no good location to set up camp. The ground was a muddy mix of wet salt. So I decided to turn back to Isla de los Pescadores, and hide away from the jeeps and gringos to set up camp.

On my way back, after 20 minutes or so, that island looked smaller, and no cacti. A short panic ran through my veins, thinking, “I‘m lost in the Salar!”

I noticed a jeep so far in the distance that it looked like a small electric toy, so I raced back to find its tracks. The island of cacti appeared further away, and I was happy to have found my way back, but I had wasted a tank of precious gas. 

To follow Alain’s motorcycle adventures, visit his blog, www.ridingthedream.blogspot.com