Can someone spare some rice?

Salar de Uyuni is one of those places I knew I would have to visit from the first moment I saw images of motorbikes ridden across its vast white surface that goes on seemingly forever. The combination of immense remoteness and unfamiliar beauty combine for an intoxicating allure that will punish the unprepared traveler. At almost 11K square kilometers (~4K sq. miles) and greater than 12K feet in elevation Salar de Uyuni is the world’s largest salt flat where simple breathing can be an effort. It’s also home to 70% of the world’s lithium reserves rendering compasses useless on its surface. It’s a BIG place where getting lost is easy and breathing is not yet I’m drawn there like the swallows to Capistrano.

I am riding the altiplano during one of the heaviest rainy seasons. All the primary roads are flooded to some extent and impassable in many places causing wholesale travel delays and logistical nightmares. I ride north from Tupiza, the aftermath of the previous two night’s showers are evident but the road is in decent shape. Until I reach the pueblo of Atocha. The Rio Atocha has split the town down the middle engulfing what remains in a moat of mud and water. As I enter the town I’m greeted by a half dozen riders heading south to look for an alternate route. They tell me to turn around as the river is not passable but as with most things I have to see for myself. I tell them I’ll catch up if it doesn’t look good. One thing is for certain, this will be the widest river I’ve crossed without a boat. I explore the east and west sides of the town and as I expect there will be no “riding around” this one. I do however find a “low spot” where an island of mud splits the river into two big crossings instead of one gigantic crossing. I convince myself the mud won’t swallow me and the bike whole and release the clutch as I get up on the pegs. The bike slips around and sinks into the mud but the wheels keep turning. Motion is my friend. The front wheel sinks under water and I struggle to visualize the remaining distance to the opening of the air box. An opening that is ~8 inches lower to the water’s surface since I removed the snorkel in La Paz. I figure the wheels are up to their axles in mud judging by the lack of lateral movement gained from my efforts to move the bike. I reach the island and dab, the mud engulfs my boot and I sink up to my ankle. Phew. The remaining distance is slightly shorter and to my relief less muddy. A number of spectators have gathered and they cheer me on as I ride out of the muddy moat. I spend some time cleaning the mud off my radiator and fielding questions from the crowd of onlookers who look at me with bewildered amusement and get back on the road.

I arrive in Uyuni with a lot of daylight remaining so I drop my luggage at the hostal and head up to Cochani to put my mind at ease. The main drag of Cochani is a mud track, not good. Another track of mud leads me toward the salar after the checkpoint. I see signs for the salt hotel around the time I see what appears to be a giant mirror that reaches out to the horizon. Water as far as I can see. So half the jeep drivers I spoke with up to this point are correct. The other half were overly optimistic. I walk around and take some pics then head back to Uyuni to develop plan B.

The next day at the parque I befriend a Swiss couple who explain how they rode the salar on their tandem bike the previous day. They rode from Oruro to Tunupa and then to Incahuasi and Cochani via the salar. The husband explains the edges of the salar are the deepest (and muddiest) and that once on the salar the water is only a few inches deep. I have hope. While riding the salar on a bicycle, especially that distance, is remarkable, riding a motorbike is a different matter. I need to understand how the salt water is going to affect the bike. I know it’s corrosive but that’s about the extent of my knowledge. After talking with a number of jeep drivers I learn there is a fumagado that specializes in preparing vehicles for riding on the flooded salar. A mixture of oil and diesel fuel is sprayed under the carriages of the jeeps to protect from corrosion and to allow for easy removal of the salt. Bikes are treated with diesel fuel only. So that’s it, plan B.

After a couple days of rain, Uyuni gets a reprieve and I decide to attempt a ride to Incahuasi, an island in the middle of the salar. I hit the fumagado as planned and arrive at the Cochani entrance in short order. I take a jeep driver’s offer to lead me through the deeper and muddier fringe of the salar. He seemed shocked I was riding the salar on my motorbike. I take a trajectory that splits the two main tracks leading out of Cochani figuring if I get in a jam I can swing north or south to get on the main tracks. While I couldn’t get a jeep driver to admit to driving out to Incahuasi the Swiss couple I spoke with said they saw at least 15 current guest book entries at the hotel so someone is driving out there. Once on the salar I’m in awe of the visuals in front of me and struggle to discern where the salar ends and the sky begins. I cruise along at 30 mph for miles with no issues and decide to open the throttle more. At 55 mph the splash from the water is more pervasive and my boots are saturated now. The bike’s low fuel light comes on. This is especially troubling since I topped off in Uyuni and I have no more than 30 miles on the tank. I stop and open the tank and sure enough it’s still full. Weird. Confident I’m not running out of fuel I resume riding but directing more of my attention on the bike’s performance. I roll on the throttle and the speedo climbs over 60 mph. The bike tracks well in the water in spite of a considerable splash from the wake. It’s at this time the bike loses power. I roll off the throttle and the bike sputters as if starved of fuel. I roll on the throttle again and again the bike sputters and loses power. I stop and examine the motor, now encrusted in a layer of salt. Perhaps the salt water is entering the air box where I’ve removed the snorkel? Perhaps the salt is creating another electrical gremlin? I don’t know and I figure that’s reason enough to call it quits. I head back for shore as I’m in no mood or condition to be pushing my bike 15+ miles off the flooded salar.

I keep my speed at 30 mph for the return to Cochani and the bike makes it back without a hiccup though the low fuel light is still on. I beat it to the fumagado in Uyuni for prompt salt removal and they clean the bike up real nice, the cleanest it’s looked in months. The low fuel light is no longer on when I start the bike. The day’s ride on the salar is enough to satisfy my appetite for riding flooded salars and I head back to the hostal somewhat giddy from the experience and look forward to my route through the Lagunas of southern Bolivia and the exit to Chile.