11 May... one long train journey to Bolivia

Lynne enjoys the scenery from the comfort of her sleeping bag. Temperatures dropped to below zero during the night

Lynne says...

I had to fight my way through the crowds (see previous picture) to secure our tickets to Uyini, Bolivia. Maybe everyone else knew something that we didn´t? Our train was due to leave at 11pm so we spent the day wandering around Calama, buying supplies whilst I psyched myself up for what lay ahead.

We weren´t the only crazy people who had chosen the less traversed route from Chile to Bolivia. A local lady sat in the waiting room surrounded by her life posessions in various sized boxes and carrier bags; a Swiss couple huddled in the corner, probably trying to avoid the nasty smell eminating from a well-travelled German lad with holes in his boots.

The train clunked into the station on time and we climbed aboard the solitary carriage at the back. The dreaded wooden seats were clearly just a rumour aimed at discouraging gringos from choosing this route. Instead, they were fairly comfortable and as there were only six of us, we could spread out.

We poured ourselves a rum and coke in our chipped enamel mugs and settled back as the train pulled out of the station. There was nothing to see outside apart from blackness and by 12pm the cold had started to set in so we settled down in our sleeping bags and woolly hats and curled up on the seats.

After a surprisingly good night´s sleep we were woken up by the dawn light. It was cold enough to see our breath, despite the sun´s rays. A stark, barren landscape spread out before us, framed by snowcapped mountains and a smoking volcano far in the distance. We trundled slowly past an abandoned mining village. Empty brick buildings and rusty machinery lay scattered around and a cemetary of wooden crosses marked the final resting place of miners who had worked the slat flats.

We arrived at the Chilean border at around 9.30am. A suave, gum chewing guard with a silver chain processed all six passengers in a few minutes but we had to wait around for about an hour whilst the cargo was shifted around by the huge engine. To ease the boredom I perfected my Penelope Pittstop impressions to the amusement of the train driver.


Downtown Ollague on the Chilean side of the Bolivian border

The Bolivian border crossing was very different. We were now at 3660 metres and the few buildings dotted around indicated that people actually lived here.

We entered a tiny hut where an official in a khaki uniform examined our passports in great detail before giviung us a form to fill in. We also had to pay an entry tax; it probably went straight into his pocket. Outside, Matt tried to take a picture but a serious looking man with a rifle turned him away. I´m not quite sure what they were worried about as there is nothing much to see at this lonely outpost.

We brewed up by the railway track and waited, and waited, and waited. A small boy on a huge bicycle and his fluffy white dog appeared from nowhere and regarded us with mild curiosity. Out of sheer boredom we climbed back on the train and fell asleep. We were woken up at around 4pm as the train juddered to a noisy start.


Matt brews up at 4,000 metres above sea level. A high tea, perhaps? (sorry)

The next few hours were spent alternatively dozing, reading or listening to music. As the sun set behind the mountains and we were once again in darkness. The train stopped at a few isolated stations and more people boarded. Matt started to feel the effects of altitude and the only option was to curl up in his sleeping bag and go to sleep.

We finally arrived in Uyini at around 9pm, twenty-two hours after leaving Calama. It had been a memorable train journey and I was glad Matt had insisted we chose the alternative border crossing. We are finally in Bolivia so things should really start to get interesting.


Heylp, heylp! Lynne perfects her Penelope Pitstop impression