Well, it’s been a while. I feel like time is flying way faster the more I get into the trip.
Leaving La Paz
Leaving La Paz felt weird. We knew the weather was going to be bad, but not this bad — 3 degrees, rain, and heavy traffic. The road was a double lane both ways, four lanes total, and it just felt chaotic. It was really hard to stay focused.
We started biking anyway, but after the first hour we realized it just wasn’t possible to continue in these conditions. The traffic was too heavy, the weather too cold, and the road too dangerous. No fun :/// So we hitched a ride.
The hitch itself turned out to be pretty fun — we sat in the back of a truck, but the driver kept asking if we had paperwork, checking if we were in Bolivia illegally. Apparently his brother had been detained for something similar, so he was clearly nervous. Still, he helped us out.
I just thought — there’s only one way out of La Paz. I don’t know if people actually cycle that road, but if they do, hats off to them. It just felt weird, you know? Even when I want to cycle and have the energy for it, something always seems to happen that stops me. In this case, it was just completely unsafe and absolutely no fun.
So what’s the point of doing it then? Just for the numbers? Probably not. That’s why we decided to skip those 200 kilometers of pure (doble via) highway and continue on roads that are (hopefully) a bit more peaceful.
During the hitch, I think I felt the coldest I’ve ever been on a trip. If not the coldest, then definitely in the top three. I’m not even sure what caused it — maybe the mix of wind, rain, altitude, and just sitting still in the back of the truck — but it hit hard.
Days until Uyuni (salt flats)
The day after, we continued for almost a full 120 kilometers — all of it against the wind. Same view the entire day, just endless straight road and headwind. Boring as hell.
Realistically, you could just hitch or take a bus through this kind of section and skip the dull part. But at the same time, the boring parts are part of the journey too. Skipping them feels wrong — kind of like skipping the dull stretches in life. You just have to learn how to sit with them, deal with them, and maybe even find something in them.
So today I listened to a podcast, didn’t eat enough, and almost bonked — lesson learned. On the bright side, I discovered a new Powerade flavor, Powerade Sour, and I’m honestly pretty happy about that.
The next day was pretty much the same — same road conditions, same endless straight line, barely any cars. What stood out was the weather: only 12°C (about 54°F), but with a UV index of 12. The sun was brutal. At 3,700 meters of elevation, that combo is wild.
We passed through a small town where people just seemed to sit around and wait all day. Nothing happening, no rush — just waiting. Their whole life felt like that: wait, wait, wait.
Salar de Uyuni and Lagunas route
Well, we finally made it to Uyuni, the salt flats.
The big question now was how to tackle both the salt flats and the Lagunas route together. Not exactly an easy decision. Water is scarce, the wind is constantly against you, food stops are maybe once every other day, and the terrain is rough. On top of that, you’re always in the sun — the UV index here sits somewhere between 12 and 14 every day — so it’s just constant exposure. Mentally, it already felt challenging.
If we went straight through, we’d eventually end up in northern Chile, basically desert. From there, we’d either have to find a way back into northern Argentina or skip it altogether. Neither option really fit with our priorities.
We realized we were deciding between 10–12 days of cycling through the area or 2–3 days of touring it more comfortably. Since northern Argentina is a priority, we chose the path of least resistance:
Take the Lagunas route as a short tour, enjoy it without stressing about resources. Return to Uyuni. Then continue into Argentina, keeping our original plan intact.
I liked the tour because, for a while, we were just surrounded by people. When you’re on a bike, you don’t actually meet as many people as you’d think. We’ve maybe met around 15 cyclists doing similar trips — and only a few going in our direction.
So being on a tour was refreshing. It was nice to connect, to share something with others again. You really appreciate how quickly you can get to know people when you’re together 24/7 for a few days.
To Argentina
Back on the saddle after a 3-day tour. Had to squeeze in a 90km ride before my interview (fingers crossed). A homeless guy actually came up to me during the interview — pretty funny moment in hindsight.
It’s wild how riding 90 km before 11 a.m. feels normal now. The road was crazy quiet — maybe 15 cars in 3.5 hours.
It felt good to climb again. These are our last days around 4,000 meters. I remember how surreal it felt the first time we camped at 3,700m, and now it’s just another regular day. I’m not saying things are getting easy, but at least not having to worry about elevation all the time feels like a small relief.
We left Bolivia just a day before the presidential elections, making sure we could cross the border into Argentina without any trouble.
Finally entering a country that feels lighter — more joy, more abundance. It’ll be interesting to see how that shift affects the rest of the trip.
Argentina
First day in Argentina was pretty chill — smooth roads, good conditions, easy cycling. In a small town where we stopped for lunch, we met a woman who’d been living in Canada for 20 years. Now she’s back in Argentina, traveling around on her bike, staying with locals, and sharing her story.
For her, it’s not really a trip — it’s a lifestyle she’s chosen. So it’s different; we can’t really compare it to what we’re doing. Still, it felt like she really needed our attention. She mostly talked to us to tell her story, not to hear ours. And it made me think — if you need that much of other people’s focus and validation, does it still serve the purpose of being a nomad?
On the same day, we made it to a small town called Tres Cruces, sitting at 3,700 meters. There was a guy making pizzas — population maybe 200. He and his family had moved there from Buenos Aires.
The thing is, he has a 5-year-old kid — full of energy, running around all the time — but he’s basically the only white kid within a 150 km radius. It just made me wonder what his future will look like. Who will his friends be as he grows up? I’m really curious to see the kind of person he’ll turn into living out there.
The next day was supposed to be an easy one — the goal was to hit 150 km, and since it looked slightly downhill, I thought it would be chill. Reality check: not quite.
The first 50 km were smooth, but after that, we got slammed by the worst wind ever — 40, 50, maybe even 60 km/h gusts. The way it works in the valley, the hot air rises along the river, so if you’re descending, you’re always getting hit straight in the face.
The wind just drains you — not only physically, but mentally. It’s hard to stay focused and not get pissed off. It’s a different kind of exhaustion, when you feel like you’re moving fine, but the energy you’re burning just doesn’t match the progress you’re making.
Although at the end of the day, we actually found this old train deck to camp in. Funny thing — the train hasn’t been used since 1994. The guy who used to work on the railway even came over to chat with us. That ended up being our camping spot for the night — definitely one of the most unusual places I’ve ever slept in.
Finally, we actually started descending, all the way down to 1,300 meters. And then I realized — I really love the green. Just seeing the trees and all the greenery around, it feels like spring, and that’s really exciting.
This stretch might be one of my top five favorite cycling spots so far. Narrow roads winding through small hills, green all around, going up and down — it just feels so natural.
Other stuff
Other thoughts, random ideas that popped into my head throughout the cycling. Nothing too structured, just things that came to mind while riding, observing, or waiting for the next hill.
1. Bolivians count in a funny way. If you pay 26 and give 100, they don’t give you 74 back. Instead, they’ll give you 4 and say “30,” then 10 more and say “40,” and so on. It’s a bit confusing at first, but after a while, you kind of get used to it.
2. Compared to Peru — and maybe Ecuador — Bolivia’s dogs were surprisingly chill. I actually respect them for that. Not a lot of incidents, nothing aggressive. Same thing once we started in Argentina. The dogs there also seem way more relaxed. Happy dogs. Good on them.
3. So here’s how we’ve been ranking the foods we eat: based on the health warnings. In Bolivia and Argentina, a lot of products actually come with stickers saying things like high in sugar, high in calories, high in fats, high in saturated fats, and high in sodium — basically warning signs for your diet.
At first, we thought 4 was the maximum. So hitting 4 out of 4 felt like an epiphany — the perfect balance of calories, sugar, and price. Then we realized there’s actually 5 out of 5. We haven’t tried it yet, but we definitely plan to give it a shot.
4. Oh, and by the way — in Bolivia and Argentina, they make juices with soy. So you can get orange juice with soy milk, or apple juice with soy milk. And honestly? It slaps.
5. And yeah — we survived Bolivia without food poisoning. Honestly, we thought it could happen. People in the Cycling South America WhatsApp group were saying they do shots of 96% alcohol after eating questionable meals. Definitely didn’t feel like trying that ourselves.
6. In Argentina, you can still see some German influence.
7. En cuanto a mi español, sigue mejorando. El tiempo dirá, pero por ahora ya he terminado El Patrón del Mal (74 episodios de más de 40 minutos cada uno)!!!!
Stats (9 out of 12 days of cycling)
1005 km | 44 h 57 m | 5,143 m gain
Daily Averages
112 km | 5 h 0 m | 571 m gain
