San Antonio De Los Cobres
The Grueling Road to San Antonio de los Cobres
Leaving Tolar Grande was a necessity driven by a ticking clock; my visa was running out, and I had to keep moving. The journey to San Antonio de los Cobres proved to be a brutal test of endurance. Between the bone-jarring corrugations and the damaged tracks, my motorcycle was taking a serious beating. At one point, the road turned treacherous, and I found myself sliding across a frozen river. A passing truck driver stopped to help me up, but the chaos didn’t end there. As night fell and the temperature plummeted, my top box—carrying all my essential gear—rattled loose and fell off. I had to backtrack into the dark, shivering and exhausted, until I finally rolled into town to find a bed for the night.
A Local Expert and the Secret of the Puna
The following day was dedicated to recovery and research. I had seen a specific location on the internet that I was desperate to find, but hours of scouring Google Earth had yielded nothing. I went to the local tourism office, which was manned by a policeman. It turned out to be a stroke of incredible luck; he was a member of the local indigenous community, born in the remote countryside near the very place I was looking for. He recognized the photo instantly. He didn’t just give me directions; he shared the wisdom of the land, warning me about the treacherous state of the roads and even offering to guide me so I wouldn’t get lost in the vastness of the Puna.
Preparing for the Chile Border Crossing
Amidst the planning, I had to deal with the logistical nightmare of my lost wallet. Without my original motorcycle papers, I spent time printing every digital backup I had. These papers are my lifeline for the upcoming traverse between Argentina and Chile. It’s a nerve-wracking situation, but I am hopeful that these documents will be enough to satisfy the border officials in a few days. Traveling this way requires a constant balance between chasing beauty and managing the mundane, often stressful, realities of life on the road.
Volcanic Islands and the Salar de Salinas Grandes
After a morning spent fighting with non-existent hotel Wi-Fi, I set out for the location the officer had described. The drive took me through a tiny village of only three or four houses, a place so remote it made me wonder how anyone manages to carve out a life there. Eventually, I reached the volcanic islands in the Salar de Salinas Grandes. The landscape was breathtaking—a stark, prehistoric beauty that felt entirely disconnected from the modern world. Even though the sky was a bit too clear for my photographic preference, the sheer scale of the islands against the salt flats was magnificent.
The Cost of the Journey and the Frozen Horizon
The return journey was a reminder that this lifestyle is far from a staycation. Another vibration-induced mechanical failure struck when the screw on my phone holder jumped out, sending my phone tumbling to the dirt for the tenth time. Despite disassembling part of the bike to find it, the screw was gone—another small but costly frustration in a string of daily surprises. As the sun dipped, the cold became predatory. Even with two pairs of gloves, the chill seeped into my bones. I saw the lights of San Antonio de los Cobres on the horizon and felt a surge of relief, thinking I was close. But the lights were a cruel illusion; I drove for what felt like hours, and they never seemed to get any closer. It was a long, freezing battle to get back, but looking back at the photos of those volcanic islands, the sacrifice felt entirely worth it.
Trip Gallery
