Sunrise at the pension

I somehow manage to fall asleep during the coldest part of the night—probably forcing myself because I can't stand being awake through the iciness. But by 3AM I've apparently shivered myself warm, as I have only my sleeping bag on instead of the additional 2 blankets I'd piled on top. Unable to get back to sleep, I get up.

In the common area I watch the sunrise, freezing without the warmth of my uncomfortable bed. Luckily someone appears with firewood and a "Kris" ketchup bottle full of lighter fluid; I hope no one ever gets confused with those bottles.

Breakfast is very simple again, which is fine for me. The altitude really affects my appetite...I can eat a decent amount at dinner but am rarely hungry at breakfast or lunch. Delirious from the cold, I begin imagining the benefits of a high-altitude weight-loss plan.

The tour has been amazing thus far, but much like our tour of Torotoro, the high cost does not indicate any measure of luxury. Back at the Tupiza Tours office, I'd almost felt tricked into spending extra for the Hotel de Sel. I'd laughed at Hemmy's excitement that the hotel rooms would have TV, as if two days without television was completely unreasonable for civilized folks. But after two nights of these accommodations I'm more than ready to shell out the additional $10...and TV means other comforts like hot showers and toilet paper. We are running dangerously low; Hemmy ran out of hers in Tupiza, then took a roll from the hotel and ran out of that. Right before we leave the pension we spot a wooden case of toiletries, possibly for sale but no sellers are to be found. I palm a roll without shame.

We agreed from the start that we'd alternate seating arrangements each day. Today is another backseat day for Hemmy and me. It's an exceptionally bumpy day, but on the plus side there are fewer stops, meaning less climbing in and out.

I hate to admit it, but on first sight Laguna Colorada is not nearly as shocking as the promotional posters. Granted, professional photographers can wait days for the correct light while we have only the here and now, but...still. The main part of it is reddish in some parts, but also reflects the blue sky. The color is more bizarre on the other side of the lake, which is as opaque as tomato soup. We dawdle for an hour as the lighting improves, and the lake becomes the brilliant color we hoped for. The drivers seem ready to leave but no one can get enough of the flamingos.

I'm still mystified by Angel. Things the other guide does automatically—like dropping his group off at one point to walk and picking them up at the other end to save time—do not occur to him. But he's a sweetheart and I love Mercedes.

Next we drive to the Arbol de Piedra. A lone rock ostensibly shaped like a tree in the desolate wind-swept desert, it's a very dramatic sight—until I turn around and see dramatic rocks everywhere. Why this rock is singled out is a mystery, as it's hardly a dead ringer for a tree. Still, it's as gorgeous as everything has been, and the combination of desert and giant boulders turns everyone into Ansel Adams hopefuls.

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