Land of the Land Cruiser

TOYOTATOTTOYTOYOOYOOTAATRAT TRAILSTTRR AILSAILS Evo Morales and the Land of the Land Cruiser by Brandon Janes As the tourists finished their lunch of roasted chicken, beets and three varieties of potato, I watched five Bolivians repair the hub of a leaky Toyota Land Cruiser with silicone putty and the hollowed out end of a cucumber. We had stopped for lunch in a rocky desert enclave situated 13,123 feet above sea level in Bolivia’s windswept altiplano or highland plateau—one of the most extreme environments on the planet. The draw of this place was a natural formation called the Salar de Uyuni—the largest salt flat on the world—105 miles wide and 393 feet deep. Hub repair—Bolivian style. The salt flat is an easy day trip from the gateway town of Uyuni but many travelers take advantage of the cheap tour rates—in South America’s poorest country—to explore the dramatic desert region between Chile’s San Pedro de Atacama Desert and *!.5!29s&%"25!29 Uyuni. Nearly all of them make the journey in the seat of a Toyota Land Cruiser. We hired a Land Cruiser in September to take the 930-mile trip across the Andean altiplano. Four of us—two German girls, an Australian girl and I—each paid $205 U.S. for the trip, a bizarre four-day tour of llama-ridden desertscapes, snowcapped volcanoes and a red lagoon inhabited by pink flamingos. The price—a bar- gain—included a driver, personal cook and basic accommodations for each night of the trip. In Bolivia, a country desperately opposed to capitalism, you see few signs of globalization—no McDonald’s, Starbucks or KFC. But in the altiplano, life revolves around one crucial import: the Toyota Land Cruiser. Our guide, Pablo Chaira Yañez, a middle-aged Bolivian man with a quiet, indigenous face, said he was bound by his occupation to his Land Cruiser—which had been imported from North America—but he had a strong dislike for most “gringo” intrusions. During our four days of travel in the altiplano, the only vehicles identi- fied were one Nissan Pathfinder, a Lexus LX450 and more than thirty 80 series Land Cruisers. “This is the land of the Land Cruiser,” Yañez said. “It is the only vehicle that can drive across the desert without yielding to the elements.” The San Pablo de Lipez desert in the Potosí Department of Bolivia. Watching the sun rise over the Salar de Uyuni. TOYOTATTOOOYOYOYYOOTAAT TRAILSTRT AILSAILIILLSL S A tour group speeds across the Desert of Siloli. Twenty years ago, the Department of Potosí, the province in which Now, in the Department of Potosí, drivers sit in traffic all afternoon, our entire trip took place, had only 5,000 motorized vehicles, which just as they do in major cities around the world. At one of the state- served a population of 700,000, according to a 1991 article run gas stations—which make up about half of the total gas stations published in the New Yorker magazine. All of that changed with the in the country—a liter of fuel costs about 50 cents U.S. or $1.80 per 2005 election of Evo Morales Amaya—the country’s first indigenous gallon. Foreigners still have to pay full price, around $5 per gallon. president. Morales nationalized Bolivia’s petrochemical industry and instituted massive government subsidies on fuel prices, which have What has not benefitted Yañez’s business is the apparent anti- enabled many Bolivians to own cars for the first time. imperialist or anti-U.S. policies imposed by the Morales government. Travelers carrying a U.S. passport must pay $135 U.S. to enter the country, a policy that many see as intended only to discourage tourism from the United States. As one Swiss traveler put it, “It’s not like they have an immigration problem. I mean, who would want to move here?” It was a Tuesday morning when we waved goodbye to Yañez’s wife and their three-year-old child standing on the curb of our hotel in Tupiza—a friendly town at the edge of Bolivia’s paved southern road system. From this point on, we would travel on dirt roads carved by decades of Land Cruiser excursions. Yañez, who has been a driver A cook in traditional Bolivian clothing works off the tailgate of a Land Cruiser. *!.5!29s&%"25!29 A soft, clean bed is the perfect place for the trail to end. MARDI KRAWL TLCA Members Save 20% Off Our Best Available rates. Details at www.TLCA.org for seven years, said he makes one 930-mile-trip per week in his 1996 Land Cruiser. Although he is away from home much of the week, his wife does not Friday night live music complain. He is home four nights of the week and that is better than by many Bolivian men, who leave home for months at a time to earn money in the mines near Potosí. Matt Stell The city of Potosí—at 13,420 feet above sea level—is the second highest city in the world with a population greater than 100,000. The city cradles a breathtaking mountain called Cerro Rico, or Rich Hill, the massive Bolivian silver mine that bankrolled the Spanish colonial empire for more than 300 years. But for the Bolivians—whose current population is 80 percent indigenous—mining has brought more heartbreak than fortune. Scores of the poor, indigenous miners have been killed in the mines both unin- tentionally and intentionally by Spanish and imperial interests. The average life expectancy of a Bolivian miner—many who start work- ing as young as 12—is 40 to 50 years. The other black thumb of Bolivia’s economy is the country’s produc- tion of coca, the plant that is the base for the illegal drug cocaine. Coca leaves are legal to posses, sell and consume in Bolivia. The drug is not. President Morales, a former coca farmer and coca union leader, rose to prominence because of his opposition to the U.S. drug interdiction and coca eradication policies, which destroyed hun- dreds of farms in the country’s eastern Amazon basin. A growing tourism industry is a great hope for Bolivia but many Bolivians, such as Yañez, are caught in the paradox of loving to hate the U.S., while also hoping to profit from it. In the past, drivers in the altiplano have had a reputation as daytime drunks, leading tourists on dangerous, ill-planned escapades in the desert. Yañez was no drunk but he struggled to conceal his dislike for both Morales and the U.S. With a bulge of coca under his lip, Yañez sped our Land Cruiser at 60 miles-an-hour up the mountains and we made our way toward the first camp, a prison-like hospice in a barren valley 14,760 feet above sea level. TOYOTA TRAILS goods, potatoes and glitzy luggage made by U.S. manufacturers. We set off towards the Chilean border at the southwest corner of Bolivia, passing several dirt soccer fields and dozens of small mud houses with yellow grass-thatched roofs. In such a desolate landscape as the Bolivian altiplano—where one gust of dry wind will annihilate your sinuses—the land is riddled with settlements, both colonial and more modern, occupied by llama shepherds and their families. Yañez took us to a so-called ghost town, a Spanish mining settlement that had been established in the 14th century. He said that after the mines were abandoned, the Spanish destroyed the town, knocking over the houses with many of the peasants still inside. That day, the Land Cruiser reached a height of 16,400 feet and passed into a sandy valley known as the Salvador Dalí Desert, named because its bizarre landscape resembles the artwork of the Bolivian drivers say that only one vehicle is able to survive the altiplano— early 20th century painter. There was much speculation between the the Toyota Land Cruiser. guides whether Dalí had in fact visited the location for inspiration. Breakfast was served in a small room next to the kitchen, which Sonia Copajra, our cook, had steamed up so much, it dripped water On the other side of the desert, the llamas were scarce and the foxes on our heads. Another Land Cruiser carrying four tourists from France and rabbits had ceased to poke their heads from the rocks but—in had joined us in the night. The vehicle, a diesel, took nearly an hour this most uninhabitable climate—we found one strange breed of ani- to warm up each morning, the driver said. He preferred the gasoline mal at a place called Laguna Colorada: pink flamingos laying their models. eggs on floating islands of chalk. As the Land Cruisers sputtered their exhaust into the dry, gray morn- A prehistoric ocean once filled the altiplano. Over several millennia, ing air, I helped Yañez wrap blue tarpaulin over our equipment—a as the salt water receded, more than twenty lagoons and salt flats rusty propane tank and stove, worn plastic crates carrying canned formed containing pure minerals, including salt, lithium and borax. *!.5!29s&%"25!29 At Laguna Colorada, the ocean deposited a rich culture of algae, which gives the water its red color. With the buffer of the Dalí Desert, the red lagoon makes the perfect breeding ground for the flamingos—plenty of food to eat and no predators to be found. On the third day of our trip, one of the girls complained about the lack of legroom in the backseat of the Land Cruiser and I think Yañez took it personally.

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