Picking up from Salar de Uyuni: Driving onto the World’s Largest Salt Flat. The series starts here: Peru and Bolivia: The Andes, the Altiplano and the World’s Most Dangerous Road.

West out of Uyuni, then south into the high desert. A stop at San Cristóbal for lunch, then into landscape that doesn’t trouble itself with variety — rock, dust, ichu grass in gold tufts, volcanos on the horizon, the altitude climbing steadily above 4,000 metres.

A car broken down on the roadside. We stopped. While the situation was assessed, Buzz assessed the volcanos.

Laguna Cañapa appeared without warning — a wide, still lagoon in a bowl of bare hills, three large volcanos surrounding it. Janine’s first proper flamingos. A cluster of pink in the middle of the blue, the sort of image that looks implausible until you’re standing in front of it.

I was watching the volcanoes.

Los Flamencos

The eco-hotel sat right on the lagoon. From the room, flamingos were visible without moving.

The altitude caught Janine in the afternoon — a headache that arrived with intent. The hotelier administered coca tea with the manner of someone who had done this many times. Janine went to sleep.

Dinner was three at the table — myself, the guide, and the driver. The driver looked at Janine’s empty chair, looked at me, and made his case entirely in Spanish.

He got the meal.

Overnight the water bottle in the car froze solid. The flamingos slept in tight huddles at the centre of the lagoon — the edges freeze, and the foxes can’t reach them there.

They’ve worked it out.

Flamingos in large numbers occupy the coloured lagoons further south: Laguna Colorada, red from algae, Laguna Verde, green from minerals, and others with colours that don’t have obvious names.

Sol de Mañana

The flamingos were still asleep when we left.

The first stop was a canyon — ice still sitting in the tyre tracks on the road, rust-coloured walls rising on both sides. A viscacha watched from a rock. Part rabbit, part squirrel, entirely unbothered. It did not move.

Further on: the Árbol de Piedra — a single wind-sculpted rock standing alone on the flat, shaped by millennia of sand into something that has no business existing. Laguna Colorada came next — deep brick red from algae, flamingos spread across it in their hundreds, alpacas drinking at the shallows.

The driver and guide were chewing on coca leaves almost continuously. I was offered some.

A little bitter. Not unpleasant.

I had no other effects.

Sol de Mañana sits at 4,930 metres. Steam rising from vents, sulphur crusting the edges yellow, mud pools turning slowly in their craters. Impressive. Not Rotorua.

We kept that observation to ourselves.

Salvador Dalí and Laguna Verde

The Salvador Dalí Desert earns its name. Rock formations scatter across a pale sand slope between volcanoes — dark shapes casting hard shadows in the altitude light. The ridgeline behind runs in bands of rust, ochre, purple and cream. Trevor, a friend, had talked about this place for years. We planned the trip and tried to get him to come. He still hasn’t made it.

Laguna Verde — arsenic and magnesium producing a green that belongs on a tropical coastline, not a high desert at the Bolivian-Chilean border. Volcán Licancabur rises perfectly behind it.

I wanted a panning shot from Buzz — lake to volcano. The altitude warnings were flashing. The wind was serious. Buzz flew anyway, held her line, got the shot. The landing was less controlled. She touched down and flipped.

A moment of silence.

No real damage. Buzz has seen worse.

Mallku Cueva

Back at Termas de Polques, I put his feet in the hot pools. At 4,300 metres, with a full day behind me, the decision made itself.

The drive up to Mallku Cueva was where things got interesting. The Nissan faltered, coughed, and stopped. A passing car pulled over without being asked — a small act of desert solidarity — and collected Janine, the guide, and me. Leaving the driver with the vehicle and the problem.

The hotel was a cave. Literally built into the rock face, warm and dim inside, the kind of place that makes the desert outside feel even larger.

A text arrived in the evening. Car sorted. All good for tomorrow.

The driver showed up the next morning as if nothing had happened.