A day of stories
Having ordered a taxi which did not arrive we managed to get a lift from a family who were Just going out for a drive? Who does this really in this place but that's what they told us. However they had a 4x4 and a driver and were willing to take us into town 30km away so we piled in with all the luggage.

Tom in the mean time had headed off to town back along the dirt track on the search for fuel.
Eventually we all meet up and have to pack the bikes on the garage forcourt at Uyuni. Additional fuel strapped on as we had been warned that there was no fuel between here and the Chillean border and probably not for a long way after. Away we go.

Out across the salt flats pink and white for as far as we could see road rough but rideable. T his soon changed with areas of soft sand and then wash boarding, we bounced bumped our way along. However uncomfortable it was the scenery was beautiful. The salt flats changed in to desert and then the odd hill appeared. Up we started to climb again. As we headed towards the border the rain started and the temperature dropped along with the light.
The border was two sheds and a fence we quickly handed over our documents got our passports stamped and headed towards Chile.
The crossing at Ollague was slightly better and after 30 mins we were through and even got a glimpse of the mountain through the rain, but unfortunately not the volcano. No fuel here so we pushed on.

Soon after crossing the border at Ollague into Chile we noticed a rough vibration from the back wheel. The suspect rear bearing was probably the cause. The bike was covered in mud and salt from the rain and road.

The scenery on this section of the 21 takes your breath away.

50 k further on we stop for a break and see that Lindsays forks are leaking oil over his disks. The mud has set hard onto his fork sanctions and when we hit the bumps and the forks compress it has ripped the seals to bits. The promised pavement kept changing into dirt road again so we just pushed on again over the potholes and washboard. Eventually we hit pavement about 50 kilometres outside Calama. And we rode into town with a very good sunset.

It was late, we were cold and knackered so, defaulted to first good hotel. The bikes both needed some repair. Calama was like coming back to civilisation after rough living in Bolivia. There was no que at the petrol station and they had 95 octain, life is good.