OUT OF ARGENTINA – INTO BOLIVIA

4-9 May 2026. The plan had been simple enough: drive to Uyuni then on to La Paz where we would leave the camper at a campground outside the city, and spend a couple of nights in a hotel exploring the chaos and energy of the capital. But Bolivia had other ideas…

Crossing at the border between towns of La Quiaca and Villazon we once again went through the steps of stamping ourselves and the truck out of Argentina & into Bolivia.

It was later in the afternoon by the time we finished collecting stamps and filling forms. We are becoming rather relaxed. Normally we will cross borders early morning to allow plenty of time. But after crossing roughly 25 border points so far it’s just another day. Our passports are filling up.

FIRST BLOCKADE

Back in Bolivia, the difference was instant. Poor roads cut through dusty towns where buildings were crammed shoulder to shoulder in every direction — visible markers of a struggling economy. We made our way up the road, eventually pulling off onto a quiet corner to camp for the night. The following morning we were on the road early, hoping to make it to Uyuni.

Only halfway between the border and Tupiza we hit our first blockade. It was 8am. Trucks and cars sat parked with their engines off, giving the impression they’d already been waiting a long time. We soon learned the road would remain closed for the day and wasn’t scheduled to reopen until 6pm.

Blockades are an incredibly common form of protest in Bolivia. Year after year the complaints seem much the same — poor roads, dirty fuel, inadequate healthcare, and the rising cost of living without any meaningful increase in income. There was no alternate route, so we settled in for the wait. We set up the Wi-Fi while the kids got started on school assignments.

As the hours ticked slowly by, the drivers around us also made themselves comfortable. Fires were lit, chickens cooked over open flames, kettles boiled, and music drifted through the line of stranded vehicles. Hundreds of people walked past carrying heavy bundles. The Bolivians we met seemed peaceful, just deeply frustrated with their political situation — governments that don’t appear to act in the interests of their people. In many ways, it feels like a frustration shared across much of the world right now.

At one point we were invited to join a barbecue, enjoying delicious roast chicken while chatting with the locals about their lives. We’re finding Bolivian Spanish easier to understand than in some other countries — slower and more clearly spoken.

By 6pm the road finally reopened. We drove for another hour in the dark among the other truck drivers, many taking jaw-dropping risks to make up for lost time — overtaking on blind corners, hills, and narrow roads with no shoulder. Eventually we pulled into a beautiful, quiet canyon and camped for the night.

We camped the night in a beautiful and quiet canyon.

UYUNI & THE SALAR

Arriving the next afternoon in Uyuni without any more blockades. Nine months ago we passed through here from Potosi on our way through to the Lagunas Route into Northern Chile. Now coming from the opposite side and heading north, this is the intersecting point.

Before heading north, we spent a few more nights in Uyuni catching up once again with Mario and Wenke, who had recently teamed up with an Israeli family travelling the same route. We all met at the train graveyard and camped together for the night before heading back out onto the Salar de Uyuni.

We’d already driven the Salar once before, but with so many kids around Jaxon and Charley’s age, it was totally worth returning simply for the company.

SALAR DE UYUNI

After a quick run into town for fresh fruit, vegetables, eggs, and a cooked chicken — one less thing to cook ourselves — we headed back out onto the endless white expanse. We stopped again at the Dakar monument and the flags of the world before venturing deeper into the salar.

Although dry, the surface still held plenty of soft spots and holes, once again hoping we wouldn’t get stuck, hopefully not tempting fate… We made our way toward the island for sunset while the kids ran wild across the salt flats playing games and taking photos. But the moment the sun dipped below the horizon, the warmth vanished instantly, driving everyone back into their campers for the night.

Morning brought sunshine and slowly rising temperatures. Most of the day was spent simply relaxing together while Tim, Wenke, and Boaz disappeared into an intense, hours-long discussion about Israel, Palestine, Iran, war, politics, and history — each trying to understand the others’ perspective. Some conflicts seem as old as humanity itself. One perspective came from a lifetime spent far away; the other was ingrained into the very fibre of daily life. It was an intelligent, passionate, and respectful conversation, with everyone remaining open-minded and each person taking something away to think about.

After lunch we scattered out to snap photos before returning to the train graveyard for one final night and dinner together. The kids climbed and raced along the rusting trains while the adults squeezed into their camper and shared stories late into the evening.

The next morning we headed off once more.