Paso De Jama

The gate to the parking lot campground opened promptly at eight and we rolled out into San Pedro de Atacama one last time. 

We had fleeting conversations with the Argentines and the Chileans in their RVs and I said good morning to the German in the gray camper truck but other than that we came, Layne cooked, we slept, we went. 

We handed the gate guard a bag of vegetables that customs officers around here tend to confiscate and set off, our fridge loaded with cooked meats after Layne’s marathon cooking session the night before. Cooked meats are okay but raw meats are not allowed to pass at the Chile/Argentina border in either direction. Go figure. Not a great place to camp as you can see below, but it did the job, though we’d have been happier with hot showers for $17. 

Highway 27 out of San Pedro goes straight up the mountain from 8,000 feet to 13,000 over 20 miles. We stopped after half an hour and made coca tea and each ate a banana to deprive Argentine customs the pleasure of confiscating them. Since Mexico these are the only borders that obsessively prohibit meat vegetables fruit honey and some nuts. So we have got a bit sensitive about it. 

A classic volcano cone arising out of the morning mists, it reminded me of Mexico for some reason.

And there were a couple of motorcycle tours to contend with too, two dozen motorcycles passing and stopping as we went up to the pass. It was a Saturday so no surprise they were out touring but they messed us up at the border.

There were more motorcyclists admiring the volcano and a couple of trucks cooling their brakes. Photos don’t show how steep this road is but there was a warning in iOverlander to be careful. We ground up the hill at between 20 and 35 modest miles per hour as I tried not to push, even though we wanted to get this section done and get onto the plateau. 

There is a road that goes north into Bolivia from here. It’s used mostly by tours which take people to see the flamingos in the salt ponds in southern Bolivia and you can do a tour from San Pedro in Chile, which is the nearest town. But this road is also used by overlanders who want a bit of adventure, a journey with a truly uncertain outcome. It’s about 300 miles of non maintained dirt track at 12,000 or more feet and Bolivia is so poor you are totally on your own, no SOS phones, no military patrols, no nothing. Overlanders do not travel it alone. We in our 9400 pound delivery van  aren’t going to even try. That’s how you destroy your transmission driving the Laguna Route. 

If you want a truly risky adventure in your four wheel drive adventure vehicle you should come down and drive the Laguna Route from Uyuni Bolivia to San Pedro in Chile. And get this, this is a border post so if your papers aren’t good you could be stuck here in Bolivia 300 miles from civilization. What fun. We waved at the border and drove on by. 

If you would like to see the Laguna Route you can search YouTube for it and watch people sanitizing some seriously tough driving. Search “Laguna Route Bolivia.

Back in the real world we kept driving uphill to the plateau around 13,000 feet leading up to the pass itself. 

The entire road across the Jama Pass on both sides of the border is paved and we were rolling at 50 and even 60 miles an hour at these crazy altitudes. 

We stopped at an overlook claimed by the local Lickan indigenous people. Overlanders we knew tried free camping in this area and they reported they were approached by a local dude who said it was necessary to get tribal permission to camp in this region. He let them stay the night  and was entirely understanding about their faux pas but we had no plans to try to sleep at 14,000 feet. 

It’s marked as a lagoon on Google Maps and there is enough water to sustain life because we saw birds that looked like thrushes up here and herds of guanacos too. 

Technically it was cold up here, the thermometer was showing 46 degrees but I was in shorts and shirt sleeves as there was no wind and the sun was hot. 

Rusty as always loved the altitude. 

GANNET2 and a Mercedes tour bus. You certainly don’t have to bring your own car to see these places. 

Salt flats. 

I have no clue what this guanaco thought it was eating. 

We had this valley to cross to reach the pass. There was actually road work going on down there with flaggers and traffic lights and everything. We got a green light on arrival which was nice. 

The Jama Pass itself was a total letdown. It’s in Chile, not on the border but there were no signs or anything to photograph. I knew we were close   because I took a screen shot of our highest point yet. But the pass itself came and went unmarked and suddenly we were descending. We passed 15,900 feet and nothing to show for it. Grrr. 

The scenery was quite spectacular of course but we both felt the drive up the dirt road to Paso Agua Negra, a mere bagatelle at 15,700 feet was more colorful and even more astonishing. This road was great though and we bowled along at 50 mph. 

This European dude caught up to us at the border. I cannot imagine pedaling over a 15,900 foot pass with all your crap neatly packed on your bicycle. He seemed to be doing fine. 

This is the actual border, a line crossing the highway on the descent to the customs post in the valley below at 13,500 feet. 

The Chilean and Argentine customs are in the same building. You go in and check out of the country you are leaving and then check into the country you are visiting. 

They call it an integrated control point for both countries and it’s pretty slick. Especially in winter as you do everything indoors. But those damned motorcyclists (lovely people of course) were lined up in front of us. A long long line. 

The guy at the guard hut, an Argentine Gendarme gives you a ticket with space for each agency to put a stamp. Then as you go through the building you collect stamps like a monopoly game to prove you have checked all your papers. At the other end the other gendarme collects it and off you go. It’s a pretty good system actually. 

Even with the motorcycle mob clogging it the whole process took an hour and it was easy. We chatted with the officials who enjoyed processing real foreigners (!) and customs always asks if the car is rented. Hell no I puff myself  up and say we drove all the way from Florida. The officials of the various agencies told us they do shifts of eight days on and eight days off and go home to their nearest respective cities on their days off. My kind of schedule. No photography past this point. 

This place is quite the hub with a gas station and a restaurant. The gas station attendant seemed to be on strike or something and sat in his cabin and didn’t serve the motorcycles (more of them) ahead of us. We failed the Bolivia test where gas is widely  not available and you to sit in line sometimes for days, and we said screw this and drove off. We had half a tank and weren’t desperate.  

The motorcycle hordes also got to the restaurant before us so yes there was a wait time. Frankly I was surprised we either of us had an appetite at this altitude but a cup of coca tea and two Tylenol and we were fine. Perhaps we are acclimating a bit over time. That will be good for high altitude Bolivia.  

There was a Mexican soccer match on the tv and a line of motorcyclists ordering food. We got the WiFi password (“contraseña”) and we used that to plan our route. 

First course was a meat broth. Quite delicious. 

Then we shared a steak in a mushroom sauce with mashed potatoes. Any questions? 

Back on the road for two hours down hill. 

Nice road. 

We saw the Germans from the campground blow past us while we were at lunch. Then we passed them while they paused by the side of the road. 

Spot the guanacos.

Don’t forget this is desert we are crossing. 

Spot the mule. I went left and she went left. No one was hurt. 

This is the town at the crossroads when you come off the pass, 200 miles from San Pedro de Atacama. I wondered why there wasn’t a famous Argentine municipal campground in town.  

Because there isn’t much there. The gas station has a dreadful reputation for poor quality gas so we drove on by. Actually it look closed it was that abandoned. And the broken down truck added to the ambiance. 

There were canyons and river beds in this amazing countryside. 

And so to a wild camp for the night. 

Very Arizona in feel among the thorn bushes.

Water and dinner for Rusty first. 

Out with the Starlink. Still hoping someone builds an alternative service. 

And take a seat to put down some words  and pictures. 

Pasta for dinner and we both feel fine at 12,000 feet. That’s new for us. Good night.