Friday 28th December
When we arrived at Colchane, we had used up well over half our tank of petrol and it was going dark. In our guide book there was a suggestion that we might be able to get emergency petrol in Colchane. The guide book had been wrong about San Pedro de Atacama, which now has a petrol station, but our first sight of Colchane was not promising.
Consequently neither of us slept well, worrying about the situation, with the nearest petrol station in Chile being at Pozo Almonte, over 180 km away. The thought of running out on the Atacama desert with its relentless heat was not good.
A gale blew at night, and in the morning we realised that the corrugated metal roof was only held in place by some substantial boulders. A common construction solution in these parts.
Bleary eyed we rose at 9 am with little prospect of breakfast that was served at 7am. After paying £7.50 each for dinner and bed, we went in search of fuel. The house indicated in the guidebook that might sell it looked shut up, the council offices could not help, nor could the local police, but the border guard said he would stop cars that came through and ask if they would sell. (Most Chileans in the hills drive big 4X4 pick-up trucks, that seem to have at least two HUGE plastic tanks on the back filled with petrol.)
After waiting, this approach was failing. Finally the guard suggested we drive over the border to Bolivia where there is a petrol station just after the frontier. Or at least that is what we thought he said.
We tentatively headed into the “no man’s land” between the two countries. A rope blocked the way into Bolivia, so we parked behind some queued lorries and headed into the melée. It was not at all obvious what we had to do. Unlike the Chilean side, the frontier was swarming with people. First we tried the national police who waived us off into the distance in search of a big house. Further on we asked someone in a random office where to go and he pointed to what looked like a military compound. With trepidation we proceeded to a check-point, who waved us to an office. At the office, we explained in Spanish our problem and he said go to the back office.
At last, a gentleman who could help. He walked through the crowds being greeted by everyone with handshakes. We said he seemed to know everyone and he explained that this was because he was the boss here. He had a word with the police and immigration, gave us a form and hey presto! We got in! (However we did have to surrender our passports)
We filled up about 100 meters into Bolivia, 24 litres = £8. Half the price of Chile. Now we know why there isn’t a petrol station in Colchane. We got our passports back and headed towards Chile. We realised that we had not taken any photos in Bolivia as we had other things on our minds, like just getting out!
Back in the “no man’s land”, we spotted the remains of an aeroplane that crashed some years ago, still rotting in the sand. Kevin confirmed that it did not have Rolls-Royce engines, but it didn’t have any engines at all.
We drove through Chilean customs without an eye lid being batted.
Having petrol, gave us the opportunity to visit the highlights of Parque Nacional Volcan Isluga. – the reason we came here in the first place.
Volcan Isluga
We headed off into the alti-plano and saw llamas, etc, grazing by warm volcano-fed springs.
The village of Isluga is a ceremonial village with the native Aymara people returning only for feast days and festivals. Most of it was boarded up, but some woodpecker-like birds swooped around the campanile of the church.
We headed on to Enquelga, the so-called administrative HQ of the National Park and this was a small, dusty hamlet without shops or facilities.
We then went to another completely abandoned village, where the church and houses were dilapidated and we doubted if anyone returned there. Though if this were England, it would be full of second holiday homes.
All this may sound very desolate, but it is in context of some of the most beautiful scenery. We decided to cook a meal by a warm stream, under several volcanoes, with a herd of llama passing through. Bliss!! 
Being so far away from everything is such an unique experience.
We headed back down to Ruta 5, glad to be free of the altitude, but with some amazing memories. The roads here in Chile are confounding. There are smooth modern bits, poor metalled bits with huge potholes, bits which people ignore and go off road to avoid, and then the carefully crafted corrugated sections. It takes on average 1 hour to go 50 km (30m) on the equivalent of the M42. (Actually that might not be bad for the M42)
In 150 km we didn’t get overtaken once, though we were in a pitifully slow Suzuki Jimny. However we had to stop for lunatic coach drivers hurling themselves recklessly up unmetalled dust tracks, creating their own sand storms. (Note to us: next time hire the biggest, most powerful 4X4 we can afford with big “bidones”)
Passing the Gigante da Atacama, Joan swore she could see it this time, but an up close inspection rendered nothing. 
Still not obvious
Back to Pozo Almonte, for petrol and the night. Compared to where we have been, it is quite a buzzing little place, populated by people from the nearby mineral mines. There was even a programme about the use of mining explosives on the TV in the pizza parlour. Not exactly a tourist attraction, but not a bad place to be.
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