A couple of my friends and I have a fixation on the number seven. There isn’t any significant numerologist reason, yet when moved around, we resolved to make it exceptional.
Fixated on travel, we chose that there couldn’t be any better approach to honor than to have that extremely promising date stamped in our identifications.
On this extraordinary day, my friend Andrea and I ended up in Northern Chile, and since we were directly on the fringe, we chose to go to Bolivia to celebrate. A few hours into our trek, in any case, it jumped out at us that 07/07/07 was a date that we didn’t need a stamp on our tombs.
Most importantly, let me bring up that July is winter in South America. Maybe it didn’t jump out at you that going to Bolivia in the mid-year would be frosty. Humorously, despite the fact that we arrived, that didn’t appear to strike us either.
The day preceding our Bolivian trip, we’d been in the Chilean desert on a sandboarding enterprise. Scaling and down the Goliath sand rise was hot. So hot that we stripped to our tank beat and overlooked that it was still winter.
In a temporary lack of foresight we got up at a young hour the following morning, dressed like we were setting off to a spring outing and packed in a van towards the Bolivian fringe. Maybe the way that we advised to pack our swimming outfits for the hot springs added to this error. Fortunately, I snatched my cushioned red coat to use as a pad on the off chance that the day was for quite some time. Much to my dismay.
The decent warm van drove us along a very much cleared Chilean Thruway towards the mountains where we made a left turn towards Bolivia. It was stunning how rapidly human advancement transformed into devastation. Up an earth street, tucked into the mountain pass, two little concrete houses remained in snow manage an account with a Bolivian banner blowing in the winter wind.
We got our delightful international ID stamps. And we remained inside an exceptionally chilly working with a broken window and snow on the ground inside. Clustered around a card table drinking tea from bottles with different travelers. We immediately acknowledged it would have been an icy day. Before we knew it, our warm Chilean van turned at the fringe and surrendered us to some vintage Bolivian Toyota Landcruisers.
The outing we took was the Eduardo Avaroa Andean National Reserve and north toward Uyuni to see a red lake and a green lake. And some astonishing hot springs and flamingo settlements, and other stuff that should be amazingly photographic. I enigmatically recall the astounding red lake with the mountains behind. I’m certain it was perfect. However, for the most part, I simply recollect how cool it was.
While old autos that separate have a tendency to be the standard for going through creating nations, the greater part of my encounters of punctured tires and blown axels happened in warm countries where an expanded breakdown was awkward, yet not savage.
Not just did our vehicle need heat, it also needed protection. With my window moved up, chilly wind and snow blew in through the splits. In spite of my endeavors to utilize handkerchiefs and napkins to fix the vaporous window spills. We were gradually getting to be frozen.
Other than the snow within the car, and being dressed for a spring day, there were a couple of different difficulties. Counting these primary seven.
1. The car continued separating.
2. The climate was dropping, and the snow was floating into the thin streets.
3. We didn’t have any food.
4. We didn’t know whether we’d make it back before the edge shut.
5. The driver just said in Spanish and for the most part we didn’t.
6. The driver continued telling the main Spanish speaker we weren’t going to make it.
7. On the off chance that we did n’t survive out, we were going to stop to death.
Since I’ve lived to recount this story, we didn’t achieve unfortunate seven on this rundown. Maybe we, in the long run, made it to the outskirt, crushed hypothermia, and lived to get display our Chilean travel permit stamps. by- Adam