Desert Rose

Back in the Land Cruiser, driving across a sandy desert, the electic soundtrack touches both Dexy´s Midnight Runners and Paul Simon.

We finally arrive at the reality of the picture I´d been looking forward to. The Arbol de Piedra - a rock shaped like a tree. It´s smaller than I was expecting, but I don´t hesitate to hop out of the car and pull out my bag of chalk and rock boots. I´m not best pleased to be greeted with a sign ahead of the rock: "NO ESCALADA" - NO CLIMBING. A few minutes later, I´m caught, rock-handed, by our guide half way up the tree, and reluctantly jump off. Pah, it wasn´t a challenging climb in any case.

Despite missing the pièce de résistance, I get a good go at various lumps of red grippy sandstone, some still in the shape of the overhanging waves that they once were when they poured down from the nearby volcanoes.  


In the early afternoon we´re at another basic hostal by the flamingo populated red lagoon. Once again, the Europeans favour cards rather than a hike up a distant rocky hill. Again, whilst I don´t really want them, I´m badly bothered by their total lack of inclination towards an hour of action off the tourist trail. Cards are shit.