26 Oct 06
It's late afternoon by the time we leave Uyuni, which proves to be a mistake. The journey to Potosi is little more than 200km but it takes us nine hours. On rutted dirt roads, we crawl along at 15mph with 599's steering wheel shaking violently in my sweaty palms. The closest most Ferrari owners will come to such terrain is a kerb hop in Chelsea.
Out of the dust and gloom, I can just make out the mix of vertical cliff faces and sheer drops that line the road. From time to time we creep through tiny communities, their residents no doubt bemused to witness the sight of two supercars kicking up dust.
As we near Potosi, we're also forced to dice with overenthusiastic minibuses and taxi drivers, who have little interest in self-preservation. At a little after midnight, a 20-year-old Mercedes minibus cuts across my bows and misses me by inches. It's a relief when, at 1am, we arrive safely at our hotel.
Potosi is the world's highest city at 4,090m and in the 18th century, silver mining made it the richest in Latin America. It's declined since but much of its architecture retains a baroque beauty. The central square could have been plucked from Prague or Budapest and it's packed with a vibrant mass of humanity. Their spirit is in denial of the altitude - while I pant and wheeze, they scurry busily on their way. It's would have been nice to spend more time here, but we must push on to La Paz.
