Five p.m. Christmas Eve. In the far southwest corner of Bolivia, the sun begins its slow descent behind the volcanoes on the other side of a blood red lake. I sit atop a large rock for an hour admiring the deep red hues of the lake’s waters contrasting the snow-white mounds of borax along its shore. When the sky darkens from gold to lavender, I begin my descent down the small mountain, which has been my vantage point. As I’m hiking, I notice that the black volcanic rock wall on my right has some particularly nice looking huecos and I test the rock to find it extremely strong.  I hop on the wall and boulder for the first time in almost eight months. Underneath my fingers the rock is like a reunion with a long lost friend. My forearms immediately flare up into the burn of a good pump, and I swear under my breath. In spite of my wanderings on the southern continent, it has been entirely too long since I last laid my hands on some good rock.

Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, I find myself in a private bouldering session with no one else around; it’s just me, the rock, and an audience of about 1,000 pink flamingoes feeding on the lake.

Now this is the place!

Looking out at this exquisite landscape, which takes my breath away—both literally and figuratively, for the lake is situated at 14,200 feet—I arrive at the conclusion that this lake and the surrounding landscape is nothing short of awe-inspiring.

The place is an unusual mix of inhospitable desert complete with geothermal activity, unique and intricately shaped rock formations, lakes of beautiful colors not normally encountered outside the artist’s palate, and thousands upon thousands of bright pink flamingoes. A strange mix indeed, the naturally occurring monuments are beyond anything I have ever seen in other parts of the world throughout my travels.

All of these incredible phenomena can be found in the southern corner of Bolivia, alongside the Chilean border, in the Eduardo Avaroa Reserve. In 1981, the reserve was extended to protect the plethora of bird and animal life in the area.  Three species of flamingoes (James, Andean, and Chilean) are endemic to the reserve as well as eighty other avian species. Other animals, which reside on the high-plains, or altiplano, include the viscacha, a rabbit-like animal possessing a long, curly tail, vicunas, and the rarely seen Andean fox and pumas.

I explored the oddities that this Daliesque landscape has to offer for four days and realized that I could have spent much more time in these bleak, yet fascinating lands. Beyond the fact that I could have woken up Christmas day and headed back out to explore the Laguna Colorada and the surrounding rock formations’ bouldering possibilities with satisfaction, I also would’ve greatly enjoyed backpacking through some of the least visited land in all of the world.

Tours are taken on a daily basis through the nature reserve, yet beyond the normally scheduled stops, the sites are rarely frequented due to unfavorable conditions. And it is with good reason that they are claimed unfavorable. At altitudes between 12,000 and 16,500 feet, many people are plagued with symptoms of altitude illness. In addition, the diurnal temperature variation is –13 degrees Fahrenheit to 77 degrees Fahrenheit. There are no places to purchase food or gasoline, and except for one or two small settlements, the area is thousands of square miles with no inhabitants. This is true wilderness.

Hopping off of the rock, I decide to head down the trail and make my way back to the Eduardo Avaroa Reserve Refuge for the night. Tomorrow will be a full day beginning with a 4 a.m. wake-up, visits to 150-foot tall geysers and bubbling mud pools at dawn, soaks in naturally occurring hot springs, and hikes around the Lagunas Verde and Blanca by mid-morning. Doesn’t seem like such a bad way to spend Christmas to me. I enter the refuge in eager anticipation of dinner, Christmas Eve cheer, and a short night’s sleep, excited to have experienced one more of this bizarre land’s beautiful sights.