Some time ago, salt from the flats was shipped out of Uyuni by rail and when eventually that stopped, the trains were just abandoned and scavenged for scraps.

In a part of the world so incredibly dry, even the rust is slow moving so people are left with a train playground to scramble around.

The trains almost fall over yet somehow hold to their tracks.

And sooner or later the graffiti artists arrive.

The salt “farmers” have largely been replaced by bigger commercial concerns though one or two remain for the tourists.

Mostly though Uyuni is an opportunity to pick up your driver and guide, an orientate yourself to the astonishing salty flats.

Vast white plains of nothing, under the brightest of lights and bluest of skies, too painful to look at without decent sunglasses.