While tracing the western edge of the Uyuni Salt Flat, we penciled in a small detour: the Aguas Termales de Empexa. On the map it looked like a tempting bonus, but on the ground we had no idea whether we could actually get there—or whether it was even open.
Decision time in Llica: the shorter route or the safer one?
It started the day before in the little town of Llica. We sat over the map, weighing our options. Two routes led to the springs—a direct, shorter line with no major detour, and another roughly 40 kilometers longer but apparently safer.
The catch was that the shorter route had a suspicious gap on the map. Satellite imagery made it clear the road turned into a riverbed for a stretch. The track vanished and the surface looked sandy. After recent run-ins with sand in our 4×4, our confidence wavered.
We didn’t decide until the day we set off. As we rolled past the turnoff for the shorter, iffier route, luck struck: a few locals were standing right there. We asked. The reply was concise—the road is passable all the way to the springs. That was enough. We went for it.
A road the map forgot
The track climbs steeply right away, opening wide views over the Uyuni Salt Flat. As before, we have it entirely to ourselves.
Within minutes we’re high up and the route edges toward the dreaded riverbed. It’s the dry season, so there’s no water, but even from the car window you can see sandy patches on the bottom.
We roll on for about a kilometer and reach the point where the road on the map disappears for good. Here we either drop into the riverbed or give up and turn around.
We pause to assess, then nose into the riverbed and keep going. To our surprise it goes better than expected. The sandy bits are short and mostly flat. The truck handles them without much fuss.
Braňo drives while I watch the GPS like a hawk, literally counting down the meters to where the road is supposed to pick up again as a proper track.
In the end we clear the whole questionable stretch and carry on toward our goal.
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Beyond the river, a different world
Once across the riverbed it feels like another country. We’re higher, and paradoxically it’s a touch greener. The endless plain gives way to colorful volcanic massifs in the distance, some still streaked with snow.
The sense of isolation is complete. No cars, no houses—just us, the empty plain, and volcanoes on the horizon.
Aguas Termales de Empexa: deserted, yet open
When we finally arrive, reality isn’t quite what we imagined. The place feels deserted and clearly not much of a commercial success.
There are several pools, but the only truly usable one is the highest. It’s clean and sits right by the source. The water is more than pleasantly warm—which is perfect, because although the sun is out, the air hovers around 10 °C.
From the pool we look down on a small stream that spills out of it. A herd of llamas grazes beside it, and a volcano frames the backdrop. And of course we lean into the moment: we crack a well‑chilled beer and sip it right there in the water. For a second it feels like the universe clicks into place.
It’s one of those moments when you realize you’ve reached a place very few people ever do. Aside from us there’s only one local man—something of a hermit—with his dog. We quietly hope Ibo will get to play, but the man takes his dog into his hut as soon as we arrive.
He doesn’t ask for an entrance fee. Even so, before leaving we set a couple of beers and a chocolate on the steps for him.
Ibo and a high‑altitude dip
Naturally, Ibo didn’t miss out on a soak. He’s not a fan of water—and certainly not a strong swimmer—but this time he braved it (with a little help from me).
The bigger issue came afterward. While he was wet, he kept rolling in the dust.
In the end we solved it simply—spread a towel on the bed of our pickup and let him roll around there. He dried off nicely that way.
A map that claims there’s a road
As good as it feels here, it’s time to move on. We still have a long drive ahead. The map suggests taking the other route and not retracing our steps.
Relaxed and content, we climb back into the truck and set off. Not five minutes later we realize the road we’re on is veering far from the GPS track. Apparently we missed the turn.
We backtrack and search for where to continue. There’s no junction, though. The way is hemmed in by bushes and, here and there, a dry riverbed. We wander around, try a few lines—no luck.
Braňo even sends up the drone to scout from above. We eventually find something you might call a road, but if the start is this rough, what’s the rest going to be like?
A quick huddle in the cab, and the safe, less adventurous call wins—to return the way we came, back to the Uyuni Salt Flat.
In the end the day handed us two different scenarios: once we drove a road that wasn’t on the map, and once we didn’t drive a road that was on the map but didn’t exist.
That’s Bolivia’s Altiplano for you.
Conclusion: hot springs worth the detour
Aguas Termales de Empexa turned out to be more than just a dot on the map—one of the standout moments along Uyuni’s western shore. Not for luxury, not for services, but for its isolation and raw authenticity.
The place feels deserted, almost forgotten—and that’s exactly its charm. No crowds, no souvenir stalls. Just warm water rising from the earth, the cold Altiplano air, llamas by the stream, and a volcano on the horizon.
The roads of Bolivia’s Altiplano keep teaching us the same lesson: the map isn’t the truth. It’s just a rough guide. That’s the appeal of traveling here. Not everything is certain, not everything is marked, and not everything can be planned. But if you dare to turn off the main track, you might find yourself in a hot pool in the middle of the Andean emptiness, beer in hand, feeling that this is exactly why you set out.