Bolivia Review

From Salar de Uyuni

It has been more than three seeks since my last post and a lot has happened. In shortened form, here is what I have been up to:

Gran Poder

The day after our arrival in La Paz was a huge religous festival, known as Gran Poder. There is dancing and drinking in the street and a parade of costumed dancers from all corners of Bolivia that lasts from 6:00 am until well after 8:00 pm. Eve, Mary and I went to the parade in the morning, before heading back to our hostal in the afternoon. That evening we went out again to enjoy the festivities, eat shishkababs made from cow heart and potato and drink beer and chicha morada.

El Camino de la Muerte

Meeting in the mornining at our hostal, we ate breakfast with our group before loading into the chase vans for the trip up to la cumbre ("summit") at 4700m (15,420 feet). From there, we road downhill, descending 3520m (11,549 feet), to the village of Yolosa at an altitude of 1180m (3,871 feet). The first part of the trip was along the new, paved road. Then second part was over the old, true "death road," so named because it was the most dangerous roads in the world, before the construction of the new road three years ago. The road is narrow and unpaved and there are sections where great waterfalls cascade over the track from cliffs high above. Despite the small amount of traffic it recieved, each year hundreds of people plummeted to their deaths in busses that would drive off cliffs hundreds of meters high. The road is still used by local coca farmers and adventure-seeking cyclists.

In retrospect, descending the camino de la muerte was perhaps riskier than I had anticipated. There were several crosses indicating where tourists like ourselves had lost control of their bikes and fallen to their deaths. Indeed, according to our guide, there are tourists dying every few months. The natural danger of the route is compounded by the poor quality of the bikes that we had. Mary had a tire blow out, Eve and I had trouble keeping our chains on and my rear brakes failed twice. All of us were fortunate to have this happen on "safe" sections of the road. I hate to think what would have become of us had we been unfortunate enough to encounter these problems while rounding a corner above a cliff 100 meters high.

La Paz and Food Poisoning

Back in La Paz, we went out to eat with Derek, a Kiwi travelling journalist we had met on the camino de la muerte. I ate some street food that, by the middle of the night, had made me quite ill. I spent the next two days recovering on antibiotics.

Huayna Potosi

Eve, Mary and I set out to climb Huayna Potosi when I was finally feeling better. Mary was a little slow in the morning, and by the time we reached the trailhead, it was clear that she was not doing well at all. It seemed that she was coming down with whatever I had had. We hiked back from the trailhead to the glaciar viejo (4800m/15,750 feet) where we made camp for the night. Mary decided to bivy so that she would not wake us up if she needed to use the bathroom. This was quite generous, considering that the temperature at night was going to be well below freezing.

The next morning, after packing up our camp, Eve and I decided to climb up to the campo roca (5200m/17,000 feet) at the snout of the glacier. Mary would stay behind, and when she was feeling better, climb down to the trailhead and catch a ride back to La Paz. After a few hours of climbing, we reached the camp and set our tent on a narrow platform, surrounded by the tents of other parties. After lounging in the sun all afternoon, we decided to start preparing for the upcoming climb. While I was making water from snow collected off the glacier, who should walk into camp but Mary! This was truly an amazing surprise, considering how ill she had been the night before.

That night, Eve and I set out at around midnight. We were the first rope team on the glacier and started climbing by the light of the moon and stars, which were so bright on the now that we did not need our headlamps to follow the tracks in the snow. We climbed steadily, resting only rarely. There were a huge number of climbers on the mountain and from above we could look back on the flicker of forty tiny lights in neat rows moving up the glacier below us. Nearly all of the other climbers were guided and inexperienced. This lead to bottlenecks at a few sections on the route. We climbed through the night, depite these annoyances, and by sunrise had climbed to above 5900m (19,000 feet).

Eve was exhausted, but determined to climb to above 6000 m. We reached the wall up to the summit ridge and, after waiting our turn, began climbing upwards. The exposure and angle were moderate as we climbed a snow slope up to a band of rock and dirt. This scared Eve a little. The rock and dirt were poorly heald together by fast-melting ice. Still, we made it over this section together and onto the kinfe-edge summit ridge at 6060m (19,882 feet). To the east we had views of the Amazon basin, to the north and south, the lesser peaks of the Cordillera Real, and to the west, the vast expanse of Lake Titicaca and the great volcanos of the Cordillera Occidental on the Chilean border. Ultimately, we decided that it was not worth climbing to the summit itself (6088m), a small mound of snow a few meters away, given the long line of climbers waiting for their chance to plant their feet on top and snap a few photos. Instead, we rested where we were for awhile to regain some strength and calm our nerves, while watching the spectacle of climbers at the summit.

After waiting for a break in the procession of climbers, we got in line, and then headed back to more level ground. Once off the ridge, and after a quick but necessary bathroom break in a crevasse, we started back down the mountain. We were tired and thirsty and made slow progress. Still, by 11:00 am we were back in camp where both Eve and I napped briefly before helping Mary finish packing up. We hiked back down to the trailhead and met the taxi at 3:00 pm. We were an hour late but, as fate would have it, so was our driver, so ultimately neither had to wait for the other.

Sucre and Tarabuco

The next evening we took a night bus to Sucre, the constitutional capitol of Bolivia. The cleanliness and architectual harmony of Sucre, also know as the ciudad blanca ("white city") was a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of La Paz.

The morning of our arrival, Eve and I (Mary was still feeling sick) took a bus to Tarabuco to experience its famous Sunday market. This was a bit of a tourist trap, but fun nonetheless. Was purchased a few more textiles and had lunch before heading back to our hostal that afternoon. At lunch, we had met a French couple and agreed to meet them for dinner, which ended up begin a lot of fun.

The next day, we organized an afternoon guided tour of the city. Mary, still not feeling well despite the antibiotics she had been taking, decided to sit this out as well. Our guide, a student at the university, was a lot of fun and a fountain of information on the history of Sucre, Bolivia, and the revolution, as well as the different ethnic groups that lived in the area. We visited two museums, learning about the broad differences between ethnic groups in Bolivia, and more detailed explanations of the differences between textiles from the Tarabuco and Jalq'a peoples. Mary, feeling better, joined us for dinner at La Taverne, a French Restaurant with excellent food and wine.

Potosi and Cerro Rico

The next afternoon, we took a bus to Potosi, which at an altitude of over 4000m (13,000 feet) is considered the highest "city" in the world. Potosi is the sight of Cerro Rico, an infamous silver mine that during the XVI century, made potosi one of the largest and richest cities in the world, rivaled only by Paris, London and Seville. Today, the mine is still in operation and remains the central activity of the local popultaion.

The night of our arrival, I started feeling ill again. After skipping dinner, I woke up in the middle of the night sick as a dog. I missed my scheduled tour of the mines and spent the next day in bed. Mary was also still feeling ill and Eve had homework, so we all spent the day in our hostal. That night Eve got sick too. The next day, feeling better, I got up and went on the mine tour. The tour was outstanding. It was highly educational and gave a first-hand look at the hellish conditions under which the miners struggle to earn between 10 and 50 Bolivianos ($1.40-$7.10) per day.

The Salar de Uyuni

The next day we left Potosi for Uyuni and the Salar, the world's largest salt lake (more than twice the size of the Great Salt Lake in Utah). We arrived, checked into a hostal and found a hired a guide for a three-day tour.

The next morning we left for the Salar. We were in a Lexus 470 SUV with three Swiss-Germans (Olivia, Raphael, and Christian). We first stopped at the Train Graveyard, where there were a number of rusted locamotives on narrow-guage track from the hay-day of british train building in South America. From there we travelled to a salt-producing village on the edge of the Salar, where salt was stacked (8-10 days), then speard flat (2-3 days), then baked (to remove the water) and then ground, idodized and bagged. The work is all done by hand and the salt is sold for next to nothing. From here we traveled out onto the Salar itself, a vast expanse of white salt 5-6m (16-19 feet) thick to a "salt hotel" built from salt blocks where we ate lunch. From here we continued to the island Incahuasi ("house of the Inca"), about half way across the Salar. The island is covered by cactus, petrified coral from when the lake and was higher, and is the home to viscachas, although no one knows for sure how they got there across so many kilometers of lifless salt. From the island, we travelled to our hostal, also made of salt bricks, on the edge of the Salar. After dropping off our luggage we got back into the truck and drove over to a rock outcropping where there was a pre-Incan burial site and a cave filled with fosilized algae. From here we watched the sun set on the winter soltice over the Salar before returning to the hostal for dinner, folk music and a good night's sleep.

The next morning, we got up before sunrise and, after breakfast and packing the truck, left for our first stop: the army of rocks. These formations were made from folsilized coral also from the period when the lake was higher. From here we drove to the border with Chile, where there was a feria, at which the locals were trading and exchanging news from the two contries. As such, we were able to set foot in Chile, and can claim that we visited this country on our voyage. We then piled back in and travelled to some lava flows at the foot of a chain of volcanos. We then continued on to the colored lakes. The first was the laguna Cañapa where we were able to get close to a group of vicuñas eating at the edge of the lake. We then went to the laguna Hedionda where we watched flamingos before eating lunch. From here we travelled past three more lakes, stopping to take a look at a fox, before continuing to a high desert and a lookout over the "mountain of seven colors." We then made our way to the arbol de piedra ("tree of stone") for photos before finding our way to the laguna Colorado, a lake that is red in color due to a combination of minerals and algae. It is also home to a huge population of flamingos. Our hostal was just a short ride from the lake. Here we ate dinner, played with some of the local boys before heading off to bed.

The next morning, we got up early to head off to the lagunas Blanca and Verde in the extreem southwest of Bolivia. We arrived shortly before sunrise with great views over both lakes. After sunrise, we drove back towards the laguna Colorado. There we ate breakfast and bathed in the hotsprings at the edge of the lake. We then drove to some paintpots (think Yellowstone) and at an altitude of over 4800m (15,750 feet), we attained the highest point of out trip. From here, we travelled to the desert of Salvador Dali, so named because of the strange rock outsroppings found there. We continued to descend all the way back to the laguna Colorado and then into a wide valley filled with llamas and where we were lucky enough to see a pair of Darwin's Rhea. We drove through open pastures before finally reacing the mining town of San Cristobal. This new boom-town was quite different from Potosi, as the mine here is private and new. The relative wealth of the locals, who can earn up to 10,000 Bs ($1,425) in one two-week shift in the mine, is evident in the well-maintained buidings and houses. We then continued driving until after sunset arriving at under the cover of dark in Uyuni.

Ultimately, this was an amazing experience: our guide Walter, an ex-miner (salt and silver), was outstanding. The scenery was otherworldy. The fauna were abundant.

Tupiza

As we were unable to find three seats in a bus to La Paz, we decided to join the Swiss, with whom we had become friends, south the Tupiza and ultimately the wine-growing region of Tarija. The bus left Uyuni early in the morning, stopping for a few hours in Atocha, a mining town high on the Altiplano. We left from Atocha at 10:00am for Tupiza, where were arrived, after a hot, bumpy and dusty ride a few hours later. There we immediately purchased tickets for the night bus to Tarija.

In Tupiza, we looked around for a hostal where we could keep our things for the afternoon and take showers. After setteling into a place, Eve, Olivia, Christian and I scheduled an after-lunch horseback trip up into the surrounding mountains. There are reminicent of the American Southwest: red in color and similarily eroded. We rode for an hour and a half, past the puerta del diablo, la valle de los machos and finally to el cañon del Inca. To my dismay, in the fading light, good photography was nearly impossible from horseback. Back in Tupiza, we showered and ate dinner before heading to the bus station.

The trip from Tupiza to Tarija was the worst bus ride of our entire time in South America. The bus was uncomfortable in the extreme: bags and bottles rained down on me from the overhead storage bins; the seats were dirty, cramped and broken; the road was impossibly dusty and rough; the driver whipped us around corners at breakneck speed. Needless to say, we arrived in Tarija at 3:00am totally exhausted.

Tarija and la Ruta del Vino

We slept in late our first day in Tarija and only Eve and I made it to breakfast. We hung out in Tarija for the day, recuperating from our restless ride and enjoying the Plaza, the cleanliness and the wealth brought to the city by the combination of booming trade in wine, cocaine and natural gas. It was a welcome change from the grime and poverty of Uyuni and the rest of the altiplano. (Indeed, the stark contrast between the dust and poverty of the altiplano and the relative prosperity of certain cities like Tarija and Sucre is becoming a defining characteristic of my Bolivian experience.)

The next day, we got up late again and then, after breakfast, took a tour of three wineries. We were a little dissapointed to learn that Bolivian winery tours typically do not inculde tastings! This is unfortunate not only for us, but I imagine, the amount of wine that the wineries sell to tourists. Indeed the only winery to offer free tastings had atrocious wine (think "von Stihl" from Wisconsin) but sold loads of the crap to the tour group right before ours. Following our tour, we relaxed more, drinking wine and beer late into the night at a local bar.

This brings me up to date. Today we take the bus back to La Paz, from where we will visit Lake Titicaca, before heading to Cusco, Peru and Machu Pichu. It is hard for me to believe that we have fewer than three weeks before we will be back in the United States. There is so much detail that I have left out of the preceeding account and still so much more to see in all the countries we have visited. And when I look at a map and relalize that we have seen so little of this continent, I know that I will be back, someday, to see more. It is now my only consulation at having experienced so little.

Chopicalqui

From Chopicalqui

Yesterday, I returned from a successful climb of Chopicalqui (6354 m/20,846 ft), the fourth highest summit in the Cordillera Blanca of Peru. Climbing with me were Mark, from Germany, and Jim, from Australia.

Our trip started out at 9:00 on the 26th of May when we met in Huaraz and hired a taxi to Yungay. On the way we were twice stopped by the police, who were doing random checks. They were unammused that our taxi driver was using his brother´s taxi and his brother´s taxi liscence. There dicontent, however, was remided with some smooth talk and a free copy of the newpapers our driver was delivering to vaious sites along the way.

We arrived in Yungay and soon hired another taxi to drive us to the trailhead. This time, our driver was personable, telling the local legend about the incestuous relationship between the two mountains Huascaran and Hunadoy, as well as teaching us Quechua names for the various plants we saw as we climbed up into the canyon. We stopped briefly at the park entrance to register, use a bathroon one last time, and get in a lst minute snack of papas con huevos that a Quechua woman was selling. After completing these formalities, we continued on our trip. It bears restating that the valley of the Lagunas Llanganuco has some of the most spectacular scenery I have ever seen. Finally arriving at our destination, we shouldered our packs a started off over the trail.

The trail climbed steadily through forests of polylepis to the base camp at 4300m (14,100 feet). Upon passing this, we promptly lost the trail and began floundering our way through steep fields of loose rock, boulders and paramo grass. With heavy packs, the going was rough. Finally, after climbing onto a high lateral moraine, we regained the trail and our former rate of progress. We had further route-finding difficulty, as we crossed the glacial trailings, a large field of boulders and loose rock, silt and ponds filled with green glacial melt water. Again, ascending onto an even higher moraine, we continued up towards the snout of the glacier itself. Under cloudy skies, we lacked the magnificent views that were to come. Nonetheless, the scenery was spectacular, with glaciers crashing down in a jumble of broken blue ice from the high peaks that surrounded us on all sides. As we made our way up the moraine, we found the trail washed out. We descended from the rim, onto more stable ground, and again began bushwacking. The going was steeper than before, and this combined with the altitude made for slow going. After more than an hour of hiking, we regained the lateral moraine and soon dragged ourselves into Moraine Camp (4800 m/15,750 feet).

Moraine Camp afforded us with all we could hope for: an abondant supply of fresh water, wonderful views and pre-made tent platforms large enough for our three-man mountain tent. We soon had the tent pitched and water boiling for dinner. After eating, we settled into our sleeping bags for a well-earned night of rest.


The next morning, we awoke at sunrise, which given our proximity to the equator, is always at about 6:00AM. The sky was crystal blue with the mountains shining brilliantly all around. We were in no rush. We only had about four hours of climbing to our next camp. We took our time sorting gear for a cache, drying sleeping bags and the tent, and eating breakfast. When the sun hit the rock wall directly behind our camp thousands of tiny peices of ice that had formed over night began breaking off and tinkling down the face. After a lazy morning, we were packed and ready to head up the glacier.

The glacier was perhaps 100 yards away from our camp, and once there, we put on crampons and ropped up. The glare of the sun was intense off the perfectly white surface of the glacier. Our progress was steady as we passed the mouths of massive crevasses 30 feet wide, yawning open, a thousand icicles dangling like inward pointing teeth. We watched with concern as large granite stones crashed down from the cliffs above smashing into our path. These areas of rock fall we passed quickly and with great trepedation. Finally, after an intense four hours, we found a flat spot protected from rock fall and avalnches and we decided to make camp. We had climbed to over 5530 m (18,100 feet).


After chopping a platform, no small feet with only our ice axes, was set up the tent. We dug out two wind shelters for the stoves. This is where I learned the hard way how truly poor the performance of canister stoves is in the cold. Frankly, my stove, which burned so hot at Moraine Camp, sucked on the glacier. We made plenty of water, ate a hearty dinner and prepared our gear in advance of our 2:30AM wake up. Once the sun set, the temperature on the glacier dropped quickly below freezing and we again made our way into the tent and the warmth and comfort of our sleeping bags.


At 2:30 the alarm awoke us from the light sleep at altitude. We quickly slid into our warm clothes and began preparations for the climb. Outside the tent, the moon had set making the stars seem to shine even more brilliantly, with the Milky Way streaking its way across the sky. Ever the slow one, I was last to tie in to the rope.

Jim took the lead, as he would for much of the climb, followed by Mark in the middle and me at the end. We climbed out of camp and up a steep slope. Passing a large crevasse, we came to an even steeper climb. Not knowing the way and not having the benefit of a trail, we decided to head south, over the the ridge proper. This took us up to an even steeper snow wall, looking unstable and overhanging a seemingly endless abyss. Neesless to say, we turned back for the steep snow climb we had seen earlier.


As the sun began to rise, we began to see the surrounding mountains in the light of dawn. Huascaran and Huadoy hovered in the sky, thousands of feet of rock and ice above the dark forest of the valley down below. We also were permitted our first look at our intended route. It seemed straight forward enough. At 6100 m (20,000 feet) we would cut up onto a snow ramp, make two simple traverses, and then climb a steep face to the saddle below the summit pyramid. However, as we climbed higher under the dawning day, the snow grew deeper and our progress slowed. Also, the thinning air made kicking steps a tiresome chore.


As we approached the snow ramp, we were already painfully behind schedule. With me in the lead, we traversed towards it in ever deepening snow. Exhausted, I made a stupid error: I decided to deviate from our chosen route, complaining about avalanche danger. Instead, I would climb the face directly. I figured this would have no more snow, but get us to our destination more directly, which would be both safer and faster. After a short struggle up a steep slope I traversed further to the left looking for easier passage. The steepness of the slope increased as I climbed towards a ridge and an easier ascent. The sugar snow common to the Cordillera Blanca would halt my upward progress and force me to traverse out of a "hole" I would dig myself into. I also was unable to go more than three or four steps before having to rest, my head againts the snow, due to the effects of the altitude. Finally I reached the ridge and was followed by Jim and Mark.

We climbed the ridge to a moderate slope where I hopped to traverse back onto our chosen route. The snow was n bad condition though: Three distinct layers of wind deposited snow were poorly bound and made for potentially high avalanche hazard. Given this, we decided to climb as high as we could before traversing. Switching leads again, we continued up and over for another ten minutes. It was late in the day. The snow was in bad shape. Our climbing was slow. The sun was beating down on us from above. It was not hard to see that we needed to turn around and no one protested when the decision was made to climb back down to stable ground. We diverged from our climb line, preferring instead to take the slope we had originally planned on and that I had avoided. Indeed, on the way down it was apparent that this would have been a far easier option than what we eventually climbed.

We made it back to the tent quickly, stopping only once to change out of our cold weather climbing gear, as the sun was again making the surface of the glacier oppressively hot. Near the bottom of our climb, my crampons began to ball badly. This was made all the more annoying by my deep exhaustion.

Back in camp, Mark went immediately to bed, while Jim and I made water and food. The idea to try again the next day had already come up, and if we could get rehydrated and refueled, we felt confident that we could make the summit. We would have a trail to climb to at least 6200m (20,300 feet) and we would not have the same difficulty with route finding. Jim and I constructed a solar snow melter, which allowed us to make about three liters of water without any fuel. We also found that the sun was intense enough that simply putting snow into our metal cooking pots would melt it. After much drinking, eating, and napping, we decided, with the help of route photos taken that morning, to try once again for the top.

The next morning started much like the first. We awoke at 2:30 and left camp at 4:00. This time though, with a solid trail, we covered in three hours the same ground it had taken us seven hours to cross the day before.

At 6200m, Mark was eager to avoid any traversing and so he and Jim started further up what had by then become known as the ridge route. I, on the other hand, felt the snow had improved sufficiently to allow us to traverse the slope onto the route I had seen the day before. As Jim climbed the ridge, I attended to building and anchor and further studying the snow. After perhaps twenty minutes of climbing, Jim reported down to Mark, that the ridge route was more difficult than it seemed for below. He figured it would take another two hours to put up the whole thing. He climbed back down to Mark so we could discuss what to do. Mark was unsure about the stability of the slope and weather, as there was fog coving the summit. I reassured him that the weather looked safe to me: all the surrounding peaks above 6000m were clearly visible and there were no signs of high wind. Also, digging in the snow had convinced me that the slope had stabilized enough to be safe to cross. With this information, we decided to traverse a bit and if anyone felt the slope was unsafe, we could turn back.

The snow felt solid and so, with me in the lead again, we set off. At some point, Mark suggested that I climb another steep snow slope to gain the level slope above. Once again, I set off on what would lead nowhere. After five minutes of climbing on progressively steeper terrain, this route was abandoned. Jim took over the lead that we continued across and then up onto a flat plane between two large crevasses. Here Jim attached the next slope, kick stepping up a steep wall to the col below the summit pyramid.

As we came up one-by-one, we got our first glimpse of the summit from so close. As the crux of the climb had been traversed safely, we savored the moment, taking a few photos, before setting off towards our goal. We traversed a narrow snow ridge, bordered by massive crevasses on either side, up to the base of the summit pyramid itself. The sun was shining brightly through the fog, making the air and snow humid, something we had not seen during our entire climb. Building anchors to belay our way over a shot ice wall, we made the summit pyramid proper with no real difficulty. From there, it was another climb through deep snow, with Jim in the lead, up a moderate slope.

On top we took a series of photos and ate and drank. It was a relief and pleasure to have completed the climb and I was disapointed only that the fog completely obscured our view of the surrounding mountains, with Huascaran, so close, only peeking through on rare occasions.

After a shot celebration, we turned to climb back down the mountain, reminding ourselves aloud that the majority of accidents happen on the way down. This, we hopped, would keep us vigilant. Retracing our steps we quickly made the traverse. This we had again grown nervous about, as the weather had turned suddenly warm, which increases avalanche risk. Still, the snow felt solid and we were quickly off the face, back down the ridge, and onto the relative safety of the flatter glacier. We stopped to rest and breathe a sigh of relief. We only had to worry about crevasses from here back to the tent. Starting off again, we made good progress, despite my crampons balling up as they had the day before. With me in the lead, we marched into camp at 2:30 in the afternoon, ten and a half hours after our start that morning.

Utterly exhausted, Jim and I set about making water again, as Mark fell into his sleeping bag. We would stay at Glacier Camp another night in order to recuperate enough strength for the climb down the next morning. Eating and drinking occupied the rest of the day and as night fell, each of us wrapped himself in his sleeping bag for some well-deserved rest.

The next day we packed up early, wanting to be off the glacier and the hazard of rock fall before 8:30. With Mark setting pace, we flew down the ice and were back at Moraine Camp in a little more than an hour. It was nice to be back where there was liquid water. I set my tent out to dry on the rocks as we filled our water bottles and unpacked our cache. Soon we were back on the moraine ridge and, this time, with the aid of a trail and the descent, we made rapid progress. We passed quickly through the boulder field at the bottom of the glacier (where we met some Czech climbers) and down to base camp and the road.

The climb finished, we dropped our bags to rest in the sun and wait for someone to come by who could offer us a ride back to Yungay. Eventually, a cattle truck rolled down the pass and when we flagged them down, they agreed to drive us back to Yungay. We climbed into the back, hoisting our bags over the side, and took seats on tires or tarps, next to the campesinos who we would accompany on the ride out. The views were fantastic and in a little more than an hour we were back in Yugay, from where we took a combi to Huaraz and our respective hostels.

To see a slide show of photos from our climb on Chopicalqui, check out my Picasa Web Album.