huayna potosi: my failed attempt to summit a 6000+m peak

Standing 6088m high, Huayna Potosi near the city of La Paz in Bolivia is considered as the easiest mountain above 6000m to climb. Each year, many backpackers who aren’t exactly mountaineers but simply outdoor enthusiasts attempt to reach the summit of this mountain. Armed with crampons and ice axe, the successful climber is rewarded with an astounding view of sunrise over the Andes upon reaching its peak. And maybe the bragging rights, if he desires.

Returning to the city from my journey around the stunning landscapes of Bolivia, I had this hunger of doing something really challenging. Huayna Potosi had been on my mind but I had doubts that I could make it. The only peak I had successfully scaled that time wasn’t even half of its height. Perhaps I had been talking to the wrong people when I decided to sign up for a 3-day climb of the mountain.

In a three-day climb, the summit attempt only commences at an ungodly hour of the third day. The first day is generally spent on ice climbing practice and the next on a 4-hour hike up to the high camp. I was climbing with a French couple who said that they also didn’t have much experience with mountains and that their only advantage over me was that snow and cold wasn’t new to them. We’ve had much of our conversations filled with charades. I really wish I had studied Spanish before going to South America.

We went to a nearby glacier to practice the use of our crampons and ice axe. Just like most of the glaciers around the world, that one was also receding. And it had been receding fast, according to our guide. Only a few years back, the glacier extends much further.

We were taught how to use the ice axe as support while walking up or down the slope. And how it could help us in case we accidentally slide down. The hardest part was climbing an almost vertical slope of ice. With crampons on, we had to thrust the tip of our boots on the ice and push ourselves with the help of the ice axe to a wall of ice that is almost five meters high. Upon completing the task, I was told by my guide that I did great and he was confident that I would make it to the summit. Apparently, he was wrong.

A French group was climbing a day ahead of us. I was supposed to go with them but I felt like I wasn’t ready to leave yet and hoped that I wouldn’t be sick anymore after a day. They all made it to the summit and were very positive that our group could also make it. They suggested that I get a porter. Maybe I should have gotten one but everyone was going back to the city that day. I didn’t have a choice then but to carry my own pack.

The supposed four-hour climb to high camp on our second day took me more than five hours. While I was carrying all of my stuff at the beginning, my guide offered to take some of my things when he noticed that I was lagging behind. I gave him my water bottle. And then my sleeping bag. By the time we reached the first high camp, I just wanted to lie down. But ours was still further ahead, 200m higher.

I looked up. It was a very steep climb. My guide started to walk and I hesitantly followed. Every move I made caused my heart to beat really fast and hard. For every minute of climbing, I needed three. My guide kept on telling me that we’re almost there. But I couldn’t see the camp anymore. He told me he’d carry my backpack. I wanted to say no but it was getting late and we needed to move faster. I gave it to him and he carried it on top of his own backpack which was probably a lot heavier.

Once we reached the refugio, I collapsed on the bed. We were so far behind that the other guide was already preparing our dinner. After having our meals, we went straight to bed.

It was a restless night for the three of us. I wasn’t even sure if I get to sleep. All I could remember was being really cold and then hearing the voices of our guides waking us up, telling us to prepare. I was still groggy as I put on my boots and gaiters. My guide strapped a harness around me. The two of us would be connected with a rope during the climb for safety. I checked the time and it was 1:30 in the morning. It was snowing when we stepped out of the refugio.

A lot of trekkers from the other refugio were already making their way up. I could feel their enthusiasm but mine was lacking. I wasn’t feeling well, though it must be purely psychological. I only had my water and camera in my backpack but it felt like I was carrying a lot more. Aided only with our head lamps, we followed the tracks made by the groups who went ahead of us. And though we were walking at a steady pace at the start, I had felt really tired after some time.

I kept on moving, but each step I took made my leg muscles shout for pain. My heart was pumping so hard it felt like it would beat out of my chest. I took really deep breaths but the thin oxygen in the air wasn’t enough to supply what my body needed. My stomach was tightening and I was about to throw up. I called my guide and lied about having altitude sickness. I didn’t want to do it anymore.

My guide was named Jesus. And I thought since I got Jesus by my side the whole time, I’ve got nothing to fear (pun intended). But Jesus was so merciful that when I told him that I couldn’t go any further and that I wanted to turn back, he immediately agreed. I wished he pushed me a little more. Maybe it had made a big difference.

Jesus untied the rope and ran to the other group to inform them that we’re turning back. I sat on the snow feeling miserable. I still wanted to reach the summit but the pain and discomfort was already too much to bear. I felt deceived. Why call it ‘easiest’ when it wasn’t even easy?

I wanted to blame others for my failure. My uncomfortable boots. The pain on my back because the backpack they lent me wasn’t good enough. The lack of sleep. My colds and clogged nose. Even hyperacidity. But more than a year later, I realized that it was simply I who must take the blame, if I really must blame someone. I wasn’t prepared physically. Neither was I prepared mentally. Just recently while trekking in Nepal, I learned that in order to achieve something, one must accept and surpass the pain that goes with it. I didn’t know it back then. And now that I’ve gained more wisdom, I’m ready to face that mountain again.

2017, come fast.

the long walk to copacabana

Bolivia is notorious when it comes to road travels. Heavy rains in the summer usually cause damage to its roads making them difficult if not impossible to pass through. But even with the perfect weather, locals may hold strikes by barricading the road networks when they are demanding something from the government, impairing transport. At least these are what guidebooks say. After spending three weeks in the country, I had never encountered any of those inconveniences. Until the day when I had to go to Copacabana.

I was informed beforehand about the road block and that it may not be possible to travel to Copacabana. But my hardheadedness prevailed and I still went to the bus station. Sure enough, there were no trips that day. And for the next? No one was sure when the strike would be over. The only option was to cross the border in Desguadero (to Peru) and walk 8km to the town upon reaching the next border in Yunguyo/Kasani. I held out for two more days in La Paz, hoping that the issue would be resolved by that time. And besides, I was also able to find someone I could tag along with in case we still had to walk.

Holding a strike and putting road blocks is the common way for Bolivian locals for their complaints to be addressed by and to negotiate their demands from the government. That time, they were raising their protest against the increase of the ferry crossing price (from 1.5Bs to 2Bs) on the Tiquina Strait along the road from La Paz to Copacabana. Without reaching an agreement, the protesters upped their demands and wanted a bridge crossing the strait instead. A bridge had already been proposed by the government a few years ago but the ferry operators opposed it simply because they would lose their business. So I was guessing that it would just go on and on and on with one party doing another strike if the results of the discussion was not favorable to them.

Two days later, I found myself walking solo on an almost-deserted road (there was another road though not really a short-cut), cursing my heavy pack and trying to retain my sanity. As it turned out, the person I was supposed to walk with was in different bus which left later so I also didn't see him at the immigration. I would have been really disappointed that day if I didn't get to meet two other Filipina in the bus. They were supposed to go to Copacabana the day before but because of the strike, they went to La Paz instead, spent the night there and were on their way to Puno that day. The three of us were surprised. Who would have thought we will meet a fellow traveling Filipino (although both of them already migrated to Canada) in that part of the world? They were very nice and even gave me their energy bars knowing that I must take a long walk to get to my destination.

If not for the rocks, lumps of soil and tree stumps blocking the road (and the fact that we had to walk) it wouldn't seem like there was a strike (at least it was unlike here in the Philippines). The place was serene and I didn't feel any kind of tension at all. I even saw a soccer game held in one of the small villages. Travel guides advise tourists not to try to cross these road blocks. But the many groups of locals holding the strike whom I saw along the road didn't mind us. An old man even walked and chatted with me.

The atmosphere of Copacabana was dead. Although hotels and restaurants were business-as-usual, almost all other establishments were close. The boats going to Isla del Sol were also not in operation. Before the strike, it was hard to find a place to stay because all the accommodations were fully booked. But when I took a stroll one night, there were only few rooms with light in all of the hotels across the lake. It was the holy week and the town was supposed to be packed with all the tourists and pilgrims coming from nearby towns. It was supposed to be a good time for businesses to gain a large profit but it was impossible in that situation.

The act of holding the strike showed unity among its townspeople. And that they were willing to make sacrifices for the government to hear their demands. But I still wondered if everyone in town supported this strike. If I were one of the business owners, I would have wanted to take advantage of the high season and hold the strike after the holy week instead. Or as a normal townsfolk, I wouldn't be using the ferry service everyday anyway so the 0.5Bs fare increase would hardly affect me. I guess it would be hard for me to understand this kind of thing. I guess strikes and road blocks are simply part of the Bolivian culture..

journey to the salt flats: day 3

What is something that I will miss in the Andes? The cold despite the intense sun. And the clear blue sky. And what did I learn? Sometimes things look better naked. (And by that I mean the landscape with sparse vegetation.)

Day 3: The never-ending lakes and the salt hotel

I had some trouble sleeping the night before (most likely) because the altitude made me gasping for air the whole time. And the pillow in our room, which was close to non-existent didn't help at all. (Now I know that I should bring an inflatable pillow the next time I go on a trip) But the clear-blue Andes sky seemed to promise another epic day despite the cold. It was time to head north to the salar.

We exited the Eduardo Avaroa Reserve after the guard checked that we have our passes as proof that we already paid the entrance fee. (Yes, visitors must keep that piece of paper they give after payment. Losing it means another 150Bs from your pocket just to exit the reserve.) We drove through the dusty desert to get to Arbol de Piedra in the Desierto Siloli. There were lots of rock formations scattered in the area but this one takes the highlight because of its tree-like shape.

Showcasing the power of wind, Arbol de Piedra. No climbing, please.

As I walked between the rock formations, I kept thinking of water. It wasn't until a few days that I realized we were in a desert where water is scarce; ergo, wind. The place was shaped by eolian processes! I would have had a woah!-moment if only I had realized it earlier. It is simply mind-blowing. Okay, I know it by theory. But if I could live eternally, I'll probably spend some thousands of years watching how the elements of nature slowly creates these majestic landscapes.

We hopped into our vehicle and continued driving until we reached our first lake for the day. Everyone was at awe. The tranquil (shallow) Laguna Honda created a perfect reflection of the distant snow-peaked mountains. We stayed there for some time, going around, snapping pictures and me making some shoe prints on the borax precipitates around the lake.

Laguna Honda.

There were too many lakes in southwest Bolivia. We skipped at least two smaller lakes, white- and yellow-colored, along the way and headed straight to Laguna I'm-not-so-sure-about-its-name where there were some facilities. Thank god for the toilet though it costed me 10Bs. There were lots of feeding flamingos in that lake and it was time again to take photos of them.

James's flamingo.

Here's something worth-noting. Out of the six species of flamingos in the world, three are found in the southwest Bolivia. Andean flamingo is the largest of the three with pink plumage, yellow legs and black-and-pale yellow bills. Chilean flamingo has salmon-colored plumage, grey legs with pink/red joints and white-and-black bills. James's flamingo is the smallest of the three species, with pink plumage, red legs, yellow-and-black bills and red skin near the eyes.

Of the three species, I think I only saw the James's flamingo. I scoured my photos to find the two other species but failed. They were probably on the farther side of the lake. Wish I had a camera with 50x optical zoom. It would have been perfect for spying....flamingos. Haha!

We were supposed to stop at another blue lake but everyone preferred to stay inside the vehicle. I just asked someone else to take a photo for me. Don't get me wrong. The scenery was very lovely; if only we hadn't seen so many lakes prior to that one. Or at least if we had seen it on another day. I guess there comes a point when one gets tired of beauty when it has nothing else to offer. In our case, a lake is still a lake, unless the feeding flamingos start dancing. Variety was something that we needed to spike our interest.

So it was actually a good decision to ditch Laguna Negra. It wasn't part of the itinerary anyway. Our drivers told us on the first night that Laguna Verde (which was supposed to be really beautiful) wasn't green that time. For some reasons, it had turned brown. And since we were only going there to witness its green color, we agreed on seeing the black lake instead. But on the second night, the drivers changed our agreed itinerary again and said that if we see the black lake, we will end up near the town of Uyuni and not be able to sleep in a salt hotel. Of course we preferred the other option so off we went to the salt hotel.

Inclined horizon. To break the monotony. (Photo taken by David.)

It was a very long drive to get to the salt hotel. We stopped for lunch in another strange-looking place. The rocks were just lava flows but they looked more interesting after weathering and erosion. And because of those moss-like plants that fooled me.

I was looking for a good spot to sit while eating with the group. There was only one I liked and there was this plant that looked like a moss. I told myself it was just moss. Haha! But when I looked at it closer (while sitting on it) I realized it wasn't moss at all and it wasn't just enveloping rocks. The whole mound was made of the plant and it was unbelievably as hard as a rock. It turns out to be a yareta, a flowering plant that grows only in Bolivia, Peru, Argentina and Chile at altitudes of 3200 to 4500m. (So I can't grow it in my garden?) The yareta is extremely compact so that it will keep as much heat from escaping as possible for the really cold nights in the Andes. The plant was used by local people as fuel for cooking but it is now prohibited to gather it for fear that they will soon get extinct.

Yareta. The 'dead' part (without leaves) looked like corals. Promise.

It took us more than three hours to get to the salt hotel where we would spend the night. We drove through vast empty lands occasionally passing through some small villages growing quinoa. Interestingly, the rows of quinoa in the farms were planted in such a way that as they grow, their colors resemble the Bolivian flag. (I was busy finding a place to pee I didn't take a picture but here's a link to my friend's photo.) We also crossed a railway in god-knows-where whose main purpose is for transporting minerals from Bolivia to Chile. It looked like a place where even ghosts wouldn't bother reside.

The salt hotel.

Some groups have reached the salt hotel before us and when we got there, they told us that we were the first ones to wander on that side of the salar for the year. (Some bragging rights then?) Rains during the summer season flood the salt flats making it difficult, if not impossible to cross to Uyuni from there. It was just nearing the end of summer so in way we were risking getting trapped in that place in case the waters were still too high for the 4x4 to cross. The salt hotel staff probably didn't anticipate our coming because they were still cleaning and preparing the rooms when we got there. And that may be the reason why there was some cat poop in our room. Ugh!

The hotel was almost entirely made of salt. From the floor, to the walls, the bed (nothing to worry, there's mattress), tables and chairs. They even have decors hanging from the ceiling made of salt. The shower was the only exception. And yes! there was shower. I was finally able to get a hot bath after three days albeit hurried because there was only one shower and hot water was just until 9 in the evening.

After having dinner, the drivers came to give us the bad news and the good news. Good news: there was just enough water to see the reflection of the sky and safely cross the salt flats. Bad news: it was too far to go out that night so no star-gazing (look both up and down to see the stars) for us. No problem, it wasn't part of the original itinerary anyway. And we were supposed to leave very early the next day to see the sunrise in the salar and I'd rather our drivers be well-rested after driving on what seemed to be endless roads to the hotel. I just went out for a few minutes to look at the stars. It was cloudy. It was time to sleep.

journey to the salt flats: day 2

As our 4x4 made it's way on the craggy road, the sun started to rise slowly from the horizon. The colors it painted on the mountains catching it's first light made those moments magical. Every turns, ascents and descents we made revealed more magnificent views, rivaling the previous ones. It was beauty no one or nothing could perfectly capture. It was beauty that can only be savored by those who venture in that far away and secluded place. If only the low temperature could also freeze time.

Day 2 - Eduardo Avaroa National Reserve

We had a very long drive ahead so we started the day really early. Our vehicles started moving at exactly 6 in the morning. It was freezing and ice formed on puddles and streams. March is still summer in Bolivia. I was glad I wasn't there during the winter.

Our first stop was Ruinas de San Antonio, an abandoned mining village with Volcan Uturuncu looming in its background. According to our driver, the place was established in the 16th century which meant it predates the Inca civilization. When I got home and looked closely at the pictures I took, I saw some of the buildings had what seemed to be white paint. There were websites saying that there was an effort to repopulate the village in the 70s and that would probably be the reason for it. For a ruin (supposed to be) as old as this, it is expected that there will be studies and excavations done to understand its history but there didn't seem to be any sign of archeological activities in the area.

It was still very cold so we didn't spend much time going around the ruins and just went inside the vehicle. My fingers were getting numb and I had to run back to feel warmer but I was still freezing. Spotting the cute vizcacha who are the current residents of the village became a short distraction to the cold.

Ruinas de San Antonio and Volcan Uturuncu.

We continued driving with beauty everywhere I looked; rugged terrain, different rock formations with varying colors, snow-capped peaks. I saw for the first time a vicuña which produce highly priced wool. A small group was hanging out on a slope feeding on grasses that are weirdly forming close-to-perfect circles and arcs. Hundreds of llamas still dot the land and we even saw a sign telling us to heed caution for crossing llamas.

This is one of the signs you haven't seen yet.

The road opened up to a view of a blue lake, one of the many we were about to see for the day and the next. Of course I didn't get it's name nor the snow-capped mountain in the distant. We were at 4855masl, another record high for me (on both altitude and euphoria). But despite my emotional state, the cold was still creeping to my bones. Or maybe it was just me because they started taking off their jackets.

We then drove until we reached the entrance of the reserve. We paid 150Bs and while it seemed a bit high at first, I was willing to pay more after seeing all the amazing scenery. As we made our way into the reserve, we were surprised to see a small community inside it. And of course if there are people, it's impossible not to see even a small pile of trash.

More than an hour has passed before we reached our next stop, dacite! Err... What they wanted to show us in that place, they didn't explain but the ride wasn't exactly smooth, it was bumpy, so it was time for some rest. And then it was time to move and we headed to our next colored lake, Laguna Hedionda, where I spotted my first flamingos. They were feeding on the lake at a distance and didn't seem to care about what was happening around. There weren't much flamingos but on the next lake (I didn't get the name) not that far away, there were hundreds of them.

Everyone was excited for our next destination, Aguas Termales. Just imagine yourself lounging in warm (hot?) water, with a lake and mountains of different colors in the backdrop, in a remote and serene place. Wouldn't it be wonderful? Well, I'd rather stay in the vehicle because I don't like pools. Period. And besides, once you get out of the water, it will be really cold so I somehow saved myself from that agony.

Aguas Termales.

A few groups doing the tour from Chile were just about to leave when we reached the hot spring. Our schedule kept its promise of avoiding the crowd (which is hardly a crowd). We headed to Desierto Dali and on our way, we came across two bikers. They must be really crazy to travel with just their bikes but nonetheless, we gave them a bath of dust. There were also a few big trucks along the road we were taking. They were carrying sulfuric acid and our driver explained without hesitation that those were contraband. Oh...

Our next stop was Sol de Mañana, which they simply described as a geyser. I was very excited because that would have been the first time I would see boiling hot water getting sprayed out from a vent. But in the end, I didn't. It was more like a solfatara with quite a number of colored mud pools. The place reeked of sulfur and we could smell it even before we got near. No safety protocols were implemented and people were all around. Some were walking on ridges between the pools and I was glad they weren't geysers.

Sol de Mañana

The highlight of our day was the Laguna Colorada. It was nothing I had ever seen before. Well, almost everything was but the lake, with its red hue, will make you think if Moses dipped his cane in this water. But no, the color was due to the algae thriving in the water and I'm guessing the sediments which are also reddish contributed to its color. The guys and I walked around the lake, marveling at its beauty and oddness. There were many flamingos in the lake and with the desire to take some close-up photos of them, we stealthily moved towards a small group feeding near the shore. I later learned that visitors are not supposed to try to get close to them nor drive them away to flight because they're breeding gets affected. Oops, sorry about that.

The tranquil Laguna Colorada.

We spent the night  in a place perched in the middle of nowhere. Though that time, we shared the building with more groups and we had electricity for a few hours. Before it got dark, I climbed a small hill just because. I watched as the sky changed its color. Everywhere I looked, I saw rugged mountains. There were no other man-made structures except for our building. We were surrounded by nature in its wildest and most singular form. It was only then that I realized how far away I was from home; how much distance I have traveled just to get to that lonely place. And that place reminded me of nothing, or anything that was simply familiar to me. But now that I look back to that moment, what I remember the most was the sense of happiness, peace and fulfillment I rarely had. I was living the life I wanted.

Our accommodation in the middle of nowhere.

journey to the salt flats: day 1

Less crowd, more sites to see. Sold. Steeper price? It was money spent that's worth every centavo.

I took the overnight bus from La Paz to Tupiza to start the Salt Flats tour there. I initially planned to take the 5-day tour which includes hiking up a volcano but all other people booked the 4-day tour so I had no other option. I paid 210USD which covered everything except for entrance fees and use of toilet. The lady then explained to me that the accommodation would be very basic and shower would only be available on the third night. She gave me a brochure and mentioned the places we would be visiting but I was only half-listening. Take me anywhere, as long as it's beautiful.

Fold.

Day 1 - Who-the-heck-is-Butch, llamas and more llamas, coca, football 

 I met the guys who would be on the tour with me during breakfast. The first question to me was if I was the girl from the Philippines. Yes, and that meant he had seen the registration form where I half-willingly wrote my profession. The tour organizer asked for it and I didn't know what for. I should have put unemployed but anyway, I just didn't want them to know because they would probably ask questions during the trip and I might not have the answer. True enough, the other guy asked me to explain something after we saw our first otherworldly scenery. He assured me that that would be his first and last but of course, it wasn't. He had more questions in those four days but I welcomed them. And when I didn't have an answer, I told him to give me time to think and I would get back to him. I actually felt good when I was thinking and trying to recall what I learned years ago. (I know it wasn't that long ago but I tend to forget stuff especially if I don't have practical use of them.) The gratification was more about me knowing that I still know those things than him learning some geology.

We left with one more group of four travelers in another vehicle. There was only one cook and she rode with us on the first day. Six persons inside the vehicle including the driver was comfortable enough. Our driver/guide and cook didn't speak English. The guys speak a little Spanish. So I missed many of the names and explanations about the places we visited.

Spires or fins? Explain how they were formed.

We headed a little to the north of Tupiza to Quebrada de Palala and drove on a dry wash (Can I say it's a bed of an ephemeral stream?) bound with remarkable rock formations called fins. Our first stop was in El Sillar along the road on a narrow ridge. There we caught up with about four other tour groups from Tupiza. Still not much of a crowd. An impressive view of spires lie in the valleys. I had seen something like that on the road from La Paz but didn't got the time to really admire them. (I didn't know how those formations were called and when I learned about it, I think I haven't come across them before. Or have I? Give me a geomorphology book.)

While driving on the wash, our driver mentioned Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. I didn't know if we'd been to the place where they were supposed to have been killed. I had no idea who they were when I first heard their names. But according to what I read, they were American bank robbers who met their doom after they robbed the payroll of the mining company they worked for in Bolivia.

It took us about two hours to reach our next destination, Awanapampa. I was waiting for our cook to take out our lunch. It was still early but I was getting hungry. When she didn't, I just headed out to the field where there were hundreds of llamas. We had already seen a lot along the road but I wanted to take a photo with a cute one. I guess llamas don't really like people. Every time I tried to get near them, they moved away from me. I tried to move like a sneaky burglar but even the ones facing away and busy nibbling grass easily noticed me and slowly walked away. Then I just ran after them and of course it didn't work. At least I think I annoyed them for being so snobbish. (Llama to me: Go away! Stupid.)

Awanapampa. Llamas in southwest Bolivia outnumber people.

We finally had our lunch in a small abandoned village. I needed to pee so I asked our driver if there was a toilet there or along the road. There was none. It was so naive of me to expect. While eating, cold wind started to blow and it got really chilly I needed my thick jacket. The sun was high up and I wondered how cold it would be at nighttime.

We continued driving for a few hours passing through some mining villages. One guy joked that I should help him find a river and pan for gold. If only that was possible, I would and use the money so I could travel more. Haha.

The whole time we were in the vehicle, our cook was chewing dried coca leaves. The two guys had some to prevent altitude sickness. They were prone to it, I wasn't. But I believe that going to Bolivia without trying coca meant that my trip wouldn't be complete. I also didn't find anything wrong with taking it in it's natural form. Coca is just a leaf; coca is not cocaine. The guys didn't like its taste. It was pretty okay to me. What I didn't like was the numbing effect to the mouth and tongue. It felt like I was in a clinic waiting for the dentist to clumsily and morbidly pull my teeth. Hate, hate, hate it.

The town of Polulos. There are electric wires but there's no electricity yet.

After a few hours, we stopped in a village. The itinerary said we will stop at Cerillos but the sign said it was Polulos. Not that it mattered. The villages we've seen almost looked the same anyway with houses made of mud bricks. And it seemed as if nobody lived in those villages sprawled in the middle of nowhere.

At around 5pm, we reached San Pablo de Lipez where we spent the night. Our accommodation had two bedrooms. The toilet was clean enough and had running cold-only water. We had some time to kill before dinner and the boys played football with some local kids. They also invited me to play but after a few minutes of running (err, walking and just standing there actually), I was already breathless because of the altitude so I just left. Later that night, I learned that the kids killed them. I'm guessing the altitude contributed a lot.

While waiting for our food to be served, I had a chat with a Malaysian guy from the other group. He has been traveling for three years and a half and he's not stopping for at least a year and a half more. I so envy him and wish that I can do what he's doing.

The tranquil village of San Pedro de Lipez. (Or is it San Antonio?)

After dinner, some kids came and played music to us with their local wind pipe (zampoña) made of bamboo. I appreciated it and they looked adorable. But their faces showed that they were not enjoying what they were doing. And I really don't like it when someone is forced to do something they don't want to, especially kids.

Anyway, there was no electricity in the village so it was very dark. But the darkness gave way to the beautiful sky lit up by millions of stars. I could see the Milky Way. It would have been great to just lie down on the ground, look at the light from stars emitted years ago; and ponder about life and all the time that has passed by. But it was very cold so I just went inside our room and found comfort under the blankets.

accommodations: bolivia

Hotel La Valle - La Paz

Vehicles can't enter the street where this hotel is located so the taxi driver had to drop me someplace else. I wished he walked me up to the door of the hotel because I had a really hard time to find it. I kept walking up and down Evaristo Valle and the other streets nearby but still couldn't see any sign of the hotel. With my limited Spanish, I asked help from a number of locals but most of them didn't know where it was or pointed me to the wrong direction. I swear it took me at least 30 minutes to finally find it. And when I got there, the old man at the front desk told me there was no vacant room. I insisted that I have a reservation and when he still didn't believe me, I showed him the e-mail from their address. Apparently, it wasn't him that I was exchanging e-mails with because he didn't speak English and not one of the staff spoke any English.

My room was very small, probably the smallest I had in my entire trip. The small window opens to the hallway so it somehow felt like I was a prisoner. The shower took a long time to get hot but at least I had hot water. For 85Bs, I had a cable tv and a very light breakfast. My room was on the fourth floor and of course, there was no elevator. I was breathless every time I went up my room. All guests were, anyway. I just hated the acoustics of the building. In the afternoon, I could hear the clacking of typewriter keys from the ground floor. Yes, they're still using a typewriter.

I had a love-hate relationship with the old men at the front desk. There were times when it felt like they didn't want me there. But there were also times when they sounded happy while talking to me. But even with that kind of relationship, I kept coming back to that hotel and stayed for 10 nights. It was a too long time that the senora serving breakfast had stopped asking me what I wanted to drink and just brought me jugo every morning.

And oh, when a friend came to my hotel, he didn't have any problems finding it. What's wrong with me?


La Torre Hotel - Tupiza

I only chose La Torre because I was taking the Salt Flats tour with them. It was near the bus station so I just walked when I got there. I asked for a single room and I was given one with two double beds. Now that's a lot of space I could trash. The place was bright and the atmosphere was good (not that noisy, too) but my windows only open to the corridor. Breakfast was good. Or maybe I had a good time eating because I finally met the three people I would be in the tour with and I felt comfortable with them.


Pachamama Hostel - Sucre

Now, this one I didn't choose. I was in Uyuni the day before I went to Sucre and didn't like the idea of spending a night there. It was a good thing that one of the guys in my tour was also going to Sucre. I was too lazy to book a room and he was staying in the hostel he stayed before so I just decided to tag along with him. We were supposed to arrive at the bus station at 4am and we agreed to wait for the morning before we head to the hostel. But we reached Sucre an hour earlier, and someplace else he wasn't familiar with. So we just took a cab and spent three hours in the plaza (which is another story).

Anyway, the hostel is just a few blocks from the plaza so we went there on foot and a sleepy but friendly boy named Martin greeted us. I think he just woke up when I rang their bell. I got my own room at the first floor for 70Bs. They have a big and lovely courtyard. There was no breakfast but they have a kitchen and I experienced for the first time cooking my own food in a hostel.


Hostal Compania de Jesus - Potosi

I read from the LP guidebook that this hostal was a former Carmelite monastery. I was intrigued so I headed there from the bus station and thankfully, they had a room for me. The building has tiny but pretty courtyards and it was sort of a maze inside that I had some difficulty finding the dining area. My room was big enough and clean although the toilet and its door looked really old. It was particularly cold in Potosi but the sheets they provided were warm enough. There was a view of a bell tower and Cerro Rico from my toilet window. (While waiting for the shower to get hot, you can pass time by enjoying the view. Wait, was there a hot shower? I can't exactly remember.)

When night came, I was awaiting for creepy noises or voices and other out-of-this-world phenomenon to happen. Thankfully, nothing abnormal happened.


Hotel La Cupula - Copacabana

This is the most beautiful accommodation I have ever had in my six weeks of traveling in Peru and Bolivia. Beauty has a price though and I had to walk for more than two hours to get to this hotel. It's not the norm. It's just than when I went to Copacabana, there was a strike and all the roads to the town were blocked. And it didn't help that the map in my phone showed a wrong location of La Cupula. I only realized that when I had already descended a very steep road. So I had to crawl walk back up and walk a little more up to get there.

A friendly staff welcomed me and carried my backpack to my room. This was the first and only time that someone helped me with my stuff and I really appreciated it. I took the cheapest room they got. My room was a little small but it was cute and really lovely. It was also the only room I had that had a heater. It got very cold at night and the heater was a big help.

They also have two grass gardens and there were some hammock for lounging in lazy afternoons. One time, there was a flock of sheep outside my room and I had no idea why they were there but it was a good surprise. I didn't have a view of Lake Titicaca from my room. But I only needed to go out and I could see the lake and the town. It was really, really, really beautiful.

View of Copacabana from Hotel La Cupula.

i got what it takes to ride down the world's most dangerous road

That's what my t-shirt says, so I guess I really do.

Our service vehicle. Seriously, the road is much scary in pictures than it actually is.

The web says that the North Yungas Road was dubbed by the Inter-American Development Bank as the World's Most Dangerous Road in 1995. I couldn't find a link to the exact article but they say that it's because of the number of people who were killed in this road every year. It is also called Camino de la Muerte or Death Road.

When I was researching about La Paz, the Death Road is one of the top things to do in the city. I told my self that there would be no way I would miss it when I get to the city. The fact that my insurance wouldn't pay me if anything bad happened since I was willingly exposing myself to danger didn't deter my enthusiasm. So I searched for a reputable operator and found good reviews about Vertigo. They also have a tally of their riders' nationalities in their website so it became my goal to put Philippines in it. Haha.

Since I got sick the day after I got to La Paz, I was not able to visit their office to book a ride earlier. I was only able to do so a day before and alas, no one has booked yet. They only leave if there were at least three riders. Because I really wanted to ride with Vertigo, I told myself that if I couldn't leave the next day I would just go to Tupiza and take another chance when I get back to La Paz.

Later that afternoon, I received a call from them and told me that two other people confirmed and I could ride on the day I want to. Yes! I rushed to their office to fill-out forms and for fitting of their safety gears which include full face helmet, elbow and knee pads, full finger gloves, jackets and trousers. The fee was 480Bs but since I 'liked' their Facebook page, I got a 10B-discount.

Extreme llama at La Cumbre.

We were supposed to leave at 8am but there was a marathon so we had to leave an hour earlier. That morning I met the English couple, Cat and Ed, whom I will ride with. They didn't have prior experience in downhill mountain biking. I also didn't. (I don't count that one time when I biked from Mahukdam to our camp in Tubod.) So we told ourselves that we would do it really slowly. Though it was impossible to go slow when the road is sloping down.

By the time we got to La Cumbre, the start of the ride, there were already many other groups. We were at 4700masl and during that time, it was the highest elevation I have been. The end of the ride is at 1200masl, a total of 3500m of descent for a span of 63km. It was really cold even though the sun was intense, which was almost always the case when I was in the Andes.

Our guide Jose and our driver Jose (yes, it's crazy) gave us our bikes and safety gears. We had a short practice on our bikes before we descended and I was trying to recall the last time I took my bike out for a ride. I couldn't. Haha. But still, I was confident and that was more important. Jose also gave us a few safety reminders and tips to avoid any accidents.

Admiring the beautiful scenery.

While keeping our eyes on the road.

The first part of the ride was along a few tens of kilometers of concrete road. The view was really amazing with snow-capped peaks, deep valleys and very rugged terrain. I was at the back of the group and going a little slower, trying to take in the scenery. But I had to focus more on the road because there was still traffic and the curves are really sharp that if I apply brake a little late, something not good might happen. There was also one point when there was a slow-moving truck ahead of us. Everyone has already overtook it but I was hesitant because by the time I got close to it, the road was already winding and there were oncoming vehicles. The driver of our service vehicle, which stayed close to us (or me) at the back, had to sound his horn to tell me that it was already safe to pass the truck.

We had a few breaks along the road to rest and take some photos. Jose was also taking photos and videos while on his bike and I found it unsafe but crazy and amazing how he manages to focus on the road and the camera. We then stopped at Unduavi to pay a fee of 25Bs. The money is used for road maintenance since it isn't (supposed to be) used by the public anymore and for other safety services. We also had snacks (breakfast for me) and pee break. I found it weird and annoying that the cubicles don't have doors. Even if there were separate toilets for men and women, I still wanted my privacy.

Enjoying the ride. I was smiling in all the pictures our guide took.

From Unduavi, we rode our van to skip the 8km-uphill part of the road. When we got to the start of the dirt road, Jose reiterate the safety protocols and explained that in the Death Road, vehicles going down should be on the left side. And that's the side where the steep cliffs are. Then I started doubting if I could reach Coroico unscathed. Good thing is that we didn't come across any vehicle going up.

It's not called Death Road for nothing.

As I was riding down, I didn't feel any fear and my anxiety faded away. I was completely enjoying the ride. The road, I think, is wide enough. There were parts where the rocks on the ground were loose but I managed to tackle them with ease. And although there were lots of hairpin bends and very sharp curves, if the rider knows that he has to slow down when approaching the bend and not when he is already there, the ride is pretty safe.

While we were resting, Jose told us stories of some riders who fell to the cliff and died. One guy was being playful with his friend and they were pushing each other while on their bikes. One person fell and it's so horrible just thinking how the other guy felt after the incident. The other was a girl who got surprised by a vehicle (not sure if it was coming up or down) and was not able to stop or control her bike and fell. The most recent incident was that of vehicle driven by someone who was drunk.

Waterfalls! And one of the many crosses along the Death Road reminding everyone of the lives claimed by the road.

The ride was approximately four hours though I couldn't be sure because I wasn't really tracking time. I just knew that we were nearing the end of the ride when it started to get hot. It was so hot that I felt like I was back home. But I didn't took my jacket off because I didn't like the sun. Haha. And in the Yungas, I was bitten by small yellow bugs on my arms. They didn't hurt and wasn't itchy at all so I wasn't aware that I already had lots of bites. It has been more than a month but I could still trace the marks left on my skin.

 *All the photos in this post are taken by our guide, Jose, of Vertigo.

(I am trying to post a video but since my connection right now sucks, I will post it soon.)