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Published: November 23rd 2007
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CERRO RICO
They´ve been mining here for 350 years. After Sucre, we headed to Potosi, famous for it's silver mines (although now it's mostly zinc). There´s not much left to see of Potosi´s mineral wealth except for some colonial buildings and churches. The main reason people travel to Potosi is do go on a tour of the mines...and thats what we did.
No one adequately prepared us for what we were to experience. This coming from two people who regularly partake in "adventure sports". It was, honestly, one of the scariest things either of us had ever done.
Our tour started by everyone getting kitted out in overcoats and pants, a hard hat and a high-beam headlamp. We then headed over to the miners market where our guide suggested we buy "presents" for the miners...these gifts included coca leaves, 2 liter bottles of soda, and, of course, sticks of dynamite. Yep, anyone can walk into a little store and buy dynamite and fuses...most people are proud to say they´re the first person in their family to attend college, well we´re proud that we´re the first people in our families to buy high explosives!
After a brief visit to a mineral refinery where the rocks and minerals are
MINERAL PROCESSING
The refinery where the silver, etc is processed. sorted and cleaned we headed up to the mine.
It´s difficult to describe our time in the mine. In retrospect no one really briefed us on what to expect, what we would be doing, or what to do in case of an emergency. This led to an uneasy feeling and high anxiety as we entered the mine. We walked about 500 feet into the mine when all the guides started shouting for us to turn around and leave the mine quickly...we had no idea what was going...was there a gas pocket, was there a cave-in, was a hurt miner being brought out? No, it was only a few miners pushing out a metal cart full of rock. So thats how the tour started...everyone´s heart pounding out of their chests and a million different catastrophic scenarios running through our heads.
We re-entered the mine and walked for about 15 minutes and stopped at the miners museum (which is a cave with a bunch of plaster statues depicting miners, slaves that used to work the mines, and the miners "underground gods"--who they leave offerings of coca leaves, cigarettes, and booze). We then headed back into the tunnels. Our two guides,
who were ex-miners, stopped and spoke to each other rapidly in Quechua all the while looking at a hole in the ground stuffed with logs. "Ok, I´ll go down first and then you guys follow" says our guide, Spicey. Our group of 7 all looked at each other in disbelief. "There´s no way we can fit down there!", we are all thinking. Spicey is about 5 and half feet tall and 120 pounds. We don't have any photo's of this "tunnel" because, frankly, Brett was trying not to hyper-venilate and wasn't really in the mood to shoot any pictures.
Try to imagine a tunnel a few feet in diameter on a 45 degree slope, jammed with logs (which were in transit to be used as support beams deeper in the mine)...its pitch dark save for the bit of light your headlamp gives off, you can´t breathe very well, and you´re suppossed to follow a Bolivian miner 90 feet further underground...and the way you follow him is to lay on your stomach and scoot down the logs without being able to see where you´re going. There is only enough room to wiggle and writhe your body down the sloping logs,
SARAH¨S BLING
The only silver Sarah´s gotten on the trip. it´s not even shoulder width wide, there´s no turning around, your hardhat is banging on the tunnel roof above you and you can´t see the top of the tunnel anymore...now imagine your girlfriend is the first person to follow the miner...
We both made it to the next level of the mine where we waited for the rest of our tour group. However, 4 of the others turned back because of the severity. Now it was us, a fellow American, and our guide.
The three of us and Spicey moved further down the mine. It was cooler the deeper we went and we had a little more room to move around. It was incredibly hard to breathe due to the toxic dust that the mining creates, we were told to wear bandanas across our faces. We suppose it did a little bit of filtering, but it was still hard to breathe and we both were blowing black snot for days afterwards.
We encountered small groups of miners working and they were grateful for the 2 liter jugs of soda we handed them. The mining lifestyle in Potosí is harsh. All the work is done by hand with
basic tools. These men start working at a young age (there are even children who work in the mine) and have a life expectancy of around 40 years old. Many only work in the mines for 10-15 years because they develop silicosis pneumonia from the chemicals that are present. They work long hours and switch between working days one week and then working the night shift the next week. The miners make a decent living by Bolivian standards, about 350 dollars a month, as compared to the average Bolivian income of about 35 dollars a month.
About 45 minutes into our time underground, another guide alerted Spicey that the way we slid into the mine (down the logs), was now further jammed and we would have to find an alternative exit. We were filled with two feelings: 1) thank god we don't have to try and climb up the logs and 2) what? how the hell are we getting out? Spicey thought this was all very funny and liked to see the confused, scared, and apprehensive looks on our faces, and rather than telling us of a new plan, he laughed and said, ¨Well, we're stuck. We have to
THE MINE ENTRANCE
We´re going in there? walk a couple kilometers out.¨ Awesome. Thanks for the update Spicey.
So we followed him. And it turned out, the ´alternative´exit was much gentler. No crawling or squeezing through tight spaces, just walking out. We did have a hard time walking since we're both a good foot taller than the Bolivian miners...meaning both of us whacked our heads on rocks and support beams a couple of times.
We soon saw daylight and were overwhelmed with happiness. It was definetly a unique experience, but we both agreed we never need to enter another mine. It wasn't really the fact that we were hundreds of feet underground, but the fact that we were hundreds of feet underground in a Bolivian mine. There were no 'emergency' buttons, radios, first aid kits, or walkie talkies...just the offerings to Tio of coca leaves and grain alcohol to keep us safe underground in Bolivia.
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Pex Sherpa
non-member comment
explosive
I am pround of your explosive accomplishments. Getting to be there while your guide chucked dynamite has to be a highlight. Great film, loved the understated comment, "I asume it's going to be loud, it's dynamite."