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Published: August 3rd 2011
As most of my dear readers will be aware, many of my blogs include hair-raising stories of travelling by bus in Bolivia. Sadly, this tale does not include any such words. In fact, the only problems that were encountered were the fact that the company we booked the bus through did not actually have any buses running on the day or time booked for and a puncture in a small town en route to Potosi.
The puncture was a thing of wonder. At no point were the passengers asked to leave the bus to facilitate the changing of the wheel – in fact, most merely opened their window and peered out at the driver, the conductor and a sturdy female struggling to raise the bus enough to remove the punctured wheel.
A few on the bus decided to take advantage and have a toilet break. Your correspondent noticed males walking towards a wall and proceeding to urinate in a standing up position, but had to avert his eyes as a seventy year old Bolivian lady waddled away from the bus, hiking her skirt up as she walked. I do not care to remember such a sight for many a
year.
Anyway, tyre replaced and we managed to get to Potosi only an hour late.
Potosi itself seemed a pleasant enough city – the highest in the world – and ignoring the fact that I could hardly breathe, we wandered about after having lunch ie W had lunch and I had beer. There are many beautiful churches and buildings with promises of towers to be climbed and crypts to be investigated – sadly every single place was closed. I masked my sadness by having more beer. A pleasant meal was had in the evening, and as Saturday closed we adjourned to sleep.
Okay. Enough of the pleasantries. The main reason we went to Potosi was Cerro Rico. This is a mountain that overshadows the city and for nearly 500 years has been mined for silver primarily, but now for many other minerals such as tin, copper and zinc.
It is known as “ the mountain that eats men “ and close to 8 million lives have been lost there. Some companies run tours to the mountain and it was my intention to take part in one.
W was not very excited about the prospect but
in the end agreed. Afterwards we both were shaking and feeling hurt all over. If there is a hell on earth then it is Cerro Rico.
The tour begins in a very relaxed and friendly manner. We met ex miners who were to be our guides and were taken to a courtyard where we were provided with safety clothing and equipment – a hard hat, a battery head torch and wellington boots. After that we visited the miner’s market where we purchased gifts for miners we would meet such as fizzy juice, cigarettes, pure alcohol and of course, dynamite. In Potosi anybody can buy a stick of dynamite, a detonator and cable for £2.30 – crazy but true. We bought some as we were promised the chance to blow a hole in the mines.
A trip to a refinery followed, where the minerals are separated from the rocks that the miners bring up, thus seeing how much the miners would get paid. I am sure that all these parts of the tour were merely to delay the horrors that awaited.
Our minibus took 20 minutes to drive up the side of the mountain to the entrance into
the mine that we were going to use. Our guide – Ronald Milton Vargas Fuertes – checked our equipment then pointed to a hole in the side of the mountain and told us to enter. I still shake at the thought.
Some of you may have visited mines in other parts of the world. Many of these may have been a bit worrying. Multiply that feeling by about 1000 and you will get a rough idea of Cerro Rico. There is no modern or shiny machinery here. Everything is constructed by hand and wood and the structure creeks and groans like a hungry mouth as you walk deeper in. With the only light from our head torches we walked for about 10 minutes doubled up in the small tunnels, always walking down, when Ronald told us that we were to turn to the right, in order to visit Tio. This is an effigy to a god who is supposed to live under the mountain. The miners say it is the devil and will give offerings to the statue along with requests for safety and luck in finding a good source of minerals. Sadly to get to Tio, we had
to crawl on our stomachs through a tunnel of less than a meter high to get there. There was no help to get through other than your own determination and panic. W was quite shaken by this and I was close to agreeing.
For some reason we both continued. What we had gone through was only level 1 of the mine and we had still to go down to level 3. I had the feeling that Dante had visited here to come up with his idea of the schematic of hell. We were now told that we would go to level 2. It was going to get continually hotter we were told and the dust would get worse. All in our group had purchased a bandana each, which was to be worn over mouth and nose. All very good, but that then meant you couldn’t breathe. An easy choice then – don’t wear it and breathe in silicon and many other toxic dusts, or wear it and suffocate. The tour was getting better.
I looked around for the stairs down to level 2, but was quite disappointed when Ronald merely pointed to a hole in the ground. We
had to scramble through the hole and then slide on our backsides about 5 metres down through straight drops and twists where the only support was the wall dripping in god knows what chemicals – avoiding the 50 m drop to the right where buckets are hauled up and down – until landing on the ground below with a thud. Here was level 2 where the dust was so thick your mouth dried immediately, and no-one dared to speak for worry of inhalation – even Ronald wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible and we were forced to crawl quickly although we were all sore and cramped and dripping sweat. For all in the group, the fear was starting to kick in. The main advice Ronald gave us was to stay positive. Once bad thoughts entered your head down here you were in trouble. I kept my thoughts to myself.
We met and were introduced to a few miners who had worked there for a few years. One was only 17. They seemed like empty shells of men who were mechanically hacking at a mountain in the hope of finding ore. We left them behind and
delved deeper in to the heart of the mountain. I shouldn’t say heart, because I do not think this mountain cares how many it devours.
The heat was now practically unbearable – Ronald said it was close to 35 degrees, and with no breeze, natural air or oxygen ( this mine does not have luxuries such as pipes piping in breathable air ) our lungs were straining to catch any form of respite – and we were all discarding our safety clothing just to try to cool down. This was as deep as we were going, though miners would go down 3 more levels on a daily basis. The existing faces are not producing enough ore, so they are going deeper and deeper in the search of new veins. My only thought was somehow to get back to the surface. I had hoped that there were escape shafts or emergency routes that we would use.
Wrong.
We had to retrace our steps in this inferno. Where before we had slid and scrambled down incredibly tight tunnels and shafts, we now had to climb and clutch our way back up. This took much longer and you could feel
your strength and will seeping away in the darkness. At one point W looked up too quickly and whacked her head on a low beam and was sent careering backwards to the floor by the blow, while I was bringing up the rear – my lungs on fire through a mixture of inhaling dust and asthma that was breaking free inside me. There was no feeling of pride of completing the tour driving us on, only a built in survival mechanism that was lifting our feet .
Obviously, as I am writing and none of you have received any bad news, we survived and got out safely. I will not insult you with words of how hard it must be for the miners, that goes without saying , but the only feeling I got when we were driven back in to the city, as that the mountain that eats men was looking at us smugly, as if to say “ that was only two hours, and if I had wanted to, you would not have escaped me”.
Never again.
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albert
non-member comment
Now there's an experience! I've descended a mine in Wales but didn't have to crawl - and the air was breathable - that was spooky enough. Are you in a work phase at the moment or free to explore? I assume the latter but have lost track. Let us know in your next post.