Coroico - My Kind of Place

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At the end of the Death Road trip the town of Coroico was visible on the edge of a mountain, it looked like the kind of place that would require a further look and so Ciaran and I took a micro to the town.

On arrival we headed towards a German owned hostel that had been reported as fantastic. Unfortunately, it had not been reported to me as being at the top of the town, up a hefty dirt road. The climate in Coroico, in the Yungas, is wonderful compared to La Paz. Set at 1525m the increased level of oxygen is a wonder and the heat can be felt everywhere, there is no need to carry a fleece for the shadows, it is hot everywhere. We climbed the steep cobbles road to the hostel only to be put off by the massively inflated accommodation price and chose to follow a sign to Sol y Luna. If we had realised how far away it actually was, we wouldn't have bothered and would have missed out.

The hostel was perhaps 3 or 4 kilometres from the town, up a steep cobbled street and from there up and down and windy road and hidden underneath some trees. It was a fantastic hostel, owned by a multi-lingual French girl who had landscaped a wide area. There were two swimming pools, a good restaurant and a huge number of walking paths through the trees, themed environments and gardens, with occasional breaks in the folliage, giving way to incredible views over the Yungas Valley. On the left side from the viewpoints the Death Road could be spotted and on the right, the new road on which we had travelled to Coroico on this second occasion. The hostel was superb, a fantastic, beautiful place to be - it´s only disadvantage was the colossal effort it took to get back and forth from.

Our first day we set out to hike the mountain on which Coroico sits, it wasn't successful in the way we hoped. We headed out and attempted to follow Ciaran's hand drawn map of the route but reached a dead end along a trail before bumping into a Dutch family. Collectively we asked for directions from a coca farmer who told us we were way off the track which lay tens of metres above us and so we climbed up through long grass and bushes until we reached the correct route.

We had our wires crossed with the Dutch family initially, not realising that they were walking to some waterfalls and not the top of the mountain. It was somewhat sad how long it took for Ciaran and I to work this out. We decided to do the waterfall hike instead and so the group stayed together.

The parents had moved to Bolivia in the 1970's during a brief open time in the government, along with many other Dutch people, and had returned this year for a holiday and to show their children where they used to live and to give them some experience of life in a 'real' world.

We trekked for a few hours along the outside of the mountain, being treated to constant stunning valley views of farms, villages and mountains - the greenery and bright colours were something that I had not seen in Bolivia before. We saw the three waterfalls after much walking, they weren't hugely impressive but acted more as a compliment to the other outstanding views and were great for dipping a head in to cool down before heading back to town.

The next day we paid for a guide and joined a Swiss based couple for a day of river walking - this is as it sounds, walking through a river. Before this could begin though, our guide drove us in his crumbled old 4x4 to his families fruit plantation.

This was a superb place to find ourselves, I had never been anywhere similar before. On the land were trees and plants growing coffee beans, oranges, apples., mandarins, bananas, papaya, lemons and even a cross pollination plant of orange and lemon (it wasn't pleasant but would make a good mixer). I spent awhile lying in a coca plantation, amongst the small bushes covered in short but thick green leaves that hopefully ends up in hot cups of maté or in the mouths of miners as opposed to going up the nose of a Westerner in its derivative chemicalized form. I was fascinated with the plantation, it was extremely beautiful and full of amazing fresh aromas, though the pinnacle of this part of the trip was free reign to pick fruits off the trees. Nothing beats the taste of an organic orange that you have personally picked from a branch.

We hit the river and spent a while jumping from rocks into a pool at the bottom of a waterfall, cooling off from the blazing sun before beginning the river walk proper. A few hours of wading through the river in the shade of emerald green trees passed quickly, the scenery more than enough entertainment though occasional splashes of wildlife added some extra splendor. A long nosed creature, possibly a cat or coati fished in the river until it spotted us and raced away. A spider monkey climbed through the trees above us to the opposite shore, it was turning into a special day.

We eventually reached the end of our river walking route at the base of yet another waterfall, this time with a much higher jumped platform - our guide showed us where to jump and after a little hesitation we all joined in. Splicing the jumping and diving we all went hunting for firewood for our much anticipated barbecue. Our guide, whose name sadly eludes me made a wonderful avocado and tuna salsa which we ate with bread whilst he began preparing the kebabs. Peppers, onions and great big pieces of beef were skewered onto sticks and doused with salt before being placed over the fire. We ate this incredible fresh food as the day closed and after we made our way back to town for a rooftop beer with our new friends. It was a perfect day.

The next day, July 30 we woke with sore legs for our second attempt at reaching the top of the mountain, Cerro Uchumachi at 2480m. I have no photos of the hike up, my legs were spent from the previous days wading through the river. My decision to wear my hiking shoes in the river had been great for my feet, they were fine, but the weight of dragging them whilst soaked through with water had made my thighs incredibly tired.

I dragged myself to the top for yet another mountain victory, at this point I seem to have a pretty decent list of ones I've completed, it's something I'm quite proud of, irrespective of my lousy knees. We relaxed at the top eating the remainder of our fruit from the day before standing to observe the views of the valley once more. There are a lot of Westerners settled in Coroico considering the small size of the town, but with its warmth and incredible beauty it is not hard to see why. That evening we ate tagliatelle that was prepared in front of us by a genuine Italian couple, it was so good that we had them make us a pizza as well.

The following day the relentless hiking and exercise had taken its toll and I decided that I needed a break, choosing to spend almost the whole day in the beautiful hostel grounds relaxing and catching up with the world. In the evening I eventually made it into town and brought a bus ticket for the next day to Rurrenabaque, a decision that was slightly mad - this particular bus trip is regarded as one of the worst in Bolivia and considering the blizzard stories and the consistent stories about arriving in places knackered, I'm sure you can appreciate that it's a nasty one.

So that was it for my time in Coroico, a truly beautiful place that manages to completely justify the existence of the Death Road and all of the problems it has caused. I know I would risk my life for a chance to return to this paradise one day.

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