Bolivia

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Copacabana - La Paz - Oruro - Sucre - Potosi - Uyuni

13th November - 26 November 2010

A 6 hour bus journey brought us from Arequipa to Puno where we had the pleasure of the front 2 seats upstairs. Thankfully it was dark outside and the blinds shut because the way the driver took some of the turn's would have been more suited to an episode of Top Gear. This was something we would just get used to over our time in South America. This along with Bolivian women and their bloody oversized duffels. In Puno we met with Khaliani, a girl we had done the Inca Trail with and some people she had met. We all headed from here to our first border crossing into Bolivia at Copacabana. From reading other blogs and hearing stories I was expecting to be almost interrogated crossing the border into Bolivia but with no hassle whatsoever (even for Johnathan, an Aussie guy going into Bolivia for 3rd time in 10 days) we were soon in the quiet little town. It was only a stop over, no trip to Isla del Sol, but the day and night we had here was exactly what was required. We had lunch by the lake then in the evening walked up Cerro Calvario for a spectacular view of the town and the sunset.

The next afternoon we caught a bus to La Paz with Nolene, a Candian girl. We were amused when we were told we had to get off the bus to cross the Lake by ferry. So passengers were all mushed onto one little boat and our bus driven onto another. It certainly broke up the trip. As we approached the city through its outskirts we had no idea what lay ahead. We took a slip road uphill to reveal our first view of La Paz - another one of our 'wow' moments. We checked into our hostel (Cruz de Los Andes) not far from the witches market and took a stroll to see the city by night. During our 4 days here we walked the city to see Palacio Presedential, San Francisco Church, The Coca Museum (my saviour in Cusco) and San Pedro Prison. This was interesting. Whether we would have actually gone into the prison or not i'm not sure but we were not approached by anyone asking us did we want a tour of the prison. Having just read 'Marching Powder' before leaving home I was expecting occasional local women or guards to approach us and subtly ask us in. But nothing. We could see the inmates inside beckoning us to come over but the guards had different ideas. I thought I had gotten away with a sneaky photo until a guard tapped me on the shoulder and insisted I delete it (I got another one that night though). The Worlds Most Dangerous Road was another trip we had always planned to do. Other people we talked to were of the opinion: “Pay some company money to risk your life while voluntarily cycling down a road of such name?” When put like that it did sound a bit nuts but one of those people ended up joining us in the end. Of the numerous companies offering the tour picking which one was a lottery. In the end we went with Vertigo, mainly because they had the coolest t-shirt. It was a very cloudy and foggy day and considering we were going to be descending 3,600m over 70 km conditions probably weren’t fantastic. This plus the fact that much like the steering wheel of a car being on the opposite side to home, so were the front and rear brakes of the bike. We had time adjusting to this of the top of La Cumbre before beginning our descent down a wide, well paved main road, albeit on a cliff edge. Off we went; a group of 15 or so in single file (as instructed) just about able to make out 10m in front of us due to poor visibility. This wasn’t so bad. We stopped every 20 minutes so everybody could regroup. At one point we were waiting for the stragglers to catch up when I realised: “Shit! Where’s Kate?” Caught up in the excitement I had flown ahead from the start (with her permission) but by this stage all the group had caught up with the group except for two. And then through the still persisting fog emerged a smiling Kate. “Good, still smiling”, I thought. Being slightly behind she had not realised that we had branched off the main road onto a gravel –track. Instead she had continued through a tunnel on the paved road into complete darkness with oncoming traffic. It wasn’t until half way through the tunnel that she realised she should probably turn back. But on the bright side she hadn’t fallen, wasn’t hurt and wasn’t startled by her diversion. Ok so what was all this fuss about a dangerous road?

By this stage it had started to drizzle which we were told might help clear the fog, which it did eventually. By now we were on the gravel track and picking up good speed. We stopped for pictures along the way, sped round twisting bends, under water falls, past crosses where previous guests to the track had fallen over the edge. Yep. People had died on this trip. Proof of the possibility of this was clear when one of the Irish lads, while being videoed, tried waving at the camera. At this split second his front wheel buckled, sending him head over heels and sliding forward stopping just in time, right at the cliff edge where a memorial cross lay. All on camera and in some weird way very funny to watch, especially when his friends took the complete piss out of him for the rest of the day. I had a couple of skidding moments myself but no falls from either of us.

When we reached the bottom we had a couple of beers, some lunch and relaxed. 70 km down the most dangerous road in the world. We survived. But how do we get back? There was no way we were going to cycle up the descent we just came down. Instead (and it’s still funny to think of the madness of it) we got in a mini bus and drove back up the route we just came down. This was the terrifying part. Meeting other buses along the way, with no idea who had the right of way, on a track barely fitting one of the buses we meandered back up to La Cumbre where we started our day. Having survived the bike trip down, we got back into a van and drove back up the bloody thing. What a sad way to go that would have been? Anyway with photos, videos and t-shirt to mark the occasion we survived the World’s Most Dangerous Road..........twice.

The next day we caught a bus to Oruro. ‘If you can’t say something nice about something.....’ We spent all of 6 hours here. Although a nice little town, there was nothing to do which we soon found out so we caught a 9 hour bus that night to Sucre. We booked into Casa al Tronco, a beautiful guest house in Recoletta, the old part of Sucre overlooking the city. Possibly the wealthiest city we had seen so far in Bolivia, maybe even South America. Run by a German man and his Bolivian wife the place was fantastic with bright rooms, lots of information on the city, actually lots of information on the house itself which he gave us a tour around. Like our first day in every city we visited off we went for a look around. Firstly we got a bus from the centre to a nearby cement factory. “Cement factory?” I hear you say. “He lives a stones throw (sorry) away from Roadstone at home and he’s going to see a feckin’ cement factory?” Not exactly. It has findings of different dinosaur footprints from the Cretaceous Period. Amazing. After this we went back into the city and visited MUSEF, a museum show casing masks illustrating the diversity of ethnic cultures in Bolivia. The following day we did some rock climbing at Sica-Sica, the main outcome being an exfoliation of the palms of our hands and grazes all over knees. Tough going but great fun. We had a meal out that night in La Taverna and far too many mojitos – at €1.80 how could we not.

Next stop, Potosi. We spent two days here. Another beautiful city where we immediately saw the beneficiaries of the mining industry from the bus station alone. Nothing like any bus station we had seen so far. A pity the room in our hostel didn’t reap the same benefits. It was the first time I felt the need to get out my bed liner. I could genuinely touch opposite walls with outstretched hands. After our stay at Sucre this really felt like slumming it...it was. But it was central and ideal for our short stay and walking the city. We visited the markets, the cathedral and although being renovated had a tour where we got to the top of the bell tower for great views of the city and Cerro Rocco. We decided against the mining tour as it seemed we were just spending money at every city we went to on tours. We couldn’t keep it up especially as Salar de Uyuni (the salt flats) was our next trip in 2 days time.

We got a 10am bus to Uyuni. Like the bus station, this bus was like no other bus we had seen either...not in a good way. This looked like it was made for bringing factory chickens to the slaughter. Our bags were thrown on top and tied down. We had luckily (or unluckily) gotten the last 2 seats on the bus which were right down the back. Good, plenty of leg room I thought. No, not when the whole aisle would be full of Bolivian women standing with everything but (actually maybe even) the kitchen sink in their massive duffel bags. Ryanair would have a field day with these ladies. It was a dirt track the whole way to Uyuni, possibly the reason no tourist buses made the trip. If La Paz is to retain the title of the worlds’ most dangerous road, then this is a close second. But as the dust settled after the 7 hour trip we caught our first glimpse of Salar de Uyuni. Miles and miles of the flattest landscape we had ever seen. We booked our 3 day trip for the following morning and got some sleep.

Edgar, our guide, met us and the rest of the group (2 swiss girls and 2 lads from the UK) outside the office the next morning. Reviews that we had read in the office the night before had been ranting and raving about Edgar. And we soon saw why. A local guy with no English but still managed to give us all the information we needed. We all piled into the 4 x 4 and went firstly to a train cemetery. A short ride later we reached our second stop at the start of the salt flats where locals showed how they manufactured the salt. After this we got to the destination for the classic photos. Not as easy as I thought but with much adjusting of camera position and some help from Edgar we got a few good shots. After lunch, prepared by Edgar’s wife earlier in the day, we set off again to our accommodation for the night. Edgar made us keep an eye out for other groups. When asked why he said that there wasn’t enough room for everyone at the place so we needed to get there first. And we did. We were greeted by local kids and shown to our room with walls, benches, and bed side lockers all made of salt. There was a basketball court out the front where we played a game with the kids and were then called for dinner. With very little electricity lights went out early but we lit candles and had a few beers playing cards.

The next morning Edgar rattled on our door at 6am and after a quick breakfast we were off. We spent much of this day travelling and stopping off at little lagoons with active volcanoes in the background clear from the puffs of smoke. While admiring Laguna Verde we were interrupted by an angry Aussie who appeared to be less than happy with his guides driving. “Stop f@cking drinking!” (a little ironic coming from an Aussie), followed by “do that again and i’ll smash your f@cking face in). The guide didn’t seem to be overly bothered by this as he continued sipping from his 2 litre pre-prepared bottle of ron y cola (rum and cola). While we were in La Paz there was a massive strike in the city. The president wanted to limit (no, not ban) taxi and bus drivers alcohol intake to just one drink before driving. The drivers went on strike blocking all the streets and the president ended up scrapping his idea. So legally this guide was doing nothing wrong. Later that day we saw the same Aussie driving the 4 x 4 and the guide in the passenger with same ron y cola in hand. Edgar had his fare share of ron at night but whether or not he was boozing while driving I don’t know. Even if he was he was doing a good job so we were happy to let him at it. Our accommodation on our second night was much more basic. All 6 of us in a dorm, freezing cold and very little sleep.

5am start for our last day. We took in geysers and hot springs, volcanoes and more lagoons en route to our stop at Bolivia-Chile border. Kate and I transferred to another bus where this driver was unquestionably sipping the ron y cola. We arrived at San Pedro de Atacama, Chile at lunch time. A cool little place, much more relaxed than anywhere we’d been to yet, and a hell of a lot more expensive. We stayed in Hostel Florida with hammocks for chilling out which we spent the remainder of that day doing. We had planned on spending just 2 days here but due to bus availability to Salta, Argentina which was to be our next stop we stayed 3 days. Which, apart from financially, was not a problem. On our second day we hired bikes and cycled a 25km trip to Lagun Cejar, a salt lagoon nearby. We started off exiting San Pedro through the main road we had come in by with some water and sun cream applied. Map in hand we swung a right onto a dirt track much like back in La Paz until we hit sand. I’ve never cycled in sand before and I hope I never have to again. I’m pretty certain Kate feels the same way about cycling in general. We eventually got to the lagoon and it was so worth it. We left our bikes and went for our first swim of our travels. I say swim, we floated really. That’s all we could do the salt content was so high. Our 25km trip back was maybe the lowest point of the trip so far. Having made it through the sand tracks back onto the main road, water had run out and the sun cream applied earlier was about as useful as tits on a nun after our dip in the lake. I’m pretty sure vultures were keeping an eye on us at this stage. We made it back eventually, having to get off and push the bikes at some points, but made it back to the hostel for an evening recovering on the hammocks. With just enough energy left we booked a bus to Salta, Argentina for the next day.

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Photos

Sunset Copacabana
A view of sunset over Lake Titicaca from Cerro Calvario

Worlds Most Dangerous Road
Famous Corner on Worlds Most Dangerous Road

Recoletta Square
Old area of Sucre near wher we stayed

Sica Sica
Kate rock Climbing up Sica Sica, Sucre

Cathedral Bell Tower, Potosi
Kate and I at top of bell tower over looking Potosi

Lagoon on Salar de Uyuni trip
Flamengos in Lagoon

Kate being a pest!
One of the many photos from the salt flats

Comments

[Jennie]

The Ultimate Tourist
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