28 February to 4 March 2016
Looking back at the pictures, I become sentimental. The three day hike along an old Inca Trail with Christian from the heights (4,750m) close to La Cumbre to the lush lowlands of Chairo was epic: the beauty of the almost untouched nature, the change in the landscape, the dramatic views.
Christian had organised the trip researching the route and transport links. Plus he supplied the tent and camping cooker. He had had some unwanted time in Potosi feeling unwell, whilst I had visited the massive silver mine, Cerro Rico.
The mine is still in use and operated as a workers’ co-operation as I understood the guide. Usually you buy the workers some gifts such as dynamite, a protective hat or coca leaves before you enter the mine. But I visited on a Sunday, so the workers were off work. The only ‘person’ we met in the dark tunnels was El Tio, the devil of the mountain, in form of statues in alcoves. In front of him were various offerings, alcohol, cigarettes, cocoa leaves, etc. to appease him and seek his protections against accidents in the treacherous mines. And they happen frequently in the Cerro Rico, millions are said to have died since the mining started in the 16th century. Coming out of the mine into the daylight again, I decided that mining must be the worst job in the world: working in the heat and dark, danger and death always present, low life expectancy due to the dust and poisonous fumes.
We left to La Paz that night and spent the following day getting organised for the hike. I remember three things from that day:
- On a free walking tour, we found out that the bowler hats that the indigenous Bolivian women wear on top of their heads were introduced by an English man. He had shipped a large supply for British railway workers from England to Bolivia. However, the hats were too small. He then tried to sell them to the local Bolivian men without success. He finally turned to the women telling them the hats were the latest fashion craze with the ladies back in England. Et voila, he sold his hats and presumably many more since they have become a part of the Bolivian identity.
- The tour ended in a shopping centre with lots of little stalls/shops where Christian and I bought the best ice cream cup. It was massive, topped with lots of exotic fruit, cream and chocolate sauce.
- Finally we bought spaghetti by the gram from a local shop, thinking they could not be too different from the ones sold in packets. Big mistake, they were disgusting as we found out when we ate them a few days later on the hike, even our big appetite could not change that.
The hike. We tried to make it to the bus terminal by taking local minibuses. However, after we had blocked local people getting onto the bus because of the space we and our luggage were taking, we decided to continue the rest of the way by a private taxi. The bus terminal was busy. We managed to have some breakfast and coffee before getting onto the bus that would take us to the Cotapata National Park and the start of our hike.
We were the only people getting off at the entrance to the park and found a friendly ranger in the small information centre that provided us with a high level map for the walk. As you can see from the picture with the watch, it took us over an hour to walk the first three kilometres. The path was broad and easy to walk, however, the high altitude made us stop every few steps and gasp for breath. It was all worth it when we came to the top and looked into a green valley, into which we would descend chasing lamas in front of us (luckily no spitting).
The walking got easier as we rapidly descended and lost on altitude. The landscape became much greener and less rugged. We only met one other hiker until we got to the first village, Chukura, where were greeted by some local children demanding lots of chocolate. They were not happy when we could only give them the few. They also alerted a man at the end of the village demanding a toll for trail usage. After a few hours of walking, Christian’s knees started hurting and we were glad when an elderly lady coming up the hill with mules told us that her son was looking after the camping place just around the corner. The son was in his teens, so we gathered the lady was much younger than she had looked.
The camping place was perfect, next to the roaring river, green grass and the son selling us cold beer. We pitched the tent next to some high trees in the open instead of the covered area. That was a mistake. We were woken up in the middle of the night by a mighty thunderstorm and we had to pack our bags in the torrential rain in the morning. At least, we had breakfast in the covered area and met Sebastian, a guy from Catalonia, who joined us for the rest of the hike. The rain stopped, but it made the path more difficult where we had to cross several streams gushing down the mountains. Better not think in those moments what a misstep would mean!
I will never forget the camping site that night. It was on a plateau with lush vegetation, well-kept green grass, beautiful bougainvillea and other colourful flowers. One of the flowers with a bright yellow blossom is still the wallpaper of my mobile phone, so that I am reminded of that magical place every day. The view from the toilet was stunning and one of the best in the world: into the now rainforesty valley with no other human habitation in sight. Without light pollution, we looked into a wonderful night sky with thousands of stars. We discussed during dinner that it would be a great site for a full moon party. But then again this would destroy the perfect peace of the place.
The climate became warmer and more humid as Christian, Sebastian and I further descended the following day. My three highlights during the day were:
- Passing a waterfall, where we stopped and had a swim. There was even a natural water slide!
- The variety of butterflies in all shapes and colours.
- Having a cold beer at our lunch break. Crazy that you can have that even in those most remote parts!
We reached our destination, the remote town of Chairo, in the late afternoon. A guy ushered us to his house to have dinner and stay the night. I am not sure it was a proper guesthouse, it rather seemed that they cleared the children’s bedroom for us. The food was great, the night was hot and full of mosquitos. We left early in the morning and took a taxi to the next bigger town, Coroico. We had a hearty breakfast at the local market and then looked for a place to stay the night. We could not really find anything we liked, so we decided to go back to La Paz.
Christian was sensible and went to bed early, but I decided to go partying with some people from the hostel. It was great. I didn’t feel too good the next day and was in tears when I finally booked my return ticket to the UK for the beginning of April that day.
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