Bolivian Climber – postscript

And so my trip came to an end prematurely. There was no going back to the mountains, and not even really second thoughts once I had come down to La Paz. I did actually see a doctor at my hotel, just to get checked out so to speak. He said I was as fit as a fiddle, and that my blood pressure was 120/80. I am not sure that I believed him, but I certainly felt the benefits of being at just 13,000 feet or so.

Over the next two days I ate steak, drank wine, enjoyed La Paz, and booked myself an early ticket home. I met up with the rest of the gang who had come down to rest for a day whilst they recovered from not having been able to attempt Pequena Alpameyo. They went up the next day to try to do summit two, Huana Potosi, and some summitted, but that was the end of the line summitwise – Illimani was a no go area due to dangerous avalanche risk, and so didn’t happen for anyone. The mountains, and the weather gods, won this time, as so often happens. The overall trip report is below from our outstanding leader Olan:

http://www.jagged-globe.co.uk/news/report.php?id=1213

In the meantime, I got delayed going home by snow, saw more of La Paz and Llama foetuses than I really needed to, and generally killed time, no more of which I need to record here. I had had a fabulous adventure though, which was capped off by the following when I was flying from La Paz to Santa Cruz in Bolivia on the first of a long leg home:…………………I have left it ‘unedited’ from how I wrote it at the time, which was Friday the 14th August:

“Oh my God” The phrase is so overused. A bit like awesome, a word I have never much cared for.

Today however I have used both, a lot.

I am sitting in seat 1A of an American Airlines 757, flying over the Amazon jungle. I’ve never seen it before until today, and is absolutely staggering to the point of being overwhelming.

From this point in my flight, it just got more and more amazing.......

From this point in my flight, it just got more and more amazing…….

From this.....

From this…..

....to this......

….to this……

....to this.....

….to this…..

...to this!......

…to this!……

...and this.....:)

…and this…..:)

This, is the Rio Grande. The greatest tributary, and the lead in, to the biggest river in the world, the Amazon. It discharges more water than the world’s next seven rivers added together apparently. Truly there are no words, in my language at least, to describe how utterly amazed I feel just looking down on it.

I have taken probably 50 photographs on my phone out of the window, none of which I know will ever even begin to convey the marvel, wonder and jaw dropping majesty of what I am seeing. The way the various tributaries snake backwards and forwards, the brownness of the water, the denseness of the jungle for unimaginable distances of vastness, the so abundant and different shades of green, which couldn’t even be replicated on the world’s most complicated supercomputer.

So many thoughts run through my mind: Why have I never been here before? Why is it declining in terms of deforestation as badly as it is and how can governments let it happen? What do the people who live down there think? Do they know how utterly, ridiculously amazing it is? I honestly thought I had seen it all when I saw the Himalayas, or Kilimanjaro and the plains of the Serengeti, but this is better, bigger, and more fantastic, if that is even imaginable as a ‘thing’. I feel incredible.

I feel so very lucky today, and just wanted to capture those thoughts. My plane out of Bolivia (firstly out of La Paz down to Santa Cruz) to Miami was delayed by an hour and a half due to ‘maintenance issues’. When I get to Miami I will miss my connecting flight out of here back to the UK, and have to probably sleep on this floor of the airport. None of that matters. I have seen under almost cloudless skies the majesty of this earth. The Bolivians have a name for this – Pachamama, the Mother Earth. Well Mother Earth, I see now, clearly, and almost for the first time, just how stupendously beautiful you really are.

Bolivian Climber Day Nine

It was now day 3 at Condoriri Camp at 4,700m. Or I think it was day three. My mind was a bit puddled through the altitude, and thoughts of whether I wanted to go up or down, and also by the fact that a massive gale had blown all night and kept me awake for at least half of it. I’m never good anyway when I don’t sleep, and the gale last night reminded me of a night in a hut at high camp on Elbrus last summer, when I thought that just surviving the night was a long shot at times.

So we all at least arose this morning to a much calmer wind, and considerably bluer skies than we had seen for the last 36 hours. Despite that, the forecast for the day was snow. Apparently someone had been blown off Illimani last night, presumed dead, a sobering enough thought if ever there was one, especially considering we would be there inside a week.

We breakfasted outside due to the destruction yesterday of our meal tent, although it was freezing cold and down jackets, gloves and hats were the order of the day.

Breakfast alfresco. Cold, bitterly cold in fact.

Breakfast alfresco. Cold, bitterly cold in fact.

During breakfast I continued my contemplations of yesterday as to whether to stay or head down. I had a mild headache, felt a bit dizzy and weak, and had had as mentioned my usual fitful night’s sleep. I think the latter might have been a bit better if I think about it, other than for the aforementioned gale sweeping through camp. At any rate, I now needed to make a decision. It wasn’t easy.

At the end of breakfast I was still in a bit of a daze, but decided to walk up to Olan and say the following to him: “I’ve decided that I’m not properly acclimatised to be a good member of the team for the climb tomorrow morning, so I’d like to know what I need to do to get the f*** out of here”. Olan, being from Dublin, understood both the language as well as he did the sentiment behind it. I was fortunate as it turned out – one of the guides was going down to meet one of the local support team to collect a replacement meal tent in an hour’s time, so if I could be packed up and ready by then I could walk down the mountain with him and then get a lift back to La Paz too. The deal was done.

I immediately told Gavin, my tentmate, of my decision. He suggested that I was being a bit hasty, but he got it. I had talked at some length with him about yesterday’s blog post, which I had read to him out loud in our tent last night. We had a good talk about how fine a balance it is between ‘success’ and ‘failure’ in these things, and it was good to share experiences and thoughts. I packed up my kit and helped Gavin clean out our tent, which was full of all sorts of grassy deposits after yesterday’s stormy conditions, and then that was it, time to go. After a farewell to each of the group I left with the guide Renée, and trekked the 3 or so miles down to the waiting minivan at the trailhead. With every step down the mountain, even though the slope was gentle, my breathing became easier, and I felt better, fuller, fresher.

The last look for me at the Condoriri range. It'd be the last time I'd be there, I knew that much already.

The last look for me at the Condoriri range. It’d be the last time I’d be there, I knew that much already.

The journey back to La Paz took about two hours altogether. I was picked up by an SUV by a Bolivian driver, and we traveled back wordlessly through the altiplano and then the crazy and dirty suburbs of El Alto, a place I don’t think I could live in for all of the tea in China. It’s a ghetto really at best, and dirty too. It has however apparently grown by incredible rates to become Bolivia’s second biggest city at nearly 1m people.

The main street of El Alto.

The main street of El Alto.

This is about as pretty as it gets.

This is about as pretty as it gets.

Although you do eventually get some good views down into La Paz.

Although you do eventually get some good views down into La Paz.

A better view of the sprawling La Paz.

A better view of the sprawling La Paz.

Getting back down to La Paz itself felt good for two reasons. One, I had by then descended over 1,000m, and although I was still at 3,600m or so, it was a big difference. Secondly La Paz had that ‘feel’ about it, which made it a welcoming sort of place, dirty and grimy though it is.

The local agent, Griselle, couldn’t unfortunately get me back into the Ritz apartments (where we had stayed when we first arrived), which had been great. I got put instead into the El Rey Palace Hotel. All I can say is that if you are ever in La Paz, don’t go there. It flatters to deceive at first with a nice lobby, and large rooms, but underneath the surface it is dirty, tired and just clapped out. I’d rather get a dingy hostel to be honest than ever go back there again.

Probably the most disappointing thing was that after the time I’d been out, all I wanted really was hot water for a shower, and it couldn’t even deliver that. The water was too tepid to even stand under and so I gave up, and stayed stinky for another day. You can get hot water up a mountain at Aconcagua Base Camp, or in Africa at the foot of Kilimanjaro in even the most basic of hut hotels, so why not in a supposed 4 star hotel in a country’s capital city? Rubbish, right?

I did go and find me that evening the same steak house (Gaucho) that I had been to the previous week before we left for the mountains. It didn’t disappoint. The steak was fantastic and the Malbec was just what I needed.

I knew then that I wasn’t going back up to the mountains at high altitude. I was done, I had tried. Life is full of so many opportunities and wonderful things to do, and I have had such a good run at this. It was time to start a new chapter, and his day was the start. More of those thoughts and conclusions in the next post.

Bolivian Climber Day Eight

So today would be the first time on the glacier. Or that would be the case for 8 of our group of 10 at any rate.

At breakfast time, one of the two Johns announced that he was feeling nauseous, and he looked it too, so confined himself to bed. I didn’t feel much better than he looked, despite not too bad a night’s sleep (as in I only woke up about 10 times, which is about normal), but managed to eat breakfast, so I thought I’d soldier on.

So by 9am, with our first very overcast sky, and a pretty strong wind blowing, we set off in mountain boots and down jackets plus carrying full complement of crampons and axes etc ready for the glacier. I felt at best very lethargic, but trundled along hoping that I would feel better on the walk in to the glacier, which would take about 40 minutes. Unfortunately I didn’t feel better at all.

We made it to the snout of the glacier at about 9.45, and as everyone was putting on harnesses and crampons, I just stood there feeling a bit pathetic. I realised that I didn’t have the energy (or moreover the inclination really) to put mine on, and so trying to head up a glacier would have been foolish. I thus told Olan that I was going to bail from today’s activities because of how I was feeling, to which he said that was fine. He asked if I needed help getting back to Base Camp, but I told him no, and that I’d be ok and would just take my time.

Even though it was downhill on the way back it took me longer down than it had up, but I was feeling a bit wobbly and so being by myself I didn’t want to fall on the rocks. Making it back for about 11am, I took off my boots and got straight in my sleeping bag. The wind was howling, but I got an hour or so’s sleep which I think did me good.

The group got back at around 2, and I had a chat with Olan. He suggested I start taking Diamox and see how I felt after that. My head was telling me that I should just forget this mountain malarkey once and for all, but my heart really wanted to try to get mountain 2 done, Huana Potosi, which would be an altitude record for me at 6,088m. But for what?

I parked decisions for a while as I didn’t want to be too hasty, and also hypoxia can cloud your vision sometimes. Plus I had just taken a Diamox, and if that meant that I felt much better by tomorrow, then who knows, maybe I would be flying up all of these mountains within a few days. But then who was I trying to kid?

Meanwhile we all got a bit of a distraction as our meal tent started to rip apart and blow down in the wind. It must have been gusting at 60mph or more, and first a pole snapped, and then despite about 6 people trying to hold it down with rocks it just effectively disintegrated. We would therefore be confined to tents for the next 16 hours or so and would eat in them too, as long as the guides could still manage to cook in theirs. Plenty of thinking time then….

At first it was a case of how many could hold it steady.....

At first it was a case of how many could hold it steady…..

.....and then a case of how many rocks.....

…..and then a case of how many rocks…..

....and then the realisation that there aren't enough rocks....

….and then the realisation that there aren’t enough rocks….

....and that nature usually wins in these situations.

….and that nature usually wins in these situations.

So here was my rationale during those hours:

I’ve had four (now five including this one) high altitude mountain trips. 1. Kilimanjaro – summited, but got AMS along the way. 2. Island Peak – no summit, had to leave trip early and descend due to AMS. 3. Elbrus – summited, but collapsed shortly after summit showing signs of life threatening HACE. 4. Aconcagua – no summit, had to descend due to AMS. 5 – Well here I am lying in a tent at 15,500 feet, considerably short of where I am trying to get to, and guess what? Hello AMS.

The above might be fairly compelling evidence to most people, but I am not most people, and I love what I am doing. Well I love it apart from the AMS thing, and getting up to go in stinky pits of a toilet (or not a toilet at all) in the middle of the night, and eating shit tasteless food whilst wearing two down jackets out of dirty plastic containers, and waking up about 12 times every night, and feeling wrecked every morning, and drinking purified bad tasting water out of a dirty bucket. Oh, and it taking up my entire annual leave for the year, and the fact that I’ve spent about 10 grand (more actually) on it this year just to not get close to the top.

So apart from those things, it is great, and I mean that, otherwise I wouldn’t have spent practically every weekend this year walking 20 miles up and down random hills, streets, or canal paths with weights on my back. But maybe there are other things out there, like smaller mountains for example?

I put all of those thoughts away from me, and huddled inside my sleeping bag. The tent was filthy now and full of debris that had blown in during this afternoon’s continuing storm. We’d just been told that it was going to continue for another 36 hours, and so we were stuck in our tents for that time now anyway. The question is therefore: “what the f*** am I doing here”?!!

By the time dinner was ready, or actually well before it, I think my mind was probably made up, but I resolved to sleep (or try to) on things. Nothing happens quickly up here anyway, and it wasn’t as if I could just go if I wanted to. That would require a guide to get me down, transport back to La Paz, and probably a fair bit of money. Tomorrow would certainly be another day.

Bolivian Climber Day Seven

So today was the day that we would do our first climb. I was apprehensive, but not overly, as at least the climb was non-technical. But having not acclimatised as quickly as I would have hoped, then getting to above 17,500 feet may stretch me a little too far. There was of course only one way to find out.

The day was considerably cooler and windier than we had had previously, but the sky was totally clear. We had been forecast a dusting of snow for the afternoon, but hopefully nothing serious. After a breakfast of fruit and cereal, we were on our way by 9am, our objective the summit of Pico Austria. Pico Austria is a trekking peak, and hence there was no need to carry crampons or axes or use mountain boots. I just used approach shoes although most others used hiking boots.

Waking up at Condoriri Base Camp

Waking up at Condoriri Base Camp

The camp is in a bowl and is flanked by 5,000m peaks and so the sun takes a while to reach it and warm us up a bit.

The camp is in a bowl and is flanked by 5,000m peaks and so the sun takes a while to reach it and warm us up a bit.

We started off very slow and steady, the sun beginning to warm us up only gradually, and this was never really a day for a single layer, so light jackets were the norm. As we climbed out of base camp the views of the surrounding mountains began to get better and better, and base camp itself became a speck down below.

Setting off for Pico Austria.

Setting off for Pico Austria.

Llama are never far away in these parts.

Llama are never far away in these parts.

The group after about half way began to split, as fitness and acclimatisation rates took their toll. I stayed deliberately towards the back, just only wanting to do the bare minimum to get me up the mountain. Even though this was a serious summit, it was still supposed to be an acclimatisation peak, readying us for the main events ahead over the next two weeks. We could see as we climbed a better view of Pequena Alpameyo, which would be our first serious test in three days time. It looked quite frankly like a big pointed dome of ice, and I just pushed it to the back of my mind.

Taking a breather at about the half way point above 5,000m, the landscape changing quite significantly up here.

Taking a breather at about the half way point above 5,000m, the landscape changing quite significantly up here…

....and the views improving too!

….and the views improving too!

Not too far from the summit, Patrick passed his own altitude record of 5,189m, almost at the same time as his partner Lotte began to feel nauseous. Gavin hung back with them alongside a guide, and I stopped too, and we just meandered from there very slowly to the top, the others having already got there safely.

The final slog up the summit ridge.

The final slog up the summit ridge.

The summit was a largely safe affair, although it had a massive precipice behind the summit stones themselves. It was great to be there, and I felt fine, this being officially 5,340m, about the same height as Everest Base Camp, and the 650m of ascent had taken us just under three hours.

Gavin, Alessandro, Patrick and Lotte at the summit...

Gavin, Alessandro, Patrick and Lotte at the summit…

...and me and Wine Bear make it too :)

…and me and Wine Bear make it too 🙂

And my watch says 5,335m, or 17,600 feet.

And my watch says 5,335m, or 17,600 feet.

If you zoom in you'll see base camp down there by the lake a long way below.

If you zoom in you’ll see base camp down there by the lake a long way below.

We stayed up top for about half an hour and had lunch. I managed to get a fair few photos of Wine Bear, my Pete’s Dragons mascot. I think everyone now knew why I carried a teddy bear with me, which hopefully stopped everyone from thinking I was a weirdo :O, but no matter, I was very happy and not a little emotional that by taking Wine Bear on as many travels as possible, I was helping to promote the charity that is so incredibly dear to me.

In fact here's me and Wine Bear, and another nudge for Pete's Dragons, just for posterity......:)

In fact here’s me and Wine Bear, and another nudge for Pete’s Dragons, just for posterity……:)

At about 12.30 we began our descent. This was by slightly different route for the top third, allowing a scree ski for a fair while, which made for considerably more rapid progress than would otherwise have been the case. In fact the whole descent took only an hour or so.

Part of the descent through the scree field.

Part of the descent through the scree field.

Oh and for those of you who are interested, here’s my Garmin record of the climb: https://www.strava.com/activities/366959825

Back at camp we were fed some hot soup which was very welcome and then decamped to our tents for a while. At 4 when I was just about to fall asleep, we were called to go and do some fixed line practice, which was a rude awakening if ever there was one. So with helmets, harnesses and fixed line systems donned, we went up and down some makeshift ropes to practice our techniques. For me at least, if not everyone, this was invaluable, as I have never got to use a fixed line system before, other than a brief practice up and down my stairs at home! With big mountain gloves on it is tricky, and I can imagine in snow and with some only mild hypoxia it could be very testing indeed. We also practiced some abseiling/descending with a figure of eight, although we may not need to use this in anger on the mountain.

Fixed line practice above Base Camp.

Fixed line practice above Base Camp.

And coming down the other side.

And coming down the other side.

After a dinner at the now customary time of 7pm, most of us retired very soon thereafter for an early night. Tomorrow we would get up onto the glacier for the first time, and so that should prove quite tiring too after what had been our first proper day doing the ‘exciting’ stuff. It would be above 5,000m again, but on ice and with crampons this time.

It had been a very successful day. A first summit in Bolivia, and 5,340m reached. So far so good then……

Bolivian Climber Day Six

Waking up to a frozen water bottle and a frozen pee bottle is a very big shock to the system, especially when you spent the previous day in shorts on a tourist boat at Copacabana beach on Lake Titicaca.

But frozen indeed everything was. We woke in tents at our pre-base camp situated at 4,417m in the middle of a pass heading up to Condoriri in the Cordilla Réal. I had slept very fitfully, and had the need for paracetamol in the middle of the night to stave off a reasonably significant headache. I hastily put my base layer and socks inside my sleeping bag to warm them up before I even thought of getting up.

The sun nearly reaches our tents at our first morning waking under canvas.

The sun nearly reaches our tents at our first morning waking under canvas.

And looking up the valley, the sun is about to poke its head around Huana Potosi too.

And looking up the valley, the sun is about to poke its head around Huana Potosi too.

The llamas meantime, know how to seek out a sunny spot.

The llamas meantime, know how to seek out a sunny spot.

Breakfast was a similarly cold affair in the dining tent, after we had packed the tents and bags ready for the impending mule train by about 7.30am. We eventually began walking at about 9am, by which time the sun had come up and the temperature had risen probably 20 degrees.

We set off up the dirt road and the conditions were breathless. The impending beast of Huana Potosi, at 6,088m loomed large in front of us most of the way. It looked colossal, and I wondered how achievable it really was, it being our third mountain of four this trip. But no matter, we had to get to Base Camp and hopefully achieve two other even more technical mountains first!

Huana Potosi - not looking quite so imposing here, but in real life it is quite a sight.

Huana Potosi – not looking quite so imposing here, but in real life it is quite a sight.

About half way into the journey we turned off the dust track and headed up the side of a lake and onto a mountain path. Never steep, it gently turned up towards the Condoriri mountains, which looked very steep and dangerous, precipitous ceracs hanging from huge glaciers.

The Condoriri range comes into view.

The Condoriri range comes into view.

And the mule train brings in all of our equipment and supplies.

And the mule train brings in all of our equipment and supplies.

The mules passing us by at their own quite sedate pace, but I would too if I had a table on my back!

The mules passing us by at their own quite sedate pace, but I would too if I had a table on my back!

We stopped for a break at the edge of a lake overlooking the mountains, and we could now see our first two objectives too. On our left, Pico Austria, tomorrow’s objective at 5,300m, looked considerably larger than her actual height. Far far in the distance above a large glacier peered the summit of Pequena Alpameyo, which looked far steeper than the proclaimed 60 degrees in the brochure. I reminded myself that this trip was called Bolivian CLIMBER, and now I knew why. I also turned round to Olan, our guide, and said “bloody hell that looks ridiculously steep!”. Instead of him replying with what I expected to be something like “ah don’t worry it’s not so bad when you’re on it”, he just said “yep”. I shuddered slightly. This was going to be far far more difficult than anything I had attempted before, but I blocked those thoughts out and carried on with the trek and resolved to just take one day at a time.

On our way into Condoriri Base Camp - this lake is at 4,600m.

On our way into Condoriri Base Camp – this lake is at 4,600m. Pico Austria, tomorrow’s objective, is on the left.

We reached Base Camp not long after midday, and after deliberating about whether or not (the answer was not) to do some fixed rope practice in the afternoon, we ended up with the rest of the day to ourselves. This was great, as it gave the opportunity to just get used to the altitude and acclimatise. We were just above 4,700m, a height at which I had only slept three or four times previously, and so I’d need to get used to it, especially as we would be here for five nights.

Some of the others went on an acclimatisation walk up the ridge to take them higher still, but about half of us decided that this was high enough for now. We also needed the rest, tomorrow’s 5,340m summit attempt was going to be a tough effort both in terms of altitude and effort, so a rest was to me just perfect.

Camp is set again, this time we will be here for five nights at Condoriri Base Camp.

Camp is set again, this time we will be here for five nights at Condoriri Base Camp.

After a peaceful afternoon involving a short walk to the lake and a few games of cards (a Norwegian game called ‘President’ was fun, even if I ended up becoming the ‘bum’) the temperature dropped rapidly even before the sun went down. Olan told us that there was some snow forecast for tomorrow, so although we wouldn’t be on the glacier, conditions might be tricky.

Bed came early at about 8pm as everyone just wanted to get into their sleeping bags. Tomorrow would hopefully be a very good day, and a first summit. My head was clear, I was finally ready.

Bolivian Climber Day Five

So today was the day that would see us finally move into the mountains. And as enjoyable an adventure as the last four days had been, we were all I think ready for it. The last couple of days had however seen a bit of altitude and a good bit of walking, but we were here for the mountains after all.

We breakfasted at the EcoLodge in Copacabana for the second and last time at 7.30, and after a bit of a delay for the bus to get to us due to traffic (today was Independence Day in Bolivia) we were on our way not long after 9.

The bus took us back about two thirds of the way to La Paz, and back over the little ferry crossing over the inlet of Titicaca. Then after a fascinating stop at a boat builder’s cottage who had been involved in the Kontiki expeditions, we turned off towards the Andes and our destination of Condiriri where Base Camp was situated.

Some parting shots of Titicaca, this one right the Peruvian Border...

Some parting shots of Titicaca, this one right the Peruvian Border…

...and this is Peru!

…and this is Peru!

And for posterity's sake, this is where we were...

And for posterity’s sake, this is where we were…

And it is back on the ferry again to cross back over the inlet....

And it is back on the ferry again to cross back over the inlet….

....with the bus following alongside us separately.

….with the bus following alongside us separately.

The boatbuilders cottage.

The boatbuilders cottage.

The road to Condoriri was just a dirt track, very bumpy and with virtually no passing places, so it was just as well in the hour or so that we were on it that we only met one other vehicle. The coach driver actually drove quicker on this road than he had on the main highway, making the ups and downs literally lift you off your chair at times.

We're in the wilderness now...

We’re in the wilderness now…

We stopped in the end in more or less the middle of nowhere, although there was one farm building nearby which seemed to be occupied. We were at 4,417m already, and we were to stop here (not at Base Camp as I’d thought before) for the rest of the day and night. We first ate lunch and then helped pitch tents next to a herd of llamas and alpacas (I’m still at times struggling to tell the difference between the two creatures, although I know that Llamas have longer necks, and that alpacas have more rounded backs).

Time to get camped then.

Time to get camped then.

A Trango 3 tent, home for however long it took from here.

A Trango 3 tent, home for however long it took from here.

After this we were free to take it easy if we wished, but everyone wanted to go and walk. Each side of the camp were ridges about 250m high, and so we all strolled up in various combinations, very much ‘pole pole’ style, as this took us to 4,650m (15,300 feet), much higher than we’d been so far.

If you zoom in you'll see our tents are down there in that valley somewhere.

If you zoom in you’ll see our tents are down there in that valley somewhere. Already this is 15,300 feet.

Huana Potosi (6,088m), nest week's objective, looms into view.

Huana Potosi (6,088m), nest week’s objective, looms into view.

When we got back down I had a bit of a mild headache so chose to just have a lie down in the tent, which was quite nice to just relax. By the time dinnertime came at 7pm it was completely pitch black, a reminder of the fact that despite the elevation, we were in the tropics after all, and so 12 hours of daylight and darkness are the year round constant. It was also now bitterly cold, and so two jackets, one down, hats etc were necessary to stay warm.

By the end of a three course dinner, when we got to meet our new guides, and had a briefing on what to expect over the next few days by Olan, it was time for an early night at about 8.30. Getting into a sleeping bag for the first time on the trip as in a way nice. It was the first time I’d been back in my bag since Camp Cholera in Argentina in January and my unsuccessful attempt to summit Aconcagua. I just hoped that this trip was going to give me some success, but of course I also just wanted it to be a good trip, be enjoyable, and to return home safely. Anything else is always a bonus.

Tomorrow we would need to have the tents down and our bags packed by 8am to trek to Base Camp at 4,700m, and our first summit attempt would be the day after that. It was all of a sudden getting very serious.

Bolivian Climber Day Four

As days go, apart from those on the mountains themselves, this day will stand out in my memories for an awful long time. To be on a boat trip in perfect weather, and lunching on The Island of the Sun in the middle of Lake Titicaca, is surely something that few people will ever do. And here we were having it thrown in as part of our acclimatisation routine.

When I had first read the trip dossier and had seen the listing for Titicaca, I had been if not exactly non-plussed, then certainly not over-excited. I can only say now, having had the privilege to go, is that it is a totally stunning and magical place, with some views that will absolutely take your breath away. I will put a picture here below of my lunch spot, taken from the Island of the Sun, looking over the Island of the Moon, with the Cordillera Real spoke of the Andes mountains framed by the sun over Lake Titicaca herself. The phrase “died and gone to heaven”, whilst an overused cliché, is here simply a gross understatement.

Looking out to Illiampu, at 6,430m in the Cordillera Real, the Island of the Moon in the foreground, taken from our lunch spot on the Island of the Sun. A forever memory for me.

Looking out to Illiampu, at 6,430m in the Cordillera Real, the Island of the Moon in the foreground, taken from our lunch spot on the Island of the Sun. A forever memory for me.

We set out at 8am and walked through into Copacabana past the still partying Peruvians. I wasn’t sure if they had started early, or were still going from the night before. Certainly the fireworks has been going long into the night, and made what would have otherwise been an idyllic and tranquil stay at the EcoLodge an interrupted night.

The view of the lake walking out of our lodge.....

The view of the lake walking out of our lodge…..

.....and the view along the shore looking towards Calvary Hill where we had walked up last evening.

…..and the view along the shore looking towards Calvary Hill where we had walked up last evening.

Leaving Copacabana behind.

Leaving Copacabana behind……

....and docking on a tiny jetty at Isla del Sol.

….and docking on a tiny jetty at Isla del Sol.

A boat awaited us and took us across a ridiculously tranquil part of the lake, past the hill we had climbed the night before, and towards the island which awaited us. Some 10 sq km in area, the Island of the Sun is the largest island on Titicaca, and takes an hour to reach by motor boat.

We reached the island by small inlet and a tiny jetty, the only boat around, and were taken up some steep steps to a ruined 11th Century fort come temple, which looked over to the Peaks of the Andes in the distance, and Illiampu (6,430m) in particular.

A view out from the stone fort.

A view out from the stone fort.

After a brief look at the temple, and some really great explanations on the local flora and fauna by César our guide, we began our trek up to the high point of the island, at 4,100m, so some 450m ascent for us. We discovered afterwards that technically there is another part of the island which is 4m higher, but that is a by the by.

The terraced landscape shows the island's reliance on agriculture for its produce, some of which we would sample later at lunch.

The terraced landscape shows the island’s reliance on agriculture for its produce, some of which we would sample later at lunch.

A typical island building, and its only form of transport in the front garden.

A typical island building, and its only form of transport in the front garden.

Resting at the high point by a light tower we took the following pictures:

Looking slightly East....

Looking slightly East….

..and slightly west, back towards Copacabana (out of shot here)...

..and slightly west, back towards Copacabana (out of shot here)…

....and South towards Illiampu and the rest of the Cordillers Real, the Island of the Moon in the foreground. I could have stood here forever.

….and South towards Illiampu and the rest of the Cordillers Real, the Island of the Moon in the foreground. I could have stood here forever.

And here is our whole group - from left to right, Lesley, Alessandro, Jim, John 1, Laura, Yours Truly, Gavin, Lotte, Patrick, and John 2.

And here is our whole group – from left to right, Lesley, Alessandro, Jim, John 1, Laura, Yours Truly, Gavin, Lotte, Patrick, and John 2.

We then began our descent towards the main port of the island and to a most majestic and beautiful inlet, with such pretty flowers and walkways that it could have been from a fairytale. Our boat awaited us and took us back around to the inlet we had first docked and we walked back up to a small stone house, where we were served a local Indian buffet of corn, potatoes, trout, chicken, and vegetables. It was amazing, and with the backdrop of the picture earlier, will go down as probably the best lunch I have ever had.

Local boy (who very enterprisingly charged me 2 Bolivianos for the privilege of taking his photograph) tasking his Alpaca for walkies.

Local boy (who very enterprisingly charged me 2 Bolivianos for the privilege of taking his photograph) tasking his Alpaca for walkies.

Walking down towards the main port.

Walking down towards the main port.

And the main source of water for the islanders, apparently the three outlets come from three different underground springs built by the Inca.

And the main source of water for the islanders, apparently the three outlets come from three different underground springs built by the Inca.

After lunch it was back onto our boat for the trip back to Copacabana, the unbroken sun glistening on the water and framing the Andes in the background the whole way. This is a magical and beautiful place in every sense.

A selection of the local produce for lunch, including the largest corn kernels I have ever seen!

A selection of the local produce for lunch, including the largest corn kernels I have ever seen!

and it is time to bid the island farewell....

and it is time to bid the island farewell….

...and a ride on top of the boat lets everyone enjoy the scenery even more.

…and a ride on top of the boat lets everyone enjoy the scenery even more.

When we got back to Copacabana we went up to the and had a look round the markets of the town. Unfortunately there were so many people as to make it a frustrating rather than pleasurable experience, but the day couldn’t be spoilt because of the morning trip.

...and trying to fight our way through the hordes....

…and trying to fight our way through the hordes….

The Basilica of Copacabana, a 16th Century shrine.

The Basilica of Copacabana, a 16th Century shrine.

After returning to the EcoLodge we ventured back into town for out last ‘proper’ meal of the trip, or at least the last one not in a tent at any rate. Despite a nice meal, the evening was significantly spoilt for one of the two Johns, who had his rucksack stolen in the restaurant from almost under his nose, by whom and how we will never know. He lost jackets, glasses, GPS amongst other things, so the rest of us are trying to cobble together stuff for him to borrow so he can continue his climb. It just shows you that you can never be too careful.

So then it was back to our hotel, the last night in a bed for us (bar one) until the return home to the UK in over two weeks time. Our acclimatisation attempts are over, and if you weren’t ready now you were never going to be. I had taken paracetamol for headaches the last two days, but finally felt free of the need to do so, although a bout of ‘travellers tummy’ reminded me that in foreign climes with substandard sanitation, you were never far away from the wrong side of feeling well.

Bolivia had so far served up some real treats, and had far outweighed my expectations in terms of experience. Tomorrow the ‘real’ adventure would begin – we would head off by bus to the Cordilla Réal and into the Andes. The mountains beckoned at last.

Bolivian Climber Day 3

Day three would see us leave the city of La Paz and head for two days at Lake Titicaca, slightly (but only slightly, at about 3,800m, or 12,500ft) higher than we were now by means of further acclimatisation.

We set out with just a rucksack of things that we would need for the two days, and all of our mountain equipment went off separately in our duffels which we would get at base camp at Condoriri on day five.

Our bus for Titicaca (and beyond, as they say) - a rickety old thing but it served us well.

Our bus for Titicaca (and beyond, as they say) – a rickety old thing but it served us well.

Leaving the city in a minibus which had certainly seen better days, we chugged our way up through the polluted north of the city and past El Alto, the new city by the airport. El Alto is certainly La Paz’s poorer relation. At a million people though, and still growing by 6% per year, it is the country’s second biggest city, and out of control in terms of waste, crime, infrastructure, and everything else. Pretty it most certainly is not.

A typical road/shop in El Alto

A typical road/shop in El Alto

And more El Alto scenes - this is the main street. The back streets which we would go through were much more barren and scarier, I didn't dare get my camera or phone out, even in the bus.

And more El Alto scenes – this is the main street. The back streets which we would go through were much more barren and scarier, I didn’t dare get my camera or phone out, even in the bus.

Travelling through the far side of El Alto it became clear that our bus was not going any further as there was a huge parade going down the centre of what appeared to be the only road through town. The parade was part of the Independence Day celebrations, which was in two days time.

The start of the Independence Day parade which halted our progress.

The start of the Independence Day parade which halted our progress.

It may not look that big from here, but this parade must have been at least two miles long!

It may not look that big from here, but this parade must have been at least two miles long!

The bus ended up following other traffic which was trying to do the same as us and circumnavigate the town. The only way to do so was through incredibly bumpy dirt tracks. This led to various dead ends, and also going through some very dodgy back streets where there were mannequins hung on the walls of houses with messages threatening death by burning and torture to those who contemplated burglary. I was glad the bus didn’t break down or get a puncture, as a bunch of tourists in mountain gear and glacier sunglasses would really have stuck out like a sore thumb.

Having eventually cleared El Alto (it must have taken an hour) we were now on miles and miles of very dry plains, the Altiplano. The Altiplano is an agricultural area growing principally potatoes and quinoa, although how anything grows in such a desolate area at 13,000 feet is beyond me.

A section of the Altiplano, a bland featureless high altitude desert/scrubland.

A section of the Altiplano, a bland featureless high altitude desert/scrubland.

Eventually we got our first site of Lake Titicaca, and it looked magnificent, even though we could only see a very small portion of it. Having said that, a small portion is all you will ever see of it, as at 5,500 square miles, the word colossal doesn’t even come close to describing it. It was a pleasure to see after the scary trip through El Alto.

First sighting of the quite magnificent Lake Titicaca.

First sighting of the quite magnificent Lake Titicaca.

The lake begins to open up in terms of scale.

The lake begins to open up in terms of scale.

We then after about another hour got down to the edge of the lake and to get to our destination we needed to cross part of it. To do so the bus had to go on a barge without us as passengers, and we had get get onto a mini covered speedboat, which was so low in the water that the lake was almost at eye level as you sat down. Thankfully the crossing was only 800m or so, and passed otherwise without incident, although it was certainly an exciting way to break up the journey.

Our method of transport across the lake......

Our method of transport across the lake……

And inside the boat......

And inside the boat……

Our bus followed in an only slightly larger barge.

Our bus followed in an only slightly larger barge.

Meanwhile the 6th of August (still two days away) celebrations continued on the shoreline.

Meanwhile the 6th of August (still two days away) celebrations continued on the shoreline.

Although some of the locals seems more enthusiastic than others

Although some of the locals seem more enthusiastic than others

The journey to Copacabana, our resort destination on the edge of the lake, took four and a half hours in total. Copacabana it seems was the ‘original’ one, and is steeped in history. It is also a place of pilgrimage for many thousands of Peruvians, all of whom were parked along the shore of the lake partying like it was the end of the world. And this was 3pm.

First view of the resort of Copacabana, our home for the next two days.

First view of the resort of Copacabana, our home for the next two days.

The Ecolodge, a bit of an oasis in the madness of Copacabana, thankfully it was right at the far end of the town itself.

The Ecolodge, a bit of an oasis in the madness of Copacabana, thankfully it was right at the far end of the town itself.

Having dropped our stuff off at the EcoLodge, our home for the next two nights, we went for a walk up to the top of the hill (Cerro Calvario) which overlooks the town. This proved fairly tricky for two reasons. Firstly it would be the first time we had walked up to 4,000m, and the thin air was hard work. Secondly we had to push our way though all manner of Peruvian stalls, hawkers, buskers, religious fanatics queuing to place candles, and just general drunken folk. It was madness. There were firecrackers going off everywhere, and the air was ripe with the smell of manner of substances, some of which might have got me up the hill quicker, but thankfully only the smell came close to me!

Walking back towards the hill in town.....

Walking back towards the hill in town…..

The Peruvians like to dress up their cars and vans for the part too!

The Peruvians like to dress up their cars and vans for the part too!

More llama foetuses and armadillos on display though I'm afraid.

More llama foetuses and armadillos on display though I’m afraid.

Eventually we would begin to wind our way up the hill, even though the people were everywhere.

Eventually we would begin to wind our way up the hill, even though the people were everywhere.

Reaching the top of the hill, which is basically a religious shrine, we admired the great view back down over Copacabana beach.

View back down from the top of Calvario Hill.

View back down from the top of Calvario Hill. As you may be able to see, there are probably 2,000 Peruvian cars and busses parked along the beach!

We also got to share the top with approximately 10,000 mainly drunken Peruvians, although many were also there (presumably slightly less inebriated) to just light candles and get their blessing. The blessing itself does however involve much beer throwing and drinking, one of the strangest rituals I have ever witnessed. They also douse their cars in confetti, party hats, garlands, and more beer. Quite a sight, is all I can say, but again it is amazing to see other people’s traditions and rituals, one of the wonders of travel that I am so grateful for.

And this is what they come for.....

And this is what they come for…..

...in their masses, to worship at the 13 crosses on the top of the hill.

…in their masses, to worship at the 13 crosses on the top of the hill.

Part of the view out over the lake as the sun starts to go down. It was transfixing, and intoxicating, and not just because of all the smells wafting around on the top of the hill!

Part of the view out over the lake as the sun starts to go down. It was transfixing, and intoxicating, and not just because of all the smells wafting around on the top of the hill!

We got down the hill just before sunset and ate dinner in a thankfully fairly quiet beachfront restaurant before heading back in total darkness to the EcoLodge, followed by a multitude of stray dogs, but thankfully by no Peruvians, who by now were just wandering around aimlessly or playing ridiculously loud pan pipe music and dancing like idiots. Good for them!

It had been a great day, as unexpected as it was interesting. Lake Titicaca herself, the reason we were here in the first place, would reveal herself in all her majestic glory in tomorrow’s boat trip to the largest island on the lake, Isla Del Sol, or The Island of The Sun. But I was loving it already. An early night beforehand however was as welcome as it was much needed.

Bolivian Climber Day Two

Day two of the trip was to be spent ‘at leisure’ in La Paz. Having only flown in the day before, and having flown overnight, everyone was pretty much sleep deprived, and also we needed badly to get used to the altitude. We were already at 3,700m, higher than many, if not most, European mountains, and in the highest capital city in the world. A good time to explore and make the most of it. It was to be an incredible day.

There was an organised activity laid on by Jagged Globe, lest we lay too idle, in the form of a city tour. This was to take the form of a walking tour, for two reasons: firstly it was good for everyone to stretch their legs and get a bit of exercise, and secondly we’d get around quicker. As we’d discover, whilst La Paz is not exactly Kathmandu when it comes to traffic congestion, it can nonetheless hold its own with most places I’ve ever seen for gridlock and horn-blaring standstills.

Our guide was Rosemary, of Aymara origin. Bolivia it turns out, is still about 70% indiginous population, with most of the remainder being Spanish settlers. The Aymara and Quechua people, both of whom have their own languages, make up the vast bulk of this 70%. We learned a lot about Bolivia, it’s origins, how it got its independence, about Simon Bolivar, about religion (Bolivia is an almost entirely Catholic country for example), and many other customs including why the ladies wear bowler hats (marriage, basically) and the cholitas. It was fascinating. The tour including lunch took almost six hours, by which time we’d walked and also cable-carred around a sizeable chunk of the La Paz downtown areas. The cable car took us back up to El Alto, where the airport is, at 4,200m.

We visited city squares and parks, markets, the infamous San Pedro prison, and otherwise got to go to many places where as a tourist you wouldn’t normally have trodden. It felt safe, if slightly edgy, but not uncomfortably so.

The tour was fantastic, and probably more informative and interesting than any tour I’ve ever been on. La Paz is a bit of a crazy city, being known amongst other things for the somewhat scary San Pedro prison, which is slap bang in the middle of town. It also has many markets, where you can freely buy coca leaves (which I did!). The most famous, or infamous of these is the Witches Market.

View from my hotel, early morning, this in the very heart of the city.

View from my hotel, early morning, this in the very heart of the city.

A typical downtown city square

A typical downtown city square

They use 'zebra crossings' too, but theirs are a little more animated than ours!

They use ‘zebra crossings’ too, but theirs are a little more animated than ours!

The infamous San Pedro prison. It almost looks nice from here, but believe me it isn't.

The infamous San Pedro prison. It almost looks nice from here, but believe me it isn’t.

San Pedro used to allow outsiders, family members, and even tourist tours to come inside the gates, but not any more. It is a notorious crack den, and about 1,500 hardened criminals live inside its walls. There are moves to close it down and move the inmates to a different location, but there is much resistance, most fiercely apparently from the inmates themselves…

A typical La Paz street market. Note in the background how steeply the houses rise into the hillside.

A typical La Paz street market. Note in the background how steeply the houses rise into the hillside.

Buying the abundant coca leaves in a street market....

Buying the abundant coca leaves in a street market….

....and being shown how to fold and chew them, by Rosemary our Almaya guide

….and being shown how to fold and chew them, by Rosemary our Aymara guide.

The Witches Market is a hotch-potch of tiny shops and kiosks, selling an array of trinkets and potions alongside the ubiquitous alpaca and llama scarves and clothing. At first when you approach the area you see what appear to be cuddly toys hanging above the doors and windows. They then give way to something considerably more sinister however, for hung outside every store, and in plentiful baskets inside too, are hundreds of llama foetuses, in varying states of decomposition. I have never seen anything quite like it.

These are neither cuddly toys nor fake in any way whatsoever...

These are neither cuddly toys nor fake in any way whatsoever…

.....most of the shops contain offerings to Pachamama, the goddess of Mother Earth.

…..most of the shops contain offerings to Pachamama, the goddess of Mother Earth. Oh and beer too, as you can see!

Inside on of the witches shops. Fascinating!

Inside one of the witches shops. Fascinating!

The story goes, that the witches market gets its name from the ladies who would collect things from the altiplano to sell. Most of the indigenous population worship or believe in the spirit of Pachamama, the goddess of the Mother Earth. The llama foetus is revered for apparently bringing good luck and good health to houses when they are built, and this is the reason for their sale. They are put amongst incense and other symbols of good luck and burned in the foundations.

The ladies themselves were labelled as witches by the Catholic community and so came to be the witches market where they still sell their somewhat frightening wares. For me there is a fine line between respecting local and indigenous traditions, and being appalled by something as ostensibly appalling as llama foetuses. This is particularly the case when I learned that they are largely obtained by being pulled from the wombs of the mothers who are killed for their meat. I’ll pass no opinion as to which side of the fence I’m on, but I nonetheless found the experience one that will stay with me for a very long time indeed. There are also dried frogs and armadillos here. I should also say that I found the ‘yatari’, who are the people from whom the witches belong (they are considered a sub class of the Aymara by the locals), were among the friendliest, most humble and welcoming people I have ever come across in my life.

We then took one of the the four cable car lines out of the city up towards El Alto. El Alto (literally ‘The Heights’) is Bolivia’s second biggest city, and is effectively joined to La Paz, but is so radically different. A city of a million people in its own right, it is very poor. I would see much more of El Alto the following day. La Paz itself is home to about 1.7m people, and is in a big bowl, or canyon, which millions of years ago was basically a big lake.

View from the cable car up to El Alto...

View from the cable car up to El Alto…

...and the view back across the city towards the centre. Illimani dominates the backdrop, even if it is over 50 miles away!

…and the view back across the city towards the centre. Illimani dominates the backdrop, even if it is over 50 miles away!

Travelling back into La Paz itself by cable car again, passing massive walled cemeteries of the likes I have never seen before, we then ate in a traditional Bolivian restaurant of the kind that you’d never ever venture into if you weren’t being taken there by a guide. I also got to taste my first llama. I am not sure I really wanted to, but it is all part of the experience I suppose. For the record it tasted somewhere between lamb and beef I’d say, and I won’t be rushing to eat it again.

 

When we finally got back to the hotel it was time for our kit inspection by Olan, which as far as I’m aware everyone passed. We then had to pack all of our mountain kit which would be transported separately from us to Base Camp at Cordilera, our first objective in two days time. It brought the reality back into focus of why we were here, such a different thing to switch to after all the things we had seen during the day. We also packed our rucksacks with basic kit ready for two days acclimatisation at Lake Titicaca, and separately left anything we didn’t want in the mountains in a separate bag which would stay at the hotel.

In the evening we were free to do as we pleased, and so John, Laura, Gavin and I went and found an Argentinian restaurant (Gaucho), where the steak was monstrous (and that is an understatement!) and delicious, and the Cabernet Sauvignon (Trapiche Reserva) fabulous. I’m not sure that the latter was the best idea as part of an acclimatisation programme, but nonetheless it went down very well, which is a good thing in itself. The second bottle went down even better…..well, it’s all carbohydrate as they say 🙂

The next morning we would check out of La Paz to head to the largest lake in South America on the Peruvian border, all 5,500 square miles of the fabled Lake Titicaca. The journey was already really coming alive in so many ways, and the educational trip around La Paz just made me want to see and know so much more about Bolivia – it was already becoming a brilliant trip, and it was only one day in.