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Bolivian Climber Day Nine

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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 3

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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

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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.