Part 4 - La Paz to Sucre
Mosquitoes 65 (bites) - John 39 (kills) - again, no Mosquitoes - you’re joking aren’t you! It was far, far too cold and far, far too high.
Leaving La Paz…
Cast: John, Catherine, Mark, Michelle, Victoria and friends.
We happy few departed the ridiculously high city of La Paz in the early hours of a brisk, breathless Friday morning. The destination, Uyuni and the reputedly stunning salt lakes of Bolivia. Now, Bolivia is not the most advanced and wealthy of countries and the transport system is a little hit and miss at the best of times. As such, our journey to Uyuni was supposed to include a 3 hour bus journey and then a trip over night in relative luxury on the train. The train that departs from Orori, a grim little town, just twice a week.
We arrived at the train station to find that, contrary to the promises of our tour agency, it was not possible to buy tickets on the day. Hmmm. Our options, a local night bus to Uyuni which took an unmentionable number of hours, and, well, that was about it. However, we industrious souls, along with some highly energetic and optimistic friends from Holland hatched a hair brain scheme to hire our own little mini-van for the trip. Not to be put off by the initial looks of disbelief from the mini-van drivers we hailed, we eventually managed to persuade a driver, and notably his wife, to take us all the way for the handsome sum of 800 Bolivianos, around 80 quid or $120.
They promised to return in an hour. We lined up with our packs feeling rather pleased with ourselves to wait and wait, and wait. After chasing around town to try and hire a driver and then a 4×4 we finally admitted defeat, acknowledged that promises round here are not worth a Boliviano, bought a ticket for the overnight bus and decamped to a restaurant for refreshment, cards and scrabble.
We boarded the bus with noses wrinkled and eyebrows raised. Not quite the bed we had planned for the night. Things continued to improve when the bus was filled way way beyond the number of seats available. This meant that my already limited space was heavily contested with an elderly indian couple - who I think last had a bath in the 20th Century when they were but children - a variety of elbows, dirty hands, sacks of foodstuffs and small dogs.
A few hours into this fabulous journey there was a deep and decibelic brumphsssstch from the back axle and the bus careered wildly for a few scary seconds accompanied by the screams of some and the sleepy “tranquilo, tranquilo” of others less concerned with this chain of events. The bus was got back under control and without stopping proceeding on to the next village.
Mark and I got off at this point to stretch the old legs and were joined by a few others including some of our Dutch friends. Wrong move. We looked up and saw to our distress the bus moving swiftly away. Laughing nervously to ourselves at first, we soon became rather concerned and very, very cold. What had happened to the girls and the others of our party, would the bus come back, where the hell were we, will we ever be warm again, etc. etc. Over an hour later the bus returned with puncture, for that was the problem, “fixed” . We could at last continue on our merry way, bounced out of our senses and seats on the amazingly rocky road, trying in vain to sleep. Finally we arrived in sub-zero Uyuni and virtually bashed down the door of a hostal for a few precious hours of sleep.
Saturday morning soon arrived and so the start of our tour of the salt lakes and remote lakes. We were lucky enough to have a very friendly and obliging driver and unlucky enough to have the slowest 4×4 in the tour fleet. We would constantly leave the earliest, this being a long time before the crack of dawn on all occasions, and watch in dismay as car after car passed us full of whooping tourists grinning smugly from ear to ear. The car was also bereft of any form of heating and believe you me, these early mornings had to rate amongst the coldest conditions I have ever experienced. The accommodation on this trip was also a little rustic and the toilet facilities unmentionable.
These encumbrances aside, the trip was fantastic. The salt lakes were incredibly beautiful. Immense expanses of salt, patterned in geometric shapes, surrounded by snow capped mountain peaks and finished off with a deep blue sky. We also visited the Isla de Pescado - home to giant cacti, lakes of red, green and white - some host to flamingos, snow covered mountain passes at nearly 5000 meters, dramatic mountain scapes, natural hot springs and geysers so high up the walk to them nearly turned us into ice.
Having experienced this literally breathtaking scenery it was time to say goodbye to my very good friends Catherine, Mark, Michelle and Vicky. They were crossing into Chile and I was taking the long trip back to Uyuni. I set off with some new companions, Cris a lovely Brazilian girl and Vladimir a guide and super chap from Sucre, Bolivia. The first part of the journey was uneventful but the morning (night) after I awoke to find the driver of this other useless 4×4 setting fire to the front of his car!? In order to thaw out the radiator I assumed but didn’t venture to ask. We had to stop every 20 minutes to refill the radiator turning a 2 hour journey into 4 hours of shivering in the back huddled under sleeping bags for warmth. After visiting the beautiful and bizarre train cemetery I checked into a hotel and had a much needed hot shower. Cris and I were lucky enough to visit the salt lakes again for an amazing sunset before saying our goodbyes.
My next stop in Bolivia was Potosi famous for it’s huge mining industry, fueled initially by the Spanish search for silver. The bus ride from Uyuni was along a poor dirt road as usual but passed through some truly amazing scenery. You could be forgiven for thinking that Clint Eastwood would come riding through the barren lands in one of his Spaghetti Westerns.
In Potosi I arranged to take a tour down one of the mines. The private companies have pulled out of most of these mines now and they are worked by a cooperative of individual miners, in almost medieval conditions. The Spanish truly exploited the indigenous people here. Using them as slave labour to extract the silver and encouraging them to chew coca leaves and not to waste time eating. The leaves suppress hunger and help with the conditions down in the mine as well as working at altitude. This is after they originally banned it and described it as heretical.
Our tour with Oswald began by getting decked out in over trousers, jacket, wellington boots, hard hat and miners lamp. Very attractive, no pictures available. We then put in some money to buy presents for the miners of coca leaves, dynamite, gloves and socks and drinks. Oswald then showed us the almost 95% proof alcohol the miners drink, allowed us to smell it and then proceeded to keep his own spirits up by taking healthy swigs of it for the next four hours. Nutter.
The experience truly an eye opener. We were down in the depths of the mountain. Climbing through dangerous passages. Setting off dynamite - the noise was incredible and you could feel the vibrations rebounding off your rib cage. Watching the drillers with a life expectancy of 40 to 45 years hard at work. Finally and firstly, paying homage (and giving cigarettes) to the devil statues they worship down here - they are of course all catholics above ground but in the mine it is diablo who pulls the strings. It was with tremendous relief that we got back above ground and could breath fresh air once again.
After the horrors of Potosi and the cold of Uyuni it was a blessed relief to arrive in Sucre, the true capital of Bolivia. It’s a beautiful city with a fabulous climate. Warm, sunny and 25 degrees pretty much everyday, lovely colonial architecture in white stone and palm trees in the main plaza! Bliss!
I spent about a week just relaxing and enjoying myself with some great people. Eating incredible steaks in restaurants unknown to tourists - enjoying the company, food and drink in Joy Ride Cafe, the beautiful seven waterfalls no-one knows about and the interesting dinosaur tracks.
Frank, Erik, Anne, Saskia, Ami, Carolina, Pamela and last but not least Vladimir, hello and thanks for a great time. Special thanks to Vlad for the introductions, Frank for the excellent company (Danish / English combinations spell danger) and Erik for the music and flexible cafe hours! Also a hi to Ton and Han my frequent pals in Bolivia. Sorry everyone else for the Oscar acceptance speech.
“Never get out of the bus. Absolutely goddam right”
Until next time for those promised alligators, anaconda and the most dangerous road in the world….
John