Again I think it´s been a little too long since my last post and with many of you still possibly nursing hangovers, I´ll try and keep it brief.
Starting way back on the 20th, apart from writing my blog, me, Max and Sascha played it safe and had a curry at an authentic English-Indian restaurant. Though the tikka massala wasn´t quite up there with what I usually get on Burton Road and the naan was more like a stale loaf of Hovis, it was still a very tasty meal and it did it´s job in offering up something a little different.
The following day, a Monday, was comprised mainly of walking the streets of La Paz with the standout period being a visit to the Coca Museum. Here , we learned about the benefits the coca leaf brings to the indigenous population and the other side of the coin; the mass scale production of cocaine. After a very informative tour, we sat down for coca tea and cookies that although green, were rather delicious.
Tuesday the 22nd hit me quick with an early start and an excursion to Tiwanaku, a pre-Inca site located close to the Peruvian border. Although there were many fascinating revelations, I´d have been more than happy to just read about this in a book as visiually it was a little underwhelming. I did eat more llama though and have a good sleep on the way back.
In the evening we went to a fancy restaurant for Sascha´s birthday (the day after) and I had my finest Bolivian pasta to date. On a roll I tried the tiramisu but this was largely frozen so I went home in a bit of a slump.
On the Wednesday I did very little apart from sit at an internet cafe trying to upload as many pictures as I could. I also said goodbye to the Dutch people as they went in search of the jungle for a few days. From Loki Hostel, I moved to Adventure Brew Too, where I enjoyed the daily free beer.
Of my previous 26 Christmas Eves, this one was not one of my best. In the morning I set out with a fairly warm group of people who individually were pleasant but nonetheless later showed a darker side as a collective. With the original objective of booking the ¨Death Road¨ bike ride together, things soon fell apart when we arrived at the biking office. In a short space of time, we discovered there were only four places available for the five of us. Naturally, I iniitally thought of alternatives like a different date or agency but then a disturbing silence and threatening atmosphere presented itself. I sensed the group looking my way until eventually I caved in and offered to pull out of the trip. With little thanks or consideration, everyone promptly agreed and continued to sign the papers and try on the gear. Meanwhile, my mood toward the group took a bit of a nose dive. The rest of the day was filled with some shopping for tea and then a buffet in the evening. Fortunately I was rescued by a fella called Ryan and we went for a few beers over the road with another great character, Andrew. We laughed about my miserable day and enjoyed a good session of man banter while overlooking the city.
Christmas Day started with a brief present-opening session followed by a trip to the bus station to wave goodbye to my close one-day friend Andrew. Me and Ryan then made our way to an English pub where we eagerly awaited Christmas dinner, as booked by the group I met the previous day. I suppose unsurprisingly, we got bumped off this as well, as overnight they made more friends and eventually filled the table of fourteen with new feet and faces. On the way out I made a point of waving goodbye, angered at their treatment of fellow travellers at such a time of year.
The result from the fallout was a spaghetti carbonara for me while listening to Chris de Burgh in an Italian retsaurant with Ryan. Back at the hostel we endured three hours of the fim Alexander.
Boxing Day felt a little more normal as it was largely dominated by watching football at a pub. After watching three games back-to-back, I went to book my biking tour and a three day trek up Huayna Potosi. As fate would have it, a few people had dropped out of the biking trip meaning I would be going with the group of scoundrels afterall. This made my day.
Despite a slight air of tension in the mini-bus, we all made it in one piece to the start point of the bike ride on Sunday morning. For those who may have missed Top Gear this Christmas, the road we were to cycle down is known infamously as the World´s Most Dangerous. Why? Well, it runs for around 65km and for the most part, there are sheer drops of up to two thousand feet with no barriers to be seen and rarely does it get much wider than eight or nine feet. Only in the last few years has an alternate road been built, meaning buses and trucks travelling from La Cumbre to Coroica no longer need to use this narrow and heart-stopping track.
Anyhow, we got on our bikes and started the eleven thousand feet descent with a section of tarmac and plenty of wind in the hair. Myself and a couple of Dutch amigos set the pace for the most part and eventually we arrived at the true start of the ¨Death Road¨. From here on down, it was an epic and nerve-jangling experience; passing crosses, waterfalls, mammoth drops and the odd truck lying in the bowels of the valley. By lunchtime we´d made it to the bottom where a hotel pool and buffet dinner greated our trembling bodies.
Back at the hostel, me and the Dutch cyclists discussed our days triumph and were rewarded further with a free beer, although it came at a cost; carrying up two barrels of beer over four floors which greatly upset my fingers.
Monday was fairly calm and served mainly as a day of preparation for my mountain trek the following day. From the ¨Black Market¨ I managed to pick up some thermal gloves, a woolly hat and a few pairs of long socks. I enjoyed my free beer more than normal that evening, knowing it´d be my last for three days.
On Tuesday morning I was joined outside the Travel Tracks office by Cliff, a Kiwi (not in the same context as a mango or peach), and Sarah, a physio from London. We climbed in a van with two guides and for two hours rumbled our way up out of La Paz and towards the base camp of Huayna Potosi.
Often regarded as one of the world´s easiest six thousand metre climbs, the mountain is nevertheless one hell of a challenge. With base camp already at four thousand seven hundred metres, oxygen is already scarce and if you´re not already well aclimatised, you will doubtless fail the trek.
Arriving at around noon, we filled our bellies with rice, chicken and potato before taking a one hour walk to the base of a glacier for form ice-climbing. Here we mastered this art to a sufficient level and I also enjoyed a light snack of glacier ice while witnessing substantial areas of the glacier melt away as if it were being microwaved.
We returned to the refuge and proceded to play just short of forty games of ¨Uno¨ before another meal and an early night.
Again on Wednesday we rose early, this time climbing over five hundred metres with our fully loaded backpacks to High Camp. Sarah, being the smaller of the group undoubtedly had the hardest task as her backpack almost dwarfed her own body.
With the final day looming we ate plenty and were in bed for 6PM. Although shattered, we had much to ponder having seen roughly fifty percent of the previous days climbers fail the trek. We weren´t taking this lightly and this weighed heavy throughout the night.
With Thursday barely a minute old, we were awoken by our guides and promptly served breakfast. By 1Am we were geared up and ready to take on the six hour, one thousand metre high gauntlet that lay ahead. With two nights-worth of snow covering our path, life was made even more difficult but soon we got into a slow but efficient rythm.
Along the way, Sarah vomitted several times whilst me and Cliff took altitude sickness tablets and paracetemol at regular intervals. By the time the summit was in striking distance we´d covered several miles of terrain while also scaling two ice walls. The latter was only a few metres short of the summit, but covered in thick snow, it was equivalent to the travelator on the Gladiators. Only far more difficult. I hacked away with my ice axe like Michael Myers and my arms and legs behaved like the paws of a gerbil in it´s spinning wheel.
By 7AM we´d done it and oh my life was it worth it. From the peak we could see Lake Titicaca in Peru, the Amazon and the entirity of the Cordillera Real mountain range. As planned, I lit a Cuban cigar to celebrate the moment, despite the almost complete lack of oxygen.
The mood was soon quelled however with the realisation that we still had a two hour descent in the baking sun ahead of us. We made it but by the time we´d arrived back at base camp at noon, we were all completely broken.
The minibus took us back to La Paz and for most of the afternoon, I was a curled up ball of tranquility back in my bed. In the evening we rendez-vous´d for a meal with the returning Max and Sascha and reflected on one of the greatest chellenges of our lives. To celebrate the New Year we stood on the roof terrace at the hostel and enjoyed a panoramic firework display over the city. I barely made half past twelve and so it was a tired but exceptional end to 2009.
Yesterday I took it easy, wandering around the city, making phone calls and hanging out in internet cafes. Of my acheivements, I booked myself into the Hotel Copacabana where I am staying tonight in the same room once occupied by a certain Che Guevara. For supper our group of five enjoyed a very lively Lebanese meal and afterwards me and Cliff found a popular drinking spot to see out the night.
Today I moved into my hotel room, complete with four beds, two TVs, a bath and large balcony. With my three day Che trip starting on Wednesday, I thought it only fitting that I follow the route he took some forty four years ago, begining in room 304 but hopefully not ending in death in the hamlet of La Higuera.
Thanks for the birthday wishes, Jim. Glad you're enjoying yourself. What happened to "keeping it brief" with this post, though?
ReplyDelete