After the anti climax of my first attempt to get to know Bolivia I decided to take a slightly different approach to things. I'd been in La Paz for a few days since arriving back from Wuayna Potosi, but most of that time was spent writing my blogs on Peru. With them out of the way I was defiantly looking around for a change of scenery. I'd read about a place in the mountains called Sorata, which sounded like the perfect place to go and relax for a few days to get over the disappointment of my last adventure. Gareth had made his way to Santiago by this stage so I was now travelling alone again for the first time in a few months. One of the things that really appealed to me about Sorata was a camping ground that it had. With the addition of a tent to all my things I'd been looking for opportunities to use it whenever I could. This place was about a three hour ride north of La Paz, back in the direction of Lake Titikaka. It required a ride in a collectivo, which are never rides that I look forward to. They are a cheap way to travel, but most of the time you have to wait around much longer than what they tell you, as they try and fill it up to its fullest possible capacity insisting not to miss out on any potential boliviano.
The ride was very scenic, it also felt slightly unusual travelling by myself again. It hadn't been since my horror ride to Yurimaguas that I'd been on a bus by myself. This time I was packed into a van with local people, most of whom were the traditionally dressed Bolivian women known as "Cholitas." Their most distinctive feature is their two long plats that run all the way down their back. They all wear a long skirt which varies in colour from green, blue, or even purple. I never knew for sure, but I had a feeling that their colour corresponded with their family. On top they seemed to wear many layers, despite the substantial heat at times. The final layer was always a thick woollen jersey, or a cardigan of some sort. Then at times over top of the whole outfit they'd wear a blue apron. The final necessity to the outfit was the tall hat which sits on the very top of their heads, which would be held in place by a piece of elastic which ran around their jaw. I always found it interesting that both here, and in Peru, the hats would change according to the region they were from. Sometimes they would be similar to a black top hat, other times they were flatter with a wider brim, I even saw one region where they were white with all sorts of floral designs all over them. The other thing that amazed me about these women was the way they carried things around. They all owned a huge sling style of bag which often looked liked it weighed more than they did. They were all made out of colourful fabric which they would throw onto their backs, then tie both ends together at their neck. Sometimes they would be carrying a child on their back, whilst carrying another huge load in their arms.
The ride seemed to pass by pretty quickly, and before I knew it I was staring across the other side of the valley to Sorata. I was right in the middle of the mountains, by now it was getting dark, so most of the view was just a small cluster of lights. One thing that I didn't realise when I decided to come to this place, was that at this time they were in the middle of celebrating their annual fiesta. I'd been to a couple of fiestas in Peru so I thought I had a pretty good idea on what this one would be like also, but as we pulled up I quickly realised that this was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.
As we edged our way into the outskirts of the town, the driver stopped the van and said, "ok guys we have to stop here, we can't go any further because of the fiesta." I realised then that this was probably a wee bit bigger than the others I'd experienced, but I was worried that this mite mean I would have to pay three times more that usual for a room. As I walked towards the main plaza there were cars parked in every space available. The closer I got, the louder the noise got. It quickly became apparent that this was something that literally this whole town celebrates. When I arrived at the plaza, the heart of the party, I was faced with a scene unlike anything I've ever seen. It was about 6pm, and everyone in my line of site was so drunk that they would have put any proud university student of New Zealand to shame. From where I was standing I could see numerous people just taking a piss from where they were standing. This wouldn't be a huge deal if it was just men, but it wasn't... whenever any of the women felt nature calling they would barely take two steps before squatting down and creating their own Lake Titikaka on the edge of the road, sometimes they would even carry on their conversation whilst doing so. Other people were already at the point where it was to much effort to stand so they would be sitting on a seat, drinking half of their beer, and spilling the other half all over the ground. I had only arrived at the edge of the party. As I looked into the plaza I saw an impressive stage with a live band. The whole street was literally packed with people enjoying themselves, passing around beers and doing some very interesting dance moves. After getting over the initial surprise of what I had just witnessed, I quickly moved my priority to finding a hostel to dump all my gear at. The first side street I walked down must have been the allocated urinal street for the night. It smelt worse than an unkept porter loo, and I had to watch my feet as I struggled to find dry patches on the road. I'd come to this place with the intention to find some peace and tranquillity for a wee while, but my first impression was on anything but that.
After about fifteen minutes of searching around I finally found a place that had a room available for a price I was willing to pay. At the hostel I met an Austrian guy who was happy to finally see another foreigner. We decided that we would go up and join in with the fiesta for ourselves. As we walked around we met another guy, a Londoner whom I'd gotten to know when I was in La Paz, Dave. With the three of us we had a perfect group to take on the party for ourselves. The people here were very friendly and welcoming of us into participating in their celebrations. After sitting down and having a couple of drinks, we decided that we'd have a wee go at dancing for ourselves. It seemed everyone was to drunk to realise there were a few gringos on the dance floor, those who did notice would often insist on telling us something in drunken spanish gibberish. Although I kept telling them I didn't understand anything they kept trying to maintain some sort of conversation. Bolivian people in general are very shy, so it was interesting to see everyone come out of their shells a wee bit more, and I noticed that in general they were very friendly when they did. I decided that I would call it a night around midnight and go to bed. I was looking forward to tomorrow, I would finally able to pitch my tent and enjoy and bit of time to myself in some quiet surroundings.
The following day I checked out of my hostel and made my way down to the campsite. Sorata was situated on top of a hill, and in order to get there I had to drop down a few dodgy tracks, then into a valley. After asking a local which way it was, he pointed me in the direction of a basic looking track, saying that it was about ten minutes away until I'd reach the camp site. I took off glad that it was only ten minutes that I'd have to carry all this gear for. At first the track was clear, but then after a couple of minutes it started to tapper off a wee bit. Before I knew it I was following what looked like a sheep track. I was still adamant that I was on the right track until I reached a barbed wire fence. I'd walked down so far with this heavy load by now that I really didn't want to turn back. After a wee bit of contemplation I decided that I'd have a go at getting over it. It ended up being a lot more of a struggle than I thought it would be. With a 25kg pack on my back, a 10kg bag on my front, and a guitar in my left hand, I was finally able to battle my way over, but not without catching my tent on the fence and putting a rip in the end of what was a water proof bag, then loosing my centre of gravity a few times, grabbing onto any piece of tussock that I could find to hold my weight. By this stage I was sure that I'd gone slightly off track, but I assured myself by thinking that surely it couldn't be to far from here. After about a half hour battle I was finally able to make it to the camp ground, but not without having to cross another barbed wire fence, walking through a swamp, then climbing this ridiculously steep hill. When the lady behind the counter saw me covered in sweat collapsed out on the bench she gave me a slightly puzzled look. I told her the trouble that I'd been through she laughed and said, "oh noo you missed it, the path is that one over there (pointing towards the hill at a very obvious looking track,) it's a wee bit steep, but it only really takes ten minutes to get down." When she showed me I realised that I'd been shown the completely wrong track from the start!
The place that I camped was called Altai Oasis. It was bought by a couple thirty years ago and over that time they worked on the land themselves and turned into a real paradise for anyone who wants to get away and relax for a while. The camping area was right down the bottom, tucked away by the river. There were no other campers at the time I was there, so I ended up getting the whole space to myself which was great. The camp area also had a huge BBQ, and a great set up for a camp fire. But as I wasn't sharing the area with anyone I never really made use of those facilities. On the second day I arranged to go with David for a day walk down to check out a bat cave by a small town called San Pedro. It was a popular day walk, said to have very spectacular valley views, and the cave was meant to be pretty impressive also. I hadn't seen much outside the town at this stage so I was curious as to what was offer. It was about a two and a half hour walk each way so we packed a lunch and set off the following day to check it out.
We just so happened to strike a perfect day. There were only a couple of clouds in the sky, as we walked out of the town we were able to look back and see the 6000m mountains which dwarfed Sorata. The road followed across the top of one of the valleys which passed around the outside of the town. As we got further along, the scenery of the valley constantly evolved. Sometimes it would be dry, barren shingle cliffs, then it would move to shades of red and orange, before becoming scattered with green vegetation. We arrived at the cave pretty much right on two and a half hours. It only had one tiny shop so I took the chance to boost my energy with a coke before carrying on to the cave. (After my time travelling so far I've come to the conclusion that Coca Cola is probably the one product that you can literally buy in all corners of the world!)
I had no idea what to expect with the cave, the main reason I'd done this was for the walk itself, so the cave was just a bit of a bonus for me. The entrance was not much higher than my head, and through the early stage we had to duck our heads every now and again. After a couple of minutes it opened out to this gigantic underworld. The way was consistently lit with light bulbs about every ten metres so we could see our way. I felt like I was Bruce Wayne, going down to take my batmobile for a spin. Just when I thought I'd seen the best of it, I noticed we were approaching some water. At first it just looked like a small puddle of water, but when we got closer I realised that it was infact a lake which now took up the entire bottom surface of the cave. At this point we were given two options. We could either take the path that went up along the top, or we could pay 5 bolivianos and take a paddle boat down the lake. I didn't have to think twice before paying the guy the money, then jumping on the boat. It was a nice change of scenery from mountains, but after half an hour we'd seen it all, and had to consider making our way back before it got to late. As we walked back I decided that the following day would be good to return back to La Paz. Two days seemed enough, and I'd now decided where I wanted to go next.
As soon as we returned back to the camp site our first priority was to get something to eat. There was an overpriced restaurant there which I was reluctant to eat at, but I was so hungry that I decided to make a compromise by ordering the cheapest thing on the menu. (It wasn't actually that expensive, but after being in Bolivia for a while, spending more than $5NZ on a meal seemed a bit steep. If you really want to you can find a good meal for around $2.) After satisfying my hunger Dave went back to his hostel and I sat there wondering what time I was going to leave the following day. It was at this point that I met Mark, a South African who lived in London. After meeting and talking a bit of rugby banter we quickly became good mates. He asked if I wanted to join in on a day walk tomorrow. I didn't have any plans set in stone and I figured that one more day wouldn't hurt so I gladly agreed to come along. The following day we went along to the tourist office. It turned out that they didn't have any good one day options. They only spoke spanish so I was doing the translating for Mark. He asked me to ask what they recommend as being the best walk. When I asked, he explained a four day walk which covered a range of scenery and climbed up to just over 5000 meters on the third day to visit a glacial lake. When I explained this to Mark he was automatically sold on that option. As we walked out I thought about what it would be like to participate on the hike. It wasn't long before deciding to join in on the team. I also remembered that Dave was here to do hiking as well. By mid afternoon we had a team of three, all set to leave the next day. That evening we also had a fourth member to our team, Stephany, a Belgium girl who Dave knew. That night I found it funny that I came here to just do a couple of days camping, and now I was about to take off on four day trek around the surrounding mountains. Even though I hadn't originally intended on doing this, I'd heard that this area was one of the best in Bolivia for hiking, so I was excited about seeing what the scenery had to offer.
The following day began with an early start. After being picked up from our hostel we were taken to the outskirts of the town, where we loaded up the mules with our gear. Our guide was called Felix. He was in his late twenties. His father, who looked after the mules also came. Felix said he was in his mid sixties, but he looked like he was at least in his seventies. It didn't take long before we were all loaded up and ready to go. The first day started with a simple leisurely walk along the road. It was set to be relatively easy, with some steady climbing, arriving at our first camp around 15.30 or so. The unfortunate thing about the trip was the haze that seemed to taint the view throughout the whole trip. I asked the guide about it and he said that it was due to a scrub fire in Santa Cruz. (If you look on the map you'll see that Santa Cruz is on the other side of the country, it must have been a big fire!) After a few hours of slow climbing we got to our lunch spot, a small clearing with a great view clearly showing where we'd come from. Throughout the four days our lunch consisted of Sandwiches with tuna, cucumber, tomato, and mayonnaise. The simple lunches were actually a nice change from the typical almuerzo (lunch) of rice, chips, chicken/beef, and salad. After lunch it was only about another three hour hike before we'd arrived at our camp site for the first day. The scenery reminded me of certain places back at home. This was the dry season which gave the rolling hills a brown tinge, the only green that remained were the pockets of trees scattered around the place. As soon as the sun dropped in got very cold, very quickly, so virtually straight after dinner we made our way to our tents to warm up a little. This meant an early night, but not necessarily to much sleep.
Felix had told us that the second day was one of the easiest. Most of the day was to be spent crossing around the side of the valley. The only climb was to be at the end of the day, where we had to climb up to the first glacial lake to spend our second night. During the early stages of the second day, the main topic of conservation was how unexpectedly cold it got the previous night. Apart from Colca Canyon I'd never really come across to much cold whether, so this was defiantly a wee bit of a shock to the system for me as well. The scenery on the second day slowly changed as we edged our way around the side of the valley. The vegetation became more sparse, and the brown countryside eventually gave way to impressive rocky landscapes. The day ended with one final push before we reached our spot to set up camp for the second night. It was right beside the first of the glacial lakes that we were to visit. Steph managed to convince the guide to let us swim in the lake. I wasn't to keen and told everyone else to go for it, but it got to the point where everyone else had braved the cold to jump in, so in order to keep my ego intact I decided that I would give it a go also. After the campsite was set up we all took the opportunity to restore the bodies for tomorrow. Not only was tomorrow an early start, but it was also set to be our most difficult day. The combination of the steep climbing and the altitutde was bound to be challenging combination.
We were awoken the following morning by Felix informing us that our breakfast was ready. When we got out of our tents we had a bowl of porrige waiting for us, the perfect way to start the day. The day didn't really start with prommising signs, there was overcast everywhere. I was slightly more reassured when I asked Felix what he thought the chances of rain when he replied that we should get to the top and back before the rain. The third night was going to be in the same spot also. The second lake was at an altitude of just over 5000 meters. It was going to take us about four and a half hours, after that, the return back about three hours. As we set off, we were well and truely into the rocky terrain. Straight away I noticed the altitude was making things slightly more challenging than the previous days. Felix gave us breaks every fifteen minutes to half an hour so that we could give ourselves a chance to top up our lungs again. After a couple of hours into the climb we came to our first glacial view. We were now right in the midst of the mountains, and it seemed the summits were just an arms reach away. By now the clouds had also parted, leaving a view of a white blanket comming off the mountain and down into the riverbed. At first I thought it was our final point where we were to have our lunch, but I was then quickly informed by Felix that we had another hour and a half to go. This was by far the hardest section on the whole trek. We were now pushing well upto 5000m, and the track was very steep and unstable. I was very thankfull at this stage that we wern't taking all of our gear with us. During this hour there were many "false horrizons" where I thought we were comming up to the final point, only to find yet another rough looking climb ahead of us.
Eventually we got over the final point, from here the view impressed me, but all I was worried about was lying down and giving my body some rest. I threw my bags down, collapsed onto the ground, and fell asleep for about fifteen minutes before being woken to the call that lunch was ready, which was also welcome news to my ears. It felt great to sit up at the highest point of the trek. I really had a sense of achievment after not even coming close in my last adventure. After enjoying the surroundings for about an hour and a half we had to start thinking about making our way back to camp. It was a nice relief on the way back walking down hill for a change, and also to know that we'd passed the highest point on the trek. The hike back seemed to be never ending, I didn't realise how much ground we'd covered in the climb up until we had to back track past it all on the return trip. When we finally got back to camp the day was pretty much over, as soon as dinner was done it was straight to bed to catch up on energy for the final day.
The third day was also set to be the easiest day, which was just as well after the previous days effort. It was simply a decent all the way back down to Sorata, Felix told us that we should expect to arrive there at about midday. As we made our way back down the valley we hiked down the opposite side from which we'd come up, which gave a slightly different perspective from our first day. The constant downhill was a great change for a start, but by the end of the day my knees were killing me. The final hour or so was a nice leasurly stroll down the road before arriving in Sorata around mid day, exactly as Felix had predicted. While I was having lunch I once again thought back to my chaotic first impression of this town. Now it was very much a quiet humble place, going about it's day to day life. I had no idea when I arrived that I'd get to know the surrounding area the way I did, but never the less I was greatfull that I was given the opportunity to do so. From here the plan was to go back to La Paz and after that, head south to get to know more of this intriuging country. After this trip I had many things that I wanted to experience in this country, all I had to do from here was make a decision and go!
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