Oruro to La Paz
17.8.09
(CLICK HERE FOR LINK TO PHOTOS)
Brown, brown, brown.
The altiplano between Oruro and La Paz is brown. It became almost maddening for me in all its brown-ness. Brown hills, brown earth, brown dried out plants.
Brown, brown, brown.
Mr Brown, Mr Brown, please let me down... off the altiplano...it is beautiful but I’m finished with it.
It wasn’t until we hit the outskirts of Oruro that it dawned on us that the next three days would not be so much physically difficult as it was a mental challenge. Indeed as we rolled passed Oruro we were almost pleased to be away from the city. There were some highlights: Nice dinners at Nayjama restaurant – the best lamb rack I have ever had – yes, in the world. Govinda’s – yes a Hare Krishna restaurant with yogurt lassi/yogurt milk shake drinks. The markets with their hustle and bustle and every man and his dog selling everything from toilet paper rolls to flowers to bike rims to .... llama foetuses. Supposedly the witch doctors sell special llama foetuses for good luck, you bury them at your front porch or some such...we were thinking to get one for our house for when we returned to Australia but decided there just wasn’t quite enough room in the pannier bags.
But there were low lights, the smell of public urination on the sidewalks, the decaying buildings and the rubbish on the streets did little to raise our opinion of Oruro and so we weren’t so sad to be rolling out of there. Having Boli-belly for most of our time in Oruro didn’t build a frame of mind for being positive about the city either. That said, the antibiotics, Norfloxacin had nearly finished firming us up sufficiently to head out of town.
There is clearly some culture and class in that town somewhere though. The metallic sculptures on our way out indicated a city that has pride in its position as a folk lore centre (the carnaval) and for mining (assumption based on the mining hat only).
And really all of this quickly faded away into a memory as we were struck but the utter brown-ness and flat-ness of the country side. I had one happy thought in my head as I looked forward. The Cordillera Real could be ‘just’ seen above a valley in front of us. I was happy to think that we would gradually watch this snowy monster range of mountains approach us over the next three days.
Unfortunately even this one small glimmer of hope soon faded into brown-ness after a couple of hours. We did see more Vicunas, although barely as they were quite brown also... :^) As we approached the rather uninspiring little town of Caracollo the Cordillera Real was also swallowed by the brown-ness of the altiplano. And so began a slog over the next two days of mostly climbing, some coasting and seemingly lots fighting against the head wind. I suggested to Anita that we try to cover 100km on the first day to ensure we get to La Paz in three days. It was an agreeable goal but Anita still had the remnants of ‘Boli-belly’ so we only achieved a respectable 89km. We might have rolled on a bit further but we found a nice little dry creek bed to camp in.
There were people all around with their herds of cows, llamas and sheep so when we chose our spot I walked over to the nearest fellow, Elvis, and asked him if he minded if we camped in the creek. He was a little confused at first as Anita was well hidden in the creek bed but he soon connected the dots. He had seen the two of us rolling on the highway. I think he was pleased to be asked and said of course no problem and gave me many “Suerte’s” (Good Luck) for our trip as we shook hands and bid each other a Buenos Noches. We had just got the tent up and were inside when Sylvestre strolled by with his 15 cows. He was a little taken aback with us there in the creek bed. I mentioned to him that I had spoken to Elvis. I asked him if he had any problems. He said no but wouldn’t we be happier in the town’s hotel down the road being safer from the Ladrons (thieves)? We said no, that our sleep was better on the earth. He seemed to think that this was entirely appropriate and shook my hand and bid us good night. And then from there we had another 5 people come past. I continued to name drop Elvis and Sylvestre and they all seemed satisfied by that. Soon it was dark, our “door” was closed and no one knocked so there were no hassles.
The next morning we were up early, keen to get rolling before the wind. We were nearly finished packing when Sylvestre came by. He was rather impressed with the number of bags we were carrying. He said that that we must have “mas fuerte piernas” (more strong legs). We laughed and bid him good day and rolled on towards Patacamaya (a big town at the half way point) with thoughts of pizza for lunch rolling through our heads and plenty of brown-ness rolling before our eyes.
We punched out a quick 10km on flat terrain and no wind and came across a french trio. A couple plus their father were riding with a goal to cross to Uyuni over the Salar in 3 weeks. We shared our recently gained knowledge and wished them luck. The two fellows were on recumbants. Can’t imagine how they were going to ride through the sandy tracks on those things!
And then we reached the town of Lahauchaca. It was at the top of a rise at about 3900m. The hill had seemed to go forever – especially with the brown left, right and dead center in front of us. We snapped a couple of photos from afar as we came into town of the town’s people all in traditional garb. As we got closer we came across Doug from the UK. He was complaining about his Brook’s leather seat and how much his arse was killing him from the previous days ride. He was on a road bike with skinny tyres and said he really wasn’t too interested in doing it too tough. He was considering taking the bus from there straight to Sucre as he had a party to go to on the Saturday. There are so many different characters out here....
And then we were mobbed by the town’s people in their traditional garb. We must have been surrounded by about 100 people, mostly men, welcoming us and asking about the bikes and our trip and our gear. It was amazing, overwhelming and heart warming. My distaste for brown-ness was washed away by these very colourful special people. In the process of sharing, I showed them my new whip (purchased in Oruro from a Llama foetus seller) which I explained was for the Perros (Dogs). This brought them much amusement and I immediately had a Croc Dundee moment as one of them basically said, that’s not a whip, THIS is a WHIP as he undid the cermonial whip around his shoulder and waist. Indeed it WAS a WHIP with a massive head on the end. I wouldn’t want to take a lashing from that sucker.
And then it was over as they all hurried to get into parade formation behind their banner. Within minutes they had marched by and turned a corner and were gone – like they had never been there at all. We bid Doug farewell and headed back out into the .... brown-ness.
Patacamaya was, it turned out, a below average town. Smelly and disappointingly no pizza. Ah well. We had some lunch, grabbed some water and rolled back out into the brown-ness and the head wind.
We only managed another 25km, totally 76km for the day. As we rolled into a pueblo that wasn’t even marked on the map there was a sign for a hotel. You have never seen such a big smile on Anita’s face as she began to visualise herself in a shower that evening. We got the last room in the hotel and we got the last of the hot water available. It was short and sweet but the water was warm and we finished up clean.
The next morning we had our earliest start ever (830am) and climbed a rise and then another and another and another. Before each hill I said to Anita, this is it, has to be. The Cordillera Real has to pop out above THIS one, surely. And each time, at the top of the hill was yet another freaking brown rolling hill. I was on the point of insanity when we climbed one last rise and slowly but surely up popped the Cordillera Real in all its magnificence. Glorious. After leading the way for the last two days, Anita had to ride in front because I lost my cadence and drive. I just wanted to pedal, pedal, coast, coast, savour, and enjoy. It was all too erratic for her but I was enraptured. The ranges were.... WHITE! No brown on them just majestic WHITE.
As we rolled over each rise the Cordillera Real grew bigger until we came to the top of the last rise and there gleamed the steel roofs of El Alto. Our destination was within our sights, or so we thought.
We dropped down to the flats of El Alto but then spent another 1.5 hours riding through the seemingly endless expanse of the industrial part of La Paz. And unbeknown to us, we actually continued to climb until we finally reached about 4100m (didn’t believe the altimeter but have since confirmed on google maps). The toll booth was located at the top of the Autopista followed by a beautiful 500-600m descent into La Paz.
It was Amazing to see La Paz open up before us. The valley is like a big gash in the earth and the mass of humanity seems to be trying to fill the space. In the distance a peak called snow capped Illimani can be seen. Illimani can be seen from nearly everywhere in La Paz but most of the rest of the Cordillera Real disappear as you descend into the deep canyon or valley which walls of great height prevent a vista to the mountains.
After only 4 days here La Paz has easily jumped into our top 5 of South America. It is cosmopolitan with a myriad of food to be eaten. We have had excellent steak, trout, falafels, pizza, thai (of sorts), hamburgers, excellent coffee, homemade pasta, delicious deserts, Coca Tea, and ice cream. We found a supermarket today that sells peanut butter, cereal and raspberry jam down in “Zona Sur” the posh area which is at an altitude of about 3150 – 3200m. So from the outskirts to the posh area is a drop of nearly 1000m. Amazingly the most expensive suburbs are at the bottom of the hill. It is somewhat counter intuitive until you consider that the air is thicker at the bottom and the weather is a whole bunch warmer. There was an easy 10-15 degrees difference between Zona del Sur and El Alto. Our hotel is at about 3500m and near the area called the Prado. It is just outside the bustle of the heavy tourist district at about 3700m but close enough to walk around and soak up the vibe.
On our first day here (Friday) we met a woman called Marion working in a book store. After spending over 500 Bolivianos ($100AUD+) in her shop and spending nearly an hour quizzing her on Bolivia and La Paz we made arrangements to go out for dinner with her and her friend Ali. We had an excellent evening with the two of them eating a delicious dinner and visiting a couple of the local pubs. Marion has been studying micro credit and how it is (hopefully) well placed to build the Bolivian economy. She did a documentary on it for her studies and we are hoping to get to watch it before we leave. Ali just finished a contract with UNICEF and working on water and sanitation in Bolivia. Both had excellent insights into Bolivia and good taste in wine.
Most of the rest of the time we have been getting ready to go to the jungle. We are hoping to catch a bus this morning (Monday) and be gone anywhere from one week to three depending on how things pan out. It is strange to be leaving Bob (the trailer), Van Morrison (my bike) and Anita’s bike plus all of our gear here at the Hotel Espana but we are confidant that they are reputable and it will all still be here when we return!
Bring on the monkeys, jaguars, pumas, Toucans, pink river dolphins, Caimans, and Capybaras to name just a few of the animals we hope to see while we are down there at about 200-500m. Also hoping the lips and noses will heal while we are there too.
Chao!
Stuart (and Anita)
Posted byStuart Kane at 10:16 AM
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