Potosi to La Paz: More hills than expected, really.

Cycling from the Salar back towards Uyuni. It was this type of road we were hoping to avoid by going to Potosi. Four days of this? No thanks.

After a great few days away from cycling in Uyuni we faced a tough decision: to cycle from Uyuni directly towards the city of Oruro which was flat but on a very bad gravel road, or to detour to the mining city of Potosi, where the route to Oruro was paved but hilly. Both were around 200km before they joined each other 100km south of Oruno. We didn´t have a map that showed topography (in hindsight a mistake) so we decided to extend our holiday by a couple of days and visit Potosi.

Potosi is infamous on two counts, it is the worlds highest city at 4070m above sea level and was home to the richest silver mine in the Americas, which the Spanish plundered for over two centuries. At one point Potosi was the largest city in the western hemisphere and the richest in the Americas, giving it a wealth of amazing colonial architecture. On the other hand it is believed that over 8 million people, mostly indigenous people and african slaves have died in the mines. They are still worked today my local miners working in medieval conditions where a miner is expected to die within 10 years of entering the mine. We chose not to do a tour of the mines but enjoyed wandering the colonial streets and visiting museums and markets.

Our hostal was set around a colonial courtyard, totally dreamy. We spent a satisfying day washing salt off our bikes here.

Anna at the Colonial Mint.The creepy face is a symbol of Potosi. She tripped and nearly faceplanted on the cobblestones whilst getting into position for this photo. All those people around turned to look.

In Bolivia zebra crossing are painted with actual zebras.

Typical street in Potosi with the silver mountain behind. It is known as the mountain that eats people.

The street our hostal was on at night.

We left Potosi to cycle the 300kms in high spirits, knowing little about what lay ahead other than that we had a big downhill leaving town. Traffic was complete bedlam, clearly no one has ever heard on an indicator here and the streets were very steep. We eventually found our way out of the city and enjoyed a 25km downhill in the first hour before lunch.

Leaving Potosi was initally fun.

We cycled through numerous red rock canyons on the first day in very hot weather.

We ate our banana sandwiches on the side of the road feeling pretty smug about our mornings progress. We couldn´t understand how all the bus companies said it took 5 hours to drive 200km, when an hour on the bus is usually a day on a bike. Well, the moment we turned the corner we began to understand why. There was a huge windy climb ahead, from the valley floor right up to the ridge - back to 4000m where we started the day. Once we got to the top we could see the road return to the next valley floor only to climb to the ridge on the other side. Bloody-hell. After doing 25km in the first hour we only managed 23km in the next 5 hours before giving up for the day exhausted.

Early in the day, felling peppy.

5 hours later, buggered.

We had seen increasing numbers of small adobe villages with people wearing traditional highland clothes hearding Llama and tending their fields. Most stopped working to look at us as we rode past and were very enthusiastic to return waves and greetings. We have never said good morning or good afternoon so many times in one day. We stopped for the day on an Inca trail that ran between two villages, next to the community irrigation pond. We asked a nearby roadworker (on his bicycle also) if it would be ok to camp there, he was surprised but said no one would mind. It turned out that the trail is still very much in use as the walking path between the two villages and once word got round that some weird foreigners were camping the whole village had to walk past and say hello. The next morning a small boy approached us while we were eating breakfast with his bicycle asking if we could fix it, we guess his parents told him to come ask us. Ben did his best early morning mechanic job, improving Bolivian - cyclist relations in the area.

Camping next to the irrigation pond. We pretended it was an infinity pool.

Another room with a view. We were only halfway to the top of the pass and spent the night being woken by trucks using their engine brakes on the way down.

We decided that day two couldn´t possibly be as tough as day one and that once we got over this hill we must surely be at the highest point in the whole country. That was of course not the case and we ended up climbing 5 passes over 4000m that day, our toughest since Patagonia. What was worse was that we had been relying on towns having food along the road, and while there was heaps of villages no one was selling food. People in this area tend to be very poor farmers living in traditional ways. For the whole day we only had one and a half bananas each. We camped behind a mound of earth having cycled 51km in 8 miserable hours.

That ´top of the world´ feeling on one of the passes

Typical farming scene in this region.

Mountain scenery that we inched passed, puffing.

Towards the end of each day sunny weather would turn into raging thunderstorms. It got very cold at night here.

The next morning we made it to a bigger village that had a restaurant. All we wanted was a bowl of the soup some truck drivers were eating (no menu here) but the 11 year old girl who served us was having none of it, she thought it was hilarious that we couldn´t speak much spanish or pronounce the local word for the soup. We learnt that it wasn´t soup, it was lagua, whatever that was, and had to be pronounced correctly before we were allowed to eat it. For the record its laaaaaaarrrrguuuaaaaaaaa. Much emphasis on the letter a. After we ate we got caught in a big hailstorm before coming into a town that sold eggs which we fried on the side of the road, much to the locals amusement. The road followed a valley downhill and eventually we were spat out on the altiplano again at the town of Chapallata 100kms away. We found a residential and a cheap set dinner and celebrated being hard core enough to not give up and take the bus, which would have cost 3 NZ dollars.

The following day we carried on towards Oruro along the plain, Annas rim tape started giving her punctures, eventually 5 in one hour and using up all our spares before we figured out how to fix it. We stayed the night in a town called Poopo, famous for its hotsprings. We found some very cheap prison like accomodation with some other cyclists riding north on a tandem (so cool!) and went to the springs in the morning for a Bolivian bathing experience.

A local being taken for a spin on the tandem bike

Our too-budget accommodation in Poopo. We had a great dinner together using two petrol cookers inside.

Bolivian hot springs. We had the whole place to ourselves, and it was nicer than it looked.

Quinoa growing on the side of the road. This was the main crop we saw on the altiplano.

Thunder clouds in Poopo, for those meteorological fans.

We carried on the next to the city of Oruro, feeling pretty tired. we were chased by a thunder cloud the whole way in and nearly got t-boned by a van at an intersection. We found great accommodation with cable tv that allowed Anna to watch 2 Jamie Oliver episodes in english so she was happy. We went out and had pizza, burgers and lasagna to compensate for our banana days.

Ben leaving Oruro. We had to ask which way to La Paz at the roundabout behind, the taxi drivers put us right. Who would signpost the way to the capital city anyway? Thanks for nothing, government of Bolivia.

Oruro pipeline and spontaneous landfill. Typical scenery 10km either side of town.

Ben picking up some fried chicken for our second lunch in a typical town.

Anna on the altiplano. There was a great unexpected bike lane the whole way to La Paz. Generally we have found Bolivian roads to be better than any in Argentina.

A new motorway is being built between La Paz and Oruro, 200km in 3 years. The construction workers were very friendly.

Ben on the altiplano

We had the misfortune of only seeing hotels at lunchtime and never in the towns at the end of the day so had two unwanted free camping nights on the way to La Paz. The first one was behind a building about 20 metres from the motorway, truck headlights shone into the tent all night and it sounded like we were sleeping on the tarmac at Heathrow. The farmer didn´t mind and we had a great sunset.

Beautiful view facing away from the motorway.

The second night was spent sleeping in the middle of the previously mentioned motorway construction. They were already working the next morning when we rolled out from behind a pile of dirt and said good morning. The woman herding her Llamas home thought it was hilarious that we were camping there also.

A big shoutout to all the Aurecon traffic engineers... We slept in this construction site.

Despite this we carried on and made it to La Paz in one piece after a hair raising ride through the city-slum of El Alto. La Paz is in a canyon 500m below El Alto along a very exciting motorway.

Our first view of El Alto. Closer to La Paz it turns into total chaos, the worst traffic jam we have ever seen. We had a fortifying meal of fried chicken before entering the thick of it so made it through unscathed.

La Paz, from the motorway. Amazing.

We arrived in the city mid afternoon and found some quiet inexpensive accommodation next to the local prison. We celebrated safely making it into the city alive with some chocolate cake and have been enjoying some recovery time with western food and services, including all you can eat bbq pork ribs for Ben. We have spent 3 days here looking around and Ben is cycling the worlds most dangerous road today. He will post pictures shortly. Anna thinks she cycled the worlds most dangerous road coming into La Paz and is spending the day veging out.