Are You Brave? Hike Bolivia
It’s dangerous.
Bolivia’s political and economic landscape is shamelessly textured with shades of grey.
In our first week in La Paz, we met an Australian woman who was skillfully kidnapped, robbed and apathetically treated by police. The police wanted money to supply her with the appropriate report form. They had no interest in even reporting the crime let alone investigating it.
Then, in the same hostel, we met a Scottish bloke whose daughter was locked in prison on dubious drug-related charges. The end result, a bloodsucking amount of corruption payouts to free his innocent child.
Nonetheless, we weren’t deterred. We saw the mountains, we knew the risks. The mountains won.
The Cordillera Real. Bolivia’s resplendent contribution to the Andean mountains. 88 notable peaks over 5000m and a further 8 soaring above 6000m. Most come to climb, we came to hike — independently.
The trek’s name — TransCordillera.
The Cordillera Real (Real) splits Bolivia into the densely wild and lush regions of the Amazon and the badlands feel of the Altiplano. It has relatively easy access from La Paz. The nation’s third largest city at almost 3700m is the primary hub for all things outdoor and a truly fascinating and stimulating place to acclimatise. It’s a mere 25km from Huayna Potosi, the reported easiest 6000m ascent in the world.
Our hiking route started at the north end of the Real, near Mt Illampu. Then traversed the west side, above the foothills and the Aymara and Quechus Indian villages, through to Huayana Potosi about 120kms away.
Groundwork and research — the building blocks of courage
My partner (Jana) and I worked our way north from Patagonia through the classic trails hit list. With only a little research, plenty of details unfolded for the hikes in Chile and Argentina. Plus the folks we met along the way were willing to share their insights. Come to Bolivia and the state of play changed.
There was scant information “on the streets” or available on the internet (except one site — Ramblin’ Boy — a massive blessing). This was a hike very few people completed and/or reported on. We had one book reference, but it was rather dated and the best map we found was with a scale of 1:135000 and contour intervals of 80m. Not the ideal tools to start with.
To gather more information we chatted with a few tour companies offering the trip. The route we planned was a new way via the west side of the Real. It sounded fantastic. But because of the competitive outdoor adventure tour market and the delicate relationship with the communities in the area, the route was a tightly guarded secret.
This new, unmarked trail was created for a couple of reasons. The local indigenous people realise a potential source of income and foremost because it was better and safer than the classic route.
The company that developed the new way saw it as intellectual property and a winning edge over the competition. They invested a lot of money, resources and time into it and didn’t want the rest of the market to copy it and cash in. Needless to say, we scored zero helpful information from them. The rest of the outdoor adventure market also revealed very little. But we were certainly warned of the potential dangers and advised not to go alone. Two western women, no man, no guide. “It’s dangerous” we were told.
In the mountains, things are really tough and mining pirates rule the land. There were several reports of violent crimes against hikers and all the travel guides commented on the prevailing risks. We took note and considered doing this trek guided. Then we heard the price! I might be a fool but I preferred to be a fearless one with travel money still in my pocket — for now at least.
Braving the final stages of preparation
Then we met our saint — Adolfo. A local agent in the guided trekking business since the beginning. He knew what the risk climate was like. He charged us with renewed vigour and enthusiasm and thoroughly encouraged us to give it a go — by ourselves.
He was so excited for us. Our adventure stirred happy memories in him and he wanted to join in. He couldn’t come, but he was a wonderful and much needed logistical support. Adolfo freely gave us his time and knowledge and helped put the finishing touches on our plan. On top of that, for a very reasonable price, he organised a food drop for us. That meant bringing the food carry days down to 8 and 5 instead of 13. Yeehah!
The trimmed weight of our packs was important. We had several passes over 5000m, a pass each day and camping each night at or above 4500m. Carrying all of our own food and gear on a trail like this is a testimonial worth writing about but it was also one of the biggest challenges.
Fortunately, with ample fresh water sources, we were never burdened with that additional load.
With refreshed enthusiasm and food in our packs, we were ready to hit the trail. Except for one thing…getting there!
Bolivia has the most amazing network of transportation options. You can get to the most insane places and cheaply, but it’s also a most insane ride. People and stuff are crammed into exceedingly uncomfortable vehicles and then thrashed full throttle, for hours, over the most inauspicious terrain they call a road.
Good times!
You never really know when these babies are going to roll either. They leave when full. Despite a scheduled departure time. We were advised to arrive early because this trip filled quickly. It was the only one leaving for several days. So we arrived early. Then we waited and waited and waited. But hey, we could take a 30 minute round trip to the toilet and save ourselves from a bladder torturing ride, so all good!
A courageous encounter with the Cordillera
A few hours from La Paz, on a sharp bend in the middle of nowhere and the driver quizzically looking us over, we disembarked the bus.
It was already time for lunch so what the heck, why carry it. We had a fine dining experience right where we landed with Mt Illampu as our guest.
In indigenous folklore, Illampu is said to symbolise the mythical Andean god Kun Tixi Wiracocha, “The Water Maker”. Although only the fourth highest mountain in Bolivia, Illampu is known as the king of them all, being the most difficult to conquer.
Our first task of finding the path was easy. We skirted high along the terraced slopes of a green, populated and pastured valley passing the small community of Millipaya below. On the opposite side of the valley, the imposing Illampu massif. Its lower slopes were dotted with bundled dwellings presumably inhabited by farmers and their keep.
It was pretty cruisy going with a multitude of tracks to choose from. We just needed to maintain our altitude until it was time to head into the community of Llojena and follow a dirt road to camp.
There was a lot of road building activity en route and our path at times either morphed into a road or across roads. The obvious conclusion was for mining infrastructure but I couldn’t be sure. At any rate, it detracted from the scenery and hiking feel.
Most of our daily distances were around the 10km mark, as was the case for day 2. When we reviewed various itineraries the consensus on walk duration was around 7 hours per day. So we weren’t in any hurry to leave especially early but we wanted to give ourselves the time for possible errors in route finding. We found a GPS track for this trek. It wasn’t particularly good data but it was enough to give us the extra confidence we wanted in going it alone.
The worn trail we followed the day before was absent on day 2, but the terrain was not particularly difficult to navigate. We deliberately strayed a little off route. We preferred a lower path that eventually connected us with a known dirt road. To make things a little easier. It was a gradual ascent for most of the day with fantastic views across the vast and barren high planes toward Lake Titicaca. Closer though was Nevado Janq’uma (Ancohuma) the third highest mountain in the range at 6427m.
As we drew nearer to camp, the chalky blue waters of Lago (Lake) San Francisco said hello from the valley below. From this point on, pleasingly, we walked all downhill. There was no technical difficulty in the walk and we made the distance in good time but oh my merino socks did the altitude give us a workout. In no way could we even consume water and walk at the same time, there just wasn’t enough oxygen. A wee taste of the challenges to come.
We were quite selective where we pitched camp this day, remaining high off the lake and away from the road. The area was notoriously troublesome. We heard stories of armed robberies, attacks and demands for money. But with no soul in sight and my girlfriend’s good karma, I felt pretty safe — and so we were.
We picked up a worn trail on day 3 as we joined the well-travelled Illampu circuit. We met the first trekkers early in the day. They were headed in the opposite direction. They bantered enthusiastically about the landscape we were about to encounter. Characteristically described as mountainous, with snow-capped peaks, volcanic rock, glacial lakes, desert-like plateaus and puna-grassed valleys. The high Andean tableland is beyond typical portrayals though. It is absolutely stunning, surreal and sublime.
There was a mildly tricky skirt across a sandy mountain slope prior to the descent to camp. We chose the bottom end of a lake for our evening home, although this time a little too close to the road.
It was a mining road that pierced the east and west sides of the Cordillera.
Late in the afternoon as I was meditating in the tent and Jana reading, we heard a vehicle approach. They slowed and then stopped behind us and across the river.
I continued to meditate, trying not to get distracted. Then the men got out of their car and began to yell out and whistle.
Because of the noise of the river, I wasn’t sure if they attempted to gain our attention or were doing something else. But with our rather see-through tent, they certainly knew we were there. I was a little bothered, a little worried and a lot cautious, so I didn’t move (but I was meditating anyway right!).
Instead, I suggested to Jana that she check to see what they were doing. Her retort was “I’m not a dog, if they want to speak with me, they can come over”.
So she stayed put too.
They probably just wanted a friendly chat, but hey, after all the stories, we didn’t want to test the theory.
Eventually, they left without further pursuit. I continued to meditate. Only now without a firm grip on my trekking pole.
Summer days and night freeze is a really accurate description of the weather we met in the Cordillera. Not summer like Australian summer, but you know, clear blue sky, blazing sun, tolerable temperature.
Come sundown though and I’m sure even the llamas wore souped up mega coats with polar bear trimming. We’d wash our underwear and it was frozen before we hung it out.
It was REALLY cold and I don’t like the cold. I try to like the cold in a zen-like way, but really, we just don’t get along. I had a -10°C sleeping bag, plus a liner, I wore 3 thermal leg layers, hiking pants and rain pants, plus 6 top layers. Fancy carrying and then wearing all that hey — and I still froze!
The mornings were delayed as our bodies defrosted and we waited for the ice on the tent to melt. Before we left camp on day 4 we met another hiker also doing the Illampu circuit. He camped on the lake above and was convinced it was close to -20°C.
Despite the freezing temperatures we experienced, the scientific community and locals alike have acknowledged the rapid decline of Bolivia’s glaciers with an astonishing 41.9% reduction between 1986 and 2014. As much as this meant we had a constant and adequate water supply, it’s alarming to be vividly confronted with the effects of climate change.
There was a clear trend to the elevation profile endured on this hike. Each morning began with a climb out of a valley, followed by a pass. Each afternoon, a descent into a valley to camp.
Day 4 was a rigorous climb. Which partly explained the short distance for the day. Upon review, there appeared to be an easier way, but it missed the key highlights. In one direction, three dazzling glacial lakes contrasted vividly against the yellow spinifex-like grass, black volcanic rock and the piercing white glow of the snowy summits. The other direction, an uninterrupted expansive view following a multicoloured mineral rich ridge to yet another blue lagoon and the grand Lake Titicaca some 60kms away.
Over the next few days, the dramatic and dynamic landscape persisted to wow and challenge.
On the approach to one pass, Jana was terrified. She’s mostly okay with the adventurous routes I coax her into, but this one ticked all the boxes for freak out. It was steep, nothing but scree, and a wafer-thin animal path with a very long way down and nowhere or way to stop should you fall.
In a heroic pretence, I went ahead of Jana, digging my feet into the side of the mountain, attempting to widen the path. Very slowly and gingerly and with mega loads of encouragement, she inched her way forward to safety and started to breathe again!
On another occasion, I fooled myself into choosing a particular route toward a pass. The good old ‘it looks quicker and easier trick’, but of course only so far as the eye could see. We went higher and further only to arrive at an impassable slope. We decided to re-route rather than return and found ourselves scrambling up a dangerously loose and slippery peak. An appetiser for disaster, though not today.
Over an hour later we reached a point we would’ve otherwise hit in a quarter of the time had we stuck with our original way. Bugger!
The subzero nights continued and in combination with the inadequate acclimatisation, I was really knocked about. We hung out in La Paz for a month before this trek and did an extended version of the Santa Cruz trek plus a hike around Mt Illimani in preparation. Nonetheless, I suffered altitude sickness and developed a severe phlegm cough that kept me awake most of the nights.
Ultimately this led to considerable fatigue and exhaustion, most notable on ascents.
Day 8 was excruciatingly long and we were surprisingly not thrilled about hitting camp. We expected our food drop and that meant heavy packs again.
There were others in the camp that night. They were about to start a 4-day hike following the same path we intended to take.
From this point on there was a marked trail on the map. It was a popular taster of the Cordillera for those with limited time. It was packed full of the features we had become accustomed to. Bold mountain scenery, stunning Lagunas and epic vistas.
Next morning after another sleepless night, I realised I had hit my tolerance limit. Feeling wrecked and worn out and chilled to the core I suggested that we pull the pin — Jana agreed. It was an obvious point to do so since there was an access road leading to a village where we could catch transport back to La Paz.
With that decision made and our packs reloaded with food, we trundled down the valley and out of the magnificent Cordillera Real. It was a very scenic end to the trek. We passed several Llamas grazing on the edge of the elongated Laguna Khotia. Then the landscape transitioned from the steeply enclosed valley to a sparse panoramic plateau.
I was torn to go, but I think it was a wise decision. Despite all the rationalising to make myself feel better about not finishing a trail. Ultimately though, I believe our greatest challenges were already conquered.
We dared to be brave and go it alone.
Thanks for reading, I truly hope you got something out of it.
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