From Anchorage to Ushuaia by Bike

We’re still in Oruro. It rained a lot last night and it was still raining when the alarm went off in the morning – very unusual for this time of year on the altiplano. The rain let up in the morning and we’re hoping that tomorrow will be a better day to head out. Sara was sick last night too. The pasta we ate last night just didn’t follow the regular digestive route… She still has an upset stomach, but is feeling much better. She has digestive problems caused by the altitude – she gets sick above 3600m. 

This is not the first time that we’ve run into abnormal weather: rain in Alaska, cold in Canada, snow in Yellowstone, floods in Basse California, rain in Ecuador, snow in Peru… Each time the locals told us that it was really exceptional weather. They didn’t understand it and mostly they attributed it to global warming.

Sébastien

Day 1: from Oruro to Potosi

We left our hotel beside the Oruro bus terminal, leaving behind our bikes and all our gear. We were a little dubious – would our bikes be there when we got back? Would there be anything missing?

Getting a bus to Potosi wasn’t as easy as we  thought. We’re not all that well-versed in bus travel and the Bolivian bus station wasn’t exactly user-friendly: the bus companies posted out-dated times and routes. We walked from company to company and eventually found one with a bus that was leaving shortly. We got two seats for a 5 hour bus ride for only 3€ each!! On the way, we stopped in a restaurant by the side of the road. The “Mamitas” flocked around us with plates of cold food – who knows what exactly! Nothing good for our digestive system, that’s for sure. They came back a couple of times, and then tried to steal bites of our sandwiches. There were 3 very dirty kids that wouldn’t leave us alone, trying to sell homemade drinks and asking for money by all means possible. We ranted and raved a bit: what are the parents thinking sending their kids out to harass tourists for change?! Yet another state of affairs that we will never understand.

We finally got into Potosi and found a mini-bus that went to “10 de noviembre” where there were apparently places to stay. But the bus didn’t actually go where it was supposed to, and we ended up walking part of the way.

We arrived smack in the middle of the “Fiesta de San Bartolomé,” or “Chunchillos.” There were marching bands and dancing in the streets. Troops of performers come from all over Bolivia and even from neighboring countries.

Day 2: Minas de Potosi and Sucre

Unfortunately it was a Sunday, and a holiday on top of that. But my guide assured me that the miners aren’t interested in holidays, and that work is the most important thing for them. I was skeptical, but waited to see. I had a private guide and asked lots of questions. He took me into a little booth to show me all the miners’ gear: explosives and a chemical (expensive and toxic) that intensifies the explosions, meaning that they can use less dynamite, which is also expensive. The kit also !!!include!!!d coca leaves – for offerings, of course, but more importantly for chewing – cigarettes for breaks, and 96% alcohol to keep warm! They drink it straight every morning before going into the mines, and during the day they cut it with soda.

After we picked up our protective gear and headlights, we arrived at the mine... which was deserted. There were no miners working that day. Oh well! Actually, it was for the best, since we wouldn’t be exposed to the dangerous dust or risk of an accident (frequent occurrences here). About 50 feet in, we stopped in front of the “Tio” for offerings and a little explanation. Tio, represented by a statue, protects the miners under the ground.

We went deeper into the mine, about 1.5 km in. We could feel the air and temperature change gradually from cold and dry like the outside world (the mine entrance is 4200m in altitude) to warm and humid in the heart of Cerro Rico, the mineral-rich mountain. The mine extract from this mountain for silver, lead, zinc, tin, and copper. In the heyday of mining here, in the 16th century, they found silver veins a foot and a half wide, and today they’re lucky if they find ones more than an inch wide. It was all this silver that made Potosi – and Spain – so rich. In the 17th century, Potosi had more than 200,000 inhabitants and was one of the biggest cities in the world, only 200 hundred years after it was founded.

The conditions inside the mine were extreme: not enough oxygen and toxic dust everywhere. They think more than 8 million African or indigenous slaves died in the mines. Today, the life expectancy of a miner is less than 40, mostly due to respiratory illness. The youngest start working at age 14. In Spain, they used to say that there was enough silver in Cerro Rico to build a silver bridge between Spain and the new world. In Bolivia, they used to say that there enough bones of the dead buried in the mountain to build the same bridge.

In the afternoon we went back to the bus station, and wondered between the booths to try and find a bus going to Sucre, but it seemed no buses went to the capital. When we finally found one, the ticket agent told us to go to the next bus down to buy the tickets, since she didn’t have any. We’ll never understand the system here!

We walked towards a young girl calling out “suuuuuucccccccrrrrrreeeee.” We bought our tickets – 3 hour ride for €2 each. And then we waited, since the bus wasn’t leaving for another hour. We found the bus belonging to the company and sat in front of it. But no, this wasn’t the bus that was leaving to Sucre – the one we wanted belonged to another company. Apparently they had merged two companies because there weren’t enough passengers, only they didn’t tell anyone. Sébastien noticed the bus we were supposed to take and we had to chase it down!

It was a  3 hour ride – in theory. But there was a flat tire (every time we get in a bus, there’s a flat!) and we arrived 5 hours later, a little tired. We dropped our stuff in a little unassuming hotel and went to eat near the town square, all beautifully lit up.

Day 3: Sucre

We spent the day wandering around the streets of the Bolivian capital. The buildings and their interior courtyards were fantastic. We also enjoyed the climate: Sucre is only 2800m above sea level – it was lovely and warm and we left our coats at the hotel.

We ended up eating in a restaurant of the Alliance Française. It was a nice place, with reasonable Bolivian prices – a good sized plate with delicious locale fare for only €4!!

Day 4: Back to Oruro

Our guide book said that there were buses that leave for Oruro in the morning and evening. But when we got at the bus station in Sucre at 7:00 am, we found out that in fact there the direct routes only leave in the evening, which would get us into Oruro at 4 am. So we would have to take a bus that stopped in Potosi (3 hour ride) and then a connecting bus to Oruro (5 hours). We didn’t want to waste any more time, so we took these “trufi” (shared taxis). We went in a car with two other people from Sucre to Potosi (2.5 hours) for just €3, and then in a minivan with five other people from Potosi to Oruro for €5 (3.5 hours). We thought we wouldn’t get into Oruro until late, but in the end we were there by 2:30!

Our bikes and all our gear was still there. We filled our bags with food since we leave tomorrow for Salar d’Uyuni, which should take us about a week to get to. A week when we’re not sure whether we’ll be able to send news….or even find food!

The moral of the story?

We tip our hats to the travelers who go by bus. It seemed like we wasted a lot of time running between terminals to try to find out the schedules and routes of all the different companies. And bouncing around on the bus for 3 hours isn’t exactly relaxing! And you don’t get to see the scenery – there are curtains at the front of the bus, and on the sides too. No one seems interested in the views since they all close their curtains. We prefer the freedom of our own bikes.

This trip is outside the scope of the Association Planète Durable et Solidaire. But we will use the site to keep you updated on all our news and adventures.

Sara & Sébastien

We met with the small Microfinance Institution (MFI) that our host Nicolas started a couple of years ago. We also met two of his clients: a carpenter and a shoe-maker. It was another example of a successful MFI that really cares about its clients, but it always needs money in order to offer more services to more people.

Last Sunday we got mountain bikes and rode down “the most dangerous road in the world.” It gives us goose bumps just to think about it! It started at 4600m above sea level and finished at 1300m. The first 20 km were paved road that we shared with the traffic, and then there was 40 km of dirt road, with no cars in sight. Nearly everyone drives on the new paved road that goes into the valley, finished only 18 months ago. The old road was incredible – but not really that dangerous on the bikes. Much less dangerous than some of the other roads we’ve been on, like between Huancayo and Ayacucho in Peru. On the other hand, we had trouble imagining how two trucks would pass each other on the road. As we went down, the vegetation increased dramatically. At the bottom we arrived in what Nicolas calls “paraiso” (paradise): a lovely little village with a good climate where lots of things can grow, including bananas, coffee beans, coca plants, oranges, and lemons. Nicolas offered us a luxury cabana to stay in – thanks Nicolas!

Back in La Paz, we met with a large MFI that charges much lower interest rates than any of the others that we had met so far.

Nicolas kindly took us back up to El Alto (4100m), above La Paz. We left from there on our bikes, heading towards Oruro, which took us three days to get to (not two, like we’d planned). The altiplano is anything but a flat plain! What looks like flat is actually a series of low hills. The first day we covered 96 km, going from 3750 to 4100m in altitude – not too shabby!

Yesterday, however, there was a light headwind all day and we ended up camping in the wild after 82 km of flat road. We weren’t as cold that night as we were expecting, even though the temperature dipped below zero and there was frost on the tent and ice in our water bottles. As soon as the sun came up in the morning, the air warmed up and it was quite comfortable.

We just crossed a symbolic mark: 15,000 km travelled since Anchorage. We’ll celebrate with “foie gras” that my parents brought us when they came. This morning we saw some vicuna (part of the llama family). The wind may have held us back yesterday, but it also meant some spectacular views of the little whirlwinds that followed us the whole way along.

Tomorrow we will leave our bikes and take a 4 day bus trip through the towns Potosi and Sucre.

PS. It’s hard to find a good internet connection in Bolivia. So be patient, the photos will be up soon.

Sébastien 28/08/09 à 18h

Report on Peru (Sebastien)

Traveling through Peru was a bit of a strange experience, not altogether unexpected. We met wonderful people, generous, warm and friendly. We also met people we really could have done without, people who were mean, unfriendly and dishonest. Well, you say, they are all sorts of people in world. That’s true, but it seemed like Peru was a country of extremes – there was no middle ground. We are leaving with a good impression of the country though, especially of the beautiful countryside which we had lots of chance to admire.

Bienvenidos en Bolivia! (Sara)

We crossed over our 12th border. Sebastien kept an eye on the biked while I went to see about leaving Peru. First to the Police Station to make sure we didn’t have any outstanding fines, and then to Immigration. Then we got back on the bikes, and rode up a little hill and through an archway, passing into a different time zone. We set our watches ahead an hour and now we are only 6 hours behind France.

Getting into Bolivia was easy – just one stamp in our passports. The customs officer stamped my passport first and I saw that he put down “30.” Oh no, I thought, only 30 days in Bolivia – that’ll be rough! I took a chance and explained to him that we were biking and that 30 days wasn’t enough time. The officer crossed out 30 and wrote 90 – welcome to Bolivia!

As soon as we passed the border, the traffic was a lighter on the roads, and those cars that did pass us gave us a wide berth. No more honking – to the great relief of our ears. And the road, which we had thought would be bad, was quite well maintained.

Copacabana & Isla del Sol (Sara)

Our first stop in Bolivia was Copacabana, a super touristy town. We had plans to meet Ingo and Birte for dinner, a German couple travelling in a little RV. We’d run into them a couple of times along the way, and each time they stopped to make sure that we were ok and asked if we needed anything. That evening we met two other cyclists, Joyce from Ireland and Philip from England. They didn’t eat with us, though – Philip were feeling a little sick – but we planned to see them the next evening. We really enjoy spending time with other travelers, and share stories and ideas.

On our day off, we went to Isla del Sol, a beautiful, tourist island destination. We chose to get dropped off on the Northern part of the Island (2.5 hours by boat) and to walk across the island to catch the boat back to Copacabana (1.5 hour trip). The landscape was fantastic. The only downside was the local “tolls” for passing through the villages. We only paid 2 out 3, following the instructions of the tourist agency.

Lake Titicaca, Bolivian side (Sara)

The view was spectacular: the clear blue sky was reflected in the lake, the highest navigable lake in the world. We went around with Joyce and Philip who we met in Copacabana. They had started their trip in Cuzco and are heading to Ushuaia, hoping to get there by mid-November. They’re still so excited about their trip that they forgot to buy food or drinks, or to take out enough Bolivian money (Bolivianos) to make it the two days to La Paz! We talked a lot and they asked us all about our daily life on the road: what we eat for lunch and dinner, what medications we have, our stops in Bolivia, etc. It was like we were seeing ourselves as we were 15 months ago! We told them as much as we could, and assured them that in a couple of weeks they would be experienced cyclists that other people would ask for advice!

La Paz (Sara)

We were meeting Nicolas in El Alto. Nicolas is Kevin’s Dad, the cyclo-tourist that we met in Nicaragua, when he was helping Sylvie, the cyclist who was mugged. It turns out that Nicolas works in Microfinance (he even started a MFI), and he said that we would introduce us to some people in the field.

This German-Bolivian guy didn’t want us to bike across La Paz to see him, so he came to meet us, which we really appreciated – the last 5 km coming up to El Alto had been pretty strenuous. On our way to his place, the bikes on the roof rack and our bags safety tucked away in the trunk, he told us all about the city and sites that we were passing. La Paz is situated in a valley – 4100m at the highest point, and 2800m at the bottom. Dizzying!

The incredible view from the top gave the impression of a modern city, bigger than the other cities have we’ve been through in Central and South America.

Up Next  (Sara)

We had meeting today and we have another one on Monday with some Microfinance Institutions. We’ll also take the time to see the city. And we’ll bike down the “most dangerous road in the world.” It’s now open to bikes – starting from 4000m and going down to 1750m, beside a cliff 100 to 600m high. The road will take us to Coroico, a little village where Nicolas has a house and where we’ll spend the weekend.

We’re taking the shortest route through Bolivia as we are a bit late in our schedule: La Paz, Oruro, Uyuni, Tupiza. But we’ll take a side trip to Sucre and Potosi, and through Lipez with motorized vehicles.

Sara & Sébastien

Moccoraise

After almost 3 weeks of vacation, we’re back on the bikes. Mario and Marianella invited us to go to Moccoraise, a small village where Mario’s parents live. Her mother, Maximilliana, is a micro-entrepreneur and has agreed to talk to us. For once, we were supported while biking: we had only our emergency kit with us, a bag with some food and our warm clothes. All the rest of our stuff was in the truck. It was strange to be travelling so light!

En route, we met Charly and Julien, two guys from France who were biking from Ushuaia to Cuzco. We exchanged information with them. It was quite encouraging to meet them!

The whole family was waiting for us to Moccoraise. Then Maximilliana and one of her neighbours, another mico-entrepreneur, told us all about their experiences with micro-finance. It was really interesting and we learned a lot. It was great to speak with clients without the institutions themselves as an intermediary, since they tend to introduce us only to their best clients, the ones with no complaints.

We also got to meet the community leader. He told us all about the difficulties of the village and asked for our help. They are looking for:

• someone with an agricultural background to teach to improve their crop yields;
• someone to consult with regarding a water reservoir for the village; and,
• the funds to print an illustrated book about life in their village. The book is written by a Danish author and translated into Spanish. All they need is the money to actually print it.

If you would like to help them out, or have any ideas, let us know. The village of Moccoraise thanks you!

110km and 4356m up

We had to say goodbye to our hosts Mario and Marianella. It’s always to hard to leave people, and they had done so much for us. There were a few tears in our eyes as we watched their car drive away towards Cuzco, on their way to a business meeting.

We hit the road, again, heading towards Puno and a 800m climb. It’s tough getting back to work!

We lunched at the top, watching the buses pull up and unload all the tourists. For them, there were artisanal stalls and placards proclaiming the altitude: 4356m! Everyone rushed to get their picture taken in front of the sign attesting to the dizzying height. Just two weeks ago, we were in the buses just like them, but now, back on the bikes, we really can’t imagine why people do those trips. After a bit, they all filed back inside the buses.

We made it to Ayaviri that night, although we hadn’t been sure we would be able to cover the 110km. We arrived just as night fell, in the cool evening air of the altiplano. We had spent the whole day at more than 3500m above sea level.

Headwinds and headaches

We left Ayaviri the next morning, psyched for the day. Just outside the town, however, two big dogs guarded the road, refusing to let us pass. We cautiously approached and they attacked. We were all the way on the left side of the road but luckily there wasn’t much traffic. I heard the snapping of jaws only inches away from my leg! I was so mad I threw rocks at them and the beasts chased them down and ate them! At least it distracted them while we biked by…

Unlike the day before, the wind was not at our backs. Instead it was a cold headwind. No more biking in short sleeves – I put on a hat under my helmet, my fleece, and my gloves.

After 95km along the altiplano, we arrived at Juliaca, a crazy town. Everyone honked for no reason and the taxis and mini-buses fishtailed across the roads. After making the rounds of the town, we found a half-decent “hostal,” more expensive than in Cuzco. We filled out their forms and paid, and only then did they tell us that they didn’t want us to bring the bikes up to the room. We tried to negotiate, but to no avail. The clerk was following the orders of the boss, who didn’t even acknowledge our presence, and the two of them talked about us while we were standing right there. In the end, we put the bikes in a publicly accessible room. We weren’t happy about it, and since we were already annoyed, we asked for a note specifying that the hotel was responsible for the bikes. Just as we were leaving, the desk clerk asked us whether we had any valuables to declare. As if we would give them a list of our most expensive stuff…!

Puno

The city was 42 km away, and that meant 42 km of terrifying road. There was no shoulder, and the cars and trucks were aggressive and didn’t give us any room. It was like some competition to see who would force the gringos off the road and into the ditch, or else who could deafen us with their horns. Once, a truck passed so close to me that I screamed and pulled over to the side. It was impossible to bike under such conditions. And the Peruvian drivers are impossible to predict – who knows what they’ll do next.

We did finally make it to Puno, and started looking for Marta, a young woman who sold us some handicrafts two weeks ago when we were with Sebastien’s parents. We took a picture with her and had promised to give her the photo when we came through Puno. We asked at one stall and the girl took us to Marta’s, which was closed. We were about to leave the pictures with her when we noticed that she was wearing the blouse of one of the microfinance institutions that we had visited. We told her about our trip, and she introduced us to other women borrowers. It was hard to get them to trust us. We had to explain several times who we were and about our project, and that we didn’t actually have any money, but that we were trying to document their experiences and tell their stories to the world, which might have a positive effect. We planned to meet them again the next day to hear more about their experiences. We didn’t really want to stay in Puno, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up!

Monday we will cross into Bolivia, the 12th country so far of our trip. It’s also the country where many other travellers have run into problems and even given up….

PS. The immensity of the altiplano (around 3800 or 3900m above sea level) is breathtaking. The colours are intense, and the sun’s rays penetrating. Despite our best efforts with sunscreen and shade, we burned a little up here.

Sara