Ed's Gone South

Photos -- Bolivia on the Upside

Location: Puno, Peru
Local Time: Eastern Standard
Miles/Days from Home: Just a few more than the last time...

Peru at last!! As I rounded the south end of Lake Titicaca this morning heading towards the Peruvian border, it was pissing rain and a cool 40 degrees. I looked ahead, and saw sunshine on a hillside -- PERU!

I know not many folks read the hunk material I put up last week, so here's a sampling of photos from the last month kicking around Bolivia for those of you who don't have time for 25 pages of boring travel writing. Enjoy!

P.S. I don't know why, but they all look darker on the web than on my camera. Go figure...

Salar de Uyuni

The Salar de Uyuni is a "must-do" for travelers coming through Bolivia. The Salar is the world's largest salt flat, clocking in around the size of Rhode Island. It's just flat and blinding white in all directions.

Including a vast area of volcanos and geysers south of the Salar, it's a four day trip in a Jeep. I had intended to do it with ol' El Cabroncito, but alas as we pulled into town, he sprained his rear leg (the broken shock ordeal).

I think in hindsight it was a message from God that I should be in a metal box for the Salar trip, since it snowed and blew 60 mph gusts of 10 degree wind for two full days of the four day tour. I was freezing my tits off INSIDE the jeep with all my clothes on. I think I'd still be out there if I had ventured it on the bike.

Although there are no fish (or even fresh water) for a few hundred miles, the Isla de Pescadores (Island of Fishermen) is one of the first stops on the tour. The cacti that reside there grow at the geologic rate of one centimeter a year. That means a 12 meter high cactus is 1200 years old. And there were PLENTY of 12 m high cacti.

Some people have more huevos than I. This madman was one of four people I saw crossing the Salar on mountain bike. I'm told it's over a week to traverse by bike. And remember what I said about the snow and cold?

Driver Ed. Our guide/driver/cook, Chris, gave me the wheel for a spell as we sped across the perfectly flat Salar. The route is SO flat and unobstructed, I really only touched the streering wheel once a minute or so to keep us headed in the right direction. Even so, some of my travel companions didn't think it was so funny when I pinned the pedal down and turned around in my seat offering to deal the next hand of cards.

The Salar is one of the few places in the world where you can find TRUE Lilliputian people. This little bugger wouldn't leave us alone, so Dave had to blow her off.

At 4,500 meters above sea lever, the sight of pink flamingos in many of the lakes south of the Salar are a pleasant surprise.

One of the most commonly photographed sites in the Salar, the Tree of Stone takes on a strange look in the snow.

A storm slowly rolling in over the shores of Laguna Colorado.

Laguna Verde, just 10 miles from the Chilean border.

Not a bad place to stop for lunch.

Portraits of a Champion

Ol' El Cabroncito saw his fair share of fun in Bolivia. With 97% of the country's MAJOR highways completely unpaved (and eroded, corrugated messes to boot) he was put to the test.

On my final ride out of Sucre, I headed north to Cochabamba over a road I'd been on two months before. The route had changed some because of a long detour that included 17 river crossings and one kilometer riding through a shallow side channel.

A day later, rounding a corner on the final stretch into Cochabamba, I piglet refused to get out of my way and became lunch for ol' El Cab. Unfortunately, that little piggy laughed all the way home, because he bent my brake pedal completely around the foot peg. Note the hair and blood still on the tip of the bent black thing.

Back in La Paz, I took El Cab down to basically just the frame and engine to do a pretty exhaustive set of repairs and maintenance. He's purring like a kitten these days, although he was a little embarassed to be left naked like this in the shop for over a week waiting on the shock.

Our Virgincita of Copacabana

As I wrote in my last posting, Copacabana was one of the highlights of my tie in Bolivia. I don't know if it was all the Peruvians about for the week, but everyone just seemed so damn friendly!

At the top of the Cerro de Calvario, pilgrims make offerings to the shrine of the Virgin Mary.

As you may have read in my last posting, part of the deal with Copacabana is that people come from miles around to have minatures of things they want blessed on the hill outside of town. This includes small pieces of land. Three of us took part in a ceremony that included being blessed with a pretty impressive set of rosaries just after filling our hands and pockets with foaming beer.

During their ceremony, my Spanish friends, Diana, Sergio, and Miguel, got a little stoned on the thick yellow smoke of Holyman Juan's homemade inscence.

After getting me even more pickled than I already was after three of us polished off 7 liters of beer in our ceremony, this wonderful Peruvian family asked me to be the Godfather of their first born, the baby on the left. Then they told me I'd of course have to pay for the whole service and party and all.

My would-be God daughter's cousin was a little too sure showing off for everyone.

Just another ugly South America sunset, this time over Lake Titicaca.

Civil Disobedience

I had read that the Bolivian people are known for their incredible ability to organize social protests at the drop of a hat. In three months, I saw protests almost every dity I visited.

One of my last days in La Paz, I witnessed one of the largest of all. A few thousand women and retirees blocked traffic on the main drag and paraded through town for close to three hours. I don't know exactly what they were protesting, but much like the massive protests in recent years in the U.S., the messages were well coordinated. The chants I overheard from the crowd included: Death to Chileans, Down with Corruption, Life to the Retired Dentists, Food for the Elderly, and so on...

The typical woman of La Paz dresses in an ill-fitting bowler hat, a broad shawl, and wide pleated skirts, as in more than a few stacked on top of each other. Seeing a few thousand of them at one time was an impressive experience.

The police pulled out all the riot gear just in case the masses of unarmed women and retriees got out of control.

Huayni Potosi

My climb up the 6,080 meter (19,975 ft.) Huayni Potosi outside La Paz was one of the most difficult and enlivening experiences of my life. I think more mountains are on the roster for the next few months in Chile and Argentina.

The view as we drove in was just a little intimidating.

At 5,200 meters, just getting to base camp was an effort. We camped on the snow and I found out the hard way that our tent did NOT have a waterproof floor.

Sunrise at Belay Station No. 2. As I stopped to catch my breath at the second anchor point half way up "the wall" on the final stretch to the summit, I turned to catch a glimpse of the rising sun. Just as I did, this guide for a team of Dutch climbers caught up with me to set an anchor for them.

We stopped for only a few minutes on the blistering cold and windy summit. Many thanks to Sergio for the high-fashion flip-up glasses that made my "ambervision" sunglasses a little more snowglare-proof.

Looking down the wall, and out over the world. I must say, I've always wanted to look down on the clouds.

Cecilio was a little more cocky than I was as he came back down the ladder spanning the widest crevasse we had to cross. I was on all fours...

The World's Most Dangerous Road

Heading north from La Paz is the road to Coroico. Well, technically it's the "old" road, but the new road is only open for two hours a day. The Coroico road earned the reputation as the world's "most dangerous road" because every month two bus or truck loads of people go off the side. I was told it claims more lives per user than any other road in the world. A week before I went down, a bus load of 34 fell to their death.

Even though it's a narrow,w inding one lane road, for bikes it's a piece of cake. It's the huge buses and trucks have to navigate the endless series of blind turns with only an airhorn that get in trouble. The down hill vehicles must stay to the outside, and when they encounter an uphill-bound vehcile, must BACK UP hill to the nearest pullout. It's in the backing up process that most trucks go over.

El Cab posed real purty for me as we headed out towards the beginning of the road.

Just one of the many blind turns on the road. Note just how steep the grade is to the left. When trucks and buses go over, many times they can't retrieve the bodies or anything as there are no winches long enough to reach the over half mile they sometimes fall. As I rode down, I tried not to peer off into the blinding white abyss.

Sr. Tomatino. This gentleman has been directing traffic on one particularly dangerous curve for over twelve years. It was then that his entire family died when their bus went over the edge. Since that time he has subsisted on donations of food and money from people passing by. I gave him a bar of chocolate, the only thing I had.

El Cab's turn to look out over the clouds. This time it was after we successfully came back up the Coroico road.

That's all folks, but more pics soon...

###