Illimani

This is Illimani, the beautiful 3-peaked extinct volcano, rising to 21,230 feet, that graces La Paz with her presence, along with a diagram of the route we followed. I had decided when I was planning this trip that I wanted to summit one of the Andean mountains of at least 20,000 feet elevation, and chose Illimani because of its proximity to La Paz, and the interesting descriptions I had read from climbers who had been on it. I went with Bolivian Journeys, a guiding company headed by Marco Souria, who has many years of climbing experience, and has helped glaciologists and climate change researchers in their treks in the high Andes. He told me beforehand this would not be an easy climb. I didn’t doubt him.
My guide was to be Eulogio, who has summited Illimani more than 20 times. He spoke very little English, but with my broken Spanish, I was able to communicate effectively. Although Illimani is only about 25-30 miles from La Paz straight-line distance, it took us 4 hours to get there. We had to wind around an incredibly steep canyon behind La Paz, that had to easily have been at least 7000 feet deep. The road descended to the bottom of it, where it was very warm, then ascended the other side, in steep hairpin curves through three small villages. One of the hazards of the trip is below right, herders with their sheep and llamas, sometimes it took them several minutes to get their flocks off the road.

We arrived at the base village around noon, and had to wait for our porters, to help us haul most of our gear up to the low camp. The base village lies at about 13,000 feet on Illimani’s lower slopes, and women from it hire out to all the guiding companies as porters. The first day, these two teenage sisters, Jimena and Clarita, tied the two 60 lb. bags with our food, tents, and climbing gear to a burro, and led it up to our low camp at 14,500 feet, where they are standing by the tent.

It took us about three hours to hike up to the low camp, it was only about 4 miles from the village, and not too steep of a trail. I had just 35 lb. on my back, extra clothing, some food, a down sleeping bag, and water. So I didn’t feel too bad from the altitude. The low camp was in a large open meadow, right at the base of the mountain. It was a cold and gloomy place during our stay, with occasional showers of snow and sleet, and thunder at times. Amazing to me were the herds of horses, sheep, and llamas that people from the village tended in this inhospitable location. My only negative experience in Bolivia occurred that night. Eulogio warned me to bring everything in the tent at night, but I forgot to bring in my very nice collapsible trekking poles. They were gone in the morning. A little eerie to think of strangers wandering around overnight there around my tent in that gloomy place, stealing things.

The next morning started out cold and gloomy, but as we had breakast, began to turn sunny and inviting. We packed up and were ready to hit the trail at 0900. Our porters this day, to lift our supplies to Campo Alto, the high camp at 18,000 feet, were Jimena, who’s about 16, and her older sister Juanita, who is in her early 20s. They tied up the two 60 lb. bags in blankets, wrapped them around their necks, and followed us behind. The trail initially was not very steep, and I thought, great, if it just slowly winds up the mountain, I’ll be in fine shape. Unfortunately, this was not to be. The trail quickly started ascending a sharp knife-like rock outcropping between glaciers. It was like climbing stairs the whole time, on sharp, sometimes loose rocks, with fatal drop-offs on either side of hundreds of feet.

These pictures, above, are about halfway up to Campo Alto, around 16,000 feet. I quickly realized the effect of the altitude, combined with the weight of my pack and steepness of the trail. At home, hiking or skiing with 35 lbs. on does require additional effort, and slows me down some, but at these altitudes, the effect was magnified. We stopped every hundred feet or so, so I could catch my breath, and took very short, slow steps. Of course even Eulogio couldn’t just run up this, so it took us about five hours to ascend from where the trail steepened at 15,000 feet, to Campo Alto, a map distance of probably only about two or three miles. The views were incredible, the thick, steep glaciers on our sides, and the rocky precipitous slope below tumbling down into the canyon, dotted with distant villages and terraced farms. In the far distance, the skyscrapers of La Paz were visible.

We reached Campo Alto around four in the afternoon, and immediately threw down our packs and rested. 18,000 feet, my new altitude record. But unfortunately, I was so winded from our ascent, I just was not able to fully recover my breath. My breathing continued fast, with my heart racing, and within an hour, I began to come down with the symptoms of the dreaded Soroche, altitude sickness. For those who have never experienced it, it is truly miserable. For me, it was a mind-numbing headache that seemed to press out from my skull through my eyes, and a low-grade nausea, not incapacitating, but enough to prevent me from eating anything, though I was able to drink some hot tea and water. The last time I had felt like that was from a bad case of the flu when I was 21, many years before. The plan had been to set up camp, get to sleep early, then rise at 0200 and summit, so we could get back to camp by early afternoon, in case the daily afternoon convection got too bad. I wasn’t going to descend yet, I thought, maybe with some time and rest, I’d improve. Meanwhile our porters came up with their loads. They ascended the rough, steep, rocky route in their dresses, shawls, and sandals with no socks! And it was about 25F up there at 18,000 feet! Talk about tough, I was highly impressed. They were slower, carrying their heavy loads, but were laughing and joking the whole time.

The views from Campo Alto were incredible, like nothing I had ever seen before. It was worth the money spent, effort, and current misery, just to have seen this incredible place. I did eat a few bites for dinner, which stayed down, then enjoyed the sunset and the views.

You can really see the thick layers of snow/ice accumulation that occur every year during the wet season, which is their summer. In this latitude of the tropics, snow levels are usually around 17-18 thousand feet in summer, 14-15 thousand in winter. But winter is the dry season, so not much falls then. But it did look like to me that there was significant recession on the bottom ends of all the glaciers. When I lived in Juneau, from 1998-2001, the Mendenhall glacier there was in fast recession (and still is), and the freshly exposed rocks on Illimani at the lower edge of the glaciers reminded me of that. And, on older pictures of Illimani, you can see the difference. On this picture, from La Paz, in 1997, the glacial tongues extending down in elevation are much wider, and extend significantly lower. As I mentioned before, the Andean countries of Ecuador,
Peru, and Bolivia are very concerned because climate change modeling suggests that all their glaciers could be gone in 40 to 50 years, which they now rely on for water supply and power generation.

The sunset there has to have been the most beautiful I have ever seen. As the daylight lessened, the lights of La Paz became visible in the far distance, and even further, 100 miles away, the perfect cone of Sajama, the highest peak in Bolivia, at 21,500 feet, was in view. The glaciers above camp and the summit of Illimani were bathed in the orange sunset alpenglow.

These crosses, below, just up the slope from Campo Alto, memorialize three Bolivian guides who died over the past ten years. They died because they were guiding tourists like me who came down with Soroche, who then pressed their guides to continue. The tourists either blacked out or slipped, and took the guides with them on their fatal journey. Eulogio said if I didn’t feel better later than night, there would be no climb. I was not going to argue with that! What followed was very likely the most miserable night I can remember. Bundled in my down bag (the temperature out was probably about 15F, with a stiff breeze), with the headache and nausea, sleep was impossible. When Eulogio awoke at 0200 and asked me how I felt, I said no change, and we decided, there was going to be no summit attempt. So, he went back to sleep, and I tried to, but was not very successful. While lying there in misery, it seemed like every 10 to 15 minutes or so, I heard what at first I thought was thunder. There had been some earlier that day, but after awhile, as these sounds continued, I realized, they were avalanches on the higher slopes of the glacier cap. So, perhaps it was for the best we didn’t summit.

Finally when morning light arrived (not soon enough for me!), we slowly roused ourselves, I had some water and tea, but no food, and we packed camp. We began our descent around 0800, this time Eulogio had me rappel down the steep rocky face, just in case I was too tired and slipped. But I was actually feeling fairly well, just knowing we were descending, I think, gave me a boost. It only took about two hours to get down to 15,000 feet, and by then I felt much better. By the time we got to the low camp site at 14,500 feet, I was able to eat. Another couple hours brought us back to the base village, at 13,000 feet, and by then I was ravenously hungry, and ate a full meal of potatoes the villagers gave us, with canned tuna. I passed out all my chocolates and candy to several small children who materialized from the village. Amazing how just the four thousand foot descent was enough to clear my symptoms and return me to normalcy. Since we didn’t summit, we returned to La Paz a day early, and I visited with the Bolivian Servicio Nacionale de Meteorologia y Hydrologica (Bolivian National Meteorological and Hydrologic Service) the next day, after a good night's sleep in my plush 30.00 hotel.

I met with their Meteorologist in Charge, Senor Felix Trujillo. Their office is in a five-floor building shared with an Air Force branch office and their FAA. Although his English was similar to my Spanish, good for the basics, but difficult to maintain in-depth conversations, we still managed to exchange some useful information.

They have a staff of five meteorologists and are only open Monday-Friday, during the day, since they don’t prepare aviation forecasts (I wasn’t able to ascertain who does them for Bolivia). They do have a doppler radar in La Paz, the only one in the country, and issue severe weather warnings based on it. They also issue flood warnings for the whole country, and prepare water supply forecasts, because they have several large dams producing electricity. I was slowly able to demonstrate our graphical forecast editing procedures, using NWS web-sites. They still write their forecasts manually like we in the NWS used to do before the introduction of the graphical forecasting editing process. Their data displays are very nice and large, very much like our AWIPS system, with panes for satellite, radar, and forecast model images. Since none of the universities in Bolivia have a meteorology program, Sr. Trujillo received his degree in Argentina, and others on their staff from Brazil. A few of their meteorologists have even been to NCEP (National Center For Environmental Prediction), in Washington D.C., for training. The lead forecaster on duty ran through the current weather picture with me, their satellite, radar, and forecast model displays were just as good as any we have in our NWS offices. Sr. Trujillo asked me about climate change issues in Alaska, and I mentioned our melting permafrost and the shrinking summer Arctic Ocean ice. He said their main concern is glacial recession on the high peaks. Bolivia and Peru rely on these for much of their drinking water, and power generation. Modeling suggests that in 40-50 years most, if not all, the glaciers will be gone in these countries. It did look like there was significant shrinkage of glaciers on Illimani, as you can see above, and from what I saw, and of course, the demise of their ski area serves as a stark example. Even though we were handicapped by the language barriers, I felt we had a productive visit, and when my Spanish improves, and I return for another one, I look forward to even better communication.

Salar de Uyuni/SW Bolivia/chile/Potosi

After my first three days in La Paz spent acclimating to the altitude and getting a feel for how things worked in Bolivia, it was time to move on and see more of the country. I decided well before my arrival to see the Uyuni Salt Flats, the biggest salt lake in the World, and the SW corner of Bolivia, as I had seen amazing and bizarre pictures from there. I was not disappointed. Seemingly, everywhere you look in central La Paz, tour agencies advertise tours of the Salar de Uyuni and SW Bolivia, along with mountain climbs and mountain bike tours. What you will get for your $200.00 for a 3 day 2 night tour will always be the same, unless you really check closely, and pay more money. Which is this, a ride with five other tourists, a guide/driver, and a cook, for eight total, in a 10 to 25 year old Toyota Land Cruiser. Three long driving days spent jammed in the back and center seats was hard on my knees, but well worth it. There were three young Irish tourists, a German woman, and another American and I, along for the ride. First though, I had to hop a jammed local bus from La Paz to Oruro, in central Bolivia, then catch a train from there to Uyuni, the small city on the edge of the salt flat. The bus ride was crowded and long, as to be expected in Latin America. But the train ride was something else entirely. It was clean and modern, with comfortable reclining seats and good food; for the 12 hour ride to Uyuni, the fare was only $20.00!


Setting out from Uyuni in the Land Cruiser, we just took right off over the salt flat at 60 mph. As you can see, it looks like crusty spring “corn” snow, but the surface is as hard-packed as an asphalt road. In the tropical sun at this high altitude, eye protection is essential! It is the biggest salt flat/lake in the World, three times bigger than our Great Salt Lake, and at an elevation of 12,500 feet. There are several small volcanic islands sprinkled around the flat, and after about two hours driving, we came to the most famous, Incahuasi, the cactus-studded rocks. Looking very Arizona-like, with those large cacti, the only clue we had of the high altitude, besides the relatively cool 60 degree day, was the extra effort required to ascend several hundred feet to the top of the island.

What is also amazing about this area is the climate. Although it is still in the tropics, at 20 degrees south latitude, that is far enough from the Equator for decided seasonal differences in temperature to occur. This combined with the altitude produces a climate like no other on Earth. Average high and low temperatures in winter on the salt flats are 45-50, and 8-15, degrees Fahrenheit, respectively! And it can get as cold as -5 to -10F! Summer temperatures are comfortable, 60s by day, around 40 at night. Winter brings the dry season, so snowfall there is rare, the little moisture that comes in summer occurs when convection from the lower elevations to the north and west is forced over the region by the northeasterly trade winds. In the even higher elevations of southwest Bolivia, which we visited on our second and third days, temperatures are even colder, and conditions drier!
Strange and amazing scenes are to be found in SW Bolivia, especially in Eduardo Avaroa National Park, which we toured the second day. Our first night on the salt flat tour was spent in the little village of San Juan de Lipez, near the park, where the accommodations were less than rustic, bordering on extreme. Tiny beds in a tiny, crowded room up dangerous narrow stairs, with the only bathroom (clean though!) at the bottom and around the courtyard. But the food was good, our Bolivian cook provided us with three home-cooked authentic meals daily. I even had Vicuna (the smallest relative of the llama) steak for lunch our first day, which was similar to beef in taste and texture. While we were eating dinner in San Juan de Lipez, about 8 children from the town, between the ages of about 7 and 14 serenaded us with local music using the small flamenco guitar and pipe flutes. They were a little raw, but we appreciated it nonetheless, and of course gave them more than the expected tips. They were very nice kids, and it was great to see them performing for us like that. Before dinner we walked around town, and checked out their local livestock, llamas and alpacas. We also were encouraged to take a tour of mummified remains in a weird open-air rock graveyard. Said to be from the indigenous people there 800 years ago. I didn't take pictures, thinking it not appropriate. But there were about 20 little rock crypts, many of which did indeed have small mummies in them, mostly bones, some skin, clad in disintegrating wool clothing. For these views, we paid 5 Bolivianos (80 cents). Interesting, but strange.



The next day we took off early and headed in to the park. These are some of the things we saw.





The flamingoes in the picture on the top, left, were found in several lakes around the region. They live year-round there, eating algae, even though the lakes partially freeze every night. The strange rock, below this, was formed by eolian processes, i.e., by the strong prevailing winds in the region blowing sand, which eroded the softer rock. This rock was on a plain at 15,500 feet, and on our day, a strong northeast wind of 35-45 mph was blowing, and it was about 45 degrees. The red lake, upper left, is Laguna Colorado, our destination on day two. The amazing red color of the lake is from algae, and there were thousands of flamingoes on it, truly a strange site, the more so because the wind was even stronger, than up the road where the eolian rock was. All the salt flat tours spend the night at the Laguna Colorado camp, which is a collection of cabins with 8 beds, one cabin per land cruiser. The accommodations were just as rustic as the night before, but comfortable. As it got down to about 15F that night, and the cabins are unheated, we had all been warned to bring warm clothing and down sleeping bags, and were glad we did.


We were awoken early the morning of the third day, at 0430, that we could leave at 0500 so as to arrive at the geyser area of the park by sunrise, around 0600. This unusual steam geyser was only lukewarm to the touch! There were several others in the vicinity as well. After breakfast at a lodge there with a nice hot spring to soak in (it was still just 20F outside), we headed south and west toward the Chilean border, over a 16,500 foot pass. On the other side of that pass, we came to Laguna Verde, above right, the green lake. It has an otherworldy appearance, as you can see, and there were flamingoes in it. This lake lies at about 14,500 feet.



We made a brief foray to the Chilean border, to drop off one our riders, so she could catch a bus into that country. I ran briefly across the border, there being no guards, just so I can say I set foot in it. I have a strong attraction to that country, and it is next on my list to visit. Partially because I remember the terrible history there from the 1970s, on. When I was 9, in 4th grade, we all once a week, had to bring a newspaper article in and talk about it in front of the class. I'll never forget what mine was. It was a very small two paragraph story on the corner of the front page of the San Diego Union, "Coup in Chile", dated September 12, 1973. It just gave a brief description of the previous day's events there, which you can read about in my "Is it 9/11 already?" post. My Mom knew more of the story, since she was an activist in a very left-wing party then. But she didn't explain it all to me, I was only 9, and wouldn't fully have fully understood. I want to talk to people in Chile and see what their experiences were then, and see the changes that have occurred since, which are great. Their current "center-left" President, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michelle_Bachelet, actually lost her father in the 1973 coup, and she and her mother were tortured by the fascists. Our support of that coup marks one of the darkest events/actions in modern American history.

After our stop at the Chilean border, we made the long, 8 hour ride back to Uyuni, over more windy, narrow, mountain gravel/sand roads. By the time we got back to Uyuni, we were all sore of knees, tired, dusty, and parched, but still stunned by the amazing scenery, something none of us will ever forget.
Next up on the itinerary was a side trip over to Potosi, the old mining city, which at 14,000 feet, is listed in the guidebooks as the highest city in the World. With a population of 200,000, I didn’t doubt it. The bus ride from Uyuni to Potosi was a classic Bolivian journey, 9 hours over a mix of paved and dirt road winding up and down passes as high as 16,000 feet, with two stops in small villages, to give us a chance to stretch our legs, get a snack, and most important, find a restroom. Potosi is dominated by Cerro Rico, an innocuous looking 16,500 foot “hill”. But this hill has a terrible and amazing history. Out of it came untold billions of dollars in silver, which financed the Spanish empire from 1550 until Bolivia’s independence in 1821. It is estimated that 500,000 to one million indigenous people died in the mines during those years, when they were forced by the Spaniards to work in them. Thousands of miners continue to work the shafts in Cerro Rico, though it is not an easy living.


Before reaching the mine, we had to suit up in protective gear, and buy some supplies to give to the miners, dynamite (anyone in Potosi can just buy it in a store!), snacks, and a bag of coca leaves. The mine entrance, as you can see, is fairly small, and after disbursing our gifts to the miners, we headed in. We walked for almost a kilometer in, it was cool, and damp, with standing water in many areas. Strange stalactites of salts and minerals were hanging off the ceilings as well, some of the reddish ones we saw were composed of sulfuric acid! Sometimes the shafts were only 4-5 feet high, so this is definitely not something for the claustrophobic. It gave me a good idea of what those miners have to go through every day, and our guide said most of them can only end up working in there for 10-15 years, before health problems force them to find other work.


I left Potosi that night, the only bus back to La Paz is a 10 hour overnight trip. This went fairly well, I was able to sleep most of the way, and got back to La Paz in good shape. Because the next day, the centerpiece of my entire trip was to begin.

BOLIVIA - La Paz/Chacaltaya/Tihuanaco

A. La Paz/Chacaltaya/Tihuanaco

I left Miami at 945 pm on October 6 for my night flight to La Paz, Bolivia. The flight was packed, because American Airlines had suspended flights to Bolivia from 9/21 until 10/05 due to supposed political instability and potentially hazardous travel. It was only a seven hour flight, dropping almost due south, and La Paz is even in the same time zone as Miami. I arrived at 0600, and the airport, in the high town of El Alto, where the poor sections/slums are, is at 13,500 feet. My guidebook had warned that some people have been known to collapse on arrival from the altitude. I felt slightly light-headed, but mainly tired, since I didn't get too much sleep on the flight down. It was a quick trip through customs/Bolivian immigration, where I had to get my 30-day travel visa and pay my "George Bush Tax", as one English tourist put it. This is a 135.00 (must be in dollars!) levy on only American tourists for a travel visa, Europeans, Canadians, and South Americans don't have to pay that, they just show their passport and get the stamp. Oh well...
My first impression of La Paz and the area as I hurtled down the 1000 feet cliff on the highway into the city from El Alto was that it looked like Northern California. Because of the eucalyptus and cypress trees, and the fact that it is always cool at that altitude, even though we are in the tropics. The taxi ride was startling, since I was so tired, and it quickly became apparent that drivers in this area, like in most of Latin America, are aggressive, and traffic lights are suggestions only, to be followed only when absolutely necessary. You can see from the above picture how the main part of La Paz, with the skyscrapers and government offices, is much lower than the high plateau (the so-called altiplano) surrounding. Probably the only city I'm aware of where the lower your elevation, the more well-off the neighborhood. The poorest, most crowded slums are in the exploding city of El Alto, on the 13,500 foot altiplano above the canyon La Paz flows down into.

The pigeon covered plaza is Plaza Murrillo, around which the center of government for Bolivia is centered, the Presidential Palace (directly across there), and the National Assembly building, as well as several other governmental offices. This is where, a few weeks later, a huge march/political rally was held, as you'll see. It is beautiful, all those old Spanish colonial buildings, some more than 300 years old. A turbulent history here too, a statue plaque describes one of Bolivia's president's demise in 1946. He was dragged from his office and killed in the plaza for malfeasance and corruption in office! On the other side is the National Art Museum, this beautiful old building on the right. I toured it, there were hundreds of oil paintings and sculptures dating from 1560 to modern art, really amazing. We Americans are not used to seeing old works of art and buildings, especially me, since I've spent my whole life in the West, where it's rare to see anything more than 50-100 years old. The three mile taxi-ride from my hotel, to Plaza Murrillo, cost 10 Bolivianos, or about $1.40! I also ventured up the clogged streets around my hotel to do a little preliminary shopping. The streets in that section of La Paz are clogged with thousands of little stalls with people selling every possible thing, categorized by the street. Thus there is a blue jean street, a gold jewelry street, an electrical supply street, etc... on and on.

So my first day in La Paz was spent just lazily exploring the center-city, while I acclimated. The next day, 10/08, I woke up feeling quite good, almost normal in fact. So I checked with the state-run tourist agency in my hotel lobby. There was a tour of Chacaltaya, the highest ski area in the World, that morning. Fantastic! So I paid up and loaded right on to the bus with eight Norwegians, and two Bolivian guides, one of whom is also a meteorologist with their Weather Service! The bus slowly wound it's way up through La Paz's tortorously slow and congested streets to El Alto, which is even more crowded and clogged. Our guide explained that indigenous people migrating to the city start out in El Alto, to try and find work, as farming and herding in the altiplano, the old, traditional way of life, is very hard and a poor way of living. So El Alto has exploded in the past 20 years from 100,000, to 1.5 million. The road to Chacaltaya cut north and east out of El Alto, and we started to slowly ascend. It had actually snowed overnight, even in El Alto, but by the time we got above about 14,500 ft., there were a few inches on the ground. The first picture, above left, is Huayna Potosi, the "easiest 6000 meter peak" in the World. That is, it is a very easy climb, more of a walk really, to it's summit of 6088 meters (19,969 ft). Our bus had to stop at about 15,500 feet, there was too much snow on the road. So we all got out, and started walking. I had just a light 15 lb. pack on, food, water, a few clothes, and walking up the gentle incline of the road, my heart was racing from the altitude, but I didn't need to stop. However, when a few of us took steeper shortcuts, then I had to stop every 50-100 feet or so to catch my breath. It was only a couple miles to reach the ski lodge, above right, at 5300 meters (17,384 ft). It was surprisingly well kept up, as it really is no longer a functional ski area. The glacier that used to provide the snow base for the runs, melted back, and so skiing is only now sporadically possible, when heavy enough snowfalls occur, which is fairly rare. Our Bolivian Weather Service guide mentioned that this is their main concern with climate change, glacial recession, as the Andean countries rely on them for water supply and hydro power. And it is estimated that all their glaciers in the tropical Andes could be gone in 40-50 years.

When we got up to the lodge, in about an hour, the snow resumed fairly heavily, and our visibility was cut down. But I felt surprisingly good, no headache or nausea, and I had a nice snack with hot tea in the lodge. On the way in though, since I couldn't see very well, I stumbled on a rock in the snow, and up it came onto my shin. Maybe it was the altitude, but it didn't seem to hurt much. I decided to check it a few minutes later though, and this is what I saw. I think if this had happened near sea level, I would have had to take a break for a few minutes! As several of us were walking around outside the lodge, in the falling snow, we saw a flash, followed by a crash, in less than a second. Shit! Lightning up there exposed like that, not for me! We raced into the lodge, but didn't hear another one for a few minutes. After my NDE # 4 (near death experience) on the Kesugi Ridge Trail in July 2007, I get very uneasy in exposed locations around thunderstorms. The walk back down to the bus was a little scary for me, as there was more lightning, so I actually ran a little.

The final part of our tour was something completely different, a drop down to the lowest sections of the city. There is a reserve called Valles de Lunes (Valley of the Moon), a bizaare area of eroded gullys. The hills around La Paz are composed of easily eroded sandstone, and so in some steeper areas, what ends up occurring is what you see on the above, right. There were a few miles of trails through this strange landscape. Since we dropped down to 10,000 feet, it was near 70 degrees, and I was stifling in that torpid, heavy air after being in the lofty heights earlier. On our way there, we came through Zona Sur (south zone), the richest area of the city, where all the foreign embassies are. It looks just like any city in North America, really amazing, since most of the rest of La Paz is clogged with the street vendors and market stalls. Our other Bolivian guide, Namicio, since I was the lone Yanqui, kidded me about George Bush and ugly Americanism. I had to laugh, and then I told him "Yo soy en Parti Verde, Alaska, Estados Unidos, Hugo (Chavez) Si! Evo (Morales) Si!" That is, I am in the Green Party, Alaska, USA, and I like Hugo Chavez and Evo Morales. He got a kick out of that. He is an Aymara man, of which 40 percent of Bolivia is composed, 20 percent is Quechua (Inca) and other indigenous groups, and the other 40 percent Mestizo (mixed race) and Caucasian. He strongly approves of Evo Morales and the MAS government currently in power. Viewpoints shared by most, but not all, the people I talked with.

We got back to our starting place, the hotel Rosario, in late afternoon. I then went dodging down busy, clogged Calle Illampu, shopping a little. I stopped at an ATM just as a strong thunderstorm started up, with heavy rain, and small hail. By the time my money came out, there were 2 inches of hail clogging the streets and sidewalks, and since the ATM was just out there fronting the sidewalk, uncovered, I was drenched. I rushed away from there fast, and took cover in a store for about 10 minutes. Then I looked in my wallet. Shit! I left my ATM card in the machine. I rushed back, and it was gone. I was in a panic, my trip was just starting, and I needed that to keep getting funds. I called my bank and asked for advice, and they said try and get a cash advance from my account. I went to the nearest bank, but they couldn't do it, as they were not part of an international network. Feeling very despondent, I went back to the ATM just in case. Sure enough, there was a security guard standing nearby, I hadn't seen him earlier. I asked him about the card in my broken espanol. He said there was a card and asked me to identify it. When I did, he gave it back to me. What a relief! I gave him a good reward and thanked him profusely. The ATMs there give you your money and receipt first, then the card last. Here it's the other way round. Now I was ready for my dinner date with the Norwegians. They were all there to tour orphanages they helped support, a very worthy project. We went to an Argentinian Churiascaro (basically a BBQ joint, Argentinians love their red meat) in Zona Sur, very fancy. The food was great and we had a great time hanging out and drinking wine. But, I didn't realize until afterward, at 12-13,000 feet, one drink has the same effect as 3 or 4 at sea level. I had a rough sleepless night with a headache and slight nausea, after just 3 glasses of wine. But the next day I felt alot better.

Day three in Bolivia was spent touring the pre-Inca ruins of Tihaunaco, thought to have been built around 1200 b.c. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiwanaku

I signed up for a guided tour, and there was only one other tourist, a German woman named Anna, with our guide, Alejandro. He is from La Paz and spoke English, and some French, besides his Spanish. He was about 28, and said his parents were worried, because he wasn't married yet (while he flirted with Anna). The drive out to Tihaunaco (the spelling varies) was about 90 min., it's 60 miles west of La Paz, and through the classic wide-open, dry and barren altiplano (high plain), the large plateau covering much of Peru and Bolivia at the foot of the Andes, ranging in elevation from 11,000 to 15,000 feet. Here is a typical view, about 30 miles west of La Paz, at about 14,000 feet. You can see how little grows there, the average annual precipitation is about 15-20 inches most areas of the altiplano, but it is just so cool year-round, with hard freezes during the dry/winter season every night. Some trees will grow there, up to about 14-15,000, if planted, but none are native.

That's Huayna Potosi in the clouds, the 19,969 ft. peak. It took us about 2 hours to get to the ruins, because there were two toll booths on the highway, and we even had to show our passports. Bolivia is a democracy, but at every turn, seemingly, we had to show them, checking into hotels, getting a bus or train ticket, toll booths every 1 to 2 hours on roads. Interesting.

It was somewhat anti-climactic arriving at Tihaunaco, because it is surrounded by ugly, chaotic development, tourist attraction that it is. But once on the site and exploring it, the magic returned. Alejandro explained the supposed history and culture of the builders, but there are still alot of unkowns. It is thought to have been at least started in 1200 b.c., or even earlier, by the ancestors of the Aymara, with the rocks being somehow transported from 40 miles away, near Lake Titicaca. When I saw those huge slabs, and tried to envision how they could be moved, without our technology, my mind went blank. Much less, how they cut them so perfectly (they did have bronze and copper, but no steel or iron) and put them into place, such that a piece of paper would not fit into the cracks. It's no wonder that outlandish theories about space aliens, etc.. were developed. Though I prefer to give the indigenous cultures there the credit. Perhaps some day it will be discovered how it was done. We spent about four hours touring the ruins, which cover about 20 acres (the actual site of the surrounding ancient city is much larger, but the temple ruins are the most imposing). There were hundreds of school-children on a field trip all scattered around, and they were really cute, a few knew some english words and were trying them out on us. None of them were begging either, which was nice, and they were all fairly well-behaved. It looked like they were between 7 and 12 years old. Alejandro was interesting, he was only the second Bolivian I had a chance to really converse with, since he spoke english. He said he was Mestizo, meaning half Aymara and half Spanish, and he did look a little lighter and taller than most of the people on the streets in La Paz. He said his culture is much more conservative than in Europe or los Estados Unidos. He had some reservations about the current government, saying he thought that Venezuela and Cuba, by sending so much technical aid and advisors to Bolivia, might be exerting an undue influence. And he was worried about the separatist provinces, the "media-luna" (middle crescent), the three lower-elevation provinces where the bulk of the oil and natural gas are. They have been requesting more autonomy from the central government, and have threatened to secede, because they want more control of the funds from those resources. Alejandro was worried that a civil war could occur. We all talked about these things on the bus ride back, Anna, the German tourist included. I always like being around European tourists, because we are very much alike. That is, I am a European Green, in my socio-political outlooks, and so fit in very well with them.

We got back to hotel Rosario in late afternoon, and then I got ready for my departure the next day for my 3-day 2 night tour of the Uyuni Salt Flats and the wonders of SW Bolivia, to be followed by a venture into Potosi, the old mining city, which at 14,000 feet, is listed as the highest significant city on earth. La Paz is the highest capital city.

Latitude 27 You Betcha

Leaving Fairbanks on the 28th of September was bittersweet, we had 1.5" of beautiful new snow on the ground at my house on Chena Ridge, it was 25 degrees, and ski season promised to be right around the corner.

But my month-long vacation to see the Andes and cultures of Bolivia and Peru beckoned. First though, I headed down to the balmy latitude of 27 N, on the Atlantic Coast of Florida, to the sun bleached town of Jupiter. My Dad and Stepmom live here, and it is a pretty area, with green lush swamps, rivers, and lakes inland, and long sandy beaches fronting the aqua-blue gulf-stream warmed Atlantic. I spent the first few days catching up with them and my sister, who was visiting.

Those of you who know me well, know what a soft spot I have for large dogs. This is Max, whom my Dad adopted last year. Only 20 months or so old, and already 85 lbs. He would be easily six feet tall or better if he stood fully up on hind legs. Like most large dogs, he has a kind and gentle disposition, and I couldn't spend enough time around him. No one really knows what mix he is, my guess is doberman and german shepherd, with some hound or lab thrown in, because of his floppy ears. Got my dog fix in for the month!

One thing I really love to do while I'm down here visiting is scuba diving. I got my advanced certification last winter specifically so I could dive to the limit for recreational diving, up to 130 feet. The regular open-water certification only is good for 60 foot dives. I also got Nitrox certified, which is enriched-oxygen diving, this allows you to stay down longer. With these relatively easy and fun certifications, I can go on any dive charters and drop down as deep as I like.

My dives last thu. and yesterday were with the Jupiter Dive Center, http://www.jupiterdivecenter.com/. Shore diving here is not usually undertaken, the best diving is in reefs, 2-4 miles offshore, so we headed out on the boat both days at 0900. The three dives thursday were in nice 82 F water with about 50' visibility, and all ten of us diving saw rays, barracuda, loggerhead turtles, and all the beautiful multi-colored tropical fish. It was a perfect, calm sunny day, as you can see. The reefs we dove in were 75-85' down, and I really enjoyed them. Yesterday the charter I was on went to some different reefs, and there on our two dives we saw all the same critters as the day before, with the exciting addition of five to seven foot long reef sharks. I have to say, this is my first shark encounter, and it was a little un-nerving, down there at 92 feet, seeing them following me around. But, I was with several others, and they were curious, but not aggressive. I was told beforehand anyway, that they are harmless, but when you see them up close for the first time, all the old stereotypes come in to play.

Today we had a nice weather system of some kind drop in, and it proved to be a nice rainy day with temperatures only around 75-79. Felt great after the previous five days of 85-90F with the tropical sun and humidity. So much so that my six mile run in the park in the rain and 35 mph wind was much faster than usual here. Good thing I did my dives the previous two days though! This is looking offshore today. When I dove here in June of last year, we had clear skies, but 20 mph NE winds and 5-7 foot choppy seas. The dive boat pitched and heaved in every direction, and so nearly did I. Fortunately I was not green at all on these trips.

OK, I have to comment on this, but I know you're expecting it, so here goes. For the first time ever, I actually have tried to hide the fact that I am from Alaska. I'm proud to be an Alaskan, and love my state and the people and critters therein. However, I wished not to have to provide commentary on our governor, Ms. Palin. Not just because I disagree with for the most part, everything she stands for, but also, to my dismay and this is a bad reflection on my knowledge of state-level politics, I just don't know all that much about her. I didn't vote for her, and to be honest, I view most Alaska politicians as being corrupt, bought and paid for by big oil. And our state-level politics to be on a level with that seen in the deep south in the 1930s. That said, everywhere I went, when I was outed as an Alaskan, the first thing I was asked was "what do you think of your governor?" Ugh... because if I told what I really felt, it might be polarizing, and I just didn't want to go there.

So, came the night of the great debate. With some trepidation, I watched. I wanted her to come across better than in her interviews of the previous few days. After all, I'm tarred with her brush, so to speak, since I live there. But, of course, I wanted Joe Biden to demonstrate just how noxious Republican rule has been for the past eight years and that four more years of republican rule would be even more disastrous for this country and the rest of this World, if that would be possible. Is it just me, or did her "you betcha's" and wink, seem a little over-the-top? Fargo-esque, almost. Though I'd darn-site vote for Marge any day over Ms. Palin. http://www.commondreams.org/view/2008/10/04-0

Because folks, I hope you haven't heard it here first, but if you have, you'll hear more about it soon, I'm sure. This country is already halfway toward fascism, as defined by Benito Mussolini, the marriage of corporate interests and the state. And those tendencies have been with us for a long time http://counterpunch.org/nasser10032008.html. Four more republican years spell the end of democracy in this country, I guarantee you. I often tell people the reason I ski and run so much, is that when the "s..t comes down", I'll be able to ski up the frozen Yukon river from Eagle, to Dawson, YT, Canada, or make a mad-dash through the swamps/taiga in summer, to freedom. I'm half-kidding, but somewhat serious too.