BOLIVIA - 25th January to 4th February 2010

Introduction

Bolivia is simply superlative, despite its shady political and economic fronts. It has the hemispheres highest most isolated, rugged terrain and boasts the driest, saltiest and swampiest natural landscapes in the world. It is also South America 's poorest country with the highest indigenous population - up to 60% claming this heritage. It was one of the toughest countries to traverse and where we received devastating news from home.

Background and History

In pre-gringo times, around 1500BC Aymara people swept down from Peru to occupy the Bolivian altiplano. The only real dominant culture to develop in the area was the Tiahuanaco who thrived from the 6 – 10 th century AD until the Inca arrived in the 15 th century. After the demise of the Inca Empire, Spanish colonialism and Jesuit missionary efforts defined the course of ‘Alto Peru' as the Spaniards called Bolivia for the next 3 centuries. Bolivia came into being after independence was won in 1825, and after a brief spell in confederacy with Peru , political chaos with coups and military interventions was the scene well into the modern era. During this 150 year period, Bolivia lost wars with Chile , Brazil and Paraguay , leaving it landlocked and ½ of its original size. Bolivia is still plagued by protests and strikes with high unemployment rates and serious infrastructure shortcomings.

Our Experience

Leaving Peru was free and painless, but Bolivian immigration insisted that South Africans need a $55 visa. An hour and $220 later, we were in our 66 th country with Tipperdee only needing a temporary import form completed. Ten km later we were wild camping along Lake Titicaca's shore in the tiny town of Copacabana along with 2 French overlanders. But socialising was limited to a few tips as it was rather chilly at 3800m.

The next day we moved Tipperdee to more secure parking at Hotel Gloria as we deserted her for a sunny, day tour of the sapphire blue lake amid the stark plains of the altipano. For $7, we joined a boat to the Island of the Sun, the legendary Inca creation site that is also the mythological birthplace of the sun. The island is dotted with little villages and covered with terraced agriculture. We docked at the southern part at Yumani and walked up the Inca stairway to the 3 fountains of the Inca, searching for air. After a little exploration for snaps of the vistas and local life, we shared an almuerzo (set lunch of veg soup containing a tiny Andean grain called quinua, with rice and sausage stew) The boat trip continued to Pilcocaina, the Inca Temple of the Sun with many dark little rooms and decorated with triangular niches. Our final touristy stop on the return journey to Copacabana was at the floating islands of the Uros people that they build using layers of the buoyant totora reeds. This small tribe began their floating existence centuries ago to isolate themselves from the aggressive Incas. Dane's exploring nearly had him become one of the tribe as the boat left and we had to reverse to pick him up!

After relaxing in Tipperdee we couldn't resist wandering the town with its shops and interesting cafes, which eventually enticed us to taste the local speciality, trucha criolla – the lakes trout. The 27 th Jan 2010 we parked Tipperdee in front of the Cathedral with 2 dozen other colourfully decorated vehicles, waiting for the daily ‘blessing of automobiles'. Gary first had a look at the local Mercado and Moorish 1605 Cathedral with its candel Chapel where thousands of candles illuminate an arched sepulchre. Then breakfast consisted of the tastiest Bolivian snack, a saltena which is a pastry stuffed with juicy chicken, eggs, olives, potatoes, onion and carrots. Eventually at 11am, in the pouring rain, it was our turn to be blessed. The padre said a prayer and doused holy water all over her, including the engine and our heads - we were set to continue our journey! We made our way to the local gas station but the diesel had still not arrived and the attendant gave the impression that they had no clue when it would arrive. Being on a tight schedule, we decided to back track 8km to the border with Peru to try and convince the border officials to allow us to pass back into Peru just to fill up. Luckily a German overlander with jerry cans arrived and agreed to sell 20 litres for $20.

With enough fuel for the 150km trip to La Paz, we climbed the Altiplano's heights with gorgeous views of Lake Titicaca and vivid reminders of the tough existence the indigenous folk endure at altitudes around 4000m. En route we also had to cross an isthmus in the lake on a barge that had seen better days, and with nerve wracking swaying, then a hop over a 30cm gap to shore, Tipperdee continued huffing and puffing her way to the capital of La Paz. Unfinished buildings and chaos greeted us on arrival, but the world's highest capital at 3660m had a quirky beauty. From the flat sparse plains, we descended into the valley surrounded by buildings that cling to the sides of canyons, spilling downwards to its more modern centre. But there wasn't a hope of finding parking in this topography, so we continued through the city to camp 10km south, in the Valley of the Moon at Swiss run Oberland Hotel. En route, canyons gave way to an eroded maze of pinnacles as we edged our way to the only overland camping spot at this hotel and were lucky to squeeze into a spot as a group of about 20 German and Dutch RV's were arriving.

Although rather crowded, we could have hot showers, fill up with water and had free wifi. The kids had a little playground and made pets of local hens. On the 28 th , Jo-Anne stayed behind to prepare the website and just relax – the altitude did not agree with her, while Gary and the kids took a local minibus to the city to wander its cobblestone alleys with souvenir shops and colourful rowdy markets that swirl to the beat of indigenous cultures. The witches market is the place for oddities – strange parcels of herbs, potions and shrivelled llama foetuses that locals bury under their porches for good fortune. The main Plaza Pedro Murillo surrounded by the presidents palace, legislative buildings and cathedral was just the place to absorb everyday life while the kids were enthralled, feeding the pigeons. As usual the best way to absorb the local scene is to ingest it, so we picked a little local eatery and politely chose the best looking dish a local was eating – lomo a la Paila, a massive tenderloin in a pot with a juicy stew of onions, potatoes, peas and topped with fried eggs. The evening we spent with a travelling American/Polish couple, Alan and Eduta, sharing stories and their brew from an inedible nut that they call Arilicious!

We left around noon the next day when all internet and camping chores were done and took a rather hectic off-road shortcut out of the valley back to the altiplano to avoid La Paz 's congestion. We made our way south to Oruru through grassland plains that supported sheep, llama and cows with the odd potato crop. At dusk and with the aroma of a grilled chicken from a roadside café in Oruro tempting us, we set up camp next to a lonely gas station 10km past this cold, windy city.

Bolivia 's southwest is a dusty windswept basin with many deserted mud brick dwellings, and the road south towards Uyuni was 300km of torture. The last 200km was bone-jarring corrugated stretches alternating with potholed, rutted, slippery areas. Then there were river crossings and chaos whenever we hit a village as finding the track out of town was a mission. Half of the time rain complicated things and all of time Tipperdee had to cope with altitudes of 3800 – 4000m. At a little village of Colchani we headed west into Salar de Uyuni, the world's largest salt flats that sit at a lofty 3660m. We linked up with a tour group and felt more secure driving across this surreal landscape often in a foot of water that reflected a perfect mirror image of clouds, sky and land to the horizon. 70km later we arrived at an overnight camping spot, Isla Pescado, a brown mould with stands of giant cactus in the middle of this blinding white desert. The kids just loved the setting and built salt castles as a flaming sun set. We were lucky to have clear skies for our ‘salar' experience but the pitch black night saw lightning and a storm descend upon us. We were the only vehicle camping here, and we slipped into a nervous sleep after praying that our salt encrusted Tipperdee would make it out of here!

The 31 st January was another hellish, yet beautiful day. The persistent rain had completely covered the salt pan with up to a foot of water – no dry areas to pick up the pace, so the 70km back to Colchani took 3 hours. Tipperdee was the only vehicle in this roadless expanse and Dane took control of the wheel for nearly an hour until his foot cramped! With relief on reaching earth again, we continued south to Uyuni to have Tipperdee thoroughly high pressure hosed to remove the salt. But within a few minutes she was covered in mud as we climbed and twirled around mountains with spectacular harsh scenery. The next 250km of dirt roads took 7 hours of 4x4 driving real bad roads through muddy river crossings.

Our goal was Potosi , the world's highest city at 4070m, but camping or parking here was impractical so we continued 20km north to camp along Laguna Tarapaya. This circular hot water lagoon set amidst beautiful volcanic scenery was a tip from German overlanders that we met in Cusco – and what a jewel! Gary was the only one brave enough to experience the warm waters as Jo-Anne thought it looked rather ‘brown'!

The next day we did a drive through Potosi that is a shadow of its once grand colonial days when silver was mined in the Corro Rico Mountain . Unfortunately we had to skip the mine tour as Dane had another bout of tonsillitis and Jo-Anne was rather short of breath due to the altitude, besides one had to sign a disclaimer absolving the mine tour company from any responsibility for death due to the dangerous nature of the mine – on reading that, the deal was closed not to go! The streets were also just too hectic and steep, so we continued along a good surfaced road to Sucre . Bolivia 's judicial capital, this stunning city of white washed buildings with decorative balconies has a young trendy look. But that's in the cosy colonial centre, the outskirts are a mess of unfinished buildings. After some shopping, a sightseeing drive and the recommended pollo empanadas from a local delicatessen, we hit the road north.

About 100km later the road turned into a good gravel one and as darkness had descended upon us, we found a spot to wild camp in some one-horse town along the road. The racket of roosters had us up early and thankfully so. For some reason Gary decided to do a quick check of the vehicle before leaving. Bolivia 's dirt roads had our light fittings and front indicator fall out, and now he discovered that the brackets of the silencer and leaf springs were all loose! Kind locals helped supply the missing bolts and nuts for the exhaust. By 9am we continued to the little town of Aiguile . A religious festival with fire crackers and different colourful local outfits provided a perfect breakfast stop with interesting opportunities to snap away, but we had a long way to go.

A shorter route on the map directly east saved us 3-4 hours of driving and had an unbelievable variety of gorgeous topography, but the road was draining and distracting. Hardly more than an off road track with a lot of construction and landslides, it was a noisy, shaky, dusty and muddy 6 hours until we eventually hit the tarred surface to Samaipata. Another rattle appeared which we discovered to be a broken left shock absorber, and then our left front side mirror was ripped off by the wind!

By nightfall we had covered 350km and had made it to Finca la Vispera, an organic oasis in the mountains at 1800m, just outside Samaipata. We could do some laundry, have hot showers, school and re-organise for remaining challenging 770km east to the border with Brazil . We had decided that as we would most likely ship from Argentina to South Africa , a thousand odd km detour to catch the Rio Carnival was worth the effort. However, from the cold high Andes we'd have to adjust to pushing through over 3000km of the Amazons hot and humid terrain, before reaching the Atlantic Ocean .

The 3 rd of February was a day that we'd dreaded for the past 3 years. After lunch another beautiful 125km drive following a river gorge took us to Santa Cruz , a city in the vast tropical lowlands of the Bolivian Oriente. We found a service station to replace the shocks and the owner allowed us to check up on our emails. Numerous urgent messages appeared to call home and then we stumbled upon a message of condolences. Jo-Anne's mother, Thora Swartz, an incredible woman, person, mother and role model had passed away on the morning of 30 th January of a massive stroke. Completely shaken, saddened and disheartened that we'll not see her after so long apart, we had to battle our way without a left side mirror through the hectic colonial city traffic in search of a telephone. Somehow we were led to an international phone shop with an empty parking spot. We managed to organise accommodation with internet access but unfortunately due to the hostel not allowing kids, we stayed in Tipperdee just outside the entrance. Early the next morning, after a restless sleepless night for Jo-Anne, we agreed that we would all fly back to South Africa from Brazil .

Fifty kilometres outside Santa Cruz the tarred surface changed into an increasingly awful dirt road with muddy sections that had Tipperdee tip as her wheels searched for traction causing the girls to shriek with fear, while Dane said he could nearly touch the ground from the top window! Thankfully after about 200km of this, we had a great surfaced road to the border town of Puerto Quijarro . We had managed the dreaded 650km in 13 hours, but arrived after sunset and the only hostel was closed. Luckily a neighbour realized our plight and allowed us to camp on his rather basic property in front of his home. The next morning, Bolivian border formalities were over in a flash (once customs officials arrived at 9am!) and we could enter Brazil for the dash to Sao Paulo and our flights home.

BACK TO TOP OF DIARY