Bolivian Reconnaissance
by Michael Smith
The Cordilliera Real or Royal Mountains lie mostly in Bolivia in the central, wide part of the Andean chain. The peaks rise to the east of the altiplano near La Paz and Lake Titicaca. To the east they fall steeply into the Yungas or upper reaches of the Amazonian jungle.
In the winter of 1979 I undertook a six week tour round that part of South America along with a Biologist. After some weeks of sightseeing and treking at high altitude we backpacked into the range for a few mountaineering excursions. One of these was to a peak in the La Cumbre area. Trucks pass through this on the way east to Coroico, leaving La Paz from the Villa Fatima trade district. One morning in late August a taxi took us there from the city centre for the princely sum of 20 pesos (50p).
Access to La Cumbre from the city is comparatively easy and this led to the two of us asking lorry drivers their destinations in faltering Spanish. When destination and comprehension were both correct we jumped in the back of the lorry to jostle for a small footing amongst the sacks and huddled groups of locals. The warm early morning sun gave us a chance to savour the sights and smells of the local street market preparing itself and to weigh up our fellow passengers as they did the same to us. Crampon, ice axe, boots and rucsacks all brought forth inquisitive fingers and curious glances.
An increase in the frequency and intensity of shouts, a scrabble of final boarders and a body scattering lurch forward marked the start of the journey towards Khala Huyo. Soon those standing were snuffling about searching for respite from the numbing wind and the clouds of fine grey dust. A couple of young lads, apparently immune to the discomfort and danger, swung around the outside of the lorry their small fingers and sandaled feet poking through £aps in the boards.
We laboured out of the bowl in which the city lies then along the flat plane towards the mountains. Past a deep ravine where summer rains has caused the road to slip down and workers were repairing the damage. This looked like an endless task as the packed earth roadway was so vunerable. The ruts and potholes caused several small diversions or slowing to a snails pace but there was no urgency as we had not yet managed to communicate to anyone where we wanted to dismount.
A rudimentary guide suggested starting from a place where the road reaches its highest point before starting the steep winding descent to the lush lowlands further east; this being marked by a large statue of Christ with outstretched arms. Our attempts to convey this to our fellow passengers caused some amusement and helped pass the journey. Our concern that we might miss this feature was unfounded as the outsized monument was visible for miles in this near lunar landscape of shattered small rocks and thin scrub vegetation. Reaching the spot we had our gear ready but were carried a little further before our hammering on the cab roof drew any response. The fare of 5 pesos (12p) was handed over and we were left standing in a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes.
Heading roughly towards the peak, picking a way among the multiplicity of tracks brought us by mid afternoon to a small lake in a hollow. This made a suitable campsite and we were well settled before the afternoon snows started. The evening calm allowed us to reconoitre the route, especially the heavily crevassed parts.
That night a cold wind howled and a storm rumbled away in the distance with brilliant flashes of lighting bright even through closed eyelids. We had seen a similar storm a few nights previously when travelling by train to Lake Titicaca. The distant clouds looked like cauliflowers growing out of the horizon. With each discharge they were lit up from within, glowing and flickering briefly. The rolling thunder audible above the clanking of the train was long drawn out and the whole hour long performance left a vivid impression.
Our sleep was broken with the cold so it was no great wrench to warm up a few apricots at 6 a.m. brew up and be on our feet within the hour. Another hour saw at the foot of the glacier and trying to follow our chosen route up the lightly crevassed right-hand side. Feeling the altitude but keeping a fair pace we tramped up the steep slope. The sun on the right was intense though the thin air, stinging exposed flesh, blinding to the eyes as it reflected off the virginal white smattering of snow particles. While on the left our hands froze numb. Thankfully the zig-zag progress we made evened out some of the differences. Reaching 16500 feet brought us to the snow summit our progress somewhat halting now with the effort at this altitude.
It was 9.30 a.m. and leaving our sacs we followed a good ridge off to the west which in an hour took us to a short climb on rather loose rock. While in the middle of this climb I had an uneasy feeling, looked up and there cruising above was a condor. Its long wings held stationary, only its head moving from side to side as it circled above us before following the ridge back along the way we had arrived. Its’ interest was caught by our sacs but thankfully it did not land to investigate them further. The enormous bird majestically drifted back along the ridge visible for miles as we watched in silent awe.
The rock peak reached we returned along the ridge. Views of other Royal Mountains, Mururata before us, Huayna Potosi behind and on the far horizon to the right, its’ tip snow covered, was Sajama a classic volcanic peak at the other side of the altiplano near the Chilean border. To our left clouds boiled up below us as the forests pumped their water vapour into the air. The upper parts of the glacier were still very hard, crampon points only just making an impression despite the bright sun being directly overhead. Lower down the surface yielded to a boot heel and we could glissade to the foot of the glacier and walk back to the camp, thirsty and ready for sardines and a brew.
Breaking camp we headed south for a couple of hours following a broad ridge towards La Paz. Water was scarce and the map showed a tarn. We arrived to find it dried to a depth of less than an inch, stinking and teeming with life. Pitching nearby we descended a ravine to the east and found a melting patch of snow. A collecting mug filled in five minutes and only patience was^required so that we could sit sheltered with a brew while the afternoon snow shower came and went. At about 16000 ft it was another long, cold night as we tossed about in our sleeping bags, duvets pulled over us while wearing our balaclavas. We had retreated into the tent as the temperature fell after a photogenic red sunset and the equitorial night was nearly twelve hours long. Porridge mixed the night before froze solid while a stomach bug gave my partner several chances to view the black night sky with the constellations so bright and in unusual places.
This morning the petrol stove chose to be awkward and had to be stripped down for unblocking three times though we were off by 9 a.m. walking slowly south along the shattered back of the ridge over some small peaks. Ahead at one point two condors rose expertly on a thermal without flapping. By 11 a.m. we were sitting at a col above asmall lake. The night’s illness having taken its’ toll, my partner rested at the col as I tackled the gendarme ridden ridge to the 16 800 ft peak of Serranias Almillanis and returned within two hours. I was greeted with amazement as having slept throughout he did not realise how long I had been away.
The walk downhill to the Rio Kaluyo led us to the mostly abandoned township of the same name by a mine. Finding an unpolluted tributary we camped on the rough pasture. The dry coarse grass could easily puncture the groundsheet so some gardening was first required. This caught the attention of an adolescent boy who was incommunicative but sat on a rock with his dog watching us until sunset.
The night again cold and clear enabled us to hear the thunder and see flashes from storms at the far side of the range. Being in a valley the morning shade and an unusually cloudy sky meant a cool start which was accompanied by a herd of llamas grazing past. Walking towards the outskirts of La Paz we passed groups damming small channels to catch muddy waters from the mines and settle out minerals from the silt. Reaching the first suburb we caught a microbus to the centre and by noon were established in a hotel at 60 pesos (£1.50) for the night.
This was a modest round, indeed the main peak could be tackled as a day excursion if suitable transport was available. Similar trips kept us occupied for a few weeks. On one a taxi took us to within an hour of the summit of Chacaltaya (17000 ft) supposedly the world’s highest ski slope, The hut there was being rebuilt and the main problem was melting ice for water to mix cement. Crossing the Zongo pass brought us to the South ridge of Huayna Potosi which we climbed to over 19000 ft.
Other walks down tracks through the jungle took a few days to reach a mining camp or a town. These gave a contrasting view of the area and being mostly downhill, a welcome rest.
The Cordilliera Real offers numerous peaks between 16000 and 19000 ft which are readily tackled by average but experienced mountaineers. Other summits such as Huayna Potosi (20,000 ft) and Illimani (21,200 ft) require a little more planning. The latter is the highest peak of the range and its first ascent was made by Sir Martin Conway at the start of this century and is described in his book ‘The Bolivian Andes’. An Austrian map of the range was produced in 1928 and Reading University surveyed in 1962. Challis with a team from Bangor University made some first ascents in 1966 and the following comment of his is still relevant.
“The Cordillera Real offers one of the last areas where the classical mountaineer may hold sway in virgin territory. . . . . .the climber is left peacefully to his own peculiar sport unencumbered by outside influences of any kind. For the small-time explorer Bolivia is a paradise indeed and the Bolivian Andes give a useful introduction to greater mountaineering beyond the Alps, with the added spice of treading the unknown.”