It Was a Miserable Beauty

the plan was to hike the incan takesi trail on easter weekend. the actual trip was in part a series of unfortunate events that included grossly misplanned food, catching the tail end of rainy season, hiking for about 12 hours one day, the one smoker in the group insisting on regular breaks, hiking the last half hour in the dark, and inadvertently ending up on the road of death again.

on the bright side, we had one excellent meal of burritos under the 1-foot eave of a building we were not allowed to enter while it rained, got to soak up easter in the town of yanacachi, were more than fine on "the road," and gorged ourselves on the scenery.

our inadvertent trailhead along the base of illimani. about 5 km from the actual one, our bus driver let us off, saying the road was washed out up ahead.

(very typical) rural bolivia

the group, L to R: wency, me, mariel, eduardo, elmer

(elmer took most of these photos, save this one and a few others.)

small church and cemetery

the real trailhead and our poolside lunch spot.

here we contracted a couple local boys and their burrows, above, to carry our packs to the summit. at first, the idea of such treatment struck sacrilege, but i quickly (and happily, i might add), resigned myself because 1) the summit was at three miles high altitude, 2) it supported the local economy for only 3) $1.25/pack.

going up

and coming down
(don't ask me why i look happy; it was quite cold and wet.)

hopping from rock to rock as we cross the newly formed streams

playing around incan ruins

because any body of water in bolivia is a big deal, so you take a picture.

(don't we look every bit the happy campers.)

later on, my rain jacket completely soaked, i borrowed a green tarp from wency and wrapped it around my torso and pack, making me look, as i hopped through the cascading streams, like some strange green turtle with spindly black legs and her forearms pulled inside her shell because her gloves were soaked after having been left uncovered in the chilled drizzle.

the first of elmer's many pictures of flora

the golden rainbow at the end of the day

eduardo on the trail the next morning, as we got to the lower subtropic altitudes.

the yungas

you never seemed to know if the water was going over the trail or you were walking through the stream.

(note the trail snaking around the hillside)

inca stonework

(we suppose its authenticity, if for nothing else, because it was inconceivable that anyone would bother to haul stones up to such a remote locale.)

fellow hikers

there was a distinct lack of any type of specialized hiking less gear among those on the trail this weekend, most of whom were probably from the middle-upper classes of la paz. they wore tennis shoes, a few flip flops. they carried their food in plastic bags, 2-liter bottles of coca-cola in their hands, and other gear in jansport backpacks. among other things, it made r.e.i. seem woefully irrelevant.

(my friend and i were the only gringas, or gringos for that matter, on the trail that weekend, per the log we signed at the end.)

an andean arbor

here, mariel bought us a snack of coca-cola and bañuelos, a version of elephant ears.

a quaker church. go figure.

the sign reads,

"takesi prehispanic trail

loma anasani

aymaran word that means, 'low and prolonged altitude where there is an abundance of dark soil,' optimal for farming.

distance covered: 18.55 km

altitude: 2,950 m"

one of the mines we passed near the end of the day. we creaked into town very late and very tired, reduced to the singular mechanical pursuit of going to bed.

after a profound sleep on a 3'x5' straw pile mattresses, we woke up to find ourselves here:
in yanacachi, perched on a ridge between two gaping yungas valleys, on easter morning.

plaza

easter service

spreading out coca leaves to dry

see this house ...

... it's in the middle of this hillside. there's a faint trail that goes out to the left of the picture. this trail went on as far as i could see (a few kilometers at least), and i never did see anything else, neither another road nor structure, it met up with.

going home along the road of deaththis time round, our hostess set us up with tickets on the bus of a very good, capable bus driver whom she knew. in any case, we made it back without incident.

these are pictures i took from the bus window.

yanacachi is right at the dip in the ridge on the right

(elmer altered the colors of some of these pictures a bit.)

i will likely go back to bolivia one day for the express purpose of staying in this hotel.

note the nip of road in the bottom left.

*

in the end, i say the scenery was worth any relative danger
and, i will concede, the corporeal pain. it was an incan trail, after all.