La Paz - Copacabana - Isla del Sol - El Choro Trek, Bolivia

Cody starting the long walk down the El Choro Trek with the Cordillera Real looming behind him

A wonderful welcome back from La Paz, Bolivia

The flight from Rurrenabaque landed in La Paz, Bolivia under clear skies, an impressive sunset and incredible views of the mountains towering over the city with white, snow capped peaks. Our bodies struggled with the more than 12000 ft change in elevation between the Bolivian Amazon and La Paz. From the airport, a taxi ferried us down the steepest switchbacks of our lives as we quickly reentered the city. We retrieved backpacks from a hostel and another taxi took us across the urban sprawl to our home base for the next 11 days. The AirBnB was located at the end of a steep, narrow, cobblestone road. It took the taxi three times of backing up and accelerating to ascend the hill leaving the clutch smoking. We paid the driver extra for his trouble when he deposited us in front of the flat.

The small apartment was a far cry from our previous AirBnB accommodations but at $11 a night it was to act as a glorified storage unit. Luke warm showers washed away the sweat from our final day in Rurrenabaque. My arms and legs ached oddly but Cody, for the first time in his life, suffered from altitude sickness. We both slept fitfully but with morning felt somewhat improved. With no desire to hangout in the polluted air of La Paz we repacked our day bags and optimistically set out to the bus terminal to find a bus to Copacabana,  and the sandy shores of Lake Titicaca. 

The central bus terminal of La Paz

It was our fifth taxi ride in the impossibly hilly city. Few traffic lights hang above intersections, stop signs are nonexistent, lane divisions are faded and ignored, and the rules of the road are every man for himself. Yet despite the chaos, the drivers are all impressively aware of their surroundings. They sneak through the smallest gaps, pass, merge and driven with an alertness unseen in the USA. As a passenger, the driving experience is both excellent and terrifying. You get places quickly but without seat belts and with questionable car maintenance the ride is always a little nerve racking.

Riding above the impossibly hilly city of La Paz with the Cordillera Real in the background

Anyone interested in an alpaca fetus?

At the bus station we bought tickets for the next bus to Copacabana leaving us 5 hours to kill in the city. We wandered the busy squares of downtown eventually finding the colorful Artesanal Alley with shops selling sweaters, blankets, aphrodisiac charms, dried alpaca fetuses, coca products and more. Returning satisfied with our daytime adventure we boarded a rickety bus that slowly crawled out of La Paz on half constructed (or destructed) cobblestone, dirt, and paved roads. After an hour of thrutching and bumping the bus arrived on a highway and we were finally on our way to Lake Titicaca.

The bus to Copacabana was one of the more interesting of our long South American journey. The town is located on a peninsula of land thrusting into the blue expanse of Lake Titicaca. The peninsula, while belonging to Bolivia is a geographic island connected to Peru. To accommodate this small inconvenience Bolivians use a short ferry across Lake Titicaca to connect to the jut of land. Two hours into the drive our bus stopped at the lake shore and everyone disembarked. We each paid 2 Bolivianos and were ferried across in a rickety wooden boat. Seemingly overloaded with passengers, the well used boat puttered across the white capped lake while I marveled at the snowy Cordillera Real and ancient terraced hills on both sides of the crystalline water. We waited on the far shore for our bus, crossing separately on a large wooden barge that rocked and swayed precariously with every swell. Watching it list from side to side I was glad passengers crossed apart from the buses, wondering if any had ever tipped into the icy blue waters.

Our inspiring wooden boat to ferry us across, see any life jackets?

Take a closer look... oh there they are!

Here comes our bus!

Will happily take the boat over the barge any day

The remaining drive to Copacabana was breathtaking. We cruised up, down and across steep hillsides overlooking the sparkling blue waters of Lake Titicaca. Terraces and stone corrals stood on every hill slope as memories of the ancient people who once tilled the land. 

Arriving in the small lakeside pueblo at sunset we found a room in a hotel owned by the bus company. While our accommodations proved more than adequate dinner was one of the worst meals we have had in South America. The juice was well watered down, the trout tasted like fried sardines and the vegetables were soggy and cold. We left disappointed and were grateful for an easy sleep.

Sunset at Lake Titicaca from our hotel room in Copacabana

 I awoke to watch the sun rise over the many small ferry boats anchored along Copacabana beach. Following breakfast we wandered into the cool morning air in search of a ferry to take us to Isla del Sol, an island in Lake Titicaca that is part of the Incan origin story.  Finding a ferry was easy, but while doing so we learned the north half of the island was closed to tourism due to a conflict between two of the villages on the island. We had hoped to trek across the island and felt disappointed that what we had hoped to be a 3 day adventure would instead be shorter. 

That boat that ferried us to Isla del Sol

We boarded our wooden ferry to find the fresh coat of paint on the exterior did not hide the dilapidation and wear  visible on the inside. The lake water was rough as we motored over white caps never exceeding the speed of a slow troll.  Six foot swells rocked and lurched the boat causing its wooden boards to groan and creak. When waves broke over the bow water poured through cracks between the boards. I told Cody that I hoped the boat had a bilge pump and he facetiously replied,"Of course they do, its Juan Carlos with a bucket in the back." While my stomach grew sour and the horizon continued to disappear behind dark blue swells all I could think of was how I missed my Grandpa's aluminum catamaran. 

After 2 hours of mild nausea we landed in the community of Yumani on the southern end of Isla del Sol. Others stayed on the boat to visit the smaller and more distant Isla de la Luna but I had had enough of the unsettling waters. From the dock, 600 vertical feet of stone steps awaited us. The staircase, called the Escalara de Inca was guarded by gaudy statues of an Incan King and Queen, colorfully adorned in ceremonial dress, and flanked by bright flowers and gutters filled with fast flowing spring water. The stairs tested our lungs and hearts as we climbed to over 13000 ft asl. 

Preparing to climb the Escalara de Inca

Getting passed by the cutest little donkeys on the long staircase

Taking a break to enjoy the beautiful flowers

Our love hostal, Palacio del Inca just off the Escalara del Inca

We found a hostel near the top of the stairs named El Palacio de Inca, with a stunning view of Lake Titicaca and the Cordillera Real from the window in front of our bed. Our day was spent exploring the open southern end of the island. We made our way slowly up the steep walking paths into town feeling the biting breeze and cold dry air as the sun hid behind clouds. 

The island has no cars or motorized vehicles so stone paved walking paths connect the 70 square kilometer island. We followed walkways to two miradors amazed by the sapphire waters of Lake Titicaca, the far off snow capped mountains outside La Paz, and the impressive terraces covering every slope of the island. Trails took us across terraced slopes and through dense eucalyptus forests filling the clean air with a fresh, pungent aroma. 

An abandoned structure at the first mirador of our day on the island

All smiles in the fresh air of Isla del Sol with the Cordillera Real peeking out behind us

You can never have too many adorable donkeys

Looking out to Isla de la Luna and the Cordillera Real

So many flowers all over the island

The view from the high point of the island

Many terraces were still in use by the local population for farming and pasture and I watched women till the soil by hand with hoes. Tall stalks of corn and beans stood green in fields while bushels of wheat dried in conical piles under the fierce high altitude sun. We walked next to ancient stone walled corrals and I cooed over every shaggy miniature donkey used to bring supplies up, down, and across the island. Wandering to a rocky beach on the western shore, we enjoyed solitude as I picked agates from under the translucent water. Leaving our sanctuary when our stomachs beckoned we enjoyed a menú del día (menu of the day) overlooking the now tranquil lake waters and the long peninsular Kakayo-Queña Ridge. As the afternoon waned we bought a woolen wall hanging with Incan symbology for prosperity, Mother Earth (Pachamama), and travelers to adorn the wall of our future home.

Cody on our walk down to the lake shore

A beautiful refuge 

Soaking it all in

Terraced fields of the island as seen from above

A woman and her donkey carry their crops up to town

Tall stalks of wheat dry in a field

Harvested and stacked by hand the people of the island rely on their crops for survival

The beautiful flowers of pachamana

Cody standing next to a field of pachamanca

Pachamanca, a staple andino crop

A woman works in one of her fields

Fields and stone walls cover the island

A nice view for lunch

An apacete near one of the miradors

Looking back towards Copacabana from the southern tip of the island

The amazing terraced hillsides of the island

The southern tip of Isla del Sol

Cody and a shrine at the second mirador of the day

More terraces

Sunset on Isla del Sol was lovely.  We watched the clouds turn pink over the Cordillera Real and the final rays of light dance over the western waters of Lake Titicaca. We ate dinner in a candle lit restaurant waiting more than 2 hours for a mediocre pizza that left us both feeling gross.

Walking through the eucalyptus forest on our way to sunset

Stunning colors above Kakayo-Queña Ridge and Lake Titcaca

Alpenglow on the Cordillera Real and Isla de la Luna

 Morning improved our moods as we awoke to a blazing sunrise illuminate our bedroom with fiery light. Curled in bed I felt privileged to feel its warming rays as the sun rose over the mountains. We left our room shortly after daybreak to enjoy a solitary hike along the low road south to Pilko Kaina, a ruin complex that includes the two story Palacio del Inca, a beautiful stone and mortar building with maze-like rooms and tall inset alcoves. We explored the ruins and its terraces accompanied only by a small fluffy dog. The morning sun was incredible and the solitude refreshing. Afterwards, we enjoyed our final hike back to town to pack our possessions  and retrace our path to Copacabana and La Paz. 

Sunrise in bed

A sunny and calm day for our walk to Pilko Kaina

Entering the upper story of the ruin complex

Standing on one of many trapezoidal doorways

The lower story of the stone building

Grass now covers the walls and steps

Imagining the offering that would have stood in this alcove

The unique diamond shaped alcove stands out from the tall doorways of this temple above the lake

Blue flowers glow like the lake water next to the ruin

The lake was still for our ferry back and we sat on the upper deck basking in the sun. Meanwhile the bus to La Paz was cramped, uncomfortable, and poorly thermoregulated. La Paz was how we had left it, crowded, polluted, and claustrophobic. Unenthusiastic to return to our small and dark AirBnB we wandered the artesanal markets downtown in search of souvenirs before eating dinner at an English Pub, and exciting prospect following days of marginal food. 

Loving the sunshine on the boat ride back to Copacabana

Returning to the cluster of hotels that make up the lake side resort town of Copacabana

Reentering the crowded city of La Paz

What is that?

How does anyone move these sacks?

It felt nice to have a day of rest in the city after the week of planes, buses and boats. We did laundry and I finished an overdue blog. Afterwards we walked to a sprawling open air market and bought food and supplies for our upcoming backpacking trip. In our wanderings we found a cafe that served world food and I felt somewhat silly in my excitement over a cup of jasmine tea. It was wonderful to slow down for a day and finally see a bit of the city outside of the bus station and airport. 

Before our bus ride to Copacabana we had booked a 62 km mountain bike ride down the notorious "death road" outside La Paz. The ride had been recommended to us by other travelers and I was excited to do something different. Also known as "The World's Most Dangerous Road" the narrow gravel road was once the highway connecting La Paz to the Yungas and Amazon beyond. While it was in use, dozens of vehicles disappeared annually off the steep well vegetated cliffs. As a two lane road without guard rails it was incredibly dangerous for vehicles but on a bike it is purely fun. At its narrowest the road is only 3.2 meters wide with over 600 meter drops into the dense cloud forest below. 

Before starting the ride our group blessed our bikes, ourselves, and Pachamama with a splash of grain alcohol. The custom was to bring us good fortune on our long descent. We zoomed down the first 22 km on the asphalt surfaced new highway, maxing out the speed of our full suspension mountain bikes. At the start of "Death Road" we left the highway to twist and wind our way down the packed dirt and gravel roadway. I was happy to leave the semis, cars, trucks, and vans behind and start what felt like a safer and more controlled ride. On the springy bikes the uneven dirt felt like soft, fresh cut grass, forgiving and kind. We road as fast as we wanted without fear, just having fun. Our group would stop at view points for tales of the highways' sad history and jaw dropping photos. As we dropped in elevation waterfalls poured from above creating mandatory river crossings and refreshing showers that we road through with smile on our faces. Afterwards it seemed as if I had smiled the entire day. 

Starting our ride

Cody flys down the paved highway with me close behind

Looking down on the winding gravel road in the cloud forest

Posing with my bicycle in the midst of the clouds

Taking a break as we wait for the slow pokes

One of many impressive drop offs and splattering waterfalls along the road

Crusing along and having the time of my life

Tall waterfalls cascade down from the near vertical cliff faces

Don´t look down!

Cody is all smiles as he enjoys a light shower

Peering off the precipitous edge

Cody likes to hang a little further off the edge than I do

Cody banking hard in the fog with me close behind him

It was difficult not to have fun

Laughing through the final river crossing at the end of the ride

 The ride ended after descending nearly 15000 vertical feet. The air changed from cold, thin, and dry to hot and humid. On the final few turns we passed citrus, avocado, and coca plantations perched on the steep hills of the Yungas. Our final stop was at the Senda Verde Animal Refuge in Yolosa where we feasted on a spaghetti buffet. From enclosed walkways we watched monkeys, tortoises, coatimundi, capybara, tapir, deer, ducks, and more live peacefully after being rescued from animal traffickers. The hot shower, my first in weeks, felt amazing and we changed from our wet and dirty clothes into dry, clean ones. 

Clean and dry at La Senda Verde animal refuge

A capybara in his enclosure

A coati mundi climbs above us as we cruise to lunch in one of the enclosed walkways

The drive from Yolosa back to La Paz took the new highway and proved a beautiful reminder of the bike ride we had just completed. On the way we passed a car accident where a woman received a nasty scalp laceration and broken arm. A European surgeon was part of our group and she accessed the injured passengers as our guides stopped to provide first aid. Everyone in the car was drunk and it had been driving too fast around a curve when the driver lost control. No one was wearing seat belts and the doctor said it was impossible to properly assess anyone because of their intoxication. It was the first car wreck we had witnessed in Bolivia but neither Cody or I were surprised as alcoholism is rampant and drivers are as aggressive as they as defensive.

We arrived back in La Paz at 7:30 pm tired from our long day. Eager to return to the mountains we packed our backpacks and prepared to leave on the El Choro trek the next morning. 

The El Choro Trek is one of the premier trails outside of La Paz, dropping 12000 vertical feet over 3 days and 45 kilometers. A taxi took us from our AirBnB to the pass at La Cumbre where we had started our bike ride to Yosola. The trail technically started at a large statue of Jesus but Cody had the driver take us further up a gravel road as it was technically the first kilometer or so of trail. We started our hike at 15600 feet asl. The air was thin and cold and steady 25 mph winds beat against our faces as we hiked up narrow switchbacks to the highest point of our trek, the pass of Abra Chucura at just over 16000 ft asl. Cody started out charging up the hill and I tried to keep up but, black spots started to swirl inside my eyes so I slowed, took a few deep breaths and set my own pace up the steep hill. At the pass we each added a stone to Apachete Chucura to ask Pachamama for a fair and pleasant journey. 

Starting the El Choro Trek 16000 ft above sea level

Adding my stone the Apachete Chucura before beginning our descent

It was impossible to have better weather or better views

Looking down on the ruins of the tambo in the valley below

Who built this road?

From the pass the trail dropped quickly following switchbacks built on ancient stone retaining walls. From far above we could see the ruins of a tambo (wayside inn) dating from Incan times. When we reached the structure we stopped for a snack and exploration of the dilapidated stone structures. Llama and horse grazed around us as we soaked in the high altitude sunshine out of the wind. Around noon we stopped for lunch in a grassy clearing off the trail. It had changed from dirt and rock to impressive Pre-Colombian stone paving. At times grass grew between the ancient flagstones as rock walls and more ruins lined the path. 

Getting closer to the valley floor and impressed by the Incan roadway

Red grasses and the green valley below

Exploring the ruined tambo (wayside inn)

Only walls oif stacked stone and doorways remained of a onece large structure

A beautiful thistle growing at the base of a wall

Horses grazed above the ruins

We continued our descent into Estancia Samaita Pampa while watching two llama use their strong necks to wallop on each other. Curiously, we approached stone walls and buildings only to realize some were still occupied complete with thatched grass roofs often reinforced with a blue plastic tarp. It felt

as if we had stepped into a different century. 

Shaggy horses!

Llamas!

Lunch time

Heading towards the first village along the trail

Dilapidated corrals and structures stood scattered along the Incan roadway

A view from the first checkpoint at the Estancia

Abandoned houses along the trail

The stonework of the Incan road was something to be inspired by

We saw no one except an old man at the Estancia trail registration booth until we reached the community of Chucura where a young boy asked for candy and two women with babies slung on their backs and a young girl herded sheep up the trail. We paid a road tax and continued down the steep stone paved road. I call it a road but reality it is a 3 meter wide path, paved with flagstones and cobbles but inaccessible to motorized vehicles due to sections too narrow, rocky or steep. 

Entering Chucura, the first obviously inhabitated community of the trek

A mural at deralict tourist accomodations in Chucura 

Transitioning into the Yungas

Everything was quiet. As we walked we heard only the river below us, growing larger every kilometer downstream, and the wind whip above us across the snow capped mountains. Our trek continued its descent from cool alpine tundra to low bushes of sage and blackberries and finally into trees, ferns and wildflowers. We had walked from the mountains of the Cordillera Real into the Yungas, the transition zone between the mountains and Amazonian jungle. We hiked for just over seven hours, arriving in the tiny village of Cha'llapampa at 5 pm. We paid a local woman $2 a person to camp in a small campground set up in her grassy yard. The village consisted of several small shacks and a tiny church. We saw no men and only a couple women while two small children played with each other in the soft grass.

And the stone road kept going

The first of many waterfalls and bridges

Camp in Cha´llapampa

Our feet were sore from the miles of downhill travel on slippery cobblestones but the next morning we awoke happy and eager to continue our  trek. We left the camp and found the trail had changed from the stone paved highway to a muddy single track making our descent more treacherous. The morning was beautiful with high clouds masking the densely vegetated hillsides in thick fog. Wild strawberries grew red, plump, and sweet along the wet and narrow trail, a tasty snack on our lonely path. 

Tasty juicy berries

The stone road had been eaten by the jungle

A very different day as we changed ecosystems

Waterfalls and polished stone

At the community of El Choro we crossed a suspension bridge strung above the fast flowing white water of Río Chucura. From there we climbed up and down vegetated ridges connecting tiny hamlets along the narrow dirt path. The air was moist and thick and we sweated uncontrollably and made our way across the hillsides, running perpendicular to the river below. Ferns and vines hung from tall trees and beautiful star lilies bloomed in pairs along the trail. Outside the one building town of San Francisco, we passed the entrance of an abandoned gold mine. We explored the dark shaft but as the circle of light grew smaller and my confidence in the rock quality weaker we turned back to the trail and sunlight. Again we saw almost no one except two trekkers heading uphill and a handful of local Bolivians. 

Crossing the bridge from El Choro

And minding the broken and missing slats

Welcome to the jungle

Incredible plants

grew from the ground and trees

Bright flowers

Vibrant lilys

Looking into the San Francisco mine shaft

From San Francisco we descended switchbacks and crossed under waterfalls to ascend the "Subida del Diablo" (devils climb), a long Incan staircase climbing up the side of a shear cliff. The sun stayed hidden behind the high dense fog of the cloud forest sheltering us from its brutal heat. As we climbed wafts of mint filled with moist air with freshness. Butterflies covered fresh horse dung left behind by the animals grazing the green grass of the trail and surrounding foliage. The views of the valley below us were incredible. Impressive drop offs were protected by ancient stone walls and I frequently wondered how the trees, shrubs and flowers managed to grow from the cliff faces as we leaned over precipitous edges. 

It always felt wild to cross suspension bridges in the jungle

One of many beautiful cascades...

...and another

Enjoying the views after the ¨Devil´s Climb¨

Horses grazing on the trail

Looking back on a waterfall we crossed

Impressive that people live along these steep hillsides

After 14 miles of hiking we reached our destination, a campground in the village of Bella Vista. I cuddled a kitten as we made dinner and treated ourselves to a beer bought from the only family living in the settlement. We camped in the small fenced soccer field surrounded by banana trees staring off to the green faces and tall waterfalls across the valley. The day had been a fairytale filled with flowers, butterflies, and waterfalls. The hillsides of the Yungas so steep it seems impossible that people would choose them as their home. I felt grateful to feel small and lost in the thick, pristine forests but cannot imagine maintaining the wild trail or living in this remote and isolated region. 

Banana trees!

Our second camp is pretty darn nice

Looking down valley at the mass of trees

More pretty flowers

And more pretty flowers

The stone road reappeared in the forest

Another beautiful plant

A funnel web collects the morning dew

Our final day on the El Choro trek was sunny and hot. We mostly walked downhill descending our final 2000 ft. We followed the thin trail cut into cliff sides and from a Japanese garden in the settlement of Sandillani enjoyed a final view of the valley we had spent the last two days walking down. In the final few miles we passed ruin after ruin along the trail with stone buildings standing moss covered and partially collapsed in the dense forest. Trees, slowly over taking the once large stone structures demolishing with their roots and branches until all that remained were piles of stones under shrubs, moss, leaves and grass. 

A final view of the snow capped peak we hiked from

An Incan spring peeking out along the trail

Ruins hidden amongst the ferns and vines

The long walk finally ended in the pueblo of Chairo. We easily found a taxi to the larger town of Coroico but enjoyed lunch and a cold beer before heading on our way. Coroico calls itself Bolivia's first town of tourism. Perched high on a hill above Yolosa and "Death Road" its whitewashed buildings and red tile roofs look like something from a storybook. While waiting on the colectivo that would take us to La Paz I felt awestruck reminiscing that we had just spent 3 days walking through six ecosystem zones in the footsteps of people dead 1000 years. 

Waiting for our colectivo back to La Paz

My favorite find from the markets of La Paz, a
conjoined twin banana

Sometimes there are days while traveling when you just want to go home. Our return to La Paz from Coroico went quickly and we were happy to be back in the city before nightfall. In the colectivo I dreamed of a hot shower and relaxing with popcorn and a hot cup of tea. We entered our AirBnB to find a dreadful smell coming from the living area. I went to the kitchen to see if it was the trash and walked back to the table in the living area perplexed. Only then did I realize everything on the table and surrounding it was wet and the corner where we had left our climbing gear was a puddle of rancid brown water. Our passports, clothes, ropes, gear, backpacks and shoes were soaked. We alerted the proprietor and she came to help us move our wet possessions, finding places to let them dry, removing the sodden carpet and using towels to sop up the pooled water. We both felt frustrated and defeated. A tepid shower only further sunk my spirits and I crawled into bed more than ready to be done with the AirBnB, La Paz, and South America as a whole.

The next morning was no better. A miscommunication led someone upstairs to restart the brown, stinking deluge into the living room. Thankfully, nothing further was damaged and we were present to get the water turned off quickly. We spent the day exploring more of La Paz, buying wool Bolivian sweaters and finding a climbing shop that sold lube so we could clean and oil our soiled cams. 

Graciously, our final day in La Paz was a wonderful reprieve from the previous two. We took a walk around downtown and found it surprisingly empty.  Lunch was enjoyed at a Vietnamese restaurant which had the best food we had eaten in ages. Afterwards, we road the yellow aerial tram to the green tram and the green tram to the end flying over mansions and hovels while watching the sunset behind the Cordillera Real. We finished packing with a bottle of wine and mentally prepared ourselves for the longest bus ride of our trip from La Paz to Huaraz, Peru, over 50 hours of transit.

Riding the aerial tram on our final night in La Paz

Looking down on the city and its jumbled chaos

Our time in Bolivia ended as frustratingly as it started. We took an early taxi to the bus station anxious for our final overland border crossing in South America. At the terminal we sat shivering, waiting for the person who would guide us across the border. From the start, the entire experience was off putting. A woman met us and arranged for a taxi to take us from the bus terminal to another taxi that would take us to the Bolivia-Peru border. The first taxi was spacious and nice but the second was compact and miserable. Cody, myself, and the woman were crammed in the backseat while the driver shared the front with his wife and vomiting daughter. The taxi left us half a mile from the actual border and with our many backpacks we began the most miserable border crossing of our trip. A sea of people, carts, porters, women in long skirts, boys riding bicycle taxis and very few foreigners stood as a mass waiting for the border to open. At 8:30am Peruvian time the border opened and the hoards rushed forward like bargain shoppers at a Black Friday sale. In the overwhelming claustrophobic crush Cody dropped his passport but thankfully a man saw it happen, alerted him and he quickly recovered it from the dusty road.

Welome to Peru

Moving mattresses across the border

In the mass we crossed a bridge and left Bolivia entering the desolate and dusty border town of Desaguadero, Peru, located on the shores of Lake Titicaca. Our guide left us at a bus office with hours to kill. Before she left she tried to scam us into selling her our remaining Bolivianos for less than half our value in Peruvian Nuevo Soles. Finally in Peru, but still more than a day from our destination all we could do was wait and look forward to meeting an old friend and rock climbing in Huaraz, Peru. 

Even a month after leaving Bolivia it is difficult to digest and appreciate all we experienced. Bolivia is a beautiful and diverse country, but poor and lacks many of the resources and comforts of the states. From the rainforest jungle to rocky snow covered mountains people have carved out a life in challenging and unforgiving landscapes.  It feels nearly impossible that we had traveled from the southern Uyuni salt flats to the blue waters of Lake Titicaca; from the dense green jungle and mosquito filled Pampas to gray snowy mountains passes; from the colonial city of Sucre to the half-hazard jumble of hilly La Paz. Even with all we did, there is still much we missed including the metropolitan of Santa Cruz and dreary mines of Potosí. But, we were ready to move forward. Bolivia was time well spent, and a journey impossible to replace or replicate. Peru awaited with  friends, family and adventure, and I could not be more excited.