A nightmare day. Things started ok, we caught a bus to the border and crossed over into Peru without a hitch. We then took another bus to the town of Puño where we bought tickets to Cusco. Our bus was to leave at 15.30 which gave us time to watch Arsenal beat Villareal in the Champs Lge Semi. After that it all went horribly, horribly wrong – for me anyway!

I boarded the bus and put my bag in the overhead compartment. Normally I have on my money belt which contains my passport and bank cards, but for some reason on this particular occasion it was in my bag. I would also not normally put the bag in the overhead bit, I would normally have it between my legs.

As we were waiting for the bus to be loaded up and leave I was looking around at the people on the bus, seeing what they looked like and were doing. We left a bit late at 16.00, and as we pulled away and into the streets I started to read.

After about 20 minutes I decided to listen to some music so got up to get my MP3 player out of my bag.

WHERE THE HELL IS MY BAG???????

It wasn’t where I put it. Pretty much instantly I knew it had been stolen, my gut instinct knew it. I looked around the bus and got the driver to stop so I could look in the underneath luggge bit, but I knew it had been stolen. Some absolute cheeky fucking wanker had taken it from right above my had.

I felt sick. I felt sick knowing that I had been stupid to put my passport and bank cards in the bag. Sick because I put the bag above my head, not between my legs. Sick that the fucker who took it was laughing at how easy it was. Sick that he had my money, my passport, my bank cards, my diary, my MP3 player – my bag. Sick that I was on a bus with no way to cancel my cards for the next 8 hours. Sick that I had lost all the stamps in my Passport. Sick that I had been so stupid.

At the next stop I made the bus wait while I tried to cancel my cards. I managed to getone cancelled, but the Alliance and Leicester – yes name and shame – specific lost and stolen card hotline was busy and I was put on hold for 10 minutes, eventually having to give up as the bus was leaving and I had run out of change.

This didn’t really help matters and it was not what I needed. In the middle of nowhere in Peru and put on hold because Alliance & Leicester don’t have enough staff to man the Lost and Stolen Card hotline, probably one of the most important things you would need to contact your bank about. Rant over.

Over the next 8 hours all kinds off stuff ran through my mind and I was worried about my card being used. The thoughts I had were not very positive but I realised that what was done was done and after lambasting myself for being a twat I tried to concentrate on other things.

When we finally arrived in Cusco I managed to get in contact with A&L – after being put on hold again – and cancelling the card, which lifted a weight from my shoulders. Now I could get on with remedying the situation rather than worrying about my card being used.

I couldn’t do anything at that time as it was about 2am, so after checking into a hotel it was time for a night of dusturbed sleep.

I got up early to watch Spurs and Man Utd, but wish I hadn’t bothered. Afterwards got to take the piss out of the Swedes who had left the following day but had to return as they had no money and there were no ATM’s in Copacabana. After the football we all packed up and caught a bus to Lago Titicaca, the highest lake in the world.

We arrived in the late afternoon, just in time to watch the sun set over the lake, whilst enjoying a waterfront beer. Once the sun had set we made a quick retreat back to our hotel to put on more clothes as the temperature dipped pretty sharpish and we were only in shorts and t-shirts! It just happened to be the night of another 21st birthday in the group, this time it was the turn of Jens.

To warm up the evening we polished off a few bottles of rum. That sort of warmed me and and finished me off, I wasn’t feeling too great and retired to bed. The other lads went out until the wee small hours but I cried off. Poor form really.

On a plus point my early night allowed me to enjoy an early morning. I woke up bright and early with the intention of visiting the Isla del Sol but was told that if I wanted to do a tour I would spend 3 hours on a boat for the sake of 1 hour on the island, which din’t really appeal so I decided to do other things instead.

One such thing was the climb to Cerro Calvario, a mound which rose steeply to the north side of town. At the summit of the mound lies a stone altar, upon which pilgrims light candles and burn offerings in the hope their prayers will be answered. As the previous weekend had been Easter, the town had been packed with worshippers all coming to say their prayers at the altar. These pilgrims had certainly left their mark on the trail – it was littered with plastic bags, bottles and other rubbish. Obviously these worshippers were so wrapped up in their prayers that they couldn’t carry their empties packets and bottle back down the hill. But of course they were able to take time out of said prayers to eat their crisps and drink their coke!

The most interesting thing about the pilgrimage was the way in which they asked for what they wanted. They decided what was their innermost desire, went to the shop, bought a minature model of that item, carried it up the hill and left it on the altar. Which meant there were minature cars, houses. horses and some cheeky buggers even brought minature wads of banknotes!

Of course the alter afforded some wonderful views out over the highest lake in the world, and of Copacabana, the one of the towns that lie on its shores.

Not much to report from these two days, Saturday was spent running around oding various bits and bobs. About the most interesting of these was trying to get little babges of the flags of countires I have visisted so far sewn onto my backpack. I have seen a few people with these flags on their bags and I liked the idea so I made the effort to get it done myself.

I bought the relevant flags/badges, found a seamstress shop, pinned the badges on where I wanted them and left the lady to it. On my return a few hours later i found that the badges were not only sewn on in places I didn’t want them, but the majority of the flags were upside down. Not pleased. So now I have upside down badges of Chile, Ecuador, Colombia and Venezuela on my bag. I’m still waiting for the first smart ass to tell me they are upside down…….

Sunday was a nothing day, just wandering around the city not doing much. I did find some stalls selling copied CD’s & DVD’s for about 60p each, so made a few purchases.

As we had celebrated Robin’s 21st the night before (albeit in his absence as he was sleeping of the effects of the top shelf) it was a fairly slow start to the day. Once we had acquired some breakfast and woken up our first port of call was to a viewpoint over the city, Killi Killi. Situated in the middle of the city it gave panoramic views of the basin in which La Paz is set.

Over the years La Paz has expanded so much that virtually every inch of the basin is covered in development and housing. Even the sides of the mountains, which appear to be at a ridiculous angle to build a house are totally covered, right up to the tops and even spilling over into the next valley. We sat at the top and looked out over the national stadium for a while, before walking back into the city centre for some lunch – chicken milanesa – and a look around some of the markets in the city. We also took the opportunity to collect our rented tent and other camping gear as it was our (Jon, Aaron & I) intention to head out of the city for a short two day trek over the coming days.

Having been sensible on the Monday evening when we called it a night before the bike ride, it was too much to ask to do the sensible thing twice in a row. Hence we had a few beers, which turned into a few more, and ended up stsying out for most of the evening. Which meant we were not going to be getting up early to go trekking. It wasn’t too much of a problem though, as the start of the trek was only an hour away and the first days walking was 5-6 hours.

The trail we were heading for is called the Takesi Trail and it is an ancient Inca road through the mountains, whic hwas used as a trade route. The first day was supposed to start with a gentle climb up and over a mountain pass, then decend for the remainder of the trail.

What was supposed to be an easy climb didn’t actually turn out to be all that easy. In fact it was bloody hard work. First of all we got off the bus in the wrong place place and had to walk 90 minutes uphill just to reach teh start of the trail. Secondly, the altitude became a fairly big issue. By the time we reached the start we were already at 4,200m ASL & we had another 600m to ascend before we reached the summit. I won’t lie. Those 600m were not fun. It wasn’t the carrying of our packs, it was the total lack of oxygen that was the problem. No matter how deeply I breathed, at that altitude there just wasn’t enough oxygen in the air. It was ok when I as standing still , but as I started walking I couldn’t get enough into my blood and therefore the lactic acid in my legs began to build up almost immediately.

By the time we reached the halfway point of the ascent we were all struggling. It was more a case of getting it over with, rather than one of enjoyment, which is a shame as looking back down the ravine from whence we had came was a beautiful sight. Stopping to rest for two minutes out of every five becme necessary. Even when walking we were only taking small baby steps, almost shuffling along. In case you think it was just us three who were fat and unfit, everyone else on the trail was in exactly the same boat as us!

After about 2 hours of literally trudging up the hill we finally reached the summit where we promptly sat down to have lunch in a secluded cove. One meal of procesed ham and instant mash later we were ready to have a solid 4 hours downhill walking on the Inca path.

The stone path was in supreisingly good nick seeing as it had been laid about 500 years ago, and had recieved virtually no upkeep since then. As we followed its path winding down through a valley and further on into a ravine i ewas particuarly impressed by the drainage system of the path. Even after all that time the streams still flow across the path through the specifically designed channels. Pretty impressive considering the amount by which the course of a stream can change in 500 years.

We reached a convenient spot in an opening in the valley, where a small settlement was established and decided to stop and make camp for the evening. By 7.45 we had set everything up, made dinner, ate it and were in our sleeping bags ready to call it a night.

After a mixed nights sleep we got up with first light, made breakfast and packed up before setting out. Not 5 minutes after starting we began to feel the first drops of rain. 5 minutes more and we were in a downpour which remained so for a good three hours.

During those 3 hourss the Inca path became a trecherous trail. The rocks became very slippery and I spent almost all the time looking at where I was putting my feet rather than at the scenery (which wasn’t much as it was so misty). By the time we got below the cloud and it stopped raining we were all thoruoghly soaked through! It then became a case of getting done with the trail and back to La Paz as fast as possible. So heads down, we marched on out for another 4 hours, stopping only for 5 minutes each hour.

Once we made it to a village from where we could take a bus back to La Paz we were pretty relieved. The bus took 4 hours to La Paz, which didn’t drag too much as I dozed off for most of it. Back at our hotel we were greeted wth some bad news. Due to it being Good Friday, all bars were closed and no alcohol sales were permitted anywhere in the city. So much for a welcome back beer! The other lads went out and found a little of license selling booze, but I had started to feel a bit tired so abstained and called it a night.

Meeting for breakfast at 7am before setting out to the starting point of our 64km downhill bike ride I was little groggy but looking forward to the day ahead. With the repuation as the worlds most dangerous road, the route fell over 3,500m in the 64km – from 4,800m to 1,100m ASL. We booked through the oldest and supposedly most safety concious tour operator, Gravity Assisted Mountain Biking.

These were probably the most expensive at about US$50 for the day, but they also had the coolest t-shirt as part of the package. As we arrived at the jump off point for the biking jaunt we were kitted out with overall, safety gear and of course, bike!

The staff gave a quick run down of safety tips and how to ride a bike (for those who had decided to learn on that particuar day!!!) and we began. The first 25km were on asphalt roads, which made it easier to look around, especially as there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. We cruised on down the hill, twisting and turning as the road sank deeper and deeper into the ravine. We got some decent speed up, at one point managing to overtake a lorry on the way down. Mirror, signal, manouvre.

As we approached the end of the asphalt section after about 90 minutes (there were a lot of stops to let straglers catch up) we had decended into the clouds and couldn’t see very much. It was also pretty wet as the water hung in the air, soaking us. It was no suprise that the roads were also pretty wet and after 2 minutes on the unpaved roads we were all totally filthy. I had hired goggles to keep the mud out of my eyes but there was so much backsplash that they became impossbile to wear. Instead I made my way in the rain and fog, caked in mud squinting and trying to keep the mud from my eyes. All this on a single lane track carved out of the mountain, with a cliff face on my right, and a sheer drop of upto 1,000m on my left- all with no safety barrier.

These conditions carried on for about 25km of the 40km remaining and it was not a matter of going fast in these sections, but staying on the bike and not missing a bend and careering over into some ravine! It was pretty cold and wet and really miserable, but it was definately one of the best times ever on a bike!

When we got below the cloud level the road dried out and the opportunity to increase the speed came about. We began to absolutely fly down the road and through the rivers and waterfalls that came onto the road. The rest of the ride – about 15km – literally flew by and by the time we got to the finish of the trip we were all caked in mud but grinning from ear to ear after one of the best days of the trip (photo above).

We went up to a hotel for lunch, showered and got back in the van for the 4 hour trip back up the same road to La Paz. It was Robin’s 21st birthday so when we arrived back in La Paz it was a quick turnaround and out on the town. for us anyway. We went to Olivers Travels and he did the top shelf, which put him out of the game. He went back to the hotel in a taxi while we went to Mongo’s the expat bar in La Paz to carry on the party.

As I was hurtling down the road trying not to fall over the edge I didn’t get many photos of the day, but the professional dudes who were the guys managed to get some. Have a look at this link to see what it was like (it may ask for a passowrd – think it is just ‘photos’)…..I did have a CD burned but I forgot to upload them before I posted it home to England – maybe I will put them on when I get home…

After the coldest overnight bus in the world we arrived in La Paz shivering and in need of some food, a hotel and cup of coffee. It took a while but we eventually managed to acquire all three and we could get on with the day, which was spent organising odds and ends and booking our bike ride down the worlds most dangerous road. After accomplishing most of what we set out to do we treated ourselves to Burger King!

My guidebook is The Rough Guide to South America. In it, there is a selection of 36 things ‘not to miss’ in the whole continent. On of these so called unmissable things is known as the Witches Market in a touristy part of La Paz. What with all the hype we went along to look at a sprawling market selling some really weird stuff, but what we actually saw was about five stalls selling some herbs. And of course baby llama foetuses. Which is about as weird as I would expect, but it was on such a small scale it was hardly worth a mention in the Rough Guide, let alone making it one of their highlights of the whole continent.

Most of the shops in the area had given over to selling Jewish Pants, which is probably not what they are actually called but as every Isreali in South America wears them every day, its is what I have affectionately come to know them as. They are these stripey pajama-like trousers that frankly look ridiculous. If anyone wants a pair put your order in now, and I will bring you home some!

To overcome our disappointment we made our way to the self proclaimed 5th best bar in La Paz (4th on Sundays when the usual 4th best is closed) Olivers Travels where we had an impromtu drink. Using some decent judgement we decided to stop in the early evening as it probably wasn’t a good idea to hurtle down the worlds most dangerous road on bike with a hangover!

Friday wasn’t one of the most eventful days of the trip, about the only thing I did until late afternoon was send a parcel back to England. Mind you, that whole process did take the whole afternoon to accomplish.

To send a parcel of 5kgs back to England i had to go to three different offices – Customs, the Drug Squad, and of course the post office. This involved taking three taxis to the opposite ends of town as the offices of all three are very conveniently located in totally different areas to each other. Then it involved sitting watching a lady fill out 20 forms in the post office. Eventually I got it sent, and we all took a colectivo taxi to the town of Sucre, a few hours away.

We hit the town and I ended up in some random club until 5am.

Saturday was another quiet one as I couldn’t be bothered to move – I was in the most comfortable bed I had slept in since I left home! When I did manage to get up I watched some films before getting reay to go out again. The six of us had decided to do something a little different and we donned the togas that we had bought the day previous in Potosi – red & white for the English, blue & yellow for the Swedes! It took a fair while but we managed to put them on so they weren’t going to fall off and we headed for town.

Overall we got a decent reaction, whenever we walked into a bar everything stopped and people just stared at six white boys dressed in togas. We went to bout three different bars before heading to a club where we had a good night and ended up back at the hostel at some ridiculous hour.

After arriving in Potosi at 2am and having to search around for a place to kip, we slept in a bit. First it was a stop in a Salteña restuarant where we hungrily devoured two of the cornish pasty type treats, before we headed to a travel agency to book a trip to the infamous mines of Potosi for the following morning.

The town of Potosi was once one of the richest in the Spanish empire, owing to the mountain that looms over the south side of town. Cerro Rico (Rich Mountain) was once teeming with minerals and of course, miners to harvest said minerals. Those minerals were discovered by the Spanish almost 500 years ago as a shepherd who one evening became stranded on the mountain after losing one of his llamas. It is pretty cold in this part of the world (it is the highest town in the world at 4,100m ASL) and to keep warm he lit a fire. The next morning he noticed that the heat from the fire had melted some silver in the mountain and there was literally a small stream of silver. The Spanish heard of this tale and sent men to investigate. They found that it was indeed that rich in minerals. Within a few years there was a full scale mining operation in place.

Nowadays the mines are still in operation, but the principle extractions are tin and copper, the silver having been virtually exhuasted years ago. It is possible to visit the mines and take a trip into the shafts to see some of the working conditions, and that was the trip we had booked for the following day. For the time being however it was a look around the colonial parts of town and a visit to the Royal Mint. Or at least the building that used to be the Royal Mint. It is now a museum telling of the history of the town and the silver era. The mint in Potosi was one of only a handful of cities that were given the right to produce coins for the Spanish. The coins that were produced were known as Reals, or more commonly known to English pirates as Pieces of Eight.

The museum includes original pieces of machinery which were used to produce the money at various stages of the process. It also includes some of the coins produced in the Mint, the same ones which those British pirates would have loved to get their hands on! The mint, besides producing coins, also housed troops, workers, African slaves and senior Royal officials.

After seeing the mint we were looking forward – albeit with trepidation – to seeing inside the mines, where some 8 million people have perished in the 500 years since the discovery of minerals. The following morning we were up bright and early in time for our tour guide. Once he picked us up we were taken to the the miners market, a small market selling everything the miners may need in their quest to discover silver. Once there we bought presents for the miners including coca leaves, drinks, and the old classic – dynamite. Yep. It is freely available for all ages to purchase and enjoy….and all for only 60 pence a stick.

The mines were hideous. there is no other way to put it. As soon as we entered the first shaft we realised the sheer horror of the conditions. Toxic dusts, temeperatures of upto 40 degrees Celcius, and a distinct lack of oxygen. That is what faces the workers every day who spend 12 hours a day doing back breaking physical labour deep in the shafts of Cerro Rico. As we gave away some of the presents we spoke a kid who was working in there. We asked his age. 15. We asked how long he had been working in the mines. 5 years. Meaning he started in that hell hole job when he was 10.

The miners pay homage to a god they call Tio, who is supposed to protect them from cave in’s and also to bring them luck in finding minerals. Thus every Friday they give presents to the statue of the god that lies deep underground.

Those few hours in the mine, sweating, struggling for breath, bending double to avoid hitting my head on the ceilings were pretty shitty. By the end of it, we all just wanted to get back out into the open air and breath the fresh air again. And we were only down there for 2 hours. But that was enough. Without doubt one of the worst jobs in the world! If that wasn’t enough, the miners only have a 15-20 year life expectancy due to the toxic dusts in the shafts.

Needing to get the grime and sweat off, we paid a visit to some hot baths in the afternoon, a totally different world away from the mines of the morning. Set in the mountains we relaxed in the warm waters of the natural pool and tried to forget the poor lads who were working deep underground, and would continue to do so until they either struck silver and could retire on the proceeds, or died from Silicoisis in a few years. Nice.

We awoke to much better weather – sun shining, no clouds. This put me in a better mood. I reckon I must have some kind of SAD syndrome going on. It was a totally different landscape from the day before, desert plains and the only snow in sight was atop the peaks that rose maejstically above, seeming close but in reality miles away.

We didn’t have such a tight schedule today and not having to cover as many kilometers meant we could stop more often for photos and to generally get out of the van. It was good being able to wander around without getting freezing but in actuality there were not many places to wander off to on the huge plains.

As we rose a little higher there was a small sprinkling of snow but nothing too bad. We got another chance to stretch our legs when the bus got a puncture but we were soon up and running again.

Before long we had reached the first of the things on the list for that day, laguna colorada. This lake glowed red at different points during the day as a result of the sandstone mountains in the background. It was also home to thousands upon thousands of pink flamingoes.

Moving on through more desert we arrived at the Arbol de Piedra (Tree of Stone) which stands eerily alone in the middle of the desert. Resembling a chicken head it has been formed by stones and sand whipping past it and eroding it away.

We stopped for a while took the obligatory photos and carried on, before arriving in our hospedaje in the early afternoon. We wanted to get to the salt plains for sunrise, which meant a very early morning as we were two and a half hours drive from them and the sun rose at about half six. Meaning a 3.30am get up.

Unsuprisingly it was cold and dark when 3.30 came around. As I was waiting for the jeep to be packed up and for us to leave, I was looking at some of the clearest skies ever (not far from Uyuni in Chile are some of the worlds best observation points) when a shooting star cut its way right across the sky. A good omen I thought and it turned out I was correct. As dawn broke we were firing our way across the desert plains, our driver trying his best to get us there in time. We just about made it as the sun poked up above the mountains and it was even better than I had thought it would be.

There were two of everything. One normal, one upside down. There was a layer of water on the ground which acted as a mirror. We had some brekkie and admired the views of pure white, absolutely nothing else.

We couldn’t venture too far out onto the plains as the layer of water covers holes that we could sink into, so we sat and admired before heading back to Uyuni, and the final point on the tour a graveyard for the rolling stock of Bolivia.

Here lay tens of trains just left to rust out in the open. Quite a sad thing to see really, just shows the lack of care about things in Bolivia. We were dropped off in Uyuni where we hung around for the afternoon before taking a bus to Potosi, once the richest city of the Americas.

5am came around pretty sharpish. There was a little suprise waiting when we got up as well – 2 inches of snow! As we set out about an hour later we sat in the back freezing our nuts off. That pretty much sets the scene for the entire day!

We began by driving up and over one mountain pass, then we were given the option to take the easy way or the hard way. Easy way every time.

It didn’t actually turn out to be that easy though. We got stuck. Lots. In actual fact we didn’t get stuck so much, it was the other jeeps we were with. Our driver, in his full racing suit kept getting out and digging everyone else out. We began by helping but not having warm clothes it was too cold and my feet were soon soaked. The Hi-Tec squash just didn’t stand up to it.

At first it was all a big joke but it soon got tedious to sit there for an hour while we tried to get up hill. Which happened a couple of times. We made it over the pass by lunchtime, having come about 15km in 5 hours. Stopping for lunch was a relief but it was so cold I didn’t really enjoy it.

After lunch we were given another easy or hard choice, and again we went for easy! Another bad choice. After about an hour we were driving next to a river and we nearly tipped over. The driver then decided it was too dangerous to continue that way so we returned the way we came, to attempt the hard way.

It turns out the hard way wasn’t actually that hard. It was probably easier than the easy way. We made it up and over a pass at 5,000m ASL before descending down past a huge lake and making it eventually to a hospedaje, but it wasn’t where we were originally going to stay, we hadn’t covered nearly enough ground for that…..