7.9.8 The highest Englishman on earth

This brought new meaning to the phrase ‘early start’. Woken at 1am, we faffed around for an age with porridge, crampons, head torches and Toblerone, until it was time to set out into the darkness. The start was a steady, steep walk in the trail of points of light from earlier groups as they ascended into the stars. To our left was the pretty patchwork of El Alto—during the day, one of the world’s ugliest cities.

As I searched for my water, I quickly developed ethno-tat envy for Nicky’s tourist issue woven bottle holder. Viviana’s knees decided climbing was not for them and she went back down, leaving Nicky, Ola and I with the remaining guide.

The first test was The Wall: a thin ice bridge, over a crevice, leading to a wall of ice. Quite nerve wracking in the dark, but at least we had had some practice of ice climbing unlike other groups that just head straight out there. And so we plodded on until watching the sunrise—a glorious and exhilarating experience.

After further hours of trudging, reaching the peak was a great relief. At that moment I was probably the highest Englishman on earth. I would have loved to lie back, muse on this and have a sleep, but we had to walk back down again. For me, the joyful rush of being at a summit more than 6,000 metres up was rather tempered.

As Nicky pointed out being in Bolivia has ruined our standards of beauty. The gently rolling rolls of the Cotswolds can never compare to the mountains, lakes and planes of the Alti Plano.

Some 12 hours after we had set out we returned to the base camp. My legs were shaking, I was more automated walking machine than man. It was going to be great to return to decent food, beds and loos.

5.9.8 Huayna base camp

This promised to be an interesting weekend, I was going to climb Huayna Potosi with friends. A mountain of more than 6,000m, this was beyond anything I had done before. We excitedly packed into a mini van, hacked through El Alto and into the desolate Alti Plano.

As we climbed along the dirt road, we passed a man in the middle of nowhere bent double carrying an enormous speaker. Where he was between it was impossible to say but somewhere was going to have a good Friday night.

We had left behind news of rising tensions in the east of the country. In Santa Cruz, both pro- and anti-Morales activists were blockading the same roads. They are living out a Bolivian version of mutually assured destruction.

There were frequent stops for passing llamas or group photographs, in which we all took the same photograph as a group. Eventually, we arrived at the base camp—4,400 metres up—the remaining 1,600 metres would be on foot.

Today, we were due to practice ice climbing. Strapped into all our gear and crampons, and carrying our ice picks, we got stuck into the nearest glacier. I loved it—as the guide was busy helping Viviana, I set off up a vertical ice wall. It felt good, solid, comfortable. Here was the sport for me. Then I heard a slightly nervous Bolivian voice: “Be careful, that is dangerous,” said our previously sanguine guide. All of a sudden it felt neither good, solid or comfortable. I slid, the ice pick held and I tried to look relaxed.

30.8.8 Risin' high

As demanding as climbing 5,000m+ peaks could be, Chacaltire must rank among the most embarrassingly simple. It’s a couple of hours’ drive from La Paz and then a steepish walk up the last few hundred yards. The problem is not the ascent so much as the challenge of getting enough oxygen in the bloodstream to power the limbs and brain. Fortunately, as we had all been living at more than 3,600 metres for some months now, we were relatively acclimatised and suffered no more than our retirement-age guide.

At the bottom of the walk is a wooden house perched on and over the mountain edge, it’s across the car park from the Alpine-inspired lodge. This used to be the base of the world’s highest ski run and the chalet’s bar walls are covered with natty old pics of Bolivians in 1980s ski wear.

The old drag lift is still there but global warming has put pay to the snow. The sad remnants of the glacier remain but it is going the way of all the glaciers around La Paz. Within 20 years, it is predicted they will all be gone. As the main supplier of water to the city, the effect of losing them will be catastrophic.

This was a dry run for next week’s expedition up Huayna Potosi. A proper Toblerone bar of a mountain; it’s only a further 600 meters up but without even dodgy road access, it will be real exercise to get there.