Codo de Los Andes

After weeks of being at sea level in the hot and humid state of Beni, it was nice to climb a little higher and enjoy the cooler evenings. The days were still very hot and we had a relaxed affair, doing nothing particularly useful apart from fixing that troublesome radiator hose from back in Peru. After it threatened to split again, we had finally bought a proper replacement in the city and now we could remove the completely disintegrated old pipe.

It had also become clear on the drive here that our new old alternator was not much better than the old one. As we had removed the air conditioning pump from the engine, I decided that it would probably be cheapest and easiest to just fit two alternators. Both worked after all. I set about making a mock-up of the bracket we’d need to mount the second one out of a piece of plastic chopping board. We could then take this to a fabrication shop when we got a chance.

One of the main reasons for staying at this campsite was not just because it was cheap and we needed the water. It was right next to the start of the most spectacular-looking hike around Codo de los Andes, or the Elbow of the Andes. We knew that we could get a tour from Samaipata, but as the start of the hike was closer to us here, we decided to ask the owners if they knew the best way to do it. We spoke to José Luis, their son. He told us that there was another couple coming, also in a Kombi, who wanted to do it and that he would drive us up there in his car. This sounded like an excellent start, and we decided to wait for the other couple to arrive and see what they wanted to do, as it would be far cheaper if we shared.

It wasn’t until the next day that we met Markus and Veronika from Switzerland. They had a shiny green high-top Kombi and we joked that we just needed to find a yellow one to make up the Bolivian flag. We wanted to go to the viewpoint for the hike, as was common, but then continue on and hike a further 10km in a loop back to the campsite. Happily, they also wanted to do this. José Luis was offering tours for sunset or sunrise, and while sunset had sounded good initially, we wouldn’t be able to hike if we were getting there as it got dark. This meant we needed to go for the sunrise tour, leaving at 4am the following morning. It sounded horrible, but normally things like this are worth it once you drag yourself out of bed. It turned out we weren’t the only ones — two Bolivian girls who were staying in a tent also wanted to come. That meant the car had reached its maximum capacity of six people, and we’d get the cheapest rate because of it.

It was a lovely little campsite and it only cost £2 per person per night, so we didn’t mind waiting. Not only did it have water, showers and hook-up, it also had a kitchen and a pizza oven. The kitchen was a bonus with our cooker out of action, but that night we decided to fire up the pizza oven. José Luis brought us some wood and we set about making pizza for as many people as wanted it. After we had eaten, we poured the hot embers from the oven into a fire pit and sat around a campfire. José Luis split his time between grabbing pizza slices from us and talking to the pretty locals. In the end, they too joined us around the fire, bringing some beers and marshmallows with them.

José Luis was clearly fascinated with them. They were indeed beautiful, one a lot more confident than the other. She walked over, flicking a long strand of dark hair off her face with a beautifully manicured nail, and offered us a beer in English. We politely accepted, saying that was very kind of her.

“Of course it is,” she replied. “We’re Bolivian.” Before neatly folding herself onto a log opposite and clicking open her own can.

With a 3am start ahead of us, it would have been prudent to go to bed early, but instead we ended up chatting to Markus and Veronika while José Luis sat in the thrall of the girls, who clearly knew it. We toasted some marshmallows on the fire before finally calling it a day at midnight — not that late, but still only three hours of sleep ahead of us. We set our alarms and said goodnight.

The next three hours passed all too fast. We dragged ourselves out of bed. I wondered if this would be a Latin American 4am start or a European one. As we made ourselves a tea for the road and threw a few things into a rucksack, including some pre-made packed lunch and water, a horn sounded. This was our 15-minute warning — it was 3:45am and José Luis was ready to go with the engine already running.

We soon piled ourselves into the back of the truck, after running back to grab the mat to sit on as it was wet from dew already. The two girls had secured their position in the front seats in the warm, while we sat in the cool night air, balanced on the wheel arches with our bags. The car turned out of the gate and headed off down the main road.

We had decided to pay for transport up here as, while we could drive, our car would then be in totally the wrong place. Paying for a ride up the hill also meant we could leave the van securely at the campsite with the cats and return to it later. José Luis had also warned us about the road being steep with big trenches for streams, but as we drove it seemed perfectly doable. We reached the end at around 5am and parked up. Multiple signs at the entrance told us about all the things we couldn’t do, but who was here to check anyway? With sunrise in around an hour and a half, we began our upward climb.

We trudged along in the middle, the Swiss couple bringing up the rear. Ahead of us, the two girls dressed in head-to-toe coordinated sportswear and matching water bottles hiked behind José Luis. We stopped regularly to catch our breath as it was a fairly steep ascent. One of the girls was clearly enjoying the attention she was getting from José Luis. She flopped onto a nearby boulder with a small sigh and proffered her wrist so he could check her heart rate. The rest of us waited for the show to be over, trying to pick shapes out of the gloom in front of us. A dull red tone was beginning to outline the furthest peaks along the horizon.

José commented on how the sky looked like it was on fire, the outline of a scraggly tree adding to the image, while his shadow who seemed to have decided we didn't understand Spanish, helpfully translated for us, waving her hands around with sound effects.

“LOOK! Red like fire! Whoooosh!”

We were nearly at the top. The faintest amount of light was beginning to seep into the sky, and as we reached a small ridge we all picked a spot to sit and wait for the sunrise. As the sky slowly brightened, it revealed the most beautiful landscape, and as much as I had hated dragging myself out of bed at 3am, I did have to admit it was worth it.

After admiring the sunrise for a while, it was time to separate. The two local girls would return to the car with José, while we and the Swiss couple wanted to continue on with the hike. From here you continue along the spine of the mountains before dropping down into the valley at some waterfalls and following the road back to the campsite. It was a further 12km, but we had the whole day, and from here on the route was almost completely downhill.

Having done the hard work, we wandered along an easily defined footpath by ourselves. The Swiss couple had climbed to a different viewpoint and were behind us somewhere. We stopped to eat our food and enjoy the view of “the elbow” the hike was named after. Not only were the mountains stunning, but they seemed endless. In every direction stretched untouched land as far as the eye could see. At times like this you really got a sense of how unpopulated this country was in comparison to our own tiny island.

While the walking was all downhill, some of it was a steep scramble, and as we went further the sun had truly risen and the day grew hotter. With only three hours’ sleep, we ambled along slowly, descending first to the river and then alongside it.

The trail finished in Cuevas, entering the rear of a private property. This privately owned park has a series of waterfalls set in well-kept gardens. As it was still pretty early in the day, it appeared we were the only ones there. We lay on a sandy beach in front of the first waterfall and its pool, contemplating a nap. Lee decided he wanted a swim, but we hadn’t brought any swimming stuff. I decided it was a bit fresh and lay on the beach instead.

After a few lazy minutes, I glanced down at my skin and realised it was crawling. As I have quite a lot of moles, it took me a second to figure it out — then I realised they were tiny little ticks. And they were all over me. Quite literally hundreds. Suddenly the water was very appealing, and I decided it was more practical to skinny dip and then have dry underwear for the remainder of the hike. No one was around after all. The hundreds of ticks needed to come off, so I dived into the pool, much to Lee’s amusement.

It was pretty refreshing, and feeling a bit less buggy I was about to get out. As I headed for the rock I’d left my clothes on, a group of Amish people rounded the corner onto the beach. Luckily I had my rock, so I hid behind it half in, half out of the water, wrestling on some clothes before they saw me. I didn’t even know they had Amish people here, but those clothes were pretty unmistakable.

That seemed like enough excitement for the day, although despite my swim the ticks were not gone. They were clearly all over my clothes and I walked along picking them off before they got a chance to bite me. We stopped at the other waterfalls as we headed down towards the main gate.

Even though we were leaving, we still had to pay the entrance fee. It was kind of understandable as we had had the same access, and fortunately we had brought some cash with us. Now in the full heat of the day and back out on the main road, we walked along in the blazing sun, tired and thirsty, having drunk all our water. It wasn’t too far back to the campsite and we collapsed into the van to find our needy cats berating us for a late breakfast before letting us nap for the rest of the day.