Potosi and Plan B

As suggested last post, the prospect of cycling through the emptiness and dirt roads of Bolivia in a cold rain has us looking for options. Perhaps it was a sign, or even a gift, but upon researching our situation we learned of a train that begins in Oruro – where we were – and ends at the Bolivia-Argentina border town of Villazon – our target entrance into Argentina. Upon questioning the cargo guy about the idea of transporting our loaded bikes to Villazon as “cargo”, his reply: “no problema”. And so it was, for the sum of 9 dollars and no small amount of trepidation, we handed over our bikes and panniers into the custody of the Bolivian railway – thereby leaving us and our daypacks to join the Lonely Planet gringo trail. So that’s Plan Bolivia: bikes on the train headed for the border; us on the gringo bus trail with daypacks heading south to rejoin our bikes at the border in a couple weeks.  Will we ever see our bikes again? Let’s not go there.


First stop: Potosi – population 140,000, elevation 4070 m (one of the highest cities in the world, of course). By the magic of bus travel we arrived in Potosi yesterday in 6 hours – a journey that would have taken a week or so by bike, and likely left us scarred for life given the weather. Potosi is in Bolivia’s central highlands, meaning we left the altiplano and climbed through the mountains. Near constant rain, flooded valleys, and snow in the higher elevations confirmed that viewing the stunning scenery from the comfort of our seats on the bus was the right plan. The llamas don’t seem to mind though...rugged beasts they are.


So Potosi. Fascinating history. Relatively unknown to us gringos, Potosi holds a grandiose and famous position in Latin America history. In 1544 silver was discovered in a mountain the Spanish subsequently named Cerro Rico, or “Rich Hill”. The ginormous quantity and quality of silver in Cerro Rico was such that Potosi – the boom town that ensued – became one of the largest and most affluent cities in the world. So much so, that it literally bankrolled the Spanish occupation of the Americas for centuries (obviously the Spanish claimed the silver as theirs). The story goes that the amount of silver extracted from Cerro Rico was enough to build a bridge out of pure silver extending from Potosi to Spain. Mythology aside, and suffice it to say, it was a boom town of epic proportions.


But, as with all boom towns, it all came crashing down as the silver dwindled. It was a good run though – a few hundred years of astounding wealth is nothing to sneeze at. So, Bolivia is a rich country, right? Wrong obviously – Bolivia remains one of the poorest countries in the western hemisphere. In classic imperialist form, virtually all accrued wealth was exported back to the motherland. For their efforts in supporting their Spanish masters’ quest for riches, the indigenous inhabitants received enslavement and starvation wages. When their ranks thinned due to the ridiculously high mortality rate among miners (more on that below), African slaves were imported and in similar fashion sent to their deaths in the mines. In all, it has been estimated that in three centuries of colonial rule (1545 to 1825) 8 million indigenous Bolivians and African slaves died in the Potosi mines.



Zoom to 2014. Potosi today is, incredibly, still a mining town (zinc, lead, and tin have replaced silver as the main product). And, with 140,000 inhabitants, it’s an important regional centre. Walking around the downtown core, complete with its remnant colonial buildings, iconic stone churches (the Spanish built over 80 back in the day), pedestrian malls, pubs and restaurants, it all doesn’t seem so bad. In fact, a fairly decent place to hang out for a few days all in all. Our current room in Hostal Eucalyptus could have the hottest and best shower yet. Again, it’s that head-spinning difference between downtown city X and rural nowhere.


The number one attraction in town is the mine tours, and the reason Potosi is on the gringo circuit. The mines today, while owned and operated by local co-ops (which is huge; the miners basically work for themselves), have changed little in 400 years in terms of mining technology. The wages haven’t changed much either. While there are low-paying, backbreaking, filthy, exhausting jobs everywhere in the world, the Potosi mines provide one inexplicable major difference: a death sentence. The average male in Potosi begins working in the mines as a teenager, and, exposed to a constant plethora of toxic gases and dust, has approximately 10 to 20 years before incurable silicosis pneumonia (lung disease) sets in and eventually takes his life. Our guide, an ex-miner who quit after 2 years, when questioned about it, confirmed that virtually all miners die in their 40s and 50s. When asked why they do it?....”there are no other jobs”. Ya, but...!!!


The tour is real and in-your-face. With no modern technology or transport, it’s more like cave exploring than a mine tour. Not for the faint of heart, or claustrophobic, it’s a serious mission (crawl really) to the front lines deep inside the mountain. Needless to say, 16^th-century mining technology in action – all work from drilling, excavation, to getting the ore out is done by hand hundreds of meters below the surface in appalling conditions – is a shocking sight. Not a piece of safety equipment or escape routes in sight...lights, air, drinking water, facilities of any kind...forget it. Accident rates are off the charts. Toxic dust hangs in the air like a cloud. Spending 2 hours down there is more than we need for the rest of our lives. Hopefully the damage to our lungs is temporary. It truly is “the job from hell”.




OK, next stop on Plan Bolivia: Sucre. From all accounts, a beautiful and charming colonial city in the heart of the central highlands. Our plan, if the beautiful/charming part is true, is to hunker down and take another round of Spanish lessons. Good way to pass the rainy season we figure J Only a couple hours by bus away, vamos mañana. As always, more on that soon. Adios.