Choro Trail, Bolivia

Day #2 of trekking on our own, and I feel great – and sore. Its been so long since we’ve used our tent that it seemed to resist being unfolded when we set it up last night. And its been so long since we’ve done any serious hiking that every muscle aches, including ones I had long forgotten about. But wow is it great to dive deep into the wilderness, felling like pioneers as we journey on without any guide leading the way.
We are hiking along an ancient Inca road, which in those days was the main route from the highlands of La Paz down to the midland rainforest, or Yungas, 3000 meters below. Our hike actually began high above the city at 4600m called La Cumbre (the Peak). When we stumbled out of the bus we were surrounded by thick cloud, so thick that we couldn’t find the Christ statue whose left hand we were supposed to follow in order to find the trail-head. But luckily I was looking in the right direction just when a gap in the cloud passed by the sculpture and I spotted it! From there we did as the Holy Son suggested and walked eastward until we picked up a dirt road, climbing even higher to a breathless 4800m before the trail officially began its long, steep 3-day descent to the Yungas.

Day #3
So our “3-day descent” turned out to be a 4-day roller-coaster of steep downs AND ups and a serious challenge for both body and mind. I thought that after the 2nd day my muscles and mental outlook would get into the groove of backpacking and the going would get easier. I also thought this trail would be almost entirely downhill since it started at a 4600m Andean “Peak” and ended in a valley barely 1500m above sea level. Our 3rd day proved all of these assumptions wrong as we spent almost 7 hours trudging through deep mud, balancing across rushing rivers and pounding cascades, winding our way around ridges and ravines heading ever more steeply UP with every turn. I was already exhausted from the previous 2 days of hiking when we started that morning and with each consecutive climb gravity’s pull seemed stronger and stronger, forcing me to concentrate harder and harder on nothing else but making the next step. I really felt like my will was being tested by some higher power (like they say, “the path of God” is never easy!). My only salvation was the sheer beauty that seemed to burst forth all around us, from the path overgrown with ferns and vines to the striking vistas rewarding every climb. Everywhere we looked there were long lacy waterfalls spilling out of the soft green cliffs adding to the ever-growing river far below. I can hardly explain my relief when we finally made it to our campsite in the garden of an ancient, hunchbacked Japanese man high on the cliff over the river.

The final day was comparatively easy with a 2-hour descent to the pueblo of Chairo, where we sat around feeding the mosquitoes for another 2 hours hoping for a car to show up and give us a ride. In the end we donned our packs one last time and walked a couple hours along a dirt road until we reached the highway. Just as we were realizing we had no idea where to go from there, a public bus came by, stopped for us in the middle of the road and took us to Coroico for 5 bolivianos. We couldn’t have timed it better if we had planned it. Plus, we just happened to sit next to the owner of a hotel on the hill above town and she offered to give us a lift there if we wanted to check it out…Perfect.