6080m. On June 9th, I woke up at midnight and climbed 900 metres uphill in the dark, wind and snow, to the summit of the Hoyana Potosi mountain. It took 5 hours and was the most challenging experience of my life, both physically and mentally. My legs were aching and just lifting each foot was an effort; but the real difficulty was breathing: at 6000 metres, there is just not enough air, so after a few steps you find yourself out of breath.
On numerous occassions, I wanted to lie down and cry, or at least stop climbing and head back. I just had to keep telling myself to go on and not give up. I've never felt so exhausted as when I arrived at the top; I just wanted to be asleep in a bed, far, far away. I could barely appreciate the view or the achievement because I was so tired. I did manage to open a birthday card at the top and watch the sun poking out from behind the mountains, before I hurried back down.
The two days before had been spent training and acclimatizing, with crampons and mountain-axe, and a brief, rocky trek, laden with heavy packs. I feel very satisfied that I managed to do it, especially as half of the group didn't make it, and it was certainly a memorable start to my birthday. After a sleep in the afternoon, I went out for an 'English-style' curry with 10 guys that I have met in the last month or so. It was no Wimbledon Ahmed, but it was a deserved reward.
I had spent a couple of days exploring La Paz. It is another city built in a peculiar location, with the central avenue running through a valley and the rest of the city sprawled up the surrounding hills. The vast market streets we discovered were good training for the steep mountain passes to come, especially as we spent a good six hours there. Unfortunately, the Bolivians are quite tough and so haggling was difficult, much unlike the Chinese, who would halve the price if you so much as turned your back.
I had hoped to spend the next few days relaxing, but what with problems at the border between Bolivia and Peru and the excitement among many travellers about the NBA and NHL finals, this proved rather difficult. And so, on Saturday morning, I took a bus down to Copacabana, a small town, nestled between hills and perched on the shores of the magnificent Lake Titicaca. From there, with the two Frenchmen, we took a two hour boat ride to the north side of the Isla del Sol. At 4000m, it is one of the higest islands in the world and the sun was hot on our necks as we began our trek south. Ideally, we could have stayed on the island for a few days, but the border would be closed again on Monday morning. During our 3 hour trek from north to south, we experienced the most incredible sunset. It wasn't just the sun disappearing behind the distant mountains, but the profound stillness and silence; a silence so deafening that it hurt my ears. The following morning was similarly ridiculous in terms of the views on offer and the peaceful atmosphere. I am now heading into Peru for my final week and a half in South America!!
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