After a planned few days in Sorata we headed out, we thought, for the scenic route around the mountains.  As with all these things we had a different adventure to the one we anticipated.   We checked before leaving town by asking directions and set off.  The road was bumpier and more ‘off road’ than the map indicated so we took a GPS reading – our position didn’t match the position of the road on the map.  Then we came across a fork in the road with a sign for the Gold Road off to the left.  Now we knew for sure we were following what appeared to be a track that would be a short cut.  Well, now we are here, we thought, we might as well take the Gold Road.  We’d read a bit about it in the guide book, how it was pre-Colombian and was used to carry the gold from the gold mines in this region.  Left fork it was then.

Up until now the scenery had been stunning, as we switched back and forth around the hairpin bends, some of which required a three point turn.  The Gold Road didn’t disappoint and we continued to switch our way around the mountain scenery.  For the most part we were driving between elevations 3,800m and 4,800m, the ground either side of the dry and dusty track, often covered in shale, was barren, grazed by the occasional llama.

Until we had taken the turning for the Gold Road we had seen many other cars on the road, mostly old Toyota 4×4’s.  Since taking the Gold Road this number had dwindled to around none.

As we revved our way up the tight hairpins, often grinding to a halt due to the steepness and tightness of the turns, we could smell the faint odour of hot water.  Reaching a flat straight stretch of road Paul got out, raised the bonnet (hood) and checked for problems.  Here in the wilderness of the dusty mountain roads he realised that his temporary repair way back in the desert of Peru had finally come to the end of its life.  The top engine hose was leaking slightly from the original split.  I sat in the passenger seat and did some knitting while Paul set to and replaced the old hose with the new one we had bought in Huaraz.  Of course, nothing is ever as simple as it sounds.  The new hose was of equal diameter throughout its length.  The old one significantly smaller one end than the other to take account of the different spigots it had to fit onto.  Paul created another of his work-arounds and merged the two hoses to create one hose.  Half an hour later we were off again.  It was this minor ‘breakdown’ that brought it to our attention that we had been largely on our own on the road for some time.  We wondered why.  It was not to be long before we found out!

About an hour later we came across a small settlement in the hills – Campiemento Ingenio.  We passed through the settlement, oddly, we noted, with a raised road barrier at the entrance.  The road became decidedly rougher.  We passed evidence of current mining operations, such as ore trucks standing on tracks.  And then the road came to an end.  We were in effect in the mine at the end of the road!!  Three workmen approached us – they seemed a little antagonistic but Paul charmed them with his basic Spanish and we learned we were indeed in a tin mine!!!  From here the road could only be passed by mule, horse or on foot and we were advised to turn around.  It seemed like a good idea so we did!

There seemed little choice but to head back to Sorata, which we reached a couple of hours after darkness fell, following a tiring trip back over the winding hills in the dark, surrounded by swirling clouds – with me reading ‘hairpin bend next’ from the Sat Nav most of the way.

The hostel were surprised to see us back but happy to let us have a room for the night.

We woke to views of Lake Titicaca, Huatajata being on the shores of the lake on the Bolivian side.  However we woke late, our body clocks not yet having adjusted to the loss of an hour since entering Bolivia.

Back on the road we are still impressed with the quality of the tarmac, something we were told not to expect in Bolivia.  One of the fascinating things about crossing borders is seeing how much is the same and what is different in what is just a few miles of space.  Here the houses seem better constructed, using more evenly produced bricks that fit tighter together, and often built in a style more reminiscent of what we would expect to see in England.  Like Peru away from the cities, we stand out clearly as foreigners.  The vast majority of the people in these rural areas wear the clothes and styles of the many indigenous tribes here.  At one point today we found the road ahead of us blocked by a large lorry set up for later entertainment, while men and women in bright and glittery traditional costumes danced and played music through the streets.  We were not sure of the celebration but alcohol was clearly being consumed in considerable quantities and we’re not sure we would have made sense of any explanations!

Men and women walk along the road carrying heavy loads on their backs, often of herbs and other local produce, taking it home or to market.  People are out with their livestock, often only a half a dozen sheep or a handful of cows, often in mixed groups with their donkey or horse grazing alongside cattle and sheep in small numbers.  At one point we stopped just off the road to make a cup of tea and some lunch with ingredients we had bought in a village along the way.  Lots of vehicles tooted their horns as they passed, their drivers and passengers waving at us.  Another similarity to Peru.  Yet in our personal interactions we have found people are often more shy than in Peru.  So far shopkeepers have also seemed less friendly or helpful.  We hope that will change.  As in Peru (and Ecuador) the standard Almuerzo or lunch is again cooked in advance with the rice and potatoes both served cold, while the meat is cooked to order and added hot to the plate.  Here the decorative addition of a small salad tends to be missing.  In the towns and villages there is usually a market where stallholders sell a range of goods, but also just as many who are selling a handful of beans, or a couple of bowls of tomatoes, presumably their own produce and either more than they need for their own family or being sold to buy other produce.

After passing through these small towns and villages we were back out on the rural roads again when we came to a fork in the road and a diversion sign.  Left on the good tarmac or right along the dirt track diversion to Sorata.  We chose right.  An hour later, with Landy very muddy and dusty from the road, we found the small but beautiful town of Sorata.  The large traditional town square dominates, with the Catholic church and a selection of shops and cafes surrounding it.  Roads lead off each corner, with stalls selling all manner of goods from the pavement.  In the square itself the fountain is full of water and working, the peeing cherubim for all to admire.

We will be here for a couple of days.  Paul is preparing some documents relating to some work he is planning in a couple of months time and we need to make the most of the facilities while we can find them.  In the meantime I will enjoy spending some time walking around town, shopping in the market for food as we need it and ‘window’ shopping everything else that we don’t have room for on the truck!  Tonight I have already enjoyed sampling the street food of beef kebab and cold potatoes, which Paul declined in favour of a hamburger!!  Humppphhh.