My destination when I set off from La Paz was Sajama National Park which lies around 250km south west from La Paz in the Andes mountains on the border with Chile.  The park is part of the volcanic Cordillera Occidental, location of Bolivia’s highest mountain peak, Navajo Sajama,  and is home to chullpa’s, ancient churches, hot springs, and thousands of llamas.   At 13,000ft and with beautiful off road tracks surrounded by snow capped mountains what more could could I ask for?

The previous day I had cycled 100km out of La Paz to Patacamaya where I had spent the night.  Patacamaya is the last real town of any size that I would be in for nearly a week and so my first job that morning was stocking up on provisions to take with me.  There were no big shops or supermarkets in the town just small places selling a mixture of drinks and basic food items.

After visiting 6 or 7 different shops I had all I needed and then headed off to find breakfast which again like lunch and dinner the cheapest option is the set menu which consists of fried eggs/scrambled eggs/ omelette served with a bread roll and a coffee.  All of the places along the main street seemed to advertise the same deal – desayuno completo for 5 BOL – and so I chose the one nearest to me.

Sajama National Park was still 150km away and so I would not make it there that night and looking on the map there was a town called Curahuara de Carangas about 100km away.  When I googled the town it turned out that there is a colonial church on the main plaza with murals of Biblical passages on almost all its walls, among which stand the garden of Eden, the last supper and the final judgment. Several of the frescoes represent elements of the context of the Andean area and the church is often referred to as the Sistine Chapel of the Altiplano.

The town is also infamous for a high security prison that in the 1950’s housed political prisoners and dissidents who were placed in internal exile for refusing to toe the government line during the military dictatorship. 

It seemed like an interesting place to spend the night and so when I set off that was my target but I had no idea if I would get there as from the very beginning the road headed up into the hills and for most of the day I would be climbing.  Two consecutive days of over 100km at well over 12000ft sure would be a test of my stamina, especially after nearly a month off the bike.

The road that I was now cycling on was still sealed but as the only real destination along the road was the border with Chile which lay 150km away traffic was very light and mainly seemed to consist of petrol tankers for some reason. 

I had filled my petrol tank for my cooker as I left La Paz and it cost me 2.5 BOL.  Apparently it can be difficult to buy decent petrol once I leave the main roads, by decent I mean pure and uncut, but nearly every shop that I have visited sells 95% alcohol which my cooker also burns and so I will use that if I can’t find a decent source of petrol.  Cooking at altitude takes much longer as the petrol burns less efficiently due to a lack of oxygen and so I have found that even boiling a pot of water for a brew can take nearly 10 minutes.

The landscape changed continually along the road from Patacamaya to Curahuara de Carangas.  When I left the town I was cycling through an area that can be best described as desert scrub with the Andes Mountains forming a line in the background

Running parallel to the single lane tarmac road was the old dirt road and for some reason people were still using this even though there was a beautifully flat sealed road right next to it.

If I had thought that the countryside along the road that I had cycled yesterday was sparsely populated today for the first couple of hours I really passed nothing but empty scrub land and the odd person looking after their flock of sheep.

The majority of the houses that I passed had a wall around them which I presume was to keep the sheep in at night.

The first village of any size that I came across, which I think was called Vituy Vinto but can’t be sure, was after around 30km and when I cycled into the Plaza all of the houses were shut up and there was no sign of life.

More out of curiosity and for forward planning than needing to buy anything in particular I asked the only person that I saw if there was a shop in the village. Now you have to bear in mind that nobody at all speaks English that I have come across since leaving La Paz and my Spanish is far from fluent.  Most of what I know I learnt sitting in on Ab Initio (beginner) IB Spanish classes with the sixth former students at my former school in Vietnam.

Surprisingly the man understood what I was asking for and told me to leave my bike and to follow him (at least that is what I thought he said).  He took me to a house and spoke to the lady who answered the door.  She in turn took me to another building where she unlocked the padlock and opened the door.  Hey presto, there was indeed a shop in the village

As you can see it mainly sold sweets and drinks but the one thing that she did have was tins of sardines in tomato sauce and as I had not passed anywhere to eat since leaving Patamacaya I decided to buy a can for my lunch.  The lady also told me that I would find some type of shop like this in nearly every village but that they were rarely open during the daytime as people worked in the fields or tended the livestock.

When I am cycling I tend to only carry water to drink and like to find a water source to get water to cook with – be it a stream, lake or even a puddle doesn’t matter as the water will get boiled.  A couple of kilometers after leaving the village I saw a stream to my right and pulled up there to have my sardine lunch. 

January should be the peak of the rainy season but since leaving La Paz I had only had to cycle through one small shower and the stream that I used to get water from should really have been a river by now.

I got a pan of pasta on and sat and enjoyed a cup of tea whilst I waited for it to cook.  I was soon joined by a pack of dogs who either had smelt me and were curious or had smelt the open can of sardines and were hungry.  There were at least 6 of them but they were not aggressive and kept their distance on the dry river bed waiting to see if they would get any scraps once I had finished lunch.

After lunch I was again climbing and the open scrub land had been replaced by rolling red hills. 

Although I was still steadily ascending none of the hills were steep.  It was here that I came across my first Llama as it stoop on top of a hillside looking down at me.

On one of the hillsides in the distance I could see a series of tall brick structures that I knew from reading about the area were chullpa’s.  

A chullpa is an ancient Aymara funerary tower originally constructed for a noble person or noble family. Corpses were placed in the fetal position along with some of their belongings, including clothing and common equipment before being burned. In virtually all cases, including these ones, the only opening to the tomb faces the rising sun in the east.

When I stuck my head through the opening in the front there were human skulls and bones inside which was a little creepy.

Here is a 3 minute video to show you just how impressive the chullpas and the setting were:

At the 60km mark I descended out of the hills into a river valley. 

On the far side of the river I could see another steep wall of hills that I would soon need to climb

Once I had crossed the river I was indeed climbing but once again the landscape had completely changed and the rock formations were totally different to anything that I had so far cycled past.

I was now climbing through a series of hills and valleys where the landscape in the hills was very arid with little sign of vegetation among the rocks and the river beds were bone dry.

When I descended into each of the river valleys where I had seen one Llama on a hillside 20 km ago I was now passing herds of them grazing on the grass

The signs by the roadside were also something that I had not encountered before

For the first time I also caught sight of Nevado Sajama, or Volcano Sajama.  It is an extinct stratovolcano and the highest peak in Bolivia which sits at the centre of the Sajama National Park.  Even though I was still 50 km away from it from where I was stood it looked enormous.

It was now late afternoon and after cycling another 100km at 13,000ft  my body had had enough and was so happy when I finally saw the sign that I had hoped I would see for the last 20km. I had now reached my destination for the evening and headed off the highway to cycle the final 5 kilometres to the village of Curahuara de Carangas, and I can safely say that this little steep uphill section was the longest 5km of my life and I nearly got off and pushed the bike.  

As I cycled into the village I passed lots of Llamas that were just grazing by the side of the road waiting for a shepherd to arrive to round them up for the evening. 

The village was really pretty and consisted of one main street with side roads running off it and the main plaza in the centre

There were 5 or 6 Alojamiento’s (lodging houses) in the village and their price ranged from 20 BOL for a room with shared toilet but no shower to 40 BOL for somewhere that had a private bathroom and hot water.  I opted for the second and took a lovely room at Alojamiento Kory Wara.  Fairly confusingly there is a billboard as you enter the town advertising Kory Wara as being 5km away but it is in fact on the main street as you enter the town so just ignore this sign if you plan to stay at the hostal.

As it was getting late after showering and putting on my thermals, as once the sun went down it was freezing, I walked into the main plaza to find somewhere to eat.  After a quick stroll it seemed that my eating options amounted to one shop which doubled as an eatery and so I had my cena there – rice soup followed by Llama Asado (grilled Llama) served with more rice.  At least it seemed that I would not go short of carbs in Bolivia and the Llama tasted divine. 

As the village offered no after dinner entertainment I headed back to my room and jumped into bed to warm up.  I know that at some point in the next few days I will need to camp but at this altitude I wasn’t looking forward to it.

The next morning after making my own breakfast of porridge and having a decent coffee (I was now down to my last 4 sachets of Jed’s coffee that I had brought with me from New Zealand) I headed to the church to see the frescoes. 

The only problem was that it was that it was all locked up and the sign on the gate said that it was only open Monday to Friday and today was Sunday.  Imagine that, a church being closed on a Sunday.

As the village offered no other sights to see I walked back to collect my bike and cycled the 5km back out to the road which would take me to Sajama National Park. (it seemed much shorter on fresh legs!!!) There was a restaurant at the junction with the highway and I decided to stop for a sandwich as it may be my last food opportunity for a couple of days.  If I had been slightly hungrier judging by the sign outside the food option seemed to be Llama cooked in a variety of ways 

According to the sign I could have had my llama meat fried, dried, grilled, served as chops, as a stew or Thimpu (no idea what this is).

After eating and I was back cycling and the road took me into a sort of canyon

The road followed a river through the canyon which must be fed from rain and melt waters from the snowline in the mountains that I was heading for. 

Within the valley there were hundreds of herds of Llamas grazing and a few small settlements

After about 10km I had reached the head of the canyon and there was only one option but to climb out of it onto the plateau above.  This was the steepest climb so far in Bolivia and thankfully it was only for about 5km as I was puffed by the time I reached the plateau.  I can see why people in this part of the world have  a reputation for not doing anything quickly as it really does take twice as much effort to achieve what you can easily do at sea level.

The payoff for climbing my way out of the canyon was that from the top the view was pretty spectacular.

I had now reached the point that according to my map my off road odyssey into the National Park would begin (Kilometre marker 117).  The only problem was that the road that was on my map no longer existed.  The entrance was still there but a deep trench had been dug preventing cars from entering the road at this point. 

The reasoning being that I later found out that a new dirt road had been cut from the main road at Cruce Tomarapi (the new northern entrance to the National Park at kilometre 127) through to the village of Ojsani.  As I did not know this at the time and I could still just about make out the track of the old road I decided to still take it

The surface was bare rock and hard going but for the most part I could make out where the track was as it formed a wide line through the scrub vegetation. 

It may seem odd that I’m cycling through the middle of nowhere wearing a reflective jacket but I tend to keep it on for two reasons – one is to keep the cold wind from freezing my bones in the late afternoon and the other being that as I am cycling alone I have more chance of somebody finding me if I have a bad accident or knock myself out.

As few people use the track that I was trying to follow I tended to lose it when I crossed a river bed.  When I did so I just used the volcano as my reference point and headed for that until I picked up the track again.

The nearer that I got to the volcano the more impressive it got (took reflective jacket off for this photo op though as too good a shot !!!)

Again my company along the road were hundreds of Llamas which were grazing in the scrub vegetation.

Apparently one weird thing about Llama’s that they always poop and pee in the same spot and I kept passing huge mounds of Llama poo

I had now reached the village of Ojsani where I found the new road that had been cut through to the main road.  Still, it had been a great adventure taking the old road and think that I would still take it if I ever rode this way again.  I think that in a couple of years the old road will be impossible to follow though once the scrub vegetation completely takes over there will be no way to see the road surface that you should be following. 

If anybody reads this and still decides to take the old road like I said the turn off from the main highway is at about kilometer 117 and from here you can see buildings in the distance to the immediate right of the volcano.  These buildings are in the village of Ojsani and you can use these to head for if you lose the road.  The other benefit of taking the old road is that you avoid paying the 140 BOL park entrance fee which seems very excessive compared to the cost of other things in Bolivia.

The village of Ojsani was completely deserted and I can only assume that everybody was out looking after their herds of Llama.  The two structures that dominated the village were the church

and the colourful cemetery

It was now nearly lunchtime so I found myself an abandoned house in the village to protect my cooker from the wind which was starting to blow and made lunch

There are abandoned structures all along the sides of the roads.  I’m not sure why they have been built as many of them are too small to live in and can only think that shepherds have previously used them to shelter in when tending their herds of Llama.

The road that I was now cycling on had either been recently constructed or graded as it was beautiful to ride on as it wound its way through the national park.

The only ‘traffic’ that I encountered all day was the odd Llama crossing the road

The storm clouds were gathering and I could no longer see the top of the volcano that I was heading for but thankfully the rains never came.

I passed several more villages along the road and even though I stopped at each of them I couldn’t find any sign of life.

Each of the small villages had a blue water pump installed and so if you are cycling this way there are plenty of places to get water along the way.

It was now getting towards early evening and even though the storm clouds had continued to gather, and were now very black and angry looking, it still hadn’t rained.

The background of the volcano against some of the buildings in the village that I was in was too good an opportunity to miss and so every 100m or so I would pull over to take a picture

I had now reached the very base of the volcano and the fields in front of it were covered in a labyrinth of streams which were being fed from the meltwaters from the volcano

It was now getting late and I needed to find somewhere to sleep.  There were dry banks next to the streams which ran through the area but they were very exposed should a storm blow through in the night and as it was so cold I preferred to find somewhere indoors whilst I was up in the mountains.  I knew that the town of Sajama was about 25km away but I did’nt have the time or energy to get there.  I had only cycled 60km that day but the climbing earlier in the day had really taken it out of me.  Now that I had finally reached the National Park I was looking forward to a rest day if I found somewhere nice to stay.

In the distance I could see a church and decided to head for that as I was hoping that at least there would be some life around it as in all the villages that I had passed since entering the National Park I had not seen a single soul.

When I reached the church there was a man sat outside it who greeted me with a huge smile and a long string of Spanish that I didn’t understand a word of.  I explained that I was looking for somewhere to sleep that night and he led me off to the building beside the church.  It turns out that the place that I had stumbled across was a community eco-tourism kind of lodging/hostel. (www.ecotomarapi.com)

From what I could understand different people from the local community had been trained in hospitality (by whom I could not understand) and gave up chunks of their time to staff the hostel. All of the profits were then invested within the local communities in the National Park. They had a set price for the different types of accommodation and for a single person it was 380 BOL half board or 400 BOL full board.  He said that most people opted for full board and would head to the nearby thermal springs in the morning and then return for lunch before heading off. 

Now 400 BOL is a huge leap from the 30 or 40 BOL that I had paid previously but as the accommodation was really nice with unlimited hot showers, and perhaps more importantly at nearly 14,000 ft, gas heaters in the rooms.  Full board was included and the profits went back into the local community so I decided to treat myself for a night.

Here is a 6 minute video of my first day of cycling through the National Park:

It turned out to be a fantastic place to relax.  The food was great and the views of the surrounding countryside were stunning that I decided to stay there for two nights. It also gave me a fantastic opportunity to practice my Spanish as word soon spread that there was a crazy cyclist travelling through Bolivia and people came up to say hello.  The great thing about this was that the questions were always the same – where are you from, where are you going, how old are you, where have you been in Bolivia etc.  Just what I needed to practice my Spanish.

The other thing that people wanted to see were my photographs and not surprisingly the one which always got the biggest reaction was when I showed them the picture of the Komodo Dragon that I took in Flores, Indonesia.

The food was fantastic and the best that I had had so far on the road in Bolivia.  The lads in the kitchen baked their own bread each morning for breakfast

As there was only me staying at the place I think that they must have been cooking for the village as well given the quantity they were making. 

The selection for breakfast each morning was a feast – eggs, bread, jam, cereal, chocolate, coffee that tasted like coffee, fruit, smoothie – the list goes on

After two beautiful nights at the eco hostel it was time though to get on with cycling through the National Park and the first stop when I left was the thermal springs that I had been told about.

The only traffic I saw on my way there were the Llamas that still seemed unsure what to make of me

The road that I was now cycling on was probably the worst that I had ridden on so far as it was full of large rocks that kept throwing the bike from one side of the road to the other and it was difficult to get up any momentum.

I wasn’t exactly sure where the hot springs were but I had been told that they were 8km after the eco lodge and that they were on the other side of the stream that I was following.  So after 8km I headed off the road and down to the stream

I took off my shoes and socks and stepped in the stream to get to the other side.  I got quite a shock as I was expecting the stream to be ice cold as the waters were being fed from the glaciers in the mountians.  The stream was in fact warmer than a bath and the water must be coming from the same hot springs. 

I cycled up into the meadow on the other side of the stream and everywhere I looked there were bubbling hot springs

None of them were really deep enough for me to swim in but off to my left I could see some buildings which must be the hot springs that I was looking for so I cycled over to go for a dip. 

When I got there it was full of workmen as this is the rainy season it is the low season for tourists and so the perfect time to get everything ready for April, the end of the ‘rainy’ season, when the tourists start arriving en-mass.

As they were busy fixing the place up they let me jump in the pools for free which was great of them

Now you would have to go a long way to find a thermal spring with a view as good as this and at nearly 14,000ft it sure was refreshing.

After turning into a shriveled prune it was time to get out and see if they could rustle up me some food.  The lady that I asked said that she didn’t have any bread but could fry me some eggs and I could have something to go with them which I did not understand.  The thing that I did not understand turned out to be a packet of crackers and if like me you have never had fried egg cracker sandwiches they are actually very tasty, although they make a real mess as you bite into them.

After a great morning at the springs it was time to get on with cycling through the national park and the views from the track were sublime.

My destination that evening was the village of Sajama which the park is named after.  Based on the other villages that  I had passed through I was not expecting too much from the village but when I got there I was quietly surprised as for one thing there were people walking about.  This may not sound like something to write about but just about every village that I had passed through had been like a ghost town.  At least Sajama had a bit of life to it and once again the village was dominated by the church at the very centre.

There was also no shortage of places to stay as there must have been at least 10 guesthouses and probably more.  I settled for the Hostal Sajama and for 50 Bol I got a lovely room with breakfast.  As the sun was shining the first thing I did was get a beer and sit outside my little pink room and enjoy the view of the mountains to reward myself for another day of cycling at plus 13,000ft.

The other thing that there were plenty of wandering around the village were llamas who must win the award for cutest animal in the world

It was just a pity that I could guarantee that I was going to be eating one of them again for dinner that night as all that I had eaten in the three days that I had been in the National Park was llama, and the meat tasted amazing.

Here is a 2 minute video so that you can see just how cute they are in real life:

Alas though, my time in the National Park had come to an end and in the morning I would be starting my off road adventures south to the Salars or salt flats.  It should take me about a week of riding through the mountains on sand and dirt tracks to get there but one thing may stand in my way to scupper my plans and that was a river crossing. 

The locals that I had talked to about my route south had all told me that I would need to wade across a river in water above waist height and carry my bike over my head as there was no bridge over the Rio Lauca which lay two days ride away. 

They also said that if the river was in full flood there would be no way to cross it in the rainy season and I would need to turn back.  Hopefully, when I get there I will find a way to cross but fully understand the power of water and would rather turn back than risk being swept away with no chance of rescue.  Either way over the next few days my cycling adventure would reach full throttle and I was in for an off road adventure that would see me back sleeping in my tent.  

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Cycling Sajama National Park, Bolivia

5 thoughts on “Cycling Sajama National Park, Bolivia

  • December 13, 2020 at 7:22 am
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    Question, Stewart–I’m driving through the West of Bolivia with my wife and nine year old daughter. Are taking bikes with us and were hoping to drive into Sajama and then find some open roads to put in something modest—maybe 15-20KM and then back to the car.

    I’m thinking the roads are okay, for the most part? Certainly not much traffic. And can this be done without major climbs? (I’m pretty okay with altitude and nothing bothers the nine year old; the wife tends to get more affected, though). Any recommended stopping place (maybe for a reasonably comfortable overnight in the park)?

    Reply
  • January 21, 2017 at 10:09 pm
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    I am just amazed at your resolve and courage in what you are doing
    Finn

    Reply
    • January 22, 2017 at 1:44 am
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      Thanks Finn,
      The reward, and reason why I continue to cycle, is the amazing people and landscapes that I encounter each day.

      Reply

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