The Mapiri Trail - Contents Bolivia, 2001 Home
The Mapiri Trail
1: Introduction
Copyright: Jim Ciotti, 2001
October 11, 2001
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On September 30th, Anne and I, along with four campesinos (two guides and two porters), left Sorata to hike down the Mapiri Trail. Over the next 6 days, we walked along the ridge of a long spur of the Andes that extended out from the Illampu Massif and plunged 2 miles down in altitude to Mapiri, a ramshackled, gold-mining town in the Amazon basin. Our journey took us along Andean mountain paths that crossed a dry, barren terrain much like the Altiplano; through dense, overgrown jungle; and over hilly grasslands. One guide said that the trail was about 135 miles long. This seems an overestimation - we walked a total of 46 hours and could not have averaged 3 miles per hour considering the terrain - 100 miles is probably more correct. During all this time we saw no town, crossed no road, and saw no habitation. Other than a couple of shepherds grazing bulls high in the Andes and one other group on the trail we saw no people until we arrived in Mapiri. This path, a trail used since before the Inca, has crossed the land for centuries but has never disturbed it.
All this may sound romantic and inviting, and for the most part, it was. The scenery was varied and magnificent, and Samuel, Mateo, Arturo, and Eusebio, the four campesinos, were a constant source of awe. They were good humored, patient, made fantastic meals, and carried heavy loads without complaint. However, the hike was very difficult; this is something that is not emphasized enough to the few who give thought to taking this trail. During each phase of the journey, we looked forward to the next thinking it would be easier - only to find new, unexpected challenges. Early on, high in the Andes, it was the ascents and altitude. These turned out to be easy...at least the path was dry and clean and the footing good. The jungle was the most difficult. There were rainstorms...hours and hours of slick-rock descent...vast tracts of shin deep mud. For long stretches the jungle had overgrown the path - it was necessary to stoop or crawl. While struggling through the jungle, we looked forward to the grasslands that came next. However, they too had their flaw...they were infested with bees who seemed to be obsessed with humans passing through their territory. And after six exhausting, drenched, bee-stung days we stumbled into Mapiri, our final destination - even here there were problems.
But for all of these challenges, there is something else about the Mapiri Trek that is beyond the experience of most westerners. This is no mere saunter down a well-cleared path to gape at the mysteries of nature...after the second day, there is no out. There are no restaurants or warm dry rooms along the way. There are no cabs or even roads by which to make a hasty escape. "I don't think I want to do this" is simply not an option. No, this is not the typical tourista experience; you are in the jungle, a part of it, and it, not you (or your agent), is in control. If you fail to meet its challenges it will eat you.
This lesson was most poignantly brought home to us early Wednesday morning. We had just completed two full days of walking. The day before had been horrible. The morning had gone fine, but in the afternoon we were caught in a rainstorm just as we entered the jungle. For the next three hours we struggled down a steep, rocky, muddy, slick, rocky, slick, muddy descent that had been made even more slick and muddy by the rain. Filthy and soaked, we straggled into camp at dusk - our porters, fully loaded, had made the descent in only 40 minutes. Could we actually do this thing? How long would the next day's "7-hour" journey take...or the "10-hour journey" that came next?
With such fears in mind, Anne, Eusebio (a guide/porter), and I departed early the next morning leaving Samuel (the guide) and the 2 porters, Mateo and Arturo, to break the camp. (This was our routine - even loaded down, the Bolivians walked much faster than we gringos - they had little trouble catching us.) After 40 minutes of walking, we passed through the camp of another party, a French couple with a guide and a porter who were just arising. It was like a blurr - Aymara chatter had alerted us that there was someone ahead of us on the trail, but we knew little else. We went through the camp without pausing, the only thing I noticed was that the man looked as if he wanted to chat - a plea that we ignored.
It was only later that we learned that this group had actually left the preceding Wednesday - what we had covered in little over a two-day's hike had taken them six! They were completely without food. Their other two porters had been sent to Mapiri to get food just that morning - we met them returning 3 days later so the group was without food for at least 4 days. When the two first came to the Guides' office, Samuel had suggested that they take the "Gold Trail." It provided a margin of safety - it passed though villages - there were roads nearby where one could catch a ride. However, the woman had insisted - she wanted to take the Mapiri Trail. She, who quickly became known as "La Gorda" to the Bolivians, had made a serious and dangerous mistake; she couldn't handle the terrain. Their inexperienced guide had made a second; after seeing her limitations he had not insisted on turning back days earlier. Now, turning back was not an option; she would never make it back up into the higher altitudes - nor was buying food along the trail or stopping at a hotel for a good night's sleep. The only possibility was to struggle on and shorten the time before the new supply of food arrived.
At first, even though the evidence suggested otherwise, we feared we might be in the same boat as the French couple. However, as it turned out we did fine - that day we ate the 7-hour leg for breakfast and tacked on the notorious "3-hour descent" (even the guides and porters hated this descent) in the afternoon. The next day we completed the 10-hour trip (reduced to 7 by the previous day's performance) by 3 o'clock and then added a hasty, bee-induced 2 hours before turning in. And each day it took longer for Mateo, Arturo, and Samuel to catch us. We arrived in Mapiri just after noon the following day. We'd been on the trail six days, but had actually walked a half day less than five.
But even as our success became assured, the French couple continued to haunt us. How were they doing...where were they on the trail...how much weight would La Gorda lose before the food arrived? How would they ever make it past the bees? What would happen if someone sprained an ankle or broke a leg? Where were the tort lawyers?
Yes, we experienced something on the Mapiri Trail that seemed alien...we had subjected ourselves to forces indifferent to our fate or comfort and which were completely beyond our control. I suspect that most people in the world live with this sense of powerlessness most of their lives - probably most Americans have gotten a taste of it starting September 11th.
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