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Sunchuli Pass: Day Two
April 11, 2015

Sunchuli Pass: Day Two

Hichocollo to Pelechuco

SECTION No1 FYI - Addendum One
Basic/Assorted Tips

  1. Plan on having two charges for everything. The agreed upon up front first charge and the surprise, after the fact, bonus charge that is tacked on because you are a tourist.
  2. Bolivia is majority Catholic country. Be prepared to have everyone look through the photos on your phone. Scrub images from your library before your arrival or expect to have to use your second grade level Spanish to try and explain why you have huge amount of morally questionable selfies and non-selfies.
  3. The orange piles of flesh being carried around in paint buckets are plucked chickens. We think.
  4. SERNAP is the real deal. According to Edgar, travelers can stay in any of their offices/outposts/stations for free. Hut to Hut style. However they don’t have online booking, it’s a stumble up to the front door and knock kinda deal.
  5. Most drivers on the Bolivian Altiplano are pretty cool, give you lots of room, and slow down. Except for this one little punk in a white Ford Fiesta, he will swerve towards you at high speed and spray a tidal wave of brown mud/turd/trash water all over you.

SECTION No2 Campameto Hichocollo - SERNAP Hospitality
14,469 ft

Mile 30
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Egdar's rig. He is up at 7am every morning and on his bike to patrol the Ulla Ulla Nature Preserve. He wears a snowmobile suit and gardening gloves. We owe him a pair of riding gloves, and we intend to send him a pair once this part of the world gets postal service.
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Kyle - K - Donde Numero Dos? Edgar - (blinky eyes) Que? Kyle - Donde baño mas fuerte Edgar - (blinky eyes) Que?
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It had been decided, that since I had the best Spanish, I would share a room with Edgar. Daniel and James would be in a room at the other end of the building. At 5am, Edgar woke up to take a leak. I was awake. I had been awake. I didn't sleep. Altitude starved my body of oxygen, and my body starved my mind of sleep. When he returned he asked me if I was a Catholic? Nope. Christian? Nope. I told him that I believed in the golden rule, or at least I said, "Creo en la rulo de Oro." This probably didn't translate well, but Edgar stopped asking me questions, and instead turned on his radio. This baby was completely wrapped in duct tape and from within its mummified body came the sounds of Bolivian Lo-Fi Gospel/Cumbia. He played it so loud, as if he was trying to put the holy spirit into my body through my ears. He also immediately fell back to sleep. Lyric of note was a blown out refrain that was repeated over and over, "Christo Christo Christo Christo Christo Christo." I can still clearly hear the chant in my mind, and maybe this was Edgar's plan all along. How Edgar was aware of a this prolific large scale installation artist, I don't know, but Christo's work now holds special meaning in my mind.
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Moments before this picture was taken, Team Dead Reckoning Bolivia was accosted by a drunk wielding a tin foil covered flute/scepter. We paid this jester 20 Bolivianos as a toll, this was by far the easiest solution.
Mile 34
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IT RAINED SO HARD THE PREVIOUS NIGHT. AND WE WERE INSIDE! THANK YOU SERNAP!
Spanish Phrases To Know
~¿Hay aire en la parte superior del paso?~
Is there air at the top of the pass?
YJ Department of International Relations
Mile 35
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Hobotech™ shoe protection has already deployed. Hobotech™ is unique system designed to combat and protect against unprepared for and unexpected natural/cultural elements. In this case it works like this, (from inside out), Foot-Sock-Plastic Bag-Shoe-Gaiter-Mud-Turds-Trash.
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Trail sign typology. Example 1.
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Trail sign typology. Example 2.
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Trail sign typology. Example 3.
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GET ON THAT LEAF!

SECTION No3 The Ferocious Teens of Antaquilla
14,950 ft.

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Mile 36
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These dudes had decorated their barracks like a miniature golf course. I guess they have time on their hands because no other Army in the world is going to attack a town situated in the flight path of GPS satellites right next to a lake filled with fish that will swim up your urethra. Sure the course may be good, but even the worlds best miniature golfing isn't worth that risk.
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SECTION No4 Approach to Pelechuco Pass
15,000 ft. +

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Mile 38
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You may know that @clifbarcompany makes food for athletes and the everyman. But did you know that they make astronaut food as well. Clif asked us to go into space to test these little moon pouches. We did.
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Nothing like having lunch with astroids and satellites while sucking down a few pouches of squeeze pizza.
F A T B O Y
F A T B O Y
F A T B O Y
F A T B O Y
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Mile 41
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"Is it dead? It's dead right?"
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Mile 45
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SECTION No5 Pelechuco Pass
16,010 ft.

I was just riding along when out of nowhere it hit me like a whippit. The sensation was like… you ever huff paint? Anyway, the road was the same road we’d been on for the last two days. Sure, yeah, we’d been gradually climbing but not really and besides today was supposed to be an easy day. A warm-up. Sunchuli Pass, two days from now, that was the Motherfucker.

 

Three months ago, when we finally decided on Bolivia because Colombia was going to be too wet and Argentina was going to be too boring, and because Bolivia had this mining problem, a byproduct of which is a vast network of physics-defying roads, I thought about the elevation. I think I remember saying something at the time  like, “Hey guys those mountains are tall, like really tall.” And that was that until two weeks ago, when we really started planning and packing for Bolivia I thought about it and talked about it some more.

I even did some research, the gist of which was that if you can avoid getting altitude sickness you should because it’s uncomfortable and possibly deadly.”- DWP

Like with everything (car washes, diseases, insurance plans, burritos, etc.) there are levels. The first level, your basic run of the mill hypobaropathy or soroche, just causes fatigue, dizziness, lightheadedness, insomnia, tingles, jingles, shortness of breath, drowsiness, General Malaise11What a great name!!!! For like a G.I. Joe character or something!, nosebleeds, rapid pulse, and “excessive” farts. The next level is more dangerous. So dangerous in fact that several of the more common conditions have acronyms, e.g HAPE (high altitude pulmonary edema) and HACE (high altitude cerebral edema). I didn’t do a lot of research though because after reading all about the symptoms and causes of altitude sickness I came to the prevention section and it was empty. It basically said, “Don’t suck.” Apparently the best way to prevent and/or avoid altitude sickness was to be genetically superior. Also, just like allergies, altitude sickness can come and go, and come right back. Oh, and one last thing, there is no way to predict the effects on you, at any particular time or age. It just be what it be. Maybe you get HAPEed, maybe you don’t.

 

In fact the only thing you can do to mitigate the effects is to ascend to higher elevations gradually, in stages. So like, the only real advice the internet has is… walk up or drive up but definitely don’t fly up. And but because El Alto International Airport is located 13,799 feet above sea level,

 

  1. We didn’t land so much as “dock.” It’s almost like we took off from Miami, climbed to our flying altitude, went south towards a big mountain with a tarmac on top, and pulled into the tarmac much like a car pulls into driveway—it just makes a turn and stops.
  2. We did not ascend to higher elevations gradually. We did the opposite. Basically we strapped ourselves to a rocket and rode it to space.

 

You land, you taxi, you come to a stop and the plane powers off. The second the plane is all the way off and the pressurized cabin is no longer pressurized, you’re fucked. Instantaneously you feel 70% heavier, dumber and slower. And gassier. But then you descend to La Paz and you walk around, and you get your bearings, and 24 hours goes by and you normalize. Your new normal kinda sucks, like having a hangover and the bends at the same time. But other than that, and the insomnia, you’re good to go. At least physically and mentally.

Emotionally though, elevation was a constant consideration. Especially because all we did was go places and make plans to go to other more places.”- DWP

Everyday, all day long, every chance we had, we asked locals:

 

  1. How high is that pass?
  2. Is this pass higher than that pass?
  3. What elevation is this town at?
  4. What elevation are we at now?

 

And we talked among ourselves:

 

  1. Did you sleep last night?
  2. Is Charazani higher than La Paz?
  3. What elevation did we sleep at last night?
  4. What elevation are we sleeping at tomorrow night?
  5. How tall is Sunchuli?
  6. Is Sunchuli the tallest pass?
  7. What’s the average elevation of the Altiplano?
  8. Did you just fart?

 

Anxiety and preoccupation aside, and except of course for the constant low-grade feeling of mailasment, so far, the last two days were a lot like bikepacking. Sure, yesterday we rode for seven hours across the Altiplano in the kind of weather one associates with Jupiter. And we did come upon way more towns than expected. And were surrounded by more Turds, Trash and Mud than expected. But there were roads, and people and mountains and all of our shit was strapped to our bikes soo…

Then about 2k from the top of Pelechuco Pass it hit me. I was just riding along when suddenly I felt dizzy and confused, and I just kinda fell off my bike a little bit. Also, my heart was beating unreasonably fast.”- DWP

So I spit out my coca leaf and started push-walking my bike instead of riding it. Figuring that maybe what happened was I suck at riding my bike over 15,000 foot mountains. Then it started snowing, and the headwind which had been gnarly for the last thirty minutes started throwing rocks and sand, and icicles, at my face. That’s when I realized I was preternaturally hungry. And out of water. Also, it’s at about that time the first of many nearly-debilitating anxiety attacks attacked me.

 

Just to be clear:

 

  1. We were in a blizzard.
  2. We were 15,000 feet above sea level and climbing.
  3. I was super-duper hungry.
  4. And I was confused, dizzy and suffering from disorganized thinking.
  5. And I was in the midst of a pretty wicked anxiety attack.
  6. And I was panting.
  7. And the temperature was dropping.
  8. Oh, and at this point we were FULLY committed. Turning around wasn’t really an option and the fastest way down—and I needed to go down, immediately—was straight ahead.

 

Which speaking of which, all mountaintops are by definition slow to come. That’s what mountaintops do, they dole themselves out slooooooooowwwwwwwlly. If you want to get over them you have to haul them in, like a trophy marlin. Using, in my case, an eight year old child’s arms. But this fucking thing was ridiculous. I felt like Frodo, if Frodo had to deliver a highly specialized mountain bike instead of throw away a piece of dangerous jewelry. One step at a time. For what felt like hours. In a fucking whiteout. I would have taken photographs but at the time I seriously thought I was going to

 

  1. die.
  2. go crazy.
  3. start crying.
  4. freeze to death.
  5. pass out.
  6. never see my kids again.

 

So I didn’t take any photographs. I just mumbled and stumbled my way past the lake, to the cross built into the rock wall marking the summit, then down the other side. I’ll leave you with these three thoughts:

 

  1. I have a running tally (in my brain mind) of the photographs that “got away.” This is a very special list for very special photographs. I go for weeks and months and even years without adding to this list. And sometimes when the light is right I might add two moments to the list in just one afternoon. The shit I saw on that mountaintop. The blizzard light at 15,000 feet. I missed no fewer than five photographs that afternoon. Maybe more.
  2. I NEVER WOULD HAVE MADE IT OVER THAT FUCKER without Kyle and James. The physical/mental/emotional/spiritual assistance I required was pretty fucking serious. Also, I’m sure those fuckers were taxed as well. Or maybe not. Whatever. I’m alive because of them.
  3. The road down the backside of Pelechuco Pass is the most remarkable and spectacular road in the world. I stake my life on it. That I was frozen and in no state to enjoy myself, on what was/is/and forever will be the wickedest descent ever, is tragic.

SECTION No6 Pelechuco
11,787 ft.

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Mile 57
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The road down from Pelechuco Pass to Pelechuco was a mind bender. The trip down was a HELL RIDE. There is nothing like slowly getting to the top of a pass in the middle of blizzard, completely saturated and shivering, just to rip down the backside in a dark cloud of a gravity accelerated hate. Needless to say, but when the pace slowed, the gates of our salvation appeared out of the fog. Pelechuco, at 11,787 feet above sea level, this would be the lowest point of our whole trip.
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The Hotel Apolobamba features: Damp rooms built over a roaring river. Toilets with a urinal/sink that is perfectly situated at face height when sitting. Tiger in front of waterfall posters. A restaurant that is out of order. Beds built for children.
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Bed...So...Short.
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James printed screen shots of the course he outlined on Google Earth. The map of our route was a combination of 35 year old satellite photos
MIKE CHERNEY WIZARD POWERED AMULET
MIKE CHERNEY WIZARD POWERED AMULET
MIKE CHERNEY WIZARD POWERED AMULET
MIKE CHERNEY WIZARD POWERED AMULET
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In this alley, in a little below ground closet/storage space/basement jammer, we would experience a night out, dining on a meal of fried bucket chicken, half fried potatoes, and kinda white rice. Kyle would eat most, James would eat some, and Daniel would eat a little. Throughout the meal two pre-adolescent Bolivian kids, who happened to be sharing our table, kept looking in our direction and laughing. When you see three pasty clowns dressed in an assortment of bright and shiny puffy clothes scrupulously pick through their food of course you laugh, they're clowns.
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DILLON MAXWELL EARNED A BA IN HISTORY FROM COLORADO STATE UNIVERSITY. HE WROTE HIS THESIS ON THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR'S EFFECTS ON THE CUBAN REVOLUTION AND DID HISTORICAL FIELDWORK IN SOUTHERN COLORADO FOCUSING ON FAMED AMERICAN EXPLORER ZEBULON PIKE AND THE ENVIRONMENT PIKE ENCOUNTERED IN HIS TRAVELS. DILLON LIVES IN FORT COLLINS, COLORADO WHERE HE SPENDS HIS TIME RIDING BIKES, CAMPING, RIFFIN', AND PLAYING DRUMS. Brief Histories: Pelechuco by Dillon Maxwell

Nestled in the heart of the Cordillera Apolobamba is the small town of Pelechuco. The name comes from the Quechua Phuyu Kuchu, meaning “cloudy corner.” Pelechuco is an exemplar of how globalization can reach into unseemingly far off places. The town has not been spared from the ravages of exploration, colonialism, and adventure perpetrated by those from faraway lands.

The area was originally inhabited by the Mollo peoples and later by the Incans. Though no large scale settlements were set up in the present day area, small scale archeological sites can be found outside of Pelechuco.

The town of Pelechuco itself was founded in the 1560’s by Jesuit Priests. The Spanish used the town because it sits at a crossroads for travelers and traders in the area. The cultural landscape of Pelechuco reflects this Spanish influence. An old Catholic Church made of stone, a town square, and cobble streets dominate much of the cultural landscape. For 300 plus years, the small town experienced a cultural syncretism, blending Aymara, Quechua, and Spanish influence.

 

Another culture got thrown into the mix in the early 1900s when a German mining mogul, Karl Francke, made his way to Pelchuco. Francke was part of the Aramayo-Francke Mining Company, Bolivo-Germanic mining venture specializing in tin, gold, and wolfram. The company was based in England, then moved to Geneva to dodge a lofty British tax imposition. In the town’s square, Franck added a wrought-iron fountain in the town’s square and large stone house, in which Francke resided. Leading one to wonder if Francke used the tax money he saved from dodging British tax to set up his residence and town square in Pelechuco in order to create his lasting legacy on the town.

Francke has also been tied to the famed British adventurer, archeologist, and explorer, Colonel Percy Fawcett. Fawcett’s fame comes from his exploration of Latin America in search for the “Lost City of Z,” in addition to his survey work of the Brazilian-Bolivian border. Fawcett is documented as staying in the Pelechuco on several occasions with Francke hosting him and his expedition.

SECTION No7 Route Map

Day 01: Pumasani to Hichocollo
Day 02: Hichocollo to Pelechuco
Day 03: Pelechuco to Mountainside Bivouac #1
Day 04: Mountainside Bivouac #1 to Hilo Hilo
Day 05: Hilo Hilo to Mountainside Bivouac #2
Day 06: Mountainside Bivouac #2 to Curva
Made Possible By 
Additional Support for this Project was Provided By Clif Bar SRAM Porcelain Rocket Mission Workshop Mountain Hardwear Oakley Snow Peak Stumptown Coffee Poler
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Sunchuli Pass: Day Two
Start
Hichocollo
Finish
Pelechuco
Distance
27.5 miles
Elevation Gain
5032
Highest Point
15953
Weather
Sunny in the morning trending to blizzard in the afternoon.
Luck
Surviving a fried bucket chicken dinner that was prepared in what was basically a subterranean closet.