Hola, amigos, como estas? Welcome to my hour-by-hour account of climbing Huayna Potosi in Bolivia! I embarked on this challenge to see what I was capable of when I put my mind to it, and it was every bit as brutal as people say. But when I was standing 6088m into the sky, atop this mountain and monument to the power and savagery of Mother Earth, it was worth every second of pain.
So here is a realistic account of my experience climbing Huayna Potosi, with every negative and positive that went with it!
Day one of climbing Huayna Potosi
Day One- Morning
9:00 a.m.: I arrived at my tour operator, Jiwaki’s offices, not as excited as I had hoped to be but exhausted and nervous. Rather stupidly, the day before I had cycled Death Road, which I expected to be fairly short, but I was out in the heat for 10 hours descending from 4500m to 1800m.
So while everyone else was pumped, I was basically trying to keep myself awake with a coffee bought from the wonderful café next door. Despite this, I got measured up in the office and met my guides and my fellow climbers. We had a fantastic group of seven Europeans, mostly Germans and Belgians, with me being the sole Brit.
10:00 a.m.: Everyone has their mountaineering gear sorted and measured to fit, and we are ready to leave La Paz. We are crammed into the back of what can only be described as a Scooby-Doo van with a less exciting paint job, but as we meander through the labyrinthine maze that is La Paz’s backstreets, we all get talking and get to know each other better. We share our travel stories and our past experiences at altitude. Of our group of seven, only me and two others have ventured above 5000m. With one having spent time around Cotopaxi in Ecuador and another having also completed the Annapurna Circuit in Nepal.
11:00am: A quick and unexpected stop high up in a typical Bolivian neighbourhood that straddles the side of a mountain; how they manage to build on this terrain, I’ll never know. We’re ushered out of our Scooby-Doo van and through a narrow alleyway before we enter a house, walk through their living room, saying hello to a dog on the way, and then up to the roof. As it turns out, this is where we get measured and fitted for our mountaineering boots and crampons. Once everyone else was done, we piled back into the van and were off again.
Day One- Afternoon
1:00 p.m.: Finally here, after another hour winding through La Paz’s mountainside neighbourhoods and an hour driving along a dirt track straddling some stunning lakes, we’re at base camp.
Base camp is a collection of four or five lodges grouped pretty close together. Just down the mountain from us are a few brightly coloured lakes and a flock of wild llamas. Looking up, we’re greeted by a steep, rocky cliff that is interrupted only by a winding path that intersects the boulders. Above that, we can see the glistening glacier fields that we will be tackling on summit day.
Everything is a bit chaotic as we arrive. The base camp workers begin unloading all of our cargo, and we’re told to relax and enjoy some tea and biscuits. We only have an hour or so of downtime, and then it’s time for our acclimatisation trek.
2:00pm: Downtime is finished, and with a stomach full of Bolivian bourbon creams and Coca Tea, we’re told to get dressed into our mountaineering gear and bring our full backpacks with us up to the nearby glacier. It’s not a long hike, but it’s hot, and I’m already a little out of breath just standing still.
2:45 p.m.: With a bit of struggle, we all arrive at the glacier between low and high camp. The mountain is surprisingly quiet. I still haven’t seen another tour company group as of yet, but no one is complaining about that.
The guides usher us up to the foot of the glacier; it’s a gradual slope that quickly rises to be near vertical with jagged outcrops of millennia-old ice formations. We’re given a brief on how to put our crampons on correctly and different steps for different gradients on how to use our ice pick.
3:00 p.m.: This is the part of the entire expedition I was most nervous for. I’m absolutely terrified of heights, and part of the acclimatisation day involves scaling an ice wall about 20m high.
We’re roped into a harness, and the guides are professionals, so it’s safe, but that doesn’t mean I’m not scared—in fact, I even contemplated not doing it, but how many chances in life do you get to ice climb a glacier?
The first person in our group was one of the Germans; he scampered up the wall of ice with little difficulty, posing at the top for a photo as I watched on in horror. A few more of our group go with varying degrees of success, until it’s finally my turn.
I’d love to say that I instantly overcame my fear and climbed to the top in one swift swoop, not looking down, and reached the bottom victorious—but that would be a massive lie. I tentatively climbed with violently shaky legs and one swing of my ice pick at a time. Despite falling once, to the horror of my group, I carried on, just about reaching the top before calling it quits and making my way down.
Reaching the bottom, it was high-fives all around; everyone had managed it, and it felt like a good sign for this group on summit day. But for now, we just had to make it back to Low Camp.
Day One- Evening
6:00 p.m.: We had made it back down to low camp a few hours ago, feasted on more biscuits and tea, and claimed our beds for the night. Most importantly, though, it was our first meal of the trip. The chefs had been working while we were on the glacier and brought out a fantastic meal of Bolivian fried chicken with rice and veggies.
7:00 p.m.: With full stomachs, it was time for a briefing with the head guide; everyone was feeling great. Well, everyone but me While everyone else was chatty and excited, altitude sickness was hitting me hard. I felt tired and nauseous, and I just wanted to be alone. To be honest, I was already questioning why I chose to do this; the bad memories of altitude sickness in Nepal are coming back to me.
We finished the brief with the guide visibly concerned about me, asking if I was okay and if there was anything he could do. I knew I just needed to rest, so while the rest of the group played card games and talked, I hit the sack for the night.
Day two of climbing Huayna Potosi
Day Two- Morning
8:00am: Rise and shine on a brisk morning halfway up the mountain. I’m the first in my group up, so I make my way outside to soak in the glorious alpine sun while nursing a cup of coffee.
It was a rough night with little sleep due to some mild headaches, but last night’s nausea is gone, and I’m feeling a lot more confident for the rest of the climb.
Everyone else slowly trickles out of bed, and we’re served a lovely meal of pancakes with fresh fruit by our fantastic chefs. We’ve got free time all morning, so we’re left to our own devices.
Day Two- Afternoon
12:00 a.m.: We all spent the morning sitting out in front of our accommodation, basking in the morning sunshine, listening to music, chatting, and sharing stories.
We only had one intermission to wander down to the lakefront and take some photos of the wild llamas next to the crystal blue water of the alpine lake. It’s eerily quiet out, with only the sound of some distant mining trucks and the wind.
1:00 p.m.: It’s finally time to leave base camp! Bags packed, everyone smiling and optimistic, and looking up, we can see our target in the distance. We’ve got to go on the same route that we took to the glacier yesterday, with another steep climb afterwards.
As we set off, we start to see the first triumphant climbers from yesterday’s group; they’re all over the moon but completely dishevelled. We don’t have time to stop and talk, but we share our congratulations, and they encourage us for the monumental challenge ahead.
3:00pm: Finally at high camp! The last hour of the hike was really tough, with loose and steep rock steps and the added challenge of being above 5000m. Surprisingly, after suffering with altitude sickness all last night, I feel great, full of energy, and grateful for what is before me.
Our accommodation is really nice—a warm and comfortable lodge with about twenty bunk beds and a large dining table. As there are only seven in our group, it’s really quite spacious and comfortable.
Most of the group hasn’t been this high up before, so the exhaustion is hitting them hard. Thankfully, there’s nothing on the agenda for a couple hours now, so most of the group goes for a nap. I’m feeling good, though, so I get my headphones, listen to some liquid drum and bass, and take in the incredible views before me.
Looking up, I can see the rest of high camp, a glacier, and the snow pack that covers the peak we’ll be tackling in a few hours’ time.
Day Two- Evening
6:00 p.m.: The sun has gone down on the mountain, and although the views have been taken away from us, there’s no light pollution up here, so we have a front-row seat to the Milky Way. Reluctantly, we have to leave the star show behind as our guides are beckoning us to the communal area.
As we all congregate around the dining table, we’re told the plan for the evening and the summit push. As it turns out, we’re lucky; the weather is fantastic currently and is looking like it will stay that way tomorrow.
We were briefed that we’ll be leaving high camp at midnight, that the climb will be for approximately six hours, and that there will be two climbers to each guide, with everyone roped together for safety.
With the brief over, it’s time to eat! Yet again, the chefs have outdone themselves, and we have a massive plate of beef with noodles and some cakes for dessert. It’s early, but it’s time for bed; we are all up at 11 p.m. after all.
11:00 p.m.: Wakey wakey, rise and shine! Everyone reluctantly rises from their beds and sits down at the dinner table for some breakfast. Understandably, we were all pretty sluggish and low-energy; aside from me, no one slept, and even I only managed a couple of hours.
Still, we manage conversations and crack jokes between us while we’re waiting for our food, and despite being the most lively of the group, I have a sudden and strange moment to myself. I’m sitting there nursing my Coca-Cola tea, and I think to myself, “Why on earth am I doing this? Why am I choosing to make myself feel terrible and risk my health all for the sake of a mountain no one has ever heard of?”
Thankfully, though, I don’t have much time to contemplate my poor life choices as the guides appear again, full of life and energy and with a platter of food for us. We’re blessed with pancakes, fruit, porridge, fresh bread, and cakes. It’s a good enough distraction for me, and I wolf down enough to feed a family of four, knowing that I need every calorie possible for the morning ahead of me.
Day three of climbing Huayna Potosi: Summit push
Day Three- Morning
00:00am: Kitted up and ready to go, it’s a balmy -5c outside, and with nothing but the moon and the stars illuminating the way ahead, it’s near enough pitch black. Looking up the mountain, we must be one of the last groups to leave high camp, as there’s a line of headlights stretching as far up the mountain as we can see.
I’m roped in with the oldest of the two Belgian lads on our tour. The first obstacle is a large rocky incline. It’s precarious scrambling with all our gear, but we make it to the top and the foot of the glacier with relative ease.
00:20am: It’s crampon time! With an icy expanse as far as the eye can see, it’s time for the huge mountaineering crampons and ice picks to come out to play. It only takes a couple minutes, and with a last-minute pep talk from our head guide, we splinter off into our pairs and depart at different times.
Me and my partner are in the second group; our guide, Edwin, is first in our column of three, with me in the middle. Tentatively, we take our first steps onto the glacier. Each time we place our foot down, there’s a crunch beneath us as the inch-long crampon spike fixes our spot in the ice.
While it starts steady, within 10 minutes we’re walking at what I assume is a 40-degree incline. Carefully, step by step, we make our way up the hill, stopping every half an hour for a welfare check and some water.
2:00am: We take a brief intermission as there’s a queue forming ahead of us, the last thing I expected to see at 5500+ m altitude. As we edge our way forward, people are jumping over something. Knowing we’re on a glacier, I already expect it to be a crevasse, but as we get to the front of the cue, my heart drops.
Yes, I was correct; it’s a crevasse, but nothing could have prepared me for the never-ending drop in front of me. It looks like there used to be an ice bridge there, but what’s left of it I wouldn’t trust holding my bodyweight on.
It isn’t a big jump, probably under 2 feet, but our guide goes first and braces with the rope in case either of us falls. Thankfully, we both made it across unscathed.
3:30am: After the leap of faith, it’s been fairly easy going for half an hour, but looking ahead, we know that’s about to end. As we look up, there’s a line of climbers creeping up what is by far the steepest segment so far.
At the bottom of the hill, our guide tells us to do the overlapping side-step all the way up; it’s far too steep and too long to walk up head-on.
With embarrassingly frequent breaks, it takes us about an hour to get to the top of this hill. As we triumphantly cross the peak of this segment, we turn around to catch our breath and are rewarded with a bird’s-eye view of La Paz in the distance.
5:00am- The sun is nearly entirely up now; we trucked on step by step, wedging out ice picks into the snow for support for hours, and the entire group has little to no energy left. But the worst out of everyone is my partner, who can’t take more than five or ten steps without needing a break.
Still, we know we’re getting close now, and the views we already have over the Bolivian lowlands and the Amazonas are enough to keep me going at the very least.
5:30am: Final break before the summit, the entire group stops on a flat part and immediately and without hesitation sits down. The exhaustion now is pretty acute, but knowing that if I rest my legs, I won’t want to get back up, I stay on my feet and try to get a conversation out of a few people to get our minds off it. Needless to say, it was like pulling blood from a stone.
It’s unbelievably cold now; the wind has picked up, and we’re on a pretty exposed part of the mountain. But as we look up, the feeling that the end is near and we will all be victorious is inescapable.
Ahead of us is yet another steep section, and then the trail of climbers wraps around the mountain and out of view.
6:00am: We’ve reached the top of the steep section; this is the only part of the mountain where I actually had to swing my ice pick and lock it into the snow for support. As we round the edge of a steep rocky bottleneck, we climb another five feet of steep ice and emerge onto the knife-edge ridge.
Nothing could have prepared me for this. I’m deathly scared of heights; on one side I have a 300-metre cliff down to a glacier, and on the right, well, I don’t even know how far it falls, but it’s as far as the eye can see.
At its narrowest, the walkway is only two feet wide, straddling the aforementioned mind-boggling drops. But I’m not even too worried about myself; it’s my partner who is concerning me. Although he isn’t showing any signs of bad altitude sickness, and as a result, the guides have let him continue, he’s exhausted to the point where he’s staggering.
We take a break for 30 seconds, and our guide explains how we’re going to tackle this bottleneck; he’s going to go first, then me. When we’re both safely on the other side of it, we’re going to anchor ourselves down in case he slips. The guide of the group behind him will also walk behind him and give him a hand.
Thankfully, the precautions were unnecessary, and we all crossed safely; we have just 100m to go now.
6:15am: We’ve finally made it; against all odds, everyone in our incredible group crosses the finish line and summits. Despite our exhaustion, the elation takes over, and everyone is hugging and sharing our congratulations.
Once all of this calms down, I take a look around me. To the east, I can see the glacier and the Amazonas; to the west, La Paz is churning into life; and to the north and south, there are unbroken chains of huge mountains as far as the eye can see.
Being on one of the highest peaks, we tower above all, and the view nearly brings me to tears. The dawn light casting over the Amazon is puncturing through the valleys below us, illuminating La Paz and the alpine desert surrounding it. In fact, the shadow of Huayna Potosi itself casts over the entirety of La Paz.
We’re given about 10 minutes at the summit, so everyone poses for the coolest group photo on earth and then our individual photos. I’ve saved myself a Snickers bar for the summit; it’s like chewing a brick when it’s this cold, but given the setting, it will forever be the best chocolate bar I’ve ever eaten.
Conclusion
Amigos, thank you for reading about my experience climbing Huayna Potosi. Despite the negatives, the cold, and the fatigue, it is without a doubt the best thing I’ve ever done and my proudest achievement. I hope that this inspires you to take on this challenge; if I can do it, anyone can!
