Updates from Bolivia

At times the mountains reared up so high they pushed us to the very limit of the Cessna’s operational ceiling. Below us lay a chaotic rift—a desolate range of mountains so rugged and so dry that it seemed impossible that humanity could exist, but it did. It survived here.

Small villages and farms dotted the mountainsides. Occasional sheep could be seen. Their white wool coats contrasted with the brown hillside, like tiny grains of salt. Fields of dry crops, as brown as the mountain, clung precariously to the steep hillsides—there was no terracing. Life indeed existed here, but how fragile was it? Why were these people here? What would have attracted such a person to these inhospitable mountains of Bolivia?

As the drone of our Cessna’s prop cut through the thin mountain air, I peered outward and downward at the immense folds in the earth. My mind scrambled for answers to so many questions about life here in Bolivia.

Five weeks ago I arrived in this country only to be greeted by a multitude of stray dogs scavenging through garbage, half built orange brick homes standing in a sea of polluted streets, rivers running red because of chemical dumping, homeless people with hands feverishly motioning for something—anything, and a high-altitude country stricken by near-drought conditions.

I came here as a filmmaker not only to document an expedition of climbing doctors who were conducting a medical outreach in the small mountain community of Chuñavi, but to document the story of Mano a Mano International, a non-profit organization dedicated to creating partnerships with impoverished Bolivian communities to improve health and increase economic well-being.

As we flew across the mountaintops I found myself reflecting on this experience with a newfound appreciation for all that I have and all that I have been blessed to witness over the years of my travels.

What I’ve seen here in Bolivia with Mano a Mano and with the team of medical professionals in Chuñavi gave me hope about the good deeds people do and the incredible sacrifices being made to help others.

But I must ask: To what end can Bolivia as a whole, or for that matter, many of the other countries around the world, find a balance between extreme poverty and economic sustainability?
...

For two and half decades I’ve traveled to remote regions of the world, mostly to climb mountains. As a young man it was simply about the challenge of climbing, an almost single-mindedness to get to the summit. We traveled through so many of these small and very poor communities, but we did so quickly, time never permitted for a more in-depth experience. We really didn’t get to know how the villager’s daily lives transpired or what struggles they had.

We came with smiles, occasional gifts, and hired the local villagers to help us porter gear to base camp. Our concern was only to get to the mountain and attempt to reach the summit. We would come down, smile and thank our hosts for all their help and continue on our way.

In the same sense that I write about how brief these encounters were I would definitely say that through them I was beginning to see the world on a new level. Regardless of its brevity, cultural interaction took place and that contact provided insight and understanding. It’s a big reason I’ve gotten to the place I am now.

Climbing mountains brings us to places where we can see and experience life differently, spiritually and physically. Outwardly we may seem selfish in our pursuit to climb mountains, but inwardly we are maturing, learning more about the world around us and becoming more aware of our own place in this world.

Eventually we arrive at a place where lives converge and that maturity begins to pay out.

...

The wrinkled landscape below suddenly softened, the hillsides turned green, and puffy cumulus clouds gathered in the distance. Within minutes a vast flat jungle canopy stretched endlessly in all directions. We were now over the Amazon basin.

I continue to be amazed at the geographic diversity of this small country. Bolivia is truly unique and with each daily experience I learn more about the lay of the land and the culture. It’s becoming quite evident that the destitute images I first encountered here five weeks ago are just one side of the Bolivian story. Yes, those images are real but there is more than just poverty here.

Our plane descended closer to the jungle canopy. My mind could not adjust to the dense green vegetation that lay below. Only minutes ago across the mountainous region we strained to see if there was any at all.

Below us silt-laden rivers curled back and forth slithering through the green carpet like a snake. This was truly the Amazon and I felt chills crawl across my arms as we flew over this immense jungle.

For a moment I thought of a conversation I had back in the States with Segundo Velasquez, the founder of Mano a Mano. I asked him about Mano a Mano’s aviation program and what type of outreach they had.

He said, “Tim, you won’t believe what we have been able to achieve by having these planes. We even cut an airstrip in the middle of the Amazon jungle to gain access to remote villages…”

I wasn’t sure if he was embellishing the story or if he was being sincere. Obviously he was being sincere because here we were flying above that jungle and getting ready to land on a thin strip of runway hacked out of the jungle, just as he said.

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Osvaldo Pinto, our pilot, is one of those guys who can make a difficult task look easy. He loves to fly and his ability to fly in such inhospitable conditions make him a valuable asset to Mano a Mano’s mission in Bolivia. But Osvaldo isn’t just a great pilot, he’s a great human being with a sense of humor. But more importantly he’s developed a connection with the people who live in the jungles below.

From the moment I sat in the right seat and started shooting, Osvaldo and I got on well. He was quick to show me his camera and discuss the finer points of it, all the while flying over difficult mountainous terrain at altitude. Aside from being a pilot, he is an avid photographer who has an eye for taking still photographs. I spent a majority of my life in aviation and between that and photography we definitely had some commonality.

Osvaldo descended and banked the plane over hard so we could look out the side window straight down at thatched roof buildings lining an open field. The village of Oromomo was situated near the banks of the Securé River. We circled around over a thin short clearing cut in the middle of the jungle—that was our runway. He soon turned final and lined us up on the postage stamp clearing.

The air was turbulent as we descended into a sea of green, within seconds the trees towered above us as the landing gear touched and absorbed the shock of the uneven ground that shuddered the airframe. Osvaldo commanded the craft with ease as we slowed to a perfect finish just in front of an open sided wooden veranda made of mahogany.

We opened the plane’s door and within a mere breath of warm humid air tiny gnats swarmed us and zeroed in on the eyes and ears. I was quickly reminded that this was no longer the Altiplano.

It was noticeably warmer than anything we had experienced since our arrival in Bolivia. I would like to say it was hot, but that wouldn’t give this place justice. It was, after all, winter here, but this was still the Amazon and for me to say it was hot would be like saying 32 degrees in the height of a Minnesota winter is cold. Let’s say it was hot enough to sweat when just standing.

Like so many times before on this trip, I grabbed the camera locked it on the tripod and followed Segundo and Osvaldo. As we followed a path cut through the jungle I fell behind because I was filming. Eventually I caught up with them but they were already sitting in an open sided thatched roof building with the entire village sitting around with them.

I wasn’t quite sure what the discussion was about but I assumed it was about Mano a Mano and the work they’ve been doing here, so I approached the building and set up the tripod near the outer circle and started to film. Little did I know that the initial discussions had nothing to do with Mano a Mano. Instead Osvaldo was putting out a fire concerning the presence of me, a filmmaker, shooting in their village. This would probably explain the not-so friendly expressions I first observed on the village leader’s faces.

Osvaldo later told me that he had to do a lot of explaining to allow me to shoot. Fortunately I was there on behalf of Mano a Mano, which defused the situation. I spent the next few hours filming the village and the children who were enthralled by my camera and would do anything to be filmed including mimicking every word I spoke.

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Aside from flying doctors and medicine into the these remote jungle villages, Mano a Mano flies Leishmaniasis patients out of the jungle in an attempt to help treat villagers from this potentially fatal disease

Leishmaniasis is a parasitic disease spread by the bite of the sand fly. There are four forms of the disease all of which form skin ulcers or lesions. In some cases the lesions spread and in one case, visceral leishmaniasis, it is potentially fatal if untreated. The sad situation is that all cases can turn fatal without treatment. So no matter how you look at it, this disease is bad, especially for villagers located in the remote jungle. The disease can sometimes take from a month to even years after the initial bite to show up, and the damage can affect the spleen and liver and result in anemia. The ulcers and lesions are difficult to treat and may take up to a year to heal, but will leave nasty scars.

During our stay we were informed that three children were suffering from the disease. One of the young boys allowed me to film and photograph the lesion that afflicted his leg. I was sickened by the presence of countless flies swarming in the wound while I filmed and photographed it. I thought of Mike Damiano, a dermatologist who only weeks earlier volunteered at the Chuñavi clinic. Perhaps Mike could have helped this little guy.

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We went back to the plane with a handful of villagers and offloaded bags of rice, additional food and gifts for the village. The villagers then took us for a ride down the Securé River in a slow-leaking, motorized, long canoe. The water seeped through the wooden seams at a pace that kept one villager busy bailing water every ten minutes. The trip was enjoyable and allowed for great footage, but I nearly lost my camera in the river while skimming it at water level in an attempt to get a different perspective.

After the boat ride we bid our hosts farewell, pushed the 206 out onto the clearing and cranked over the prop. Osvaldo taxied downwind, did a magneto check and said over the intercom “Everyone ready?”

I looked out the front window, we were facing into the sun and the windshield was slightly grazed making it difficult to see details. From this perspective the jungle strip didn’t look long enough for take off.

Osvaldo pushed the throttle forward adding power. The plane shook like a bucking bronco being held in a cage. As he released the brakes we jerked forward and the plane was free to go. We somehow picked up speed over the rough grassy surface, which was a good thing; in front of us was a towering canopy of tropical trees perfectly positioned to hinder our climb out.

The plane jumped off the runway and quickly gained altitude. We banked hard to the right as we climbed out and Osvaldo continued a full circle so that we could fly over the village and dip a wing. My eyes were fixed on the small thatched roofs below, but they quickly disappeared into the dense jungle as if they were never there. There was a silence over the intercom; we were lost in our own individual thoughts about the experience.

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Ahead of us big puffy cumulus clouds gathered in mass against the cordillera. We climbed higher, making sure we were higher than the mountains we would soon come up against. The clouds towered around us as we were swallowed in a blanket of whiteness. We had gone from VFR (visual flight regulations) conditions to IFR (instrument flight regulations) conditions and I watched as Osvaldo kept his eye on the artificial horizon. Soon we were passing in and out of huge pillows of whiteness, blue sky above and green mountainsides below. The clouds became less developed as the mountains grew higher and soon we were out of the clouds.

Once again the drone of the engine that propelled us forward also propelled my thoughts. We were headed back to Cochabamba, this would be our last flight with Mano a Mano.

For two days we flew across the country of Bolivia experiencing magnificent landscapes including the remarkable Salar de Uyuni where endless white salt flats clashed with black volcanic cones in the distance. We landed at Incahuasi Island where impressive Trichoreus cactus strands grew as high as 40 feet and as old as 1,000 years. We flew over the Amazon jungle and landed in it, witnessing a brief snapshot of life in this remote region.

This trip to Bolivia started as a climbing expedition to the Cordillera Real with a medical outreach to give much needed medical attention to the people of Chuñavi. But it slowly morphed into so much more—it was a life experience or perhaps a privilege...

Before the climbing team departed Bolivia, Paul Cormier, a professional mountain guide and the man behind the idea of the Chuñavi Fund was invited to the capital of Bolivia where he was given the opportunity to talk with a senator about the Chuñavi clinic and the need for building it. I was given complete access to film the meeting in the senator’s office but was also allowed to shoot footage around the capital including both chambers of Congress. This was only possible because of Jose Escobar, he is the brother of the late Carlos Escobar who died last May of cancer in the prime of his life. Jose works as the Assessor General in the Bolivian Senate and was able to get the ear of a senator. The meeting gave us much needed leadership backing.

Carlos Escobar was the top mountain guide in Bolivia and the first Bolivian to summit Mount Everest. He was a national hero and ran one of the best guiding companies in all of South America. Carlos was no stranger in the mountain guiding world and worked for some of the best companies in the business, including US based International Mountain Guides, founded by Eric Simonson.

A year before Carlos died he and Paul talked about where to build a medical clinic. It was Carlos who suggested the need in Chuñavi and helped to get the village to understand what it would take.

His death was a huge blow to the climbing community in Bolivia as well as other South American countries. The future of his company seemed in peril, but family, friends, and co-workers pulled together to keep the business running and supported Carlos’ wife Grissel, who now runs the company.

I had the privilege of meeting Grissel and this incredible group of people who now make up the South American Trekking and Climbing Company. They have been such a huge part of the effort to build the clinic in Chuñavi, now all we need to do is raise $45,000 to build it and staff it. Paul already raised nearly $20,000, but much more is needed.

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After the team left Bolivia I found myself in the hands of Mano a Mano, driving across a rugged country experiencing first hand the extensive work this organization has been doing. I watched as villagers celebrated and praised Segundo and his brother Ivo for all the work and help they brought to rural agricultural communities. Mano a Mano built over 145 atajados (water holding ponds) around communities in desperate need of a water solution to offset the destructive forces of the annual drought.

I filmed the “Dynamite Maestro” light 14 sticks of dynamite and blow up a mountainside to facilitate the construction of a road that will make life easier for remote communities.

We interviewed countless farmers and families as they told their own stories of how Mano a Mano helped contribute positively to their lives.

I watched as Segundo was drawn to tears when a young boy hugged him and articulated with such maturity how much he benefited from the school Mano a Mano built. And this was just one of the 109 schools built across the country. The stories just kept coming with each day we spent on the road.

What I witnessed here in Bolivia with Mano a Mano speaks volumes about two people who had the dream of helping others. Joan and Sequndo Velasquez—my hat is off to you both.

This story is by no means over. To experience the extraordinary work and human kindness that I was privileged to film certainly opened my eyes. Now I would like to share this story with others so they too can come here and experience what I experienced and perhaps help make a difference.

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We flew through one more mountain pass as we approached our final destination. We were so close to the ground that I thought we were going to land, but the ground we were flying over suddenly gave way and dropped vertical 3,000 feet down into the Cochabamba valley. Osvaldo nosed the plane over and chased the mountainside, our stomachs dropped. He gave us one last incredible ride down to the huge Cristobal statue that stood over the city. This was our last flight and our last landing with Mano a Mano. It was bittersweet.

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I think there is one very important thing worth mentioning in all of this. The feeling of belonging to a family was one of the most powerful sentiments I witnessed during this entire trip. And I want to mention the three families who extended their hospitality to me (or the team) as though I/we were one of their own.

In La Paz I stayed at the Ichiban Hotel, which is run by the Nagumo family. It may surprise you to know that I spent my first weeks in Bolivia living with a Japanese family. But there is a very large Japanese community living here in Bolivia and they have been here for over eight decades.

The Nagumo’s were far more than just hotel owners, they made us feel apart of the family and they took care of us, no matter what the need was, they went out of their way to help. I would say that I will miss them, but I intend to return, soon.

The Escobar family and the entire staff of the South American Trekking and Climbing Company will always be held in high regard. As Paul Cormier said on our last night of celebrating with the family and staff, “We are all family…”

The loss of Carlos cannot be easy for Grissel and her children, but there is plenty of love to keep the sail full and pointing in the right direction. I may be biased but I think they treated us exceptionally well and took all of us, the entire Chuñavi team, into their home more as members of the family than as clients.

I certainly hope that we can reach our goal of raising $45,000 for this clinic. It would be a great legacy for the Escobar family and with the help of Mano a Mano I believe it can happen.

Last but certainly not least, the Velasquez family. I’ve known Segundo for over 15 years. I’ve watched him and Joan build Mano a Mano into what it is today, which is an amazing feat. But in all of the years that I knew Segundo, it wasn’t until these past two weeks that I really got to know who he was as a human being. I cannot put into words how I feel about this family or how impressed I am with the organization they have created down here. They are wonderful people who seem to constantly work and give to help others.

Although everyone amazed me with their dedication and loyalty to the operation, I have to single out Segundo’s sister Blanca because she was the one person who really held the whole program together and she did it from the sidelines. Never once was she in the limelight, instead she was always working behind the scenes making sure that everyone had what they needed. But I was drawn to her because she was like a mother who had a quiet strength that seemed to move mountains. I honestly think she is an angel.

I want everyone in the Mano a Mano organization to know that I truly appreciated the continuous hospitality and for making me feel like I belonged. A special thank you to Ivo Daniel for all the driving and for constantly helping us with everything. To Ivo Velasquez for being such a great inspiration for all that you have done with Mano a Mano Nuevo Mundo, and to the rest of the family for being so hospitable.

Help us help others and join us as we continue to change lives. If you want to donate and/or travel to Bolivia and experience what I experienced, contact us. You won’t regret it.

 

Osvaldo, a student pilot and I prepared to leave Cochabamba on the CP2207 at 8:00 AM with a full load, three patients and the crew.  Our plan was to return three patients to San Borja, fly to San Ignacio, meet with the Dr. to talk about alternate treatments for leishmaniasis, pick up one patient and return to Cochabamba by 1:00 PM?...just in time for lunch?
 
As we drove to the airport we received a call indicating that the three patients were not released from the hospital.  We decided to proceed with the trip and, at least pick up the one patient.  As we waited for customs and DEA, we received a call letting us know that the three patients were on their way to the airport. Because we were already cleared we pleaded for DEA agents to clear our patient passengers at our hangar.   Two agents and a labrador waited as the ambulance delivered the three patients.
 
Later and heavier in this thin air, our Cessna 206 struggled, making a very wide slow climb to reach the minimum 14,500 feet elevation to pass over the lowest break--just barely clearing and squeezing between two huge peaks.  After this event, our biggest challenge was a strong headwind slowing our Cessna to 100-105 knots ground speed. 
 

After dropping off our patients in San Borja, we headed to San Ignacio de Borjas to meet with the medical director about possible alternate treatments for leishmaniasis.  Our conversation was quite promising.  The Government is not doing much but is very active in making sure the slow, painful and time consuming treatment process is followed.  Dr. Marco Sanchez was very grateful for the information and is very eager to consult with superiors about this new promising treatment.  I will be staying in tocun with him.  I have also talked with Dr. Victor Hugo Ortuno who will develop an awareness and prevention training.  This may include distributing screen tents! 
 
After the meeting with Dr. Sanchez, Osvaldo flew to Trinidad to purchase fuel and to eat lunch.  Almost four in the afternoon and we were just eating lunch and still had one more stop and patients to pick up. Fueling took longer, and the flight to Oromomo to pick two patients, took longer than anticipated due to our strong headwind. As we struggled ahead, we were very concerned that we may be too late to take off in this remote jungle runway if dusk caught us.  Osvaldo managed to slip in.....people waiting on the runway with two patients, a man and a woman in severe pain and unable to sit or walk.
 

Somehow, and within five minutes, we manage to load both very sick and unresponsive patients and we were in the air again....I never saw a faster turn around in our airline industry.  Six minutes passed dusk and outside of the FAA/DGAC guidelines, we airlifted (I think they gave us some tolerance because we were transporting sick people) and we flew IFR direct to Cochabamba...climbing to 18,000 ft to comply with IFR requirements in this Andean region. Somehow Osvaldo requested and received approval to descend to a lower elevation long before reaching 18,000....  The tower even made arrangements for two ambulances to meet us, and skipped the usual drug search on all return trips.
 
Twelve hours after we took off, in the dark, SAR (Save and Rescue) volunteers took over from us and both patients were transported to the public hospital. Neither of the patients spoke Spanish and I wonder how they were able to communicate the source of their illness.
 
As we drove home I wondered what would have happened to these people if we had not landed or if we had not received your generous gift.  I closed my eyes and thanked God that we are so blessed.

After spending the last five days in Bolivia, I was waiting for a chance to understand the magnitude of the project that I am working on. Today, that all changed. Less than 30 minutes outside of the city of Cochabamba, Segundo Velasquez, Ido Velasquez, Tim Boelter and myself arrived at a tidy little brick school building, constructed in 2003 by the Mano A Mano team. Inside the courtyard of this school, I realized how lucky I am to have been born in the United States, where an education is easier to come by. Listening to the stories and reading them beforehand, I was not prepared to actually hear them first hand and see the results. As the school principal spoke, his words were punctuated by hammers hitting nails on what will become a component of a future educational building being developed by the government to help supplement that of which Mano A Mano has helped create. But, it wasn’t the words of the principal that truly rattled my core, it was those of a ten-year old boys. David, spoke beyond his years. At ten he was able to express gratitude, hope and a depth of understanding that only a child could convey so genuinely and pure. He spoke of the hour-long walk it takes for him to get to and from school, the classrooms of old in which he studied in while rain filled his notebooks and dissolved his writings, his dream of becoming a lawyer and the opportunity that he and his friends have been given with the creation of the new school. I’m not one to cry easily, but as I listened to him talk, I thought of how much an education can change someone’s life. My education has been my stepping-stone to the world and to see that Mano A Mano was able to place the future in the hands of David and his friends was a moment in time that I plan to keep with me.

The “American Dream” is something that I have always been aware of and understood on a surface level. However, the more often I visit a culture where the opportunities to grow from poverty to wealth are non-existent, I realize just how lucky we as Americans are from day one. We are given an education where our classrooms are outfitted with the latest technology, where computers take the place of pen and paper and where safe buses are available to tote us to and from our homes. Rain doesn’t ruin our learning and clean water is always available to drink. Upon graduation, we can choose to stay in our towns, travel to other states, attend college, travel the world or start a business. In Bolivia, as well as other countries, the world is not their oyster and finding a better life is nearly impossible.

When I return home, I am still going to be me, but I will have changed. My “American Dream” is just beginning and I hope that within mine, David can find his in Bolivia.

Scarlett Rosier

Well we are back in La Paz and things are beginning to wind down. These past few weeks have really flown by.

After 16 plus years of working for Outward Bound, I tend to look at these kinds of trips through that lens.  I think the clinic work we did early on our trip has a direct correlation. It is what Hahn was talking about when he spoke of "service to others," "...and above all compassion." It also brings to mind a theme that every Outward Bound instructor has used in one way or another at the end of our courses. That Outward Bound is the spark that can ignite the flame, but it is up to our students to keep the flame burning.

That is also true here. The work we did leading up to this trip on behalf of the clinic, and our work at the clinic are over. But now as we head back home, it is our responsibly to keep the flame burning by securing additional funding, gathering equipment and supplies, and finding folks interested enough to come with us next year for a combined clinic and mountaineering trip.

Some of my learning from our trip:
- Bolivia is a wonderfully diverse country with beautiful mountains, plains, rivers and lakes.
- The people of Bolivia are proud, kind, engaging and we were warmly received everywhere we went.
- Dirty faced, snotty nosed kids touch your heart no matter what country you are in.
- It was a pleasure to meet and work with the team of people on our trip. Various backgrounds came together to pull off a great clinical experience and some wonderful climbing.
- I have known Paul for several years through mutual friends, and by guiding for the same company. He is someone I have always respected for doing the right thing for the right reasons. I didn't expect less on this trip, but what he has accomplished here is amazing. 
- The roads in to the climbing areas... well let's just call them "interesting."

We are sitting in the mess tent at 14,500 feet on Ancohuma surrounded by a heavy mist accompanied by constant squalls of rainfall.

Well, I never expected this chapter. In all the years I have been coming to Bolivia I have never seen weather like this. It rained all last night and snowed higher. It rained even harder at the lower elevations. The road up to the drop off for the hike in is very wet, muddy and greasy. Only four porters out of 14 showed up to carry loads to the base of the glacier. So we are simply dead in the water as far as moving camp higher.

The rocky trail to camp two is wet and icy making the trail dangerous. So it looks like the summit is out. Fortunately we have an easygoing bunch of climbers who have already successfully summitted two peaks.

I think if tomorrow is good we'll go as high as we can and return to camp one. After that who knows what the weather will deliver. What a trip. In the past climbing here in Bolivia has been predictably favorable where rarely a cloud could be seen. This year, that is out the window. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

My Bolivian adventure got off to a rocky start when my flight from Philadelphia was delayed over three hours and I was unable to make my connection in Miami to La Paz. I had to wait two more days to catch a flight to La Paz, eventually arriving on Monday, May 17th.

Approximately four hours after landing we were off to the medical mission in Chuñavi. We saw over 70 patients with conditions ranging from dental cavities to tuberculosis to abdominal pain and diarrhea. It was a great experience being able to connect with the people of Chuñavi and to help them even if in some small way.

The extent of their need for medical attention was overwhelming and at the same time their ability to live and endure their hardships was equally humbling.

We took a break and shared lunch with them, sitting side by side and being assimilated into their community. Their gratitude and welcoming nature reinforced the desire to do all we could to help them and hopefully aid in reaching their goal of building a freestanding clinic to serve their community.

The climbing aspect of our trip has been a lot of fun. The camaraderie in our group is great and makes it all the more enjoyable.

The Condoriri area is beautiful and makes for a great basecamp from which some great climbing can be done. We all worked well together and were successful in our summit attempts.

While we were packing up to leave the Condoriri basecamp, one of the porters came forward complaining of some eye discomfort when he heard we had medical personnel in our group. Immediately a line of porters formed behind him, each complaining of similar problems. Again, this just emphasized the need for basic healthcare among these people and that we could find need in whatever direction we turn.

While heartbreaking and frustrating, I feel it is important, in life, to leave our comfortable, insular lives and raise our awareness of what other parts of the world are like and reinforce our gratitude for that which we are blessed.

La Paz
La Paz is a really interesting city. It’s like 21st century meets 18th century in the same valley. There are really wealthy people and third world people in the same valley. It’s kind of strange.

The markets were my favorite — they are so colorful and it is really neat to see how the people display their crops and goods. Like blankets and clothes.

The traffic is absolutely insane. I have no idea how people drive here.

Chuñavi
Chuñavi was one of the most eye opening experiences in my life. At 22 years old, I have never been to a third world country. I thought I knew what coming to this town would be like, but really I had no idea.

The first thing I would like to say is the people are some of the nicest, most giving people I have ever met, and I have never been greeted so extravagantly by anyone. I think we saw a total of 200 people in the two days we spent there. Some of the problems were minor and some problems we could not fix in the time we were there or with the medical supplies we had. That was the hard part. The sickness they had could be fixed easily in the U.S. with drugs and a few visits to the hospital, but here people with TB and other serious illnesses are going to die.

Just educating people about healthcare will stop some of the problems altogether. Simple drugs like Imodium, Tylenol, Cipro, or some kind of antibiotic that we can so easily get in the States could save a kid’s life. But they just don’t have the ability to get those drugs.

The root problem, I think, is hygiene. It’s not that the people are dirty; they just don’t know any other way to do things.

It was a really inspiring experience and has made me want to help as much as I can in the future. This clinic, when it is completed, will help to save many lives and will be worth every penny and every minute people spend to build it.

Condoriri Group
The mountains, man, I live for the mountains. Condoriri is amazing; it’s like big mountain cragging.

We set up basecamp in this valley totally surrounded by 17,000 to 19,000 foot peaks and they are all spectacular. I had never been to altitude and felt surprisingly well. I could have spent three months there. There are so many routes to climb there. I think I may have been a little to Gung-ho for my own good. I wanted to climb every ice route I could see...but soon realized that I probably would have gotten really pumped without acclimating more and got myself into big trouble. Oh well, next time.

It was also neat to see how well trained the mules were, they knew exactly what to do and the people just kind of guided them.

Sorata
The roads to Sorata and the road to the cave we went to see make the auto road look like Interstate 95. There is a 2000-foot drop right down to the bottom of a 6000-foot valley on every turn. It was pretty sick.

The cave was cool too. It had an underground lake with the clearest water I have ever seen. But I have to admit I hate caves. I’ll go as high as I can on anything, but I don’t like being underground.

We had a wonderful two-day clinic in Chuñavi. The first day all the major players in our project got together. It was amazing to see all these people show up and meet and discuss the final plans and agreement for the construction and operation of the clinic. I was almost overwhelmed when I saw all the elders and the villagers waiting to welcome us, seven years almost to the day since my last visit and our first attempt at running what turned out to be more of a MASH unit! And now through perseverance and hard work we met again. They had actually prepared an entire program/fiesta with speeches, music, dancing, a huge banquet of local delicacies where we were treated like royalty no less. They then presented us with Andean hats, scarves and decorative bandoleons that were all handmade. We were all taken by surprise, a bit embarrassed and immensely grateful. And we couldn’t wait to start working the clinic!

We saw well over 70 people that afternoon in a somewhat efficient mix of triple translation (Aymara/Spanish/English), diagnostics and medication. Often we saw people for whom we felt helpless because of the scarcity of our resources as well as the lack of local resources. We did a quick stop at the pharmacy upon our return to La Paz, ate then crashed!

The following was similar with the addition of 70 kids with awful dental caries! You just can’t plan for everything! So I divided them up in three groups, took them in a corner of the room while the team continued the clinic, and did basic dental hygiene teaching!

We returned to La Paz that night with more questions and answers and I just can’t wait to go back next year to work and see how the project is coming along. You leave wanting to do so much more!

We did a quick tour of the Tihuanacu ruins and walked around Copacabana and Isla del Sol... a lot of driving with beautiful sights!

And then as difficult as it is, time to change hats! Reorganize the duffel bags and get into the mountain mode! We headed to the Condiriri base camp. Cold and beautiful and I was in awe as to how much the glaciers had receded! The weather remained unstable with lots of wind and snow at night! Brrrrr! How I love my enormous -40F sleeping bag!

I summitted Pyramide Blanca the first day and to my surprise the top glacier had melted away and we had to do some technical rock climbing way up high!

Same on Pequeño Alpamayo where the cornice had morphed into a ridiculously narrow ridge, typical of the Cordillera in the Andes!

Now we’re in Sorata , thousands of feet lower where there’s breathable air, and its warm around 65F! Chillin´ today and prepping our gear for the final climb which starts tomorrow! Ancohuma looks bigger and bigger as we get closer! It’ll take us 4 camps and carrying heavy loads. Ask me about carrying a heavy pack at altitude when I come back!

Hugs
Fab  :)

We’ve had really sporadic satellite phone reception so we haven't been able to get any dispatches out.

Our team spent four days in the Condoriri Group of mountains and successfully climbed Pyramid Blanco and Pequeño Alpomayo. We had serious wind come up on us while making the final pitches to the summit of Pequeño Alpamayo. Everyone is doing well.

Apparently the word is out that climbing doctors are down here helping. Grissel has been telling all her clients, including a Mountain Madness team that just arrived.

We are now traveling north to Sorata where we’ll spend one day before heading to Bolivia’s third highest mountain, Ancohuma.

We all need a nice warm shower.

On Sunday we loaded up the van and headed to the village of Chuñavi where we conducted our first day of the medical outreach. We had quite the entourage with us, including two Bolivian Doctors. In addition to the medical outreach team, there was Jose Mauro Escobar (Carlos Escobar’s brother and also an assessor in the Bolivian Senate), Grissel de Gomez Escobar (Carlos’ widow), and other members from The Adventure and Trekking Company of South America.

As we traveled out of La Paz for the first time since arriving here, it became quite evident that the geographical location of this city is really unique. The city of La Paz is nestled in a valley. From El Alto and beyond, across the high plains of the Altiplano, La Paz is invisible. Only until you reach the canyon rim do you then come into sight of this massive city.

If there is one thing that’s pretty constant while walking the streets of La Paz, it’s that you’ll either be walking up a hill or down hill, rarely is there level ground. Only if you travel along the Prado (the main avenue that stretches north to south) will you enjoy a horizontal stroll.

The main commercial center of La Paz is nestled in a valley with the urban sprawl spreading in the only direction it can, upward—clinging to the steep mountainsides that surround the city and then further outward in the adjacent valleys that branch off in various directions.

The view is fantastic, with the hillsides covered in a mass of orange brick buildings that at times look precariously balanced and vulnerable to landslides. In fact, just recently monsoon rains took down a complete neighborhood of homes on one of these hillsides.

Our drive to Chuñavi took us through El Alto, which sits on the tabletop-flat plains above La Paz. Just driving on level streets was a change for us. Although we did not drive through the city center of El Alto, the landscape of mostly unfinished orange brick buildings surrounded by piles of trash and mounds of broken bricks reminded me of just how poor this community is. There was absolutely nothing pleasant to look at in the neighborhoods we passed. The streets were full of stray dogs at times traveling in packs. We nearly hit three dogs during our drive and it wasn’t long until we started to pass dogs on the street that weren’t as fortunate.

I have traveled extensively throughout China and Tibet, and have been to quite a few undeveloped countries, but something was different about this place. I couldn’t put my finger on why I was taken back by the scenes before me. El Alto existed and people continued to flock to this city, but what was here that attracted them? We were in this stark environment where so many people live in what appear to be severe poverty and it just didn’t seem like there was anything here that could sustain such a populace. I was told that many of the folks who live here work in La Paz and that in actuality these homes are still unfinished because families continue to build on what they have. So in some in some sense El Alto is considered the working class suburbs of La Paz. As usual my mind wandered over these thoughts as we drove on.

The Altiplano of Bolivia has been called the Tibet of South America, which only makes sense since both are high plateaus and share many of the same geologic features. As we drove further away from the population center of El Alto the countryside began to take on the familiar look of Tibet. Instead of the whitewash Tibetan style houses with their colorful windows, the homes here are adobe style and very plain. The rural countryside is a contrast to the suburbs of El Alto, with beautiful rolling hills punctuated by oases of trees and adobe villages.

The village of Chuñavi is about a two hour drive north of La Paz. It’s located at the turnoff for Laguna Tuni. This is an important junction in the road because many climbers travel this way when approaching the trailhead for the Condoriri Group of the Cordillera Real.

When we arrived in Chuñavi we met with Jose Velasquez, the director of Mano a Mano Bolivia. Jose’s brother is Segundo who currently lives in St Paul, Minnesota. Segundo is the founder of Mano a Mano International. Jose met with us but more importantly met with the village elders of Chuñavi to explain the process and responsibilities the community will have to uphold to have the medical clinic built in their village.

The importance of building this clinic means a lot for the Escobar family. Before Carlos died of cancer it was his goal to reach out to these people through the help of Paul Cormier and Mano a Mano.

On this day in a packed room, Jose Velasquez spoke of the accomplishments Mano a Mano has achieved around Bolivia, but also explained that for Mano a Mano to help others, others must also be willing to help themselves. The building of a medical clinic is a community effort and to make it successful requires hard work and shared financial responsibility.

After Jose Velasquez spoke, Jose Escobar spoke, a villager elder (called el jeffe de Sector) spoke, and then Paul Cormier delivered a heartfelt speech in Spanish. Toward the end of his speech, as Paul began to commemorate Carlos Escobar, he barely managed to finish as tears welled up in his eyes and he began to choke up. This was a big moment for Paul as well as everyone else. The dream for a clinic was now another step closer.

After the formalities and speeches we were escorted outside where the entire village congregated in a huge circle and a table was situated at one end for the members of the medical outreach team to sit. The village elders were decked out in their formal colors and women were dressed in colorful traditional clothing. The villagers arranged a huge celebration. It was truly an amazing experience to witness the appreciation these people showed us.

Traditional music was performed live, women from the village pulled the team members out into the circle and danced in traditional style, gifts were given, and a wonderful meal of potatoes, vegetables, chicken and llama was served. It was quite an honor to be part of something so important and so appreciated.

Finally, after hours of speeches and celebrating, the medical outreach took place. In a mere four and a half hours our team of medical professionals saw just over 70 patients. The line outside the building was long and seemingly becoming endless.

I was amazed at the chronic ailments that afflicted these people. A majority of them suffered from tooth decay and tooth abscesses. Children had diarrhea, adults with chronic joint pain, young and old with eyesight problems. Others had coughs and some were diagnosed with tuberculosis. For some the diagnosis may have come too late, for others it was a chance to get relief and a referral.

Everyone worked as an amazing team and the organization was efficient. At times two translators were needed to translate from either Aymara or Quechua to Spanish and then Spanish to English. No matter how difficult the language barrier, ultimately the patient was heard and their needs addressed as best they could be at this time. It was truly a great thing to be a part of.

By the end of the day everyone was exhausted and deserved a well-earned dinner and cervesa (beer).

This is Saturday afternoon and I escaped from the rest of the group when they decided to go shopping. I bought my fill of blankets and flutes last time!

Well as in any good adventure trip, it isn’t a true adventure until you start changing the schedule around , do this repeatedly until the trip is over and preferably on short notice and late at night!

Hey I think we’re starting to qualify here! It started Thursday when the tour guide scheduled for today showed up at 9 a.m.! Yep there were lots of good talks and a million phone calls, then off we went! We couldn’t have done it without Grissell though. She actually ended up orchestrating the meeting with Jose Velasquez from our sponsor company Mano a Mano. She has done an amazing job taking over the Outfitting/Climbing company. Carlos left some very big shoes to fill. He had a natural calm, charismatic personality. People were drawn to him and he really was the glue that held it together. Through all the people here, we can still feel his presence especially as this is the month that he died. And be that as it may, if the schedule discrepancy hadn’t happened, Jose couldn’t have made it to Chuñavi on the 19th as we had planned. Grissell thinks Carlos sent some good energy our way! Sweet, it worked! So we feel very lucky that it turned out so well.

We continue seeing Claudio and caring for his leg daily at 5 p.m. He is smiling and the wound looks slightly better. Of course we are all anxiously awaiting Mike’s arrival on Saturday morning for his expertise on wound care!

Ahhhhh! Sigh of relief, things are settling down....until 10:30 p.m. last night!

Paul C. knocks on my door, I am sound asleep while there’s a rainstorm out there, and I’m busy with a classic high altitude nightmare!. Right away I think the hotel is on fire! Then when I open the door he tells me something happened to Mike, so I think his plane crashed! But no,...Thank God he’s fine but also frantic because he got stuck in Philly when a huge storm prevented his plane from taking off. He thinks his luggage is heading down here today and he was bumped until Monday.

So I called Grissell so she could tell Franscico and Roberto our drivers, not to go to the airport this morning, especially since this daily flight lands at 5:20 a.m.!

Aside from waking up the town, that’s all we could do at the time and I went back to bed to chase more demons!

This morning at breakfast we had a nice pow-wow, and decided to inventory what we brought with us. And because we are going to Chuñavi tomorrow for Day 1, we headed out to the local pharmacies to buy roughly what Mike would have brought with him. The Bolivian pharmacies are government run, impeccably clean and amazingly well run. I’m still not sure how people know what they need to buy but there are no scripts required, you just show up and ask for what you want, pay the cashier, turn in your receipt and receive you purchases! So we bought antibiotics, gauze, tape, iodine concentrate to make disinfectant solution and band aids. Best part is that pharmacies are open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week! Wow makes me wonder how we would handle that in the US!

As I write this, another rainstorm whipped through, and I think abut my wet shopping friends and that Kentro had assured me that it wouldn’t rain until August! Hee Hee!

So now I have to wrap my head around my climbing gear bag because after we are done with Chuñavi we will head out without returning to La Paz until the end of the trip.

Kinda neat because you get tired of the intensity and the pollution of the big city!

Adios!

Fab

I have to write TGIF to remind myself that this is Friday! We arrived to La Paz 2 days ago and in way time stopped altogether. As we drove in from the airport it was still dark but I recognized some features as we made our way down from the altiplano. As the sun rose I stood on the roof of our hotel where we have a sweeping view of the city and Illimani and watched the city come to life just as it was seven years ago! The noises, smells and hearing Spanish had a comforting sameness. My Bolivian family at the Ichiban Hotel welcomed me back with the warmest hugs. They have this mix of Japanese deference and Latin energy.

Deyko, my mom, bought me Mate tea that is made with coca leaves and is an excellent natural remedy to prevent/treat mountain sickness. It tastes like jasmine tea, doesn’t give you a buzz and warms you right up. This is especially nice because there is no heat in the hotel and it was 34F that morning.

We had breakfast around 8:30 a.m. and I was so wired I couldn’t sleep so I hung out on the roof.

No sooner had we finished our breakfast, Paul announced that we had our first patient waiting in the hotel lobby!

Turns out it was Claudio our cook! He had picked a boil on his left shin 2 years ago and it had gotten infected and had spread open for about 6 inches long with black skin and swelling. Wounds notoriously don’t heal well at altitude and this was a prime example. Paul M., Tom and I promptly jumped in... and couldn’t do much! But we did clean it and bandaged it, and gave him an appointment to return to the hotel the next day for a dressing change. He was very grateful and returned yesterday for the same treatment. We are anxiously awaiting Mike’s arrival tomorrow as our final team member but also because..... He is a dermatologist! Yessss! We told that to Claudio as well and he is excited to meet him. The nice part about Claudio’s care is that since he is our cook, we will be able to care for him during the entire trip and hope his leg gets much better by then. I’ll keep you posted as our patient returns for his appointment tonight.

And I miss Carlos.....but that’s for my next dispatch.

Part of our group is gone rock climbing and the rest is going to run a few errands for the clinic and prepare some of our supplies. And I’m sure we’ll stop for coffee on the way!

Adios!

Fab

I’m not sure how to put into words just how grateful the people are that Paul and Mano a Mano are working toward the construction of this clinic.

Since arriving here this morning Paul kicked into organization mode. We are now at The Adventure and Trekking Company of South America which was founded by the late Carlos Escobar. Carlos was head of all the guides in Bolivia and a very accomplished climber before he passed away on May 8th, 2009. (See the highlight box at bottom of background page to learn more about Carlos). Carlos wanted this clinic built in the town of Chuñavi and Paul is seeing that his wishes become a reality. Through the support of Mano a Mano International, we hope to make this happen.

I had the opportunity to interview Grissel Gomez de Escobar, Carlos’ wife this morning, and I must say it was quite emotional. I feel we are doing something so much larger than ourselves, and their expression of gratitude is overwhelming.

We just arrived only hours ago and already the hospitality extended to us has been overwhelming. I can see that Paul is highly regarded here. His generous giving of equipment, clothing, books, and money for the clinic have earned him a deep respect from those whose lives have been touched by his giving. I am quite proud of him and I can see that this is very important to him.

We arrived under the cover of darkness, the plane touched down at approximately 5:30 am. It was still dark out after we cleared immigration and customs. Lot’s of silly paperwork to fill out, I was the only one singled out to have my bags checked. Fortunately it was the climbing gear and not the technical stuff.

By the time we started to descend into La Paz the horizon was beginning to glow with a faint bluish orange hue. And there was Illimani with its three summits rising above the city, further to the northeast you could also see the snowing ridge and summit of Huayana Potosi. The mountains look so close.

The entire team with the exception of Mike is here — he will arrive on Friday. By the time I arrived in Miami the plane was loading so introductions with the team were brief. Nevertheless, we’re all getting on marvelously. Looks like we have a great group here. I’m headed down to eat breakfast and then off to see the city. As we get our bearings more dispatches will be coming.