This page contains Adventure, New Friends and Lots of Flying in Bolivia , the second article of a three part series, More South American Adventrues which was published in the Janurary, February and March 2009 issues of Hang Gliding and Paragliding Magazine.
More South American Adventures Part 2
Adventure, New Friends and Lots of Flying in Bolivia
After a month playing in Peru, my wife Ursula and I left for La Paz, Bolivia. Our last trip through Bolivia was at the end of three months traveling and paragliding throughout Argentina and Chile. That trip, when we finally made it north to La Paz, we stashed the paragliding kit and went for a nice trek. This time through we had just finished a nine-day trek near Cuzco and I was ready to check out some of Bolivia's flying sites.
Women selling bread in the morning in downtown La Paz, Bolivia.
Our Bolivian adventure began in La Paz. We met with local instructor, Edgar Martinez, who put us in touch with a whole gang of active pilots. We spent almost a week hanging with the wonderful group, meeting early morning, driving out of town to fly, and going out to eat after.
Setting up on launch north of La Paz, Bolivia, across from Nevado Illampu, Cordillera Real.
A couple pilots from Maine, Reggie and Roberta, teachers at an international school, were fun and motivated. Of the half dozen regulars, Huascar Cardona was our best La Paz contact. He understood paragliding as well as any of the locals, was motivated and wanted to show us the best La Paz had to offer.
Glider launching in front of Nevado Illampu, Cordillera Real, Bolivia.
La Paz, an unusual and interesting city, sits in a huge bowl at 11,000' with beautiful views of the Cordillera Real. Locals have a couple regular sites, but they chose to go explore with me, as they are just discovering the potential flying in the area. We drove both north and south of the city. The sites worked well and I spent hours in the air every day. We hung out with the local pilots after flying, went to fun restaurants and got a good feel for people and place.
Flying north of La Paz, Bolivia, in front of Nevado Illampu, Cordillera Real.
Our first site, north of town, had only been flown once. Everyone was anxious to get off, though it was early and not very thermic yet. One by one pilots flew off towards the valley far below on nice long sled rides. When there were just two of us left on launch I clipped in to go. The take off was flat and not much wind blew through my wing. Across the valley, the snowy summit of Illampu 20,892' (6,368 M) sits majestic against a blue sky.
Flying north of La Paz, Bolivia, in front of Nevado Illampu, Cordillera Real.
The last pilot had waited to launch and was very nervous. Fairly new at the game, he hadn't flown for a while. Because of poor kiting skills, he chose to forward launch. After several aborts, running blindly off the hill with his glider not inflated or wildly off to the side, he finally made it. As he left the hill he pulled the brakes down past his hips. His wing buckled and stalled. Fortunately he was only a few feet off the ground. He crashed among rocks but was luckily ok though his wing tip caught and ripped two feet of fabric. He seemed relieved he wouldn't have to try again.
Flying north of La Paz, Bolivia, in front of Nevado Illampu, Cordillera Real.
I got off in a good cycle but immediately saw that we were launching in the lee of a long ridge in light rotor. I flew straight out to cross the valley and after a long glide reached a soarable ridge a thousand feet over the valley floor. Below, I saw where the others had landed after they described their LZ over the radio.
Glider launching in front of Nevado Illampu, Cordillera Real, Bolivia.
Circling over a point, I worked the light broken lift and slowly gained height. After an hour, the valley winds started affecting the mix making the punchy thermals even squirrellier. Rather than fight longer for nothing but airtime, and with everyone on the ground long packed up, I flew down. With wide open fields all around, everyone chose to land close to the road right next to powerlines. As any foolish visiting pilot would, I followed suite, and landed with the group.
The author launching in front of Nevado Illampu, Cordillera Real. Photo: Ursula Cristol.
Flying north of La Paz, Bolivia.
As is custom, we went out as a large group. An outdoor café fed us beer and roasted chicken. The group obviously was a tight knit, caring bunch. They worried about each other and were great at relaxing and telling stories at the end of the day.
Checking out a jugaria (juice stand) in La Paz, Bolivia.
North of La Paz, Bolivia, from the air.
The next morning we heard some Argentinean pilots from Salta were coming. Ursula and I started guessing pilots' names since we'd visited Salta a few years before. It turned out to be our friend and original contact there, Mariana Farjat. (www.amazingmountains.com).
Flying over the Yangas jungle south of La Paz, Bolivia.
Landing in soccer field cut out of the Yangas jungle. Photos: Ursula Cristol.
Our next adventure was south of La Paz, in the Yangas jungle. The take off was a steep hillside cleared from the brush. Everyone had nice long morning flights and then after another big group meal went up for an afternoon session. The LZ was a small football field tucked into a fold in the valley, behind a ridge and in rotor. I hit a thermal fifty feet over the ground on my final and even with a tight 360, still over shot the field.
The author overshooting the landing zone, Yangas jungle south of La Paz, Bolivia. Photo: Ursula Cristol.
We enjoyed La Paz and too soon it was time to move on. Cochabamba, the undisputed center of paragliding in Bolivia, is three hours southeast by bus. We flew with paragliding instructor Cristian Bustillos (www.parapente-bolivia.com ) in La Paz and he invited us to join him in Bolivia's second largest city. He showed us a great time, took care of us, and planned our itinerary so I could fly lots of great sites.
Sign at Sapanani launch, Cochabamba, Bolivia.
Flying above the hills over Sapanani, Cochabamba, Bolivia.
We started exploring our first day in Cochabamba. Huayllani, or Sapanani, is the normal tandem and school site just out of town. The US Drug Enforcement Agency built a nice road up the hill to simplify raids on cocaine processing plants in the jungle on the far side of the range. Of course, once the road was completed, the processing plants moved, with the brick paved road left for pilots to use.
Flying from the Sapanani launch toward Cochabamba, Bolivia.
Looking back toward Sapanani launch from the air.
Other local sites are rarely flown because Sapanani works so well. My first flight I headed downwind along the range a few ridge hops and saw that soon the city encroached on potential landing zones. I flew out and landed at a racetrack with plenty of room. I bunched my wing and walked toward a shade tree to pack up when Cristian and Ursula drove up for the retrieve. Everything this entire trip was going perfectly, usually a clear warning of trouble to come. It turned out, that I was saving up my trouble for when we returned to Peru the next month.
Terrain above the Sapanani launch from the air.
Looking back at the Capinota launch from the air.
The next site we visited sits above the small town of Capinota, an hour away by bus. Just beyond town, pilots catch a quick hitch up a steep winding road in huge dump trucks to a cement plant perched on the mountain behind launch. The Capinota site has big relief, obvious thermal triggers right out front and once again I found great flying conditions. After some time getting high enough over launch, I crossed the valley then eventually down and over the town of Capinota to the fields beyond. Even in the light conditions it was possible to strike out cross-country, fly for a couple hours and have a great mellow flight.
Cristian Bustillos laid out on the Capinota launch, Bolivia.
Over Capinota, Bolivia.
Picking a landing zone outside of Capinota, Bolivia. The author and Cristian Bustillos heading back from Capinota, Bolivia. Photo: Ursula Cristol.
The Tunari range above Cochabamba holds countless potential launches and with just a little convincing Cristian took us to yet another. After an hour drive, we arrived at a higher and again perfect launch called Tiquipaya, with very good cross-country potential. Because it lies further west, the obvious flight direction doesn't cross above the city. Told the Bolivian distance record is only sixty-five km, I hoped to fly further. I still thought I had set the Peruvian distance record, at one hundred nineteen km a couple weeks before in Cuzco, (but had missed it by six km) so sixty-six km was an obvious goal.
Laid out on the Tiquipaya launch above Cochabamba, Bolivia.
Above Tiquipaya launch from the air.
The range is mostly treeless with long ridges running out to the valley and city below. There are many roads winding up to either small villages or mines and at almost every switchback is a potential launch. We parked where the hillside leveled off, several thousand feet below the top of the range but still well above the sprawling city.
Tunari Range extending off into the distance, from the air.
Again, everyone wanted to take off as soon as we arrived. I tried to convince the other pilots that conditions would get stronger and better, but they knew it was already working out in front. Soon we were all in the air. I was with a local pilot, Jorge, while a French pilot, Mario, was on the long glide down. There was a small spur that I first caught lift over, and Jorge was doing small circles over it. When I looked back, he was on the ground. Obviously he didn't intend to land there, so I circled down to check on him. He was getting his tangled wing out of the bushes. I radioed Ursula that he was down and went off to find lift again. 
Looking back toward Cochabamba, Bolivia from a Tiquipaya cross-country.
There were thermals everywhere, but light, small and short lived. Still, I was soon a thousand over launch and started down the range. After two weeks in Bolivia, I was used to the light conditions, felt patient and ready to wait. I managed a few small crossings, then got stuck low, ridge soaring a face below Tunari Peak. I remembered the stories of people flying over the top of the range and wondered what time of year that happened.
Below the main summit, Tunari Peak.
Bolivia has distinct rainy and dry seasons. The local consensus seems to be that the shoulder seasons, just before and just after the main rainy season is best for flying. With the rainy season during the northern hemisphere's winter, that makes spring and fall ideal. While there may be less flyable days, there are stronger thermals and a higher base. July, when we visited, is the middle of the dry season, and the light thermals start late in the morning and never get very strong. Still, it was relaxing air, easy to stay up for hours or take short cross-country flights. No doubt the wetter shoulder seasons have bigger, stronger thermals and longer distance must be possible.
Looking back up the Tunari Range toward Cochabamba, Bolivia.
I made it a little beyond Tiquipaya on my longest flight in Bolivia, twenty-one kilometers in two and a half hours. Looking out at the dry ridges extending into the distance left me wanting to visit when conditions are better. Still, so much of the experience was the same as a longer cross-country. On landing I was immediately surrounded by a hundred locals. It was a Saturday, school was out, and half the pressing circle of humanity were children. They made it difficult to fold my wing in the dried corn stalks I landed in.
Locals gather at another out-landing after a cross country along the Tunari Range.
Once packed up, the whole group walked with me to the town hall and school. I asked, not too naively, if they made good chicha around here. Soon a large wooden bowl arrived full of the fermented corn drink and everyone watched expectantly as I drank it. I hadn't tried the local brew, and honestly said it was the best I'd had in Cochabamba.
Drinking a bowl of Chicha after flying.
The mid afternoon sun was hot. Ursula and I agreed I would get back on my own once I passed Tunari Peak, so it was time to find a micro bus. A young fellow led me across ditches and through fields eventually to a road intersection with a waiting van. Before I knew it I was back home wondering how all of this could be so easy.
I asked about Jorge, the downed pilot and it turned out he had dropped back behind the small spur. In the lee of an almost non-existent valley wind, he got worked in the rotor and spun into the ground. I wondered how it could seem so easy to fly when every couple days a local pilot crashed. Because nobody got hurt it seemed somehow reasonable. This is probably when I should have seriously started thinking, that maybe paragliding is dangerous. I mean, usually I feel like it's a fairly high-risk activity and requires a lot of skill and focus to keep at all safe. Lately everything had been just too sweet, too simple. Easy launches, always soarable conditions. Not even a wing tip collapse since arriving in Bolivia. Then Crisitan asked what conditions were like during my five and a half hour Cuzco flight a couple weeks before, and I remembered what it could be like and how quickly it can all get crazy.
Locals gather at another out-landing after a cross country along the Tunari Range.
Two months traveling in South America, I logged fourteen days with twenty-three hours of airtime. We had a super fun week in Cochabamba but it was time to return to La Paz. This visit to La Paz was all about our Peruvian paperwork. We visited the consulate daily until I had my new visa and was set to return to Peru and get my Peruvian Carnet de Extranjeria or "green card".
Women selling bread in the morning in downtown La Paz, Bolivia.
Local woman from Capinota, Bolivia. Photo: Ursula Cristol.
As soon as we could, we hopped a bus back to Lima, expecting a quick twenty-six hour ride. During the night a large earthquake hit the coast just south of the capitol. The next day we made our way through the devastation. It was moving to see the collapsed buildings, scary to see the power unleashed by the quake. After an extra six hours we made it back to Ursula's family home. I was left asking: what really separates me from the unfortunates who lie under the rubble of collapsed buildings? Was it just a matter of time before I joined them under a pile of bad luck?
I had only a couple days of paperwork in Lima before I could head back up to the high country and find out.
Go to More South American Adventures Part 1: Nothing But Cross Country in Peru
Go to More South American Adventures Part 3: Back To Peru, the High Andes and a Serious Accident
Below are links to several Articles published in 2006:
Go to Forty Days Over Mongolia: A Paragliding Expedition to the Lands of Ghengis Khan.
Go to Dateline Kurai, Altay Republic: The Russian Paragliding Championships.
Go to A The Celelstial Tien Shan of Kyrgyzstan: Between Mountains and Sky.
Go to Paragliding In The Callejon De Huaylas.
Go to Paragliding Huaraz Peru.
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