Finally, a huge stroke of fortune (a lucky star always accompanies vagabond climbers). We find it — the Valle de las Rocas. Here, the highway bisects an area of boulders about 10 miles long, and in width … we can’t tell. Boulders here, there, everywhere — forever. Paradise found.
But, where to begin? The rock is perfect — light brown with excellent friction, but not too aggressive. The boulders, “organized” in corridors with flat landings, sprout from the silent altiplano in crazy figures and forms. We see no one — nothing but boulders and, on the horizon, Bolivia’s hulking volcanoes.
On these amazing crumbs of volcano we climb, sleep, eat, drink, explore. We live. And life here is magnificently beautiful. We remain happily lost in the altiplano, beaten by the cold winds (well, OK, sometimes it is freezing cold, but, hey, you want good friction, right?). Things are easy here at 12,900 feet (well, OK, our pulses are in the red zone, but, hey … ). Mornings move slowly as we thaw out from the cold, starry nights. We explore all day, doing new problems and trying projects until sunset, until we are wasted. The climbing is endless — Nice! You’ve got it! Allez! Pull! Excellent! Nice problem! Hey, move the pads … just a few feet … over here … this one is even better. And so it goes, day after day.