#55 The Mountain That Eats Men - Potosi

At 4,030 metres Potosi has a claim on being the highest city in the world - a fact not easily forgotten while wheezing our way around the city's streets. Between gasps of air we admired the colonial-style cathedrals, which can be found on every corner of the city's cobbled stoned streets, a relic of its former grandeur. But the real reason we, and so many other tourists came to Potosi, was to take a tour through the working silver mines of the multi-tinged mountain which casts an imposing shadow over the city.

During its heydey Potosi was a city of immense wealth - the largest and richest in all of Latin America built on the mineral deposits found in the veins of the Cerro Rico (rich mountain). These days the Bolivian people of Potosi scratch a living from the leftover deposits of both silver and zinc in the mountain which has been dubbed 'The Mountain that Eats Men' after the millions of deaths that have occurred since the discovery of ore deposits in 1545.

Reece with coca ball in his mouth

To enter the mines we were required to change into a plastic jumpsuit, in an unflattering shade of yellow, gumboots, hardhat and headlamp. Our first stop before entry was to the miner's market to pick up gifts for the miners. This included bags of coca leaves, which we also picked up a bag for ourselves. Throughout Bolivia it is not uncommon to see men and women, teeth green, barely able to talk from the 200-300 forming a ball on the side of their mouth. While at first the effect is a numbing sensation in the inside of your mouth, that disappears after stuffing about the 30th leaf inside. The idea of coca is not to replicate a high; while its the product from which cocaine comes from by itself it is a natural substance. It is said to assist with altitude sickness and prevent hunger, something they miner's rely on during their 8-9 hour work day without meal breaks.

A number of operators give tourists the option of purchasing dynamite at this point for a demonstration blast but this was not recommended by our guide due to the detrimental environmental effects of dynamite (much to Reece's chagrin). We were also shown a drink the miners typically drink which contains 96% alcohol and given the option to take a swig. This was the dutch courage we needed to proceed through one of the 500 entrances representing the number of mines in operation in Potosi.

Each mine is run as a cooperative with the miner's selling their discoveries to a smelter. While conditions have improved since the 16th and 17th centuries, where African slaves and indigenous people were trapped underground for 6 months stints at a time, we were soon to discover today's practices could hardly be described as modern. It didn't take long for natural light to disappear, and the path narrow. While at first it felt much like entering a cave, not 20 metres in we were required to heed the warning given to us by our guide just a few minutes prior. We all stepped to the left to hug the carved out wall as two men rushed passed, grunting and sweating as they hand-pushed a trolley of ore as rapidly as possible along the dilapidated tracks. A pertinent reminder that the mines are principally a place of work.

3 hours of the 5 hour tour were spent underground where we we witnessed men shovelling ore, pushing trolleys, carrying sacks, and some preparing for an explosion.We trudged through a muddy grey substance, many times ducking our heads to to avoid hitting the crude wooden beams strengthening the tunnels; we hastily retreated to divits in the tunnel as workers scurried past with their wares, and scrambled up ladders through narrow shafts to have a closer look at how trolleys were lifted up high using a crude stem of pulleys. All the while passing miners at work to whom we offered our bags of coca leaves and bottles of juice - a small gift of thanks to the interruption caused to their day. Even Reece was put to work shoveling stone at one point.

It began quite cold in the mountain, hovering around five degrees. But as we descended into the second level of the five-tiered mountain the mercury rose to a sweat inducing 40 degrees. It only gets hot the lower you go. Even on level two the demanding nature of the job could be seen glistening on the shirtless backs of the miners.

When asked why the miners submit to this type of work, 6 days a week, up to 12 hours a day, without breaks or holiday time, in a place where it is not uncommon to contract silicosis pneumonia due to the toxins inside of the mine, one miner replied that there were no other options for work in Potosi. A fact seemingly confirmed by another miner we talked to just six months of our secondary school and now working in the mines. 'Contracting illness comes down to a matter of luck,' explained our guide Soledad. 'There are men who have worked here for 35 years, and are still working here.' And we met one such man during his break.

Miners attempt to improve their chances by praying to the devil of the mine, Tio. Each mine includes a shrine to Tio. We were introduced to one such god which had existed since the 17th century and was befit with decoration and offerings - including the skeleton of a baby llama - from the recent carnival. It was also sporting a rather generous anatomy. After crawling on our hands and knees through the tunnel of access to the Tio it was time to return to the outerworld. I was greeted by a grinning Reece, the edges of his teeth stained green from the coca leaves stuffed to capacity in his mouth.

Back in Potosi we treated ourselves to some saltenas, the local version of meat and pastry, remebering with guilt the miner's themselves had hours to wait before their second meal of the day. We then headed to the Casa de la Moneda, learn what became of the silver at the place of mint production. Much of it was turned into coins for Spain up until Bolivia's indepdence in 1825.

We left Potosi the following day the experience had been an eye-opening one but bereft of the shock-factor I had been expecting. Perhaps because we had been acclimatised by the award-winning documentary, The Devil's Miner (2005), which tells the story of 14-year old mine-worker, and which is well worth a watch to get a better idea of the experience.

Faded grandeur