Having myself done quite a bit of Bolivia before, and realising we had quite a bit of time to kill before our flights to Patagonia, and Bolivia being the cheapest place to kill said time, James was on the lookout for somewhere for us to explore as new together.
Having read many travel blogs, he came across mention of the Toro Toro National Park, with a small town attached called Torotoro (evidently they got bored adding the space when referring to the town). It seemed fairly off the beaten-track for most gringos, and elusive. The only way to get there was via a 6 hour collectivo from Cochabamba (a city 8 hours east from La Paz), then no way out other than going back the way you come in, and then another 8 hour apparently “hellish” night-bus to Sucre. It was a tough call as we’d so far been ‘spoilt’ by lots of clear guidance and information of what to expect in advance of everything up to this point (except buses, there’s no planning for Bolivian buses!). To go in pretty blind and just hope it would all work out when we arrived was a totally new approach. But we decided to go for it. After all the name looked similar to Totoro so there had to be something in it!
During the wait, a lovely old gentleman called Rodolfo came to chat to us and told us that he was from Torotoro, he had a hotel there himself (unfortunately not the one we were staying in). He’d actually founded the national park, but how tourism is good and bad for the area and country (Peru had learnt the hard-way). At 5:30am after a night-bus there was no doubt a lot more said that my brain did not fully take in, but my lasting impression was of another kind Bolivian we were lucky to cross paths with.
It turned out that whilst the journey used to take 6 hours a few years ago when the blogs we’d read were written, it now takes 3. Hooray! The State is improving the road, so whilst the journey out was incredibly bumpy, tight, dusty and hot, we were hugely happy to arrive in just 3.5 hours (after a few detours to drop off passengers picked up along the way, and having a face-off with the same said construction vehicles improving the road at the same time as it being used).
Our hostel (Como En Casa – Like At Home) was a breath of fresh air from our time in La Paz, and after 12 hours on buses. Not only were there 3 lovely dogs (Kaiser, Cappuccino and Robin), but a lovely sheltered seating area with a goldfish pond and tumbo fruit draping down:
Today was always going to be a rest day after the long journey, and rest we did. The only other thing we did was venture out for some food. I inhaled the best Pique Macho I’ve had (a bit like Lomo Saltado but with chorizo, an egg on top, and no rice) and James, still recovering from his upset stomach, braved chips, cheese and ham in a place styled as though we were in a cave (why will become clear in part 2):
After a bit of a reccy, thinking the tourist office was closed but finding out from another helpful Bolivian we were on the wrong side of it, we bought our National Park ticket. It was confirmed that to get on a tour you just have to show up in the morning and hope to find others to group with and also hope they want to group up with you to split the flat rate costs!
We headed back to the sanctuary, read, played games, napped and relaxed until it was time to eat again. After a bit of confusion (again!) for how the food situation in our hostel worked, we were served up a delicious trout with beetroot (VEGETABLES YAY!), tomato salsa, rice, chips, bread and then a tasty tumbo ice cream in chocolate sauce. The food was amazing and a lot better than anything “Como en mi Casa” (like in my home) at least!
The next day we were up early and ready to go and try and be the sociable extroverts we aren’t, in hopes of grouping up. Failing that, I hoped we could lean on my Spanish and offer to be a translator to win people’s favour (the guides here only speak Spanish). We showed up to the tour office and saw a solo gringa sitting on the steps and so we got chatting about her plan for the day. There were two things James wanted to do here (I was not involved at all in the planning so everything was a surprise for me), and our new best friend also wanted to do one of them, a tour of dinosaur footprints, and a dip in a pool of a waterfall. So we were 3. The vans take 6, so we decided to wait for a bit and hope some others would show up. We were out of luck with finding others, but we were definitely in luck with meeting Zita, who was a lovely Hungarian woman who had lived in the UK for 20 years.
Very much expecting a bit of a bimble along some footprints, seeing some nice views, then a dip in a pool, what came was a huge surprise, but a worthwhile one. Our guide (Albi for us, Albino for his tour guide mates) was young and on a mission to get this done as quickly as possible it seemed.
We got dropped off at the start of our (now known to be) hike to walk amongst the dinosaur footprints of the area and take obligatory hand in footprint photos:
The clarity and chance we got to walk amongst these were brilliant. Albi told us lots of info, which my Spanish brain has long since forgotten. We walked on a little bit more to find ourselves in what looked like a field of rock mushrooms, that you could easily imagine a mini citadel of rock people, borrowers, smurfs, (or as Albi put to us – minions), which of course made us feel like giants in some ridiculous episode of Power Rangers:
We then rapidly marched on to the edge of the canyon…
… then down into the canyon…
… back up out the canyon…
… through a cave in the canyon called El Chifl贸n (that we thankfully had torches with us by pure luck because Albi scuttled ahead so quick we were left in the literal dark of where to go)…
… walking along the edge of the canyon (above this waterfall is where we came out of the cave, try and spot the path, there isn’t really one!)…
… back out of the canyon by literally clambering up a rock wall that would never be a ‘route’ anywhere but here…
… before making it to the top for the last time to take a breath and enjoy the view…
… before dropping back down into the canyon for the Vergel waterfall part.
We were very grateful for our fitness and strength that we didn’t think we’d need! The views, geography and geology were spectacular and nothing like we’d ever seen. The different layers of rock are so evident, the separation of them and the plates making the canyon and lumps and bumps, it was really fascinating, and our breath was taken away as much by the altitude and trekking as it was this incredible national park. We felt so grateful that Bolivia is protecting this land, and that we got to enjoy it.
The second part of the leg was to drop down into the canyon once more and swim in a natural pool. This part was down some actual stairs (800!), and the end was a fantastic natural wonderland of lush greenery sprouting from the rocks where the water cascaded down. Albi tells us how this area was always known to the locals as the secret garden, and it was easy to see why when surrounded by the giant red rocks. We enjoyed a dip and a paddle in the pool that wasn’t actually as cold as anticipated (the slippery rocks under the surface may have thwarted my usual approach of a slow, managed decent into cold water!):
After a lovely time relaxing in the secret garden (El Vergel), unfortunately it was time to clamber back out of the canyon again. Thankfully we all found this relatively easy and a lot faster than anticipated. This was also aided by a glorious fresh watermelon awaiting us at the top as served by a friendly cholita (where there are tourists, there are cholitas selling sustenance):
A quick walk along the top again and we made it to the final viewpoint, a bridge over the canyon edge to provide some final Insta-worthy photos:
And seemingly that was that, we made it. Or so we thought. We got back in our van and felt very relieved to be driven the final way back. Until we get told just outside town, “time to get out”. Absolute silence and disbelief from the back seat as our minds were already thinking of food and water and beds, struggling to pivot back to more walking. Apparently there are some more footprints. Zita and I mutter to one another that if this takes long we’re happy to call it a day and miss whatever else is in store, we are satisfied. But Albi takes no prisoners and you’d have to catch up with him to tell him that first.
We are shown some more footprints that are just outside town, but only accessible with a guide. These are different to the others, they’re likely from a pterodactyl, and there’s also some that are somehow in relief, because of this Albi calls it Area 51. There are also some big splodgy round ones, likely from a diplodocus, and ones from an ankylosaurus (I forget which ones these are):
And with that, Albi finally walks us back to the main square, where we three sit and get our breath back from a day full of incredible views, sights, and challenges. We all head to a pizza place for a fizzy drink and some brilliant pizzas, then head back to our respective hostels to wash and recover. James and I enjoy another fantastic meal at our hostel, chicken curry today; I drink a Huari beer recommended by Albi whilst James has an Aperol Spritz! Another early night for a (hopefully) easier walk tomorrow through some caverns, let’s see shall we…
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Adventure – surprise caves, canyons of all colours, the whole shebang was totally unexpected for me and a hard but worthwhile adventure
Excitement – feeling the warm water cascade onto us from the waterfall, that sweet taste of watermelon when feeling massively dehydrated
Trauma – Worrying about whether we’ll find a group, Albi constantly walking off and us having no idea what the ‘safe’ route over the rocks is, relentless sun with little to no shade, dehydration, so much dehydration