At 5,200m above sea level, two women sit at a stone table. Mountains pierce the horizon in all directions. An imposing glacier covers the top of Huayna Potosí, a peak that stands at 6,088m. Its white surface, with a narrow footpath traversing it, gleams under the low afternoon sun.
Cecilia Llusco is sitting eating crackers with caramel spread and drinking coca tea.
She contemplates Huayna Potosí, her destination and part of the Cordillera Real mountain range in Bolivia. “It is not all about reaching the summit,” she says. “Sometimes it’s about enjoying being in the mountains and going as far as you can, without suffering because of them.”
As she talks, clouds roll in, enveloping all but the highest peaks in a fluffy white blanket. “Since I began climbing mountains, I’ve learned the same applies to life,” she adds. “It’s not about getting to the top, but enjoying yourself on the journey. The most important thing is to be happy.”
‘Our polleras don’t impeded us’ says Cecilia Llusco of the traditional garment she and other female guides wear to climb
Llusco, 39, is one of about 10 Indigenous female mountain guides in Bolivia. Her long black hair is tied in two plaits, linked with a large safety pin and wool decorations in red, yellow and green, the colours of the Bolivian flag. She is wearing a pollera, a voluminous floral skirt over layers of pink petticoats. She has paired it with a pink diamanté top, beneath a pink cardigan and a red fleece gilet. “I have never worn trousers to go up a mountain and I never will. Our polleras don’t impede us,” she says of the traditional Aymara garment.
She has been climbing Huayna Potosí for most of her life, but on 17 December 2015 she was part of a group of 11 women who made it to the summit. They called themselves the cholitas escaladoras (the climbing cholitas) and they made headlines when they scaled more peaks in the Cordillera Real. The word cholita comes from chola which was previously used as a pejorative term for indigenous Aymara women.
Huayna Potosí is one place she keeps returning to that fills her with joy. “I feel free, so happy, as if I’m escaping and the mountain is calling me. I’m also in love with nature,” she says. Minutes later, a condor, a national symbol of Bolivia and the largest bird of prey in the world, cruises overhead.
This photograph was taken on 16 December 2015 the day before Llusco and 10 other women summited Huayna Potosí, calling themselves the cholitas escaladoras (the climbing cholitas). From left are Llusco, Juana Rufina Llusco Alana, Janet Mamani Callisaya, Domitila Alana Llusco, Marga Alana Llusco, Virginia Quispe Colque, Pacesa Llusco Alana, Lidia Huayllas, Bertha Vetia, Dora Magueno and Ana Gonzales
The name Huayna Potosí means “young mountain” in Aymara, Llusco’s first language, spoken by more than one million people in Bolivia. The mountain is considered sacred and people bring offerings of coca leaves and alcohol to seek permission to ascend. It is about 15 miles (25km) north of La Paz, the highest administrative capital in the world, at more than 3,500m above sea level.
Expeditions to the top of Huayna Potosí are popular with tourists and usually done over three days. It is considered one of the easiest climbs above 6,000m worldwide, with no technical ability required. But it is physically challenging, and altitude sickness can force people to turn back.
Llusco has been leading expeditions up Huayna Potosí, as well as other mountains in Bolivia, for about six years, but has been working in tourism since the age of eight when she began accompanying her father, a trekking guide. “I saw my father carrying a lot on his back and told him I wanted to help,” she says. “I wanted to learn about tourism and tourists. I loved meeting foreign people and finding out about them.”
The first time she went to base camp on Huayna Potosí with her father, a dream formed in her mind; one day she would get to the top. “Every time I came, I would think, ‘When I’m grown up, maybe I’ll meet a guide and be able to go up with him’,” she says.
Today, base camp on the mountain is a building containing a couple of dormitories with bunk beds, a small kitchen and a dining room with table football. When she arrives, Llusco chops vegetables before sitting down to eat a simple lunch of beef and rice. Afterwards, she helps the group put on their boots and gather their helmets, crampons and ice picks. Then she sets off on a 40-minute hike to the foot of the glacier to teach clients how to walk on the ice with crampons.
Along the way, she stops at a spot overlooking a hydroelectric dam and points to mountain slopes that used to be covered in snow. Bolivia is the country tenth most at-risk from the climate crisis in the world, and the most affected in South America. Llusco has had a front row seat to the impact on the country’s glaciers. “Thirty years ago, this was all snow and ice,” she says. “The glaciers are shrinking. It started with five metres, then 10, and now they’re retreating by about 30m every year. Each time I look at the mountains I feel sad because one day we won’t have our snowy peaks.”
Llusco has seen the impact of the climate crisis in the shrinking of glaciers and diminished snow coverage
On the glacier she makes her way over to a wall of ice. She fits a harness underneath her pollera, takes an ice pick in each hand and sets off upwards, her petticoats billowing around her legs.
Llusco and her fellow Aymara guides are changing the face of tourism, traditionally a male-dominated industry. She has done two entry-level mountaineering courses and wants to travel abroad to do more advanced studies.
“At first it was hard, the men looked at me strangely, like I didn’t belong,” she says. “Still now, there are often times when I’m the only woman, or one of very few, working on the mountain.”
Her work is mostly seasonal – the optimal time for climbing Huayna Potosí is between May and November when there is a low chance of rain. She still rents most of the equipment she needs to climb, such as rope, ice picks and crampons, because she cannot afford to buy her own. Her hiking shoes are wearing thin and will soon need to be replaced.
Llusco says that although the male-dominated tourist industry is changing, she is still often the only woman working on the mountain
Tourism in Bolivia has mostly recovered since the pandemic. Last year, 1,477,039 people visited the country spending $688m (£522m), according to the country’s National Institute of Statistics. Tourism generated 326,580 direct and indirect jobs during 2019, making it the fourth most important sector after mining, soya and hydrocarbons in exports, and contributing almost 4.6% of GDP. More Bolivians are now venturing outdoors and hiking, says Llusco, but climbing high mountains predominantly remains the preserve of foreign tourists.
The next day, after a breakfast of fruit and pancakes followed by an early lunch of grilled chicken and rice, she leads the group along the path to high camp, a route she has trodden countless times. For a while, she walks alongside her sister, a hiking guide who is working as a porter on this expedition. They carry their belongings on their backs, wrapped in multicoloured fabric. A bench made out of rocks provides a resting point before the path, which zigzags up the mountain, steepens. The last section involves scrambling over rocks to get to high camp.
Llusco and a group member break for crackers with caramel spread and coca tea before continuing their climb
A group of tourist climbers make their way up the mountain
It was around here that Llusco met Eloy, a mountain guide, 47, with whom she has been in a relationship for 23 years. He has been a constant source of support, teaching her his trade, and they often work together. They have a son and a daughter, also a cholita escaladora; both are studying tourism at university in La Paz.
Llusco is considering having her wedding at the top of Huayna Potosí
The couple, who live in El Alto, a city adjacent to La Paz, never married but Llusco is thinking about holding a wedding ceremony at the top of Huayna Potosí. “I want to do it soon,” she says. “We’ve been together a long time. I’m planning on wearing a white pollera for the ceremony.”
Bolivia’s Indigenous population has seen greater recognition since Evo Morales served as the country’s first Indigenous president between 2006 and 2019, but it is not an easy place to be a woman; in 2021, the country had one of the highest rates of femicide in South America. “It has been very difficult for me, and the whole group, to face the sexism and discrimination we’ve had to go through,” says Llusco. “We have stumbled because we are women who wear polleras.
“But we also have support that encourages us to keep going. Together, we are stronger. We support each other and teach our children to follow in our footsteps.”
Llusco dons her crampons and organises her climbing equipment
The cholitas escaladoras are part of a wider movement, which has been fighting for their rights since at least the 1960s, that also includes the cholitas luchadoras (the wrestling cholitas) and the cholitas skaters.
The cholitas escaladoras, which have now splintered into three groups, have received worldwide attention for their achievements. A documentary, Cholitas, filmed in 2019, followed five of them as they conquered Aconcagua in Argentina, the highest mountain in South America.
Their next challenge is to climb Mount Everest. They’re not sure when, as first they have to raise enough money.
At high camp, life is basic. There is no electricity or running water. There is one toilet in a makeshift hut. Llusco is relaxed and confident as she eats an early dinner before heading to bed at 6pm. As midnight comes around, she wakes up and starts to prepare for the hardest part of the climb.
At 1am, the group heads towards the edge of the glacier. There, she puts on her crampons, attaches herself by rope to the person she is guiding and sets off up the mountain, her head torch lighting the way. Ahead of her, lights snake up the mountain as others follow the path. She leaps over crevices and is sure footed on the narrow parts of the path flanked by steep drops on either side.
Having conquered Aconcagua, the highest mountain in South America, in 2019, Llusco would like to attempt Everest next
The rhythm is good for a while and then, at about 3am, at 5,550m, the footsteps behind her begin to falter. She turns around. The group needs to keep moving otherwise the cold will set in and they won’t make it to the summit in time.
They stop to rest as a smattering of snowflakes start to fall. The moon and stars are shining bright in the sky. In the distance to the left are the lights of the city of El Alto. “Come on, let’s go,” she says. There’s a moment’s pause, and then they continue, into the night.
The summit of Huayna Potosí
