Cold Road
It was mid-October in 1996, about a month too late to ski in Chile. It had been a low snow year in the southern hemisphere, so after a few days in Santiago searching for snow, my wife and I flew to Bolivia.
The LanChile flight reminded me of a bus trip: a stop at Iquique, then another stop at Arica. Finally, we landed at La Paz’s El Alto Airport, the highest international airport in the world at 13,325 feet.
La Paz sits in a huge canyon with streets and homes climbing the steep hillside. Far below, skyscrapers, like concrete stalagmites, poke upward. The icy ramparts of 21,122-foot Illimani tower sentry-like. My first order of business was to find out if Chacaltaya Ski Resort was open. I didn’t care if it was only 700 vertical feet, I was going to ski. We headed to the Club Andino Boliviano (CAB) and the staff told us they would run the lift if enough people were interested in going up.
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