Kid, the Next Time I Say Let’s Go Someplace Like Bolivia, Let’s Go Someplace Like Bolivia!

Last night we travelled to Tupiza, a tiny, dusty, somewhat deserted mining town. While the minerals have all but been exhausted, the lower altitude, warmer climate, slower pace and dramatic desert scenery are turning Tupiza into a tourist destination. Blue and green mountains give way to weirdly eroded red rock formations and canyons, which give way to sandy dry washes, or quebradas, studded with cacti. The spires, pinnacles, and arches make you feel as if you’re in another world, but at the same time, it seems like the Southwestern United States.

Tupiza was also the last stomping grounds of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. At the turn of the 19th century, as Wild West banditry was being reined in by the federal government and the Pinkertons in pursuit, Butch and Sundance fled to South America to start a new life on the straight and narrow. However, old habits die hard, and shortly thereafter they were linked to bank robberies in Argentina and Chile and forced to flee to Bolivia. Again, they sought honest work, but after a while, returned to their old ways.

In Tupiza a large military presence deterred bank robbery, but Butch and Sundance learned of a poorly guarded Aramayo mining company payroll to be transported across the mountains by mule. The outlaws intercepted the convoy at Huaca Huañusca, dead cow in Quechua, finding $90,000, instead of the $480,000 they had been expecting. Pursued by the military and angry miners, whose pay had been stolen, they fled north, stopping the night in San Vicente.

Unbeknownst to them, a military patrol was also posted there. After nightfall a shoot out ensued and in the morning the bandits’ bodies were found, Butch having shot the wounded Sundance before turning the gun on himself. They were buried in an unmarked grave, giving rise to rumours that the Butch and Sundance survived, even returning to the United States.

We rented horses and rode though the badlands, playing bandits and stopping for a tamale picnic in a particularly picturesque canyon. However, we’re going to need more practice as Wild West gunslingers, what with the sunburns, super sore butts and squeamishness about violence.