Sucre – soroche

Sucre – soroche

Sorry about the little break in blogmission in the last few days but, well, since having that bad air day, we’ve been flat out – and I use the term advisedly.  Flat out busy being tourists and, alas, forced to be flat out suffering from soroche. All this has kept me temporarily blogless.

Soroche is altitude sickness, the scourge of the gringo travelling in the high Andes. It lays you low even in its mildest form. The thumping headache is the worst; whether you lie down, sit up or stand, you can’t escape the feeling that there’s someone in your skull trying to dig their way out. A nagging nausea plus the occasional swimming sensation in the head are also part of the deal. You move sluggishly and feel short of breath; the heart rate quickens and your energy levels are less than half what you’re used to. Strange how it plays such havoc with the body’s system, this invisible cause with the punishing effects.

I had assured Natasha when we decided on this trip that I’d be fine – after all, all those years of skiing in the alps and never a problem. Les Arcs 1800 is not Sucre 2800 – I had gaily omitted 1000 metres in my calculation. Silly me! So, blissful Sucre is high up where the air is clear but troublesome. Rest, masses of water and the remedy provided in white and red capsules from the ‘farmacia’ own the road from our B&B did the trick and after about 24 hours of feeling close to asking for immediate anaesthesia, I perked up over breakfast and felt ready to sample the many delights of Sucre. To be shared with you in blogs to follow soon……

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