I met a Belgian guy, Jonathan, when boarding the bus from Uyuni to Potosi, so when we arrived, we shared a taxi to a hostel I'd picked out of the lonely planet guide, loaned to me an Irish couple on the bus, Colm and Neive. It turns out they are starting the Inca Trail the same day as me, so I'll probably see them again there!

In the morning, I booked to go on tour of the Potosi mines. Potosi is the highest town in the world, and you can really feel it. Getting to sleep at night is tough as you find yourself literally gasping for air at times. Walking up the stairs becomes a chore, but it can only make me stronger so I can't complain.

Before going to the mines, we stop off at some local shops where we can buy some drinks and food for the miners, oh and some dynamite. I'd heard a story from the two guys I taught Texas Hold 'em to in San Pedro, that some English guys in their hostel had bought some dynamite in Uyuni and planned to blow it up in the desert. Coming back to their hostel drunk one night, they decided to blow it up in the courtyard. This was the same hostel as my two friends but they slept through it as they'd taken some valium the night before. The directional force of the blast apparently blew out the corridor windows, rather than the bedroom ones, which would have meant shards of glass falling on my friends sleeping faces. My friends, incidentally both named Rob, were not sure what happened to them but Uyuni is a small town and a wanted gringo will not go far. Especially when using dynamite to blow up local property, so I would say the likelihood of them now being in a Bolivian jail are high. But I digress.

So, with our bags of pop, water, crackers and dynamite, we got back on the bus, chugging high up the mountainside to one of the mines. Before entering the mine, we were given a demonstration the the explosive power of dynamite. From 40 yards, 10 pieces of dynamite were exploded one after the other, and believe me, they made a rather powerful blast.

Wearing the provided plastic pants and jacket, with helmet and torch, we entered the mine, but not before a wagon carrying one tonne of material came fast along the metre wide track out of the mine, pushed by two tired looking Bolivians.

On entering the first level of the mine, we walked, then stooped toward the mine's museum. The first figure you see in the museum is a human sized model of the devil, or Tio. The miners worship him as they believe he is the king of their underground kingdom. If they appease him, he will help their production and keep them safe in the mines. Other artifacts in the mines relate to the recruitment of slaves during the Spanish conquests and their plundering of the silver there hundreds of years ago. Many black slaves and locals were used, in the worst of conditions, to extract the silver, which would underwrite the Spanish economy for two centuries.

Another interesting piece in the museum said that $400 million dollars worth of silver was sunken off the Ecudorian coast hundreds of years ago. Attempts to salvage it were unsuccessful until 1997, when a team of divers found it and claimed it. Only a small percentage went to the Ecudorian government. So, I guess there's money to be made in SCUBA diving. A survey up on the wall described the miner's reasons for working there. 90% said it was beacuse there was no other work to be done. Many don't last more than 5 or 10 years because of illness. The teams of workers are grouped according to family, with a new worker to the mine joining his family group. The collective nature of the group means that all profits are shared between the family, and teh simple equation of the longer you work, the more money you get means the workers often work 10 to 15 hour days through the week. I know there are some in the UK who would work this in their own job, but on entering the second then third levels of the mine, you see just how difficult it is. The jobs are split between gathering the material, filling the wagons or carts, usually one or two tonnes, pushing it along the tracks to another gallery where others will load it into weaved baskets with shovels, to be hoisted to the upper levels. The fact that venthilation is difficult in mines comes into play, but couple that with the fact the mine is at 4,500 metres or so and oxygen supply is low already. The swelteringly hot conditions only add to the problem, so an appreciative nod is given when our gifts are given. At times, we had to crawl on our hands and knees to move between levels, all the while struggling to catch our breath and choking on the vast quantities of dust in the air.

One trick the miners use is to use cocoa leaves. They keep a bundle in their cheek for hours at a time, to give them energy and sustain them in the difficult conditions below. It's an interesting taste, but one I'm now used to, and I believe something that is used on the Inca Trail to keep you going.

That night I went for dinner with some of the people off the trip, who were also staying at my hostel, Ryan, Vicky and Claire. On getting back to the hostel, we watched a DVD in the TV room, The Departed, then went to bed.

After a relaxed morning the next day, I caught the bus to Sucre, arriving in the afternoon. I told the others I would be in La Paz in a couple of days, and would probably see them in the hostel there.