Six tourists crouch in a claustrophobic mineshaft, their hard hats scraping against the rocky ceiling. A local guide pulls out a lighter, flicks it on, and touches the flame to a bright green fuse. “Any moment,” he says, stepping back.
Seconds later, the tunnel shakes as a deafening explosion rips through the mountain. The air fills with dust. The tourists just witnessed a real detonation—set off with dynamite purchased legally at the local market for less than two bucks.
This is Potosí, Bolivia, home to the infamous “Mountain That Eats Men.” It’s the only place in the world where anyone, yes, anyone, can walk into a market and buy dynamite—no permits, no background checks. Just cash, a handshake, and you’re holding an explosive in broad daylight.
Jhonny Condori, a local mine tour guide, puts it bluntly: “For miners, dynamite is everything. If you don’t know what you’re doing, it’s dangerous.” But for those who do, it’s business as usual—blowing through rock faster than a pickaxe ever could.
Potosí’s mines have been around for centuries. Deep inside, miners push heavy carts down narrow tracks, chipping away at the earth in a desperate search for silver and other minerals. The scene looks like something ripped straight from *Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom*—except here, the danger is very real.
At over 13,000 feet above sea level, Potosí is one of the highest cities on the planet. The red-tiled roofs, narrow streets, and colonial architecture tell the story of its Spanish past. But the real story lies in the adjacent Cerro Rico—”Rich Mountain”—once overflowing with silver and now notorious for swallowing men whole.
A Mountain Built on Blood and Silver
Legend has it that in 1545, an indigenous Andean prospector named Diego Gualpa stumbled upon Cerro Rico’s silver deposits. His discovery didn’t stay secret for long. The Spanish, already in the region, pounced like vultures.
What followed was centuries of brutal exploitation. The Spanish forced indigenous people into the mines, working them to death under horrific conditions. Some estimates claim that eight million people perished in Cerro Rico, making it one of history’s deadliest workplaces.
Even today, mining here is dangerous. The tunnels are unstable, air quality is abysmal, and safety standards are practically nonexistent. Miners still chew coca leaves to suppress hunger and fight exhaustion, just like their ancestors did under Spanish rule.
Yet despite the risks, thousands of men and boys still enter the mountain every day, hoping to strike it rich. Most won’t. Cerro Rico’s silver is long depleted, leaving them scratching at the earth for whatever scraps remain.
Potosí was once one of the wealthiest cities in the world, pumping silver into the Spanish Empire like a bottomless ATM. Today, it’s one of the poorest regions in Bolivia. The mountain that built the city is the same mountain that continues to trap its people in a cycle of hardship.
And yet, in this harsh reality, there’s an undeniable rawness to Potosí—a place where history isn’t just remembered; it’s lived. Tourists come for the thrill, miners stay for survival, and in the market, dynamite still sells like any other commodity.
Because in Potosí, the earth doesn’t give up her treasures without a fight.
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Five Fast Facts
- At its peak, Potosí’s silver mines bankrolled the Spanish Empire, funding everything from wars to grand palaces.
- The phrase “worth a Potosí” was once used in Spain to describe something of immense value.
- Cerro Rico’s tunnels stretch for hundreds of miles, many of them unmapped and dangerously unstable.
- Miners in Potosí still honor “El Tío,” a devil-like figure they believe controls the mountain’s riches.
- Potosí’s elevation is so extreme that visitors often suffer from altitude sickness within hours of arrival.
