"I used to come up here as a child and play in the snow for hours, until my eyes and ears ached from the cold and altitude," says Felipe Kittelson, 63, while surveying the barren hillside before him.
"People would ski and sled here for seven or eight months a year. We used to shave off cups of ice and cover it in sticky syrup as a treat. This resort used to be covered in such deep snow, but now there's nothing but rock."
The 5,421m-high (17,785ft) Chacaltaya ski resort, once the world's highest, offered Bolivians a taste of European-inspired apres-ski in the heart of the Andes.
These days, however, it resembles an abandoned film set.
Surrounded by shards of rusty shale, sticky tufts of pampas and a few hundred hardy llamas, Chacaltaya sits crumbling next to a vast furrow in the mountainside: the site of a once mighty glacier.
Worlds apart? 另一個世界
Chacaltaya's desolation stands in stark contrast to the bustling streets of La Paz.
But the fate of the former can be seen as a sad prelude to the problems the latter is currently experiencing.
During the dry season, La Paz draws almost a third of its water from reservoirs fed by glacial meltwater.
But with Bolivia's glaciers shrinking, water supplies have become scarce.
In La Paz, water rationing has become a fact of daily life as in many districts, pipelines and reservoirs have been dry for more than a month.
Residents have to queue for many hours to receive their ration of water, siphoned into pots, pans, plastic bags and washing-up bowls.
Washing vehicles has become a controversial practice, most people take a shower only once or twice a week and the city's once-emerald football pitches lay brown and dying.
Last week, the cities of Paris, Madrid, Athens and Mexico City pledged to ban all diesel vehicles by 2025, but in a place like La Paz, where modern cars are rare and expensive, a similar decision is probably many decades away.
Back in Chaclataya, a handful of backpackers a day brave the extreme altitude to photograph this now-sad location.
For many, the setting evokes a feeling of contemplation.
"Back at home I think we have an out-of-sight, out-of-mind approach to global warming," says Olivia Taylor, 24, from the UK, while sitting on a bench once used by skiers.
"Here though, it's right there in front of me."