Surviving 'Death Road'

Getting ready to start our bike ride on `Death Road´

Death Road, Bolivia

Ok, so I take back everything I said about Bolivia after arriving in La Paz. This city is fantastic.  It's the typical South American city that I had imagined in my head, unlike the cities in Argentina and Brazil.  It sits in a type of bowl shape and when you enter the city centre - proper developing city in the Third World. Cars, trucks,lorries etc gridlocked and tooting their horns (apart from trying to run people over), pollution everywhere, women mainly selling the same things on the street, men urinating everywhere (after you walk over it and not realising until it's too late)...it's a bit like Mumbai (except I've never been there, but it's what I imagine it to be like). And yes, the people are much friendlier than previous places and it's so cheap here which is great for backpackers.

Anyway, yesterday was probably the best adrenaline rush and scariest of my trip so far - cycling the 'World´s most dangerous road' or 'Death Road' as it's known here.  Basically it's a 64 km road  from La Paz to Coroico. Sounds fine when you say 'road', but dirt track, with stones and gravel 3 metres wide is a better explanation.  200 - 300 travellers are estimated to be killed yearly, with crosses marking the spots of each victim. 

The road started off well and we had to cycle at least 25km to get to 'Death Road' - we all cycled downhill for a while (flying in our mountain bikes) and stopped to look over the cliffs and to be shown vans and cars that veered over the edge.  Then there was an uphill section through the mountains of about 10km. The fellas in my group thought it would be good to try to have a race (the altitude up here is 4650m above sea level) against each other, seeing who was macho etc (you know the way they get on). They were slightly pissed off as they were eating dust from the eventual winner who was the oldest member of the group and the opposite sex...little old me - ha,ha - that kept them quiet after that..go the girlies!

After a couple of hours cycling and signing our lives away on disclaimers, we reached the actual ´Death Road´. My God, scary as hell - I don't do it any justice here, so you should google it to see what it's like.  Everyone was literally crapping themselves. The wider road now became the dirt track 3 metres wide, with the first drop 4650 metres (over 15 000 feet)at La Cumbre Pass.  We had to cycle on the left (no idea why as they drive on the right here) of this tiny road and the cliffs were to our left.  Before we set off, our guide let us know of how many people skidded off the road and fell to their deaths on mountain bikes or motor vehicles.  The last person to fall off a mountain bike was as recent as last week and he was a 7 year old child - his mother must have loved him sending him on that!  Luckily he only fell 70m and got caught in vegetation and was pulled to safety.

To be honest, for most of us this was a bit of fun when we started out and we were looking forward to the free t-shirt and lunch at the end, but reality gave us all a swift boot up the ass as we cycled down this road.  At times the weather was poor and fog reduced visibility - probably good as there were sections that even the bravest person wouldn't want to look down.  Cycling down or screaming down (in my case as I'm petrified of heights) holding onto the brakes we passed by so many crosses on the edge of the cliff were so many people were killed..absolutely shi*ting ourselves. One stupid move of the bike, then it was weeeeeeee...all the way over the edge and hello God!

The scenery was amazing (apparently) - we didn't get to take in the beautiful views as we were busy looking at how to keep on the road. It was beautiful when we stopped.  Thankfully we all made it down to the bottom mostly unscathed. Well, apart from one girl in our group, she hit a boulder and went flying over the handlebars - luckily for her she fell on a slightly wider section of the road and was bruised and badly cut.  At the beginning of our journey, we all had to give a Bolivian offering to the god of Mother Earth by pouring some sort of alcohol onto our bike tyres, the road and onto our lips to keep us safe...the girl who went over her handlebars was the only one in the group who didn't...creepy.

A brilliant day out - would do it again, only next time, I'd like a t-shirt in red instead of black!

Leaving Bolivia tomorrow and entering Peru, travelling to various places around this country. Cuzco will be my adopted home for a month, until the next leg of my journey begins in New Zealand.

La Paz city,  Bolivia