Surviving the worlds most dangerous road - La Paz, Bolivia

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Since traveling through South America tales of the road from La Paz to Rurrenbaque have been many and varied. Most tell stories of the biting cold, aching calf muscles, sore behinds and of the stunning scenery. A few too many, however, tell stories of close shaves, sheer drops, injury and the reason why this highway has become known as the 'Death Road.'
Opened around 70 years ago 'Death Road' was the main route between the Bolivian Amazon and it's administrative capital La Paz. Scores of trucks, lorries, vans and cars would make the winding route to the city carrying timber, fruit, minerals and livestock from the Amazon Basin along the high mountain pass around 60 kilometers long and 5 meters wide. Last year a new 'death road' was completed after more than 20 years of construction and a great deal of siestas I suspect. Since then the death toll has dropped but in the past 30 years official reports show that the road has claimed some 60,000 lives and caused countless more injuries making it the most dangerous road, per kilometer, in the whole world. Naturally it would be rude not so see for ourselves.

We awoke early on the morning of December 30th and made our way to the aptly named offices of 'Downhill Madness Mountain Biking.' I would later find out this to be one of 2 major 'death toll' companies that provide excursions to the road loosing on average one biker every two months. Fortunately I did not find this out until the next day so in blissful ignorance we sorted our gear, our bikes and helmets and set out with around 20 other bikers to our point of embarkation some 4,700 meters above sea level high in the Andes Mountains. Once at the top we had a quick five minutes to test our bikes and to check our breaks were in working order and we were on our way. The highest part of the road now forms part of the new road and the snowy asphalt proved difficult at first. However after a few photo stops and some advice from our guides the confidence grew and soon we were flying along. Paul within the first hour or so had managed to fly some 20 feet over the handle bars as a HGV flew past and was confined to the bus for some of the journey. This was the first reminder of the reason the road has become so synonymous throughout a country with some of the worst road conditions in all of South America.
Plenty more reminders were to come however, in the form of gravestones and memorials which lined the route. Stories of collisions along blind corners many on bikes slipping or loosing balance and many more loosing control behind the wheel were relayed by our guides every time we stopped to be briefed on the dangers of the next stretch of road. However I felt pretty comfortable, the traffic was kept to a minimum and the spectacular views blocked out the feeling of danger. I decided unless you were wreckless, stupid or just sheer unlucky (excuse the pun) you would reach the finish line sit in a cafe and have a cold beer having had an exhillerating and entertaining ride, which was exactly what I did. By then we had decended some 3,500 meters and were now in tropical jungle. As Paul headed to the doctors for some stitches we had lunch overlooking the vast valley below before heading back via bus along the route to La Paz, an altogether much scarier experience. The following day 2 more casualties were recorded as two guys from our hostel managed to swerve off the road into the mountainside, both survived with broken collar bones. And so the 'death road' continues to provide tales of close shaves, sheer drops, injury and the reason why this highway has become known as the 'Death Road.'

Next stop Machu Picchu!

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