The World´s Most Dangerous Road

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Where do I begin? I guess I´ll start at the beginning. This is good, read it til the end.

We woke up at the Hostal Austria on the morning of our big downhill bike trip down Bolivia´s infamous ¨Death Road.¨ The previous night we had argued with the worthless administrator of the hostel because my clothes, which i had delivered at 8am to be cleaned, were not to be back until around 10pm, not the agreed upon 8pm. Anyway, I don´t want to bore you with worthless bullshit. We left the hostel in a huff and got to the travel place to get on a big Land Cruiser (like the ones Peace Corps and Entrena had). They took us far uphill to a point called La Cumbre (at 4600m y pico). As you will see in the pictures, there was snow and ice everywhere. They normally start the bike trip there, but as the road was especially icy this day, they took us a little downhill to find better conditions.

Those conditions were never found, so we began the journey on an icy patch of surprisingly smooth asphalt. The Bolivian police have a checkpoint before La Cumbre to review each vehicle that is to cross the ¨death road.¨ They, in a surprisingly un-Third World way, make sure that all the vehicles have working lights, signals, good tires, and a decent suspension. We would find out later why exactly they do this.

Anyhow, we began the trip on icy asphalt on the best bikes I have ever seen. The company we went with, Downhill Madness, has absolutely amazing mountain bikes - with thick ass tires, hydraulic brakes and good suspensions (well, tom, mr. rich boy, got the expensive bike with dual suspension, I was relegated to poorboy status with my suspension only in the front). We flew down the first part of the trip, despite the ice, and made it to the Police Coca checkpoint. A lot of coca destined for cocaine production comes up from the area north of la paz, called the yungas, to feed the illegal cocaine factories. at this checkpoint they ensure that the legal coca transporters have their proper documentation.

From here it was a small distance uphill, but at around 4000m, it felt like hell. We were dead once we finished that little subida, but ready for some more downhill flying at around 30mph.

We did indeed fly, up until the asphalt ended and the ¨death road¨ began. From here on out it would be a single dirt lane right next to a cliff for the next 30km or so. Adding to the danger was the fact that this is the rainy season in the yungas - a fact that made several travel companies (including the most prestigious, gravity assisted) close for the season, citing conditions too dangerous for biking. If that weren´t enough, the second road up from the yungas, which usually carries the traffic coming to la paz (while those leaving la paz take the death road), was closed. This meant that all the traffic coming to and from la paz would be forced to share the single lane death road. I really cannot overemphasize how fucking dangerous this road was. You might think that this is some tourist attraction (which it is, sort of) that isn´t really so bad. Well, according to our guide, several tourists die each year on mountain bikes on this road, and even more die when their busses fall off the edgr. There are white crosses that dot the side of the road, each marking the site of someone´s death. There are even points on the road where multiple bikers have fallen to their deaths on separate occasions.

So we began the ¨death road¨ section of the world´s most dangerous road. It was scary, but you acually got used to flying by busses while being only a few feet from a precipitous drop, and certain death. besides being dangerous, it was also beautiful. We passed under countless waterfalls and had an amazing view of the hot jungle lowlands (just a few hours from the frigid altitude of La Paz). Things were going well, despite my persistent fear of heights, and we had only about 2km left of the 40km trip when it happened.

Wildman fell from his bike. I was behind him as we approached a sharp turn, and as he began to slow to take the turn, a white jeep came flying up on the right side of the road (I must mention here that the death road has strange rules. Oncoming traffic passes you on the right, like in the UK. They do this because many heavy trucks come up from the yungas to la paz (uphill) and it is often hard for them to stop completely on steep climbs, lest they start slipping backwards. So, if they are on the inside, next to the mountain wall, they can slide back into the wall instead of off the cliff). This white jeep took Wildman (and me) by surprise, and he hit his brakes, applying too much pressure to his left brake (on the front tire), causing him to flip over his bike headfirst. I skidded to a stop behind him only to see the white jeep swerve to miss his rolling body. The jeep missed driving over Wildman´s feet by a mere 6 inches. When I got to Wildman he was dazed, though concious. His face was covered in blood. I rushed him to the side of the road to avoid any other oncoming vehicles. The white jeep people came up with some water to rinse out his bloody mouth. Soon after we were in the Downhill Madness jeep on our way to the Coroico (a small campo) hospital. Wildman´s memory was giving him problems as he asked me ¨what happened, dude¨ several times after I had already explained it. He and I were worried that he had suffered a concussion - and judging from his foggy memory and dazed state, it wasn´t out of the question.

Once at the Coroico hospital, a surprisingly professional staff of nurses and doctors cleaned Tom up while I shot photos. After about 2 hours in the emergency room, he emerged bandaged, stiched up, and swollen. Despite how bad the crash and blood on his face had looked, the damage was limited to a few cuts on his face and some scrapes on his hands and knees. Anyone who knows Wildman knows about the terrible luck he had in the DR, and it might seem that that bad luck had continued here in Bolivia. Thats not true. He was very lucky that the white jeep didn´t roll right over him, and also that his fall didn´t happen near the edge, which surely would have caused far greater damage.

Tom, throughout it all kept his spirits high and is still in a good mood, though he looks like hannibal lecter with his bandages. Hell, we could have been at home working in a cubicle and had nothing happen that day, but that would have sucked far worse. He´ll some small war wounds, but he´ll also have the ability to tell people that those scars came while careening down ¨the world´s most dangerous road.¨

Speaking of that road, we still had to go up it to get back to la paz. only it was nighttime. We endured a gut wrenching ride (at high speed, as our driver seemed to be a bit of a maniac) up the death road, and breathed a sigh of relief upon arriving on the asphalt part. Only then were we greeted with the sight of a thick fog. Peering through the windshield one could only see a faint white line on the side of the road. I don´t know how we made it back, but somehow we survived and slept a long, good, deep sleep in our hostel. What a day.

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