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Published: February 16th 2008
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Extreme
And we didn't even have our bikes yet Today's activity would consist of throwing ourselves down a big mountain on a bike in the rain.
We went with a company called Gravity Bolivia, who have just recently started offering their famous tours in the wet season, after previously saying it was too dangerous in this crazy weather.
We met in a cafe at 7.15. Our group consisted of two semi pro mountain bikers (one of whom had dragged his not so enthusiastic girlfriend along), an American woman of ample bosom to whom a bike had been a stranger for 15 years, and a bunch of boys from Ireland with their adopted friend from Worcester. A unanimous group decision left a still-drunk-from-the-night-before member behind after an hour's no show. None of us wanted him in front or behind us going down The World's Most Dangerous Road. A few minutes silence followed as we contemplated the implications of the poor sod losing his $100 at our decision to leave and the implications of Karma Dave racking up points against us... But, this debt was hopefully sorted seconds later. We turned the corner and the shiny mountain bikes on top of our winnebago/bus took down a few telephone cables, much to
Drug Point
Emma got hasselled more by the vendors than questioned about stashes of illicit substances the amazement of the crowds that gathered to spectate. Surely they'd gone this route before?
Onwards and upwards out of the busy metropolis of La Paz to Bolivia's Yungas Road - AKA, The World's Most Dangerous Road, so called, without exaggeration, because of the 57km of 500 metre sheer drops, the landslides, oncoming traffic on a 3 metre wide gravel path. An unforgetable 38-mile ride, that descends nearly 12,000ft from the Andean mountains into the Amazonian jungle. An average of 1 fatal accident every 2 weeks. It's ok reading this now mums... we survived. And got the teeshirt.
We kitted out and saddled up resembling someone who would guide an F14 onto an aircraft carrier. In our 3 layers of waterproofs, helmets, goggles and gloves, we decended on tarmac for the first 20km or so, getting to grips with the bikes and our natural order in the group - who was fastest/fattest/stupidest. Matt had to pedal down most of the way to get into stupid position.
The road starts at 4700m above sea level (that's way above the clouds) in fact the clouds were around all day making visibility not very interesting to say the least. All
Totally awsome dude!
...Or something like that we saw was cloud and not the sheer drops and threatening landscape below. Potential death dressed himself in different robes today - an abyss of whiteness. It also meant that it was hard to decide whether to wear the goggles or not. Goggles on meant no visibilty due to foggy screen. Goggles off meant no visibility due to rain in eyes. Lose lose.
A brief and rather un-thorough stop at a Bolivian drug checkpoint was the starter of our gravel road where steering and keeping the bikes in an upright position became slightly more difficult, as did stopping quickly.
Our first uphill brought the first casualty, fortunately it was a bike's gear mechanism that snapped clean off. A little further on and my bike suffered a similar fate - the gravel being churned up simply exploded one of the back cogs, the chain was intact, the cog simply wasn't there anymore. Though a virtue this made, as one of the leaders swapped his personal bike for mine - he had pimped my ride with more suspension, better breaks - this baby could move! Move so much infact, that down the next fast straight the front tire had a blow
Landslide
And it didnt stop for us as we passed, some knee deep in mud out causing me to eat dirt... Man. The support team were great and within 5 minutes the tyre was replaced and I was free to continue my plummet down this fantastic stretch of road/track or whatever title it justly deserves (probably neither).
Another delay to the trip came in the form a landslide. Tumbling boulders, and liquid mud oozing like lava over our destined path. 15 minutes was spent weighing the situation up, and again a unanimous vote decided that we were all prepared to risk our lives crossing the ooze rather than face the prospect of heading back up the beast of a hill we had just spent the last few hours careering down. The kind assistance of some workmen trying to clear the road made getting the bikes over the mud a much quicker and presumably safer experience. Leaving us to cross, looking up for falling boulders the size of mini coopers heading straight for us.
Towards the end of our journey the weather cleared a little, or was that just that we were now under the cloud line, offering views across this magnificant Amazonian valley. The only threat that remained was from an angry dog
Everyone loves a Roadie
A workforce sent out to clear the road helped us through the landslide - very kind of them considering that rocks were still falling from 50m above who seemed quite keen on chasing cyclists down the path... That and the two rivers that we had to (try to) cycle through.
A cold beer welcomed us in an animal rescue sanctuary, surrounded by various monkeys, rare birds, adorable cats and dogs, where lunch and a photo slide show of our endeavour was shared. All in all, an exhilarating day, except for the slightly boring 2 hours on the way home that was spent repairing a flat tyre on the bus. Wouldn't feel right for us if a journey wasnt delayed in some way now would it?
So, we all survived the Death Road without a scratch. Then Emma went and lost a toenail getting back on the bus in flip flops. The irony.
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