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Published: January 13th 2011
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As Jane, possibly wisely, decided to give ´the world´s most dangerous road´a miss, I´d be cycling around 64-kilometres downhill on a narrow gravelly footpath, accompanied by a sheer drop and 4 guys from the hostal, two Irish girs, an Aussie, and another Englishman.
Wikipedia bit...
"1995 the Inter-American Development Bank christened it as the "world's most dangerous road". One estimate is that 200 to 300 travellers were killed yearly along the road.
On 24 July 1983, a bus veered off the Yungas Road and into a canyon, killing more than 100 passengers in what is said to be Bolivia's worst road accident...
Yungas Road remains dangerous. At least 18 cyclists died on the ride since 1998."
We began the day meeting at El Solario, the hostal/tour operator, for breakfast, a brief from the guide, and our gear, illuminous orange and green shell suits, nice. Next was boarding a cramped mini van for an hour long ride to the summit, where the guide gave a second run down of the bikes and riding protocal, most notabe of which was the rule whereby if you´re cycling downhill and meet a vehicle on it´s way up, then you pass
cliffside, also if the automobile happens to be large you should dismount - to the right side of the bicycle, as the other way is not an option (which in itself feels unnatural not to mention that this has to be achieved on the verge of a large precipice).
Fully prepped with equipment, and recent horror stories from previous weeks tours of near death experiences, we set off, the initial quarter is two-laned tarmaced road and we were flying along about 60 kmph in parts. The early nerves settle down and the cycling is pretty easy going as long as you keep your eyes on the road, though every so often they drift to the right to see a massive valley with huge cliffs on all sides, turning legs to jelly. Our tour vans follow behind and the guides cycle alongside taking pictures (one handed with his back to the road) for the dvd.
We reach the bottom and pass on the slippery gravelled and very narrow outside edge of a tunnel, giving clues as to the quality of the path ahead. On the other side is a checkpoint for vehicles, where corrugated steel huts line the road,
here we stopped for bananas and chocolate. Sitting in one of the parked mini vans is a young Spanish lad, with his leg curiously shaking. Turns out he came off his bike and broke his arm on the way down, the guides called for an ambulance and both his and his sisters´day is cut short.
Continuing, we are driven the uphill portion which leads to the ´proper´Death Road part, at it´s widest two cars will barely manage to pass eachother, though at it´s narrowest the road is just about wide enough for one vehicle with a sheer drop into the valley below. The entire thing is a rocky dirt track, wet and slippery in parts, gravelly in others. On the way down we pass stunning views, water falls, and sub tropical forest, though we had be warned earlier against taking in to much of this, as people have been known to unintentionally veer off course while admiring the views, leading to a much closer look. Just in case this slipped anyones mind, all were reminided by the many crosses along the road signalling previous fatalities.
We stop infrequently for breaks, photo opportunties, and lunch, which is near a
waterfall. Cheese sandwiches (with the crusts cut off, at least it shows they care?!) and coke. We then head next to the waterfall to cool dow, which is flowing from a much higher ledge and sprinkling over the path below - 3 hours in 4 layers of cloathing and a plastic jacket meant I already felt as though I had been under a waterfall.
Refereshed and ready to go again, we headed for the remaining hour and half cycle, the road was brutal combined with the shoddy front suspension of my bike in particular (a bad workman always blames his tools), it felt like I was riding downhill on a jackhammer/pogo-stick contraption and watched just about everyone over take me, old women, children, snails. By the end I wasn´t sure if my wrists or ego took the worser battering. The end of the tour was signalled by parked vans and a small collection of huts, everyone handed back the couture biking gear and downed a cervejas (beer) or two. We then headed to the hostel/hotel behind to bathe in the pool and have buffet lunch, which was a decent fair.
The way back was onboard the mini vans
travelling up the new road, after picking up more cervejas and cube libre (two litre pre-made bottles of rum and coke), which the natives love, we were signing to our favouritie theme tunes and mooning the other vans as we over took them, our driver got a bit competitive and swerved to block their passing attempt. Arriving back we were more than a little tipsy, met Jane and continued on with the night, the English guy, Steve, went for a roam and was given a ride back from a local after being found sharing cigarettes and alcohol sitting on the street with a homeless man, we then headed to burger king, donning cardboard crowns, and partied at a nearby club.
I now have a t-shirt stating, "I survived The Death Road".
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Mama Stollery
non-member comment
OMG
OMG James this sounds so scarey!! Good job Jane didn't go with you as her and bikes do not mix!! The pics are amazing and I bet you were glad of those drinks at the end!! Fantasic blog..love to you and Jane..Sue XXX