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Published: December 16th 2008
Bolivia marked a crucial turning point in our journey to date. Up until now, between us there was always some trace of common sense in what we did. Now, I´m sad to say, common sense gave way to suicidal tendencies not once, but every time. Maybe its the pressures of being on the road for so long, maybe we´ve had enough of each other, but numerous times here, we put our lives in the fates of Jack Bauer and the lesser Gods.
We left La Paz straight away on route to Mountain Bike the World´s Most Dangerous Road (WMDR). After a briefing from our Guide which included various appendage tearing incidents with the odd death, all of which were alcohol and drug related, we drank some methanol before starting as is tradition. One, to appease the local Gods, and two, to void any medical insurance and ensure the tour company would not be liable for any misfortunes. As it turns out, both of us made it to the bottom a few hours later, colder wetter, but still in one piece. If only the same could be said for our Guide. He fell off in the first 10 mins onto his head,
was severely concussed, and had to sit the rest of the ride out in the support vehicle.
From here we ditched our bikes and took the bus to the Pampas Jungle. It was soon discovered that this was indeed the true owner of the title, WMDR. The bus was a fine machine that travelled over slim dirt roads through landslides, next to 400m sheer drops only having to stop now and then to throw water over the wheels to cool the brakes, and to make sure the knots on the ropes holding the rear axel together weren´t slipping. If this wasn´t hairy enough, we were blessed with a nice old drunk local man, sitting in front of us asking for sexual favours for around 3 hours while patting our knees. As we couldn´t hit a 70 year old, I finally gave in to shut him up, and took one for the team.
The jungle turned out to be well worth the trip there. We spent 3 days spotting various wildlife which was abundant. As we weren´t thinking much by this time we swam with caymans, pirahnas, dolphins, and some of the group managed to get up close and personal fondling
monkeys and Anacondas.
Back to La Paz where the only thing left to do, was to bribe a few guards, and go look around the local prison and meet some of the inhabitants. We met a nice guy called Stuart from Sth Africa, who explained his unfortunate circumstances of being released from a Pakistani Prison after 4 years for drug traffiking, only to be by a bad bit of luck, caught again for the same reason 2 months later in Bolivia. He was due for release this week. We wish him well on the outside. While Shane went looking for the shower room, I was shown the games room where uncut cocaine is produced. I politely declined the offer to partake in some of the produce as it didnt really seem a good idea.
Onto Potosi and the Silver mines. The rest of the world could learn a thing or 2 from the Bolivians here. No cottonwool packed kids here. On you´re 10th birthday, the bike you´ve always wanted turns out to be some dynamite, a hammer and chisel, a headlamp, and their own ticket to work in the mines. Some of these guys work by themselves with only the
headlamp for company for 12-18 hour days. The good news being that it´s only for 30 years, then your lungs will probably give way.
Our last tour took us to the Salt Flats and Deserts on the Bolivia/Chile border where we marvelled at the surrounding nothingness and took funny photos. The tour finished with some geothermal activity of mudpools and hotpools at 5000m.
The high altitudes have made us both stuggle a bit in physical and mental capacities. We´ve had enough! Vamos a Argentina!
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