This past Saturday, the 16th of July was "La Paz Day", a day to celebrate the citizens and culture of La Paz. Most of the festivities went on the night before, however, and so at around 6:30 Friday night we went out to the main street of La Paz, El Prado, to observe the celebrations. The street was packed with people, and we saw many groups of Paceñas (citizens of La Paz) marching by with bands playing and lots of people watching. I tried Anticucho (beef heart kabobs) and a special drink that is really only served on holidiays that is made with Singani (a grape brandy – national drink of Bolivia) warm milk and egg whites. We also grabbed ice cream and watched as many cebras (people who man the crosswalks dressed literally from head to toe as Zebras) ran past. We headed down to the Stadium where there was a pretty cool Bolivian band playing and a really large crowd all drinking and celebrating. Unfortunately we couldn’t stay out too late because we had to get up early the next morning to go on the bikes.
On Saturday we woke up early (around 6:30) and had breakfast at Alexander café before heading out on our drive to El Cumbre (Spanish for the Summit) where we began the most dangerous road bike trek. Our guide was a really cool guy from Asheville named Phil – he was also a stereotypical Asheville native (long hair, scraggly beard, had been doing outdoor activities since early high school). He and the Spanish speaking guide, Javier, were in charge of 14 of us bikers on our trip (from all over the world, but most spoke English). After arriving at El Cumbre and receiving our helmets, gloves and bikes, our guides went through the safety speech and then procured a bottle of a clear liquid which Phil informed us was basically straight alcohol. It was a tradition that in order to guarantee safe passage on the trek to Coroico one must make an offering to the god Pachamama – which entailed splashing a bit of the vile liquid on the ground and our front tire, as well as touching a bit to our lips before passing it along to the next traveler. We started the trek at 4700 meters (15,419 feet) and first biked downhill on a smooth paved road for 63 km (almost 40 miles). We really flew down this part (which was extremely fun) probably going close to 40 to 50 mph and we passed several buses and cars along the way. This was a great opportunity for us to get used to handling the bikes before we got on the World’s Most Dangerous Road. The road itself is really no longer much in use beyond for tourist bike trips (there is a new, much safer road from La Paz to Coroico), but there was still the occasional local who drives the road to get to their house in one of the villages that’s located along the road. It’s a gravel road that at times can be pretty wide, yet also at times can be so narrow that a single minivan uses up most of the space of the road. There are lots of sharp, blind turns without any barriers between you and a 250-meter straight cliff drop (see example image above).
We began the trek on the old road still above the clouds, as all we really see out in the horizon is white mist. Much to our dismay, our guide informed us that this road is the only one in Bolivia where traffic drives on the left side of the road (so that the driver can see the cliff edge outside his own window) and so he tells us to stay on the left side (close to the cliff edge) in order to avoid a possible collision. After our first segment of road my hands felt numb from my death grip on my brakes. However little by little I become more and more confident of my ability, and begin to ease off of the brakes a bit more as we finally passed underneath the clouds into a phenomenally lush green mountainside. We took the trek in small segments, pausing to drink water, double check that everyone was still with us, and for the guides to tell us a quick anecdote about the segment of road that we were approaching (along with any safety tips they had for us). We consistently flew by roadside crucifixes and monuments, just in case we needed a reminder of exactly what was at stake for each of us. To be completely honest, however, I was so focused on the techniques of safe riding and on the safest path (with the fewest loose rocks) that I never really had time to be too terrified of how close I was to the edge. As we got lower and lower in altitude we shed layers, and the scenery became even greener and lusher. We passed directly under a few waterfalls, and adrenaline and an appreciation for the unbelievable beauty of the surroundings replaced the fear that I had felt previously. I really didn’t want the ride to end when it was all said and done. We finished at an animal refuge that had rescued mistreated animals that had been taken captive from the wild and sold on the black market (i.e. pick pocket monkeys). There we had a beer, all we can eat pasta buffet and a fantastic swim in their pool (which was exactly what my body needed after the long ride). Then the four of us who had bought the zipline tickets were taken to get our gear and then drove back up the road to the first zipline departure point. We zipped over huge valleys over 1500 meters total (three segments of 484, 505 and 587 meters, respectively) and got to speeds of over 85km/hr (about 52 mph). (click here for a video of the zipline we did). We then met up with the rest of the group for the ride back to La Paz.
The bus ride back actually was almost more terrifying than the bikes down, as we traveled back up the exact same road to see the views we had missed on the way down. I will admit, it was incredibly beautiful and I once again realized just how gorgeous of a country Bolivia is.
This weekend I think we plan to spend a few days at the Bolivian Salt flats, which are supposed to be amazing. I will post pictures from this weekend sometime later this week (I got a cd of video and photos from our bike trip for free along with a t-shirt).
Best wishes!
Whitaker
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