Fully recovered from our lengthy battle with intestinal parasites, we were finally ready to leave our hotel room and explore La Paz. We spent a sunny afternoon wandering the hilly streets with Ana of the local tourgroup Downhill Madness as our guide. Walking just a block from our hostel Ana explained many of the mysterious objects for sale in the witches market – llama fetuses for good luck, pottery effigies for curses, and herbs for ailments of any kind. We walked through narrow streets lined with crumbling colonial facades and choked by the jankiest looking electrical wiring. Afterwards, a quick taxi ride up to the ‘mirador‘ (look-out) provided a great view of the city. Tall skyscrapers clustered in the middle of the valley were surrounded by brick houses with sheet-metal roofs climbing all the way up the steep cliffs. As a random but fun addition to the tour we visited the zoo and rented 4x4s to roar around the dusty trails surrounding the zoo – another ‘would never have been able to do this in the US’ moment. No waiver, no down payment, and no rules. We drove around for 15 minutes, which cost us 20 Bolivianos or $3 USD.
We also braved one of the ‘must-do’ tourist trips for those visiting La Paz – biking the ‘Death Road.’ Named the Yungas road, this narrow dirt road snakes its way down from La Paz to the jungle town of Coroico. Until 2006, the Yungas road was the only connection between La Paz and the Amazonian rain forest of northern Bolivia. In 1995 it was dubbed the most dangerous road in the world by the Inter-American Development Bank due to many factors including its death toll. One estimate is that 200-300 people were killed every year on this 40 mile stretch. Once on the road, it is easy to see why the road is so dangerous. The road is cut into sheer cliffs that drop 2000 ft (600m) to the narrow river valley below. Waterfalls pour off the cliffs above and onto the gravel roadbed over large sections. Mudslides and low visibility due to thick fog are common along the route. There are no guard rails, and most of the road, at 10 feet (3.2 m) wide, is barely wide enough for one vehicle. Because of these extreme conditions, unique driving rules apply – vehicles drive on the left side of the road. Since the cliffs plunge off the left side of the road, drivers can stick their heads out the window to see how many inches they can spare without having their wheels slip off the edge. It also forces the drivers heading downhill to slow down, as they are risking their necks driving on the outer edge. In the past, this road was filled with trucks and buses causing even more danger. A new paved road that takes an alternate route complete with two lanes, bridges, and tunnels was finished in 2006, so today very little vehicle traffic travels the Death Road. After battling some hairy roads in Peru, we were hesitant to take this trip until we talked to Adam, a tour guide we met at our hotel. After he explained that this was a highlight of the trip for most people on his tour and that we wouldn’t be competing with large trucks and buses trying to pass each other, we decided to brave the trip.
The bike ride down the Death Road starts at the breathtaking (literally) height of 15,000 ft (4,600 m) at La Cumbre. Here a giant statue of Jesus, arms outstretched, looks down the valley and the deadliest road in the world. Truck and bus drivers about to take the plunge stop here to make offerings for a safe trip. We suited up in helmets, windpants, and every available layer as it was windy and below freezing. The road is paved for the first 18 miles (30 km), so we sped down through the brittle sunlight, passed only by a couple of trucks. The wreckage of a bus was visible 1000 feet below after one sharp curve in the road. The barren mountains slowly turned green and the sun was obscured by fog as we split off from the new paved road and headed down the old Death Road. We only passed one foolhardy car the entire way down to the bottom of the valley – oddly enough an old BMW with a blond in the passenger seat. Stopping every 20 minutes to regroup, eat a snack, or shed some unnecessary layers of clothing, the air grew humid and the vegetation wildly fertile. While the road was comfortably wide for mountain biking, it really was incomprehensible to us that buses and trucks used to form traffic jams on its narrowest sections.
Two malfunctioning rear brakes and one broken chain later we made it to the bottom without major incident. We gratefully changed into bathing suits and lounged around the pool of a local hotel that hosted our group for a couple of hours. We then sadly left the warmth of the Bolivian jungle and drove back to frigid La Paz on the new highway. We head for the colonial city of Sucre at the end of the week.
-The bus I’m riding in slides to a stop. The driver asks us not to move. We realize that the front right wheel of the vehicle is hanging over the edge of a fathomless drop. We vacate through the driver’s emergency door and fifteen of us help to pull the bus backwards onto the road again.
-A friend of mine loses concentration for a moment at the wheel and rolls his car and its occupants 700 feet to the bottom of a gully. Some are badly injured, but, fortunately, all survive (this time, seatbelts save lives).
-Another friend gets out of her car to relieve herself and steps into thin air. Her body must be recovered by rockclimbers.