Bolivia - The Route

For the last two weeks I was mostly here: Andes to Amazon: The route Click the link to see it.

Sunday, end of my Bolivia Bound trip: you have been watching....

In true "Dad's Army" style: Steve (stumbles and looks puzzled) King; Danny (we're doomed!) Rogers; Mick (shifty sideways look) Phillips; Graham (awfully nice chap) Hill; Richard (confident strider) White; Mark (don't tell him Pike!) Edwards; Martin (crafty fag) Payne; Dominic (bites lip nervously) Hayes; and Gerard (cameraman) Foulkes. Written and produced by: Cory (Head Honcho) Rowden; George (Top Bloke) Llosa; Steve (firing on one cylinder) Dent; Dr (no relative of Godfrey) Rosie.

Certified Loons?

So who are the loons that subject themselves to these feats of derring-do: negotiating dangerous roads; freezing their butts off; sweating like pigs; dicing with coaches and black fumes; riding through our old friend, sand; mud; gravel; dirt; and salt? And why do they do it?

Who? A chief executive, chairman, senior manager, consultants, current and retired company owners, finance director and European civil servant. All successful and well known in their field. All with responsibilities. But essentially all with the taste for adventure, spirit of discovery and not afraid to challenge themselves.

Why? Why not? Without challenges and trying to overcome them (even if we fail) we do not develop ourselves; whether it be biking across an unknown country, trying something new for the first time, or aiming to be an above average student. We need to climb 'mountains'. And as long as there are mountains to climb, people like us will continue to climb them; sometimes without a safety net.

Returning to the UK (en route to Belgium) I can't help seeing the other people on the tube and in the streets and thinking to myself: I've been on an adventure, I have...... And I have, and I had a bloody good time! Can't wait for the next one.

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Bolivian 'Elephants'

Like India and Cambodia before it, Bolivia has its fair share of Elephants. I saw two jump out on me, one on a gravelly corner, the other in slippery mud. Steve saw at least two too, big ones. One appearing in the shape of a cyclist, the other on the railway tracks. Graham too was a keen spotter, mud was his preferred medium. Mark, Danny, Martin (before he had to exit the tour due to stomach problems) and Gerard saw them too in various guises. Only Mick and Richard didn't spot any. At least none they're prepared to admit.

Despite this none of us have huge chunks of our bike deposits taken for damage. This is a first for one of our trips. We must be becoming better riders. Practice makes perfect they say, so we need to go on more trips like this! ;-)

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Saturday: Back to Cochabamba

From Oruru we set off for our final day of riding and Cory says we'll have a little bit of off road at some point. First tarmac of variable quality with the inevitable dusty roadwork detours and then we turn off onto the real dirt.

At first the track meanders across the undulating landscape. It's still a little muddy after the rains a few days ago so there are some patches we need to negotiate very carefully. Then we hit water; a couple of small rivers to be precise. Thankfully we all find the shallowest spots to cross and remain upright, but the water still covers our boots. Those that cross at the right speed (or enjoying the benefits of Gore-tex lined boots) remain dry. The support jeep/truck follows and has no problems with the slippery rocks that cause two wheeled problems. That's more than can be said for Steve Dent on the Africa Twin, whose V-twin engine is only firing on one cylinder - poor Dr Rosie has to walk uphill in some sections.  HT lead?

The last straw?

The road climbs into the hills and we pass a few remote villages. Cory has to confirm directions at some of these as this road is not well documented and he hasn't travelled it for two years. In one of the villages the locals have set an unofficial toll that we have to pay before passing. But it's worth it, because after this the road is amazing. At some point we merge with a disused railway line. This once connected Cochabamba with the western parts of Bolivia, so we know we're on the right..... umm, track!

These roads were fun

The track winds its way through the ever rising hills in spectacular scenery straight from a Hollywood western: rich reds, rugged rocks, deep ravines and dried up river beds; real Butch and Sundance country. The rails cut their way into a hill and we stop at the tunnel entrance for lunch. Noodles, so maybe this is a spaghetti western!

Wild (South) West country

We follow the route through other tunnels as we ride along and across the steel rails. Mostly the rails have been covered in earth and are easy enough to ride along, but in places they are uncovered and become extremely hazardous if you cross them at the wrong angle.... as Steve found out and has the aches and pains to prove it. This coupled with Graham's off in the mud demonstrates the real challenge of this il frequented route. On other parts of the track the rails are completely uncovered so the route deviates onto an adjacent path; or you can ride the sleepers and experience the same violent vibrations as the corrugated tracks near Uyuni.

Probably best not to follow the track at this point

We leave the rail line eventually and climb again, this time topping out at almost 4500m; we're getting used to these altitudes by now. As we reach the high point we experience the most breathtaking views we've seen on the entire trip: 'surround sound' rolling hills fading into the distance, leading to snowcapped peaks. With fluffy clouds and blue sky this really is beautiful. We could stop to soak up this view for much longer, but we have to move on as there are still big miles to be covered.

Wild West country? I guess that makes me a cowboy!

A road crew are repairing the road in places and the tailenders have to stop while a digger scoops earth and tips it over the edge. We corkscrew downward on the switchbacks and dirt and gravel are replaced by pristine cobbles. In the wet these would be lethal, but they are dry now. Phew!

The road meets a main road and we're back on tarmac. It's 100km to go and we need to get to Cochabamba before dark. This road is busier than most we've travelled so there's a fair bit of overtaking. A coach is overtaking a crawling bus uphill and there's oncoming traffic. Eager to make progress the obvious route is offroad to the inside of the bus. Danny follows me, but his route back onto the road becomes a high step and he ends up having to wait for both the coach and bus to pass before rejoining the road. Further on, Steve has an encounter with a coach being driven by Stevie Wonder. Luckily it's only Mr King's good shoulder that makes contact, but it's only a glancing blow and he's unharmed.

We arrive in Cochabamba and the light is fading fast. Traffic is thick and the air black. Before we reach Cory's place it really is dark and Gerard, without lights on his bike, feels particularly vulnerable. Eventually we get there and we're all a bit shell shocked and sit unusually silently while Cory's wife hands out refreshments and his kids enjoy their dad being home before they have to go to bed. We reflect on what was probably one of the best days riding any of us have done. That disused rail route is a real treasure that we'll remember forever. What a day!

We say goodbye to the bikes and get off to the hotel in taxis. We meet later for dinner in a sports restaurant, have good meal and share goodbye words. In the morning we fly to La Paz.

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It's Friday evening and we're back to Oruru

Today must be some kind of big celebration, because it's past 10pm and yet there's a loud marching band in the square below the hotel. The band is quite good, but I know some of our group are trying to get to sleep after another long hard day.

We started out early this morning all wrapped up. Even with our multiple layers we're all freezing in the cold. Cold always seems to find its way into your clothing when riding, so it's important to seal any gaps to prevent cold air getting in. Normally it heats up during the day, but not today; it's cold all day.

The sweeping bends are a distraction from the cold, but on the long straights there's no escaping it. This is winter after all, and at 4000m, so we should have expected it!

Along the route we see desolate hills in the distance that go on for miles. Some are snow capped, which only makes us feel even colder. We stop for lunch in Challapata and enjoy soup, pasta and a hot drink. Steve also manages to get some bars on his phone. His joy is only tempered by the person he's ringing not answering.

Steve finally gets signal - but his call is unanswered

The afternoon makes the day long, because we get two punctures and our pump decides to stop working. We waste at least an hour before we can ride on. We arrive in Oruru again and the traffic delays us even more. The setting sun in our eyes and the dust and fumes, combine to make the final part of the journey harder than it should have been.

Mark contemplates the feasibility of wheelying to the hotel

At last the marching bands have stopped. Time for bed. Tomorrow is our last day of riding.

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Bites!

Fairly early on in the trip I was bitten, several times, by a bug of some kind. These developed into the most itchy sores I've ever had and almost every night I wake to scratch them. Bugs always love my blood despite liberal applications of DEET; I must be very tasty.
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Thursday: Potosi via the mine at Pulacayo

We set off from Uyuni and suddenly we're on fresh smooth tarmac. After the corrugated route into Uyuni, Route 5 towards Potosi is a welcome change. However, the air is cold at 4200m and within minutes I'm cold.

Fortunately we stop about 20 minutes later at a mine in Pulacayo . Here we walk around the surface facilities and see the last train that Butch and Sundance held up. The authorities caught up with them not long after and one of the pair was shot dead; the other is reported to have escaped. Not quite what Hollywood would have you believe.

The last train held up by Butch and Sundance

The mine used to be run by the British, but was shut when it became uneconomical. Now with the high global demand for minerals the mine has reopened and there is a new virtual town supporting it, including a school, social club and even a children's playground. The mine is off the tourist trail and doesn't feature in the Lonely Planet guide book. Many of the buildings are decayed and it all looks very rundown. Despite that, silver, zinc and lead ores are now mined here.

It's been here a while

One thing that caught our keen eyes was a toilet block seemingly balanced precariously on a cliff edge. Its foundations were crumbling and the walls were cracked; it wouldn't be long before the whole thing ended up in the ravine below along with the human waste emitted from it . But, it was the only toilet around so we braved it and the pungent smell inside. As the block had no doors, Steve dent stood guard when it was Dr Rosie's turn.

The big drop toilet

By the time we hit the road again it has warmed up a little. Route 5 takes us south and once in the hills it's like a whole other country: the road is superb as it winds it's way through the contours. We make good progress and arrive in Potosi in time for a late lunch despite the brief flurry of snow.

In Potosi, while checking into the hotel we meet a Canadian guy who has ridden down from Canada on his Kawasaki KLR. He's trying to sell it before flying back and Cory puts him in touch with a potential buyer; importing and selling cars and bikes is a tricky business here and it helps if you know someone who's familiar with the pitfalls. The Canadian guy talks a little about his trip and says the roads in Bolivia are the most fun in South America (he's also impressed by the KLR and will buy another when he gets back to Canada).

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Thursday: down a Potosi mine. It's a bloody hard life for them miners.

In the space of ten minutes shopping, we managed to pick up several bags full of drugs, a stick of dynamite and a detonator. All for about $10! Where else can shopping be such good value?

Dynamite, coca leaves and 96% alcohol - you can't buy these at Walmart!

These were all 'gifts' for the miners that we visited as part of a mine tour. We got kitted up with overalls, boots, helmets and lights and made our way into the mine tunnel that runs under the mountain.

Mines in Bolivia were started by the Spanish, who after discovering silver in 'them thar hills' went all out to get as much of it as they could. Locals were employed or forced to work under extremely hard conditions: silver was the goal at all costs and there were many deaths. Our guide said several million, but that doesn't sound right.

At one time, hundreds of years ago, Potosi was one of the largest towns in the World, rivalling London, Paris and Seville. This was all funded by the mining boom.

It was also the Spanish who introduced eucalyptus trees to Bolivia to shore up the mine tunnels, and as we stooped to enter the mine we could see that several of the supports had split, making us crouch even lower as we went further into the darkness. The split supports did not deter us.

Just into the entrance the miners have an effigy of the devil. Apparently outside the mine Catholicism rules, but inside it is the devil who looks after the miners and they make offerings to the effigy to fertilise the mountain goddess. Offerings include coca leaves, 96% alcohol and cigarettes. Without this, the miners believe the mountain's ore veins will not bear fruit.

A life of hard smoking, drinking and chewing; and the miner's effigy

Each miner works his (women are not allowed as devil may fall in love with the them rather than the goddess of the mountain) own little patch of the mine that they can own after two years working in the mine. Conditions are poor, the air at the pit face is thick with dust, there's a constant threat of roof collapse and deep in the mountain the heat reaches 50C. The two miners we met had been at work in the mine all their lives, one for 43 years. Both were ill as a result of the dust and poor conditions but hoped to continue working there until they were 60. They would be lucky to reach that age. One of our group works in the mining industry and he was shocked by what he saw. He said the mine was the worst he had ever seen.

We asked the miners if they had to work in the mines and they said they had no alternative; with no education they had no other prospects. One had four children and was working hard to ensure they didn't have to work down the mine. Their futures depended on an education - that was their escape from the virtual prison that this mine is. Fortunately the price of ore has been relatively high recently, enabling him to give them an education.

The miners chew coca leaves to give them strength and suppress their appetite while they are at the pit face and while we were there one of the miners sat stuffing his face non-stop with the leaves; it reminded me of a mountain gorilla eating shoots. The miners don't eat the leaves but chew and ferment them in their mouths (300 leaves at a time) and suck the juices, without the coca they cannot work.

Coca powered miners

We handed them our gifts, and unfortunately also the dynamite that I was secretly hoping to take away and blow up somewhere in a remote location. Cory said it was no longer legal to explode dynamite like this, but a few years ago it was. We'll have to be satisfied with blowing up our bike tyres after a puncture.

Just light the touch paper and......   run!

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Wednesday: Uyuni and a day on the salt

Today's destination is the Salar de Uyuni (Bolivian salt flats). The largest in the world they cover over 10,000 square km, and according to one of our group, are used to calibrate satellite altimeters.

Entry to the flats is through a grubby small town through which streams of tourists flow in 4x4s to reach the flats. The salt is very dirty as you approach the main flats, but gradually the white becomes 'cleaner' the further you go. There are several salt hotels on the edge that look like regular white brick buildings, which are in fact made entirely of salt.

Salt brick bay window

Once on the salt we follow Cory to the roundabout a few clicks into the flats. We stop there to soak up the international atmosphere with all the flags planted on the roundabout and the myriad of tourists from around the globe striking various poses against the salt backdrop. Here there is also another salt hotel but we have the opportunity to get up close this time. Like the others it is constructed from salt bricks, each displaying its striations of layered salt, alternating clean and dirty. The bricks are sliced from blocks that are extracted from the salt flats and the layering results from the deposition of salt over thousands of years. Inside the hotel is a museum of statues carved from large salt blocks and despite salt being dissolved by water the hotels do not need to be rebuilt often and they are a near permanent feature on or around the flats. There are no toilets in the hotel (at least for casual visitors) as there is no way for the waste to be disposed of; I suspect hotel guests do have toilet facilities via a septic tank.

Salt sculptures

There are also several islands on the flats that have a unique vegetation adapted to the harsh climate, wind, cold, etc. We certainly felt both and had to stay wrapped up well while we were there.

The salt on the flats is completely... err.... flat (hence the name, derrrr!), apart from a hexagonal pattern of fine raised ridges, which are composted of fine salt crystals. This must be a product of the evaporation process after the flats are flooded every year by the seasonal rains. The surface itself is very hard and surprisingly grippy. It takes a while to get your head around the fact that you have grip as for all intents and purposes this looks exactly like a huge sheet of ice, and we all know: bikes and ice don't mix!

From the roundabout we head towards the centre of the flats and because there are no roads, no limits, and no restrictions, we all pin the throttle and zoom. Eventually, once out of sight of the hotels and any other tourists we 'camp'; the support truck stops and starts preparing lunch and a brew. From this base camp we all start playing.

The clouds are more interesting (note: on salt one has two shadows!)

We take turns doing flat out runs in various aerodynamic configurations: head down; head down, legs up; head down legs right up, in a near plank. The most we see on the speedo is about 85mph. The surface, although flat, is not smooth and restricts our top speed. We video, take photos and get up to all sorts of malarkey.

Gerard on a high speed run (with Kelvin-Helmholtz clouds in the background)

On the Bonneville salt flats they say you catch "salt fever" and on the Salar de Uyuni there were certain behaviours of our group that can only have resulted from a fever of some kind. They say what goes on tour stays on tour, so that's all I'll say! ;-)

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Wednesday: Thomas' last puff - Uyuni's train graveyard

Before heading out to the salt flats we take a detour to Uyuni's 'train graveyard'. A few clicks from the town, the yard is full of rusting steam train carcasses that are in various states of decay. With the bright blue sky above, the rusting colours look very artistic against the semi-desert backdrop.

Vivid colours

Some of the engines have been cut open to expose the tubes and furnaces used to develop the steam, and one can climb all over, and even into, them. A couple have been cut away completely leaving just the curved tops of the boiler, to which swings have been attached so that you can enjoy a lazy sway in the sun. There's no sign of the Fat Controller anywhere, but judging by the state of the engines, he had a coronary a long time ago.

The train graveyard

Getting to the graveyard proved to be somewhat challenging as we took a route though an old quarry filled with sand and salt. Several of us came a cropper riding up the banks of the quarry that were covered in deep sand. But this is all part of the fun of riding and the 'offs' were gentle, so no damage.

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Tuesday: to Uyuni

Today will be cold as we head to Uyuni on the edge of Bolivia's salt flats. We start out hitting the black stuff again but after about 100km on Route 1 the road turns to dirt and gravel as we transition to Route 30. On the map this is shown as a main Bolivian road but as we've come to learn this is no indication of the road quality. The road from La Paz to Oruro was in the process of being upgraded to a twin carriageway and we were constantly diverted to dirt tracks running parallel with the main road; but Route 30 to Uyuni made no pretence at being in the 21st century.

On the tarmac section of Route 1 we were able to keep up a fair lick of speed; this, coupled with the cold morning air, meant that even gift wrapped in extra layers we were all feeling the cold. To take my mind off the chill I started singing the song trapped in my head: Manilow's Copacabana! It wasn't long before I was moving and shaking on the bike, tapping my toes at 60mph. This worked wonders and really helped to warm me up. I tried to persuade my buddies to join in but for some reason they were happy to let mad Dom continue his solo performance.

Fresh tarmac where present is very good

The road became harder the further south we headed. In particular the road developed a hard transverse rut pattern. At speed this vibrated the bikes violently, so much so that bits were falling off them. Along with the ruts, sand, gravel and dust, we also had to contend with herds of skittish lamas. These roamed across the roads at random and we had to take special care to slow down as they were known to run in front of traffic when spooked.

Steve Dent navigating the transverse ruts

We stopped in a very picturesque and isolated spot for lunch, a flat pasture of thorny grass with a meandering river in the near distance and a rocky outcrop overlooking us on the other side of the road. We played about with the bikes, posing for shots by the river with snow capped peaks in the far distance and miles and miles of nothing in between.

What a nice spot for lunch, Gerard and Danny

Moving on, the road's hard surface and gravel was also causing punctures; we had three. Two of these punctures were to my front wheel, the last of which occurred on a speedy run where I noticed the front end becoming very vague as I slowed down to meet the assembling group at one of the catch-up stops. This on top of the puncture I'd had the day before, meant that Cory decided to fit a new tyre to replace the soft worn one I had been running on. Cory and Steve Dent were becoming very speedy in replacing inner tubes, but replacing the tyre was much more of a challenge. Once fitted, my bike was instantly upgraded with a much grippier knobbly tyre, great for the sand and mud.

Cory uses a Mick-powered bike sidestand as a tyre bead breaker - very ingenious!

Despite the grippy new tyre, I manage to fall off in a short muddy section where the mud was unbelievably slippery. Any application of throttle and the bike's rear wheel fish-tailed madly. My only face saving was that Cory was also caught out and like me ended up with an afternoon mud bath. In my fall I managed to trap my thumb, which later became swollen and bruised. That evening Doctor Rosie examined it and concluded no major damage had been done. This is confirmed by no reduction in my BlackBerry key tapping.

After seeing a lone flamingo in a shallow lake (this area is famous for flamingoes), we eventually arrive in Uyuni just as the light is fading. A quick fill of petrol and we're ready for another day. Tomorrow, the salt flats. .

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Monday: Oruro

Oruro is a hap'nin' town. Bustling with activity when we arrived, it was noticeable that the women here were very different in appearance. There were still those with the traditional Bolivian Inca look complete with 'bowler hat', but there were many more with 'western' appearance and more angular features. This may have been the result of the influx of migrant workers from around the region cashing in on the tin/tungsten mining boom. Oruro is also famous for the Carnaval de Oruro, one of the most famous in South America

Towering over the town is a statue of the Virgin Mary and child sitting on a hill top. I thought of climbing this hill in the morning, but starting from a base at 3700m I thought better of it as at this altitude just climbing the stairs can result in breathlessness.

Before dinner I walk the seemingly miles and miles of market stalls selling everything from tools and bicycle parts to meat and hair care products. I've never seen such an extensive set of stalls and small shops. In places the thick throng of shoppers are parted by slow moving buses emitting noxious fumes with the engines barely idling. Dogs pick their way through the offcuts of meat discarded from the meat market and like everywhere we've seen in Bolivia the place is strewn with rubbish and detritus. As night closes in, the temperature drops and in this area it is not unknown for it to reach -10C and below at night time in the winter. We are lucky that it doesn't get this cold, but it is bracing nonetheless.

After a cold night, the next morning at breakfast we notice coca leaves among the jams and spreads on offer. This underlines Oruro's on-the-edge character.

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Sunday and Monday: Transit to Oruro via La Paz

After Copacabana we need to bash tarmac to reach more interesting places. The ferry and sweeping roads near lake Titicaca give way to long monotonous straights towards La Paz. Once again the city appears in the distance as a pixelated vista. Still a beautiful sight, it's not until you get much closer does reality kck in.

Unfortunately La Paz is a key hub in Bolivia and it's difficult to avoid riding through it.  Although it may be interesting place, the traffic and more importantly the traffic fumes make progress in that city extremely unpleasant.

Entering the city and we are fighting our way through those thick clouds of diesel fumes, ducking and diving between traffic and avoiding wandering pedestrians and chasing dogs.

Bolivian women in La Paz - traditional and modern

The hotel is the Oberland on the other side of the city, owned by a Swiss man called Walter, and it's a stopover for many a trekker and campervan; in the hotel car park I spy vans from Switzerland, the Netherlands and California. It has a real chalet feel and has a sauna and hot tub. Steve's happy because there's wifi available and we all spend time uploading pictures and catching up with email, work and personal.

Rock formation in the Valle de la Luna 

We spend the next morning looking around the Valle de la Luna park. This a very curious set of rock/mud formations resulting from rain erosion of the local rock. If you imagine the stalagmites inside a cave this will give you an idea of what they look like. A path of walkways and bridges has been constructed through the structures to let you see them up close. At the exit we get an impromptu show from a vendor selling carved flutes. Steve, an accomplished penny whistler, impresses the man by knocking out a tune on a flute and the seller then plays and sings his own composition to an audience of potential customers. Steve is about to buy a flute for 80Bs (£8) when Danny negotiates a deal for two; Steve ends up paying 200Bs!

Steve auditions for a new day job

The following day, after another blast along tarmac, and negotiating a detour through back gardens to avoid a random protest roadblock, we arrive in Oruro. This is a boom town and immediately we see this is a place with character.

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A swollen thumb should not be taken lightly!

Dr Rosie examined my poor thumb - I was a brave bunny

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After 30km of dust and dirt across the Altiplano, I wonder if I scrub up well?

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Tuesday: On route to Uyuni

Miles and miles of nothing
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Saturday evening at Copacabana

Saturday's destination was Copacabana. Just the name evokes images of dancing girls, tropical beaches... and Barry Manilow! But that's actually Copacabana beach in Rio de Janeiro. The Bolivian version is a little less glamorous, especially in the depths of a southern hemisphere winter.

On Sunday morning we had the opportunity to look around. A few ventured down into town, but Danny, Gerard and I headed up along the route of the 14 crucifixes to the hill of Cerro Calvario. Copacabana lies at around 4000m above sea level where the air is thinner, so the 150m or so vertical climb proved to be quite challenging and we had to stop a couple of times during the climb to catch our breath.

Climbing the 14 Crucifixes - with Danny and Gerard

But it was worth it as the view of the town from the top of the hill was impressive. We could see the cathedral in the centre (one of the oldest in Bolivia), the main square, the colourful houses, and the hills surrounding them. The view of Lake Titicaca was also very impressive.

Copacabana panorama

The summit is a gathering place for all sorts.  As well as religious devotion - candles and crucifixes, we found a variety of small stalls selling fizzy pop to figurines in plastic.  Copacabana is a tourist spot for Bolivians; and tourists do like to buy tat.  I bought some expensive water, but it was worth it after the climb.

Colourful pop

Remembering Pop?

Lake Titicaca, the largest in South America, is the highest navigable lake in the world - whatever that means. The lake is also a barrier between Copacabana and the main part of Bolivia; there is no land connection. If crossing freezing water is not your thing, you have to travel via Peru to reach the 'mainland', but apparently the border crossing is a pain. So for most people there's a flotilla of ferries that transport cars from one side to the other and the journey takes about ten minutes. The isolated nature of Copacabana seems very odd, but no doubt there's a lot of history and perhaps blood behind it

Copacabana lakefront - there's a duck down there somewhere

One other thing Copacabana is also famous for is blessing cars. This is done in front of the cathedral and Copacabana is the only place in Bolivia that does this. Cars travel from all over the country to be blessed. The ceremony includes placing flowers under the wipers and concludes with fire crackers; although maybe that's not part of the actual blessing.

We didn't look too hard, but there was no sign of Lola or Rico.
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Saturday: into Copacabana via La Paz

The road to La Paz is busy with taxis and minibuses carrying locals away from the polluted city to the fresh air of the mountains, although ironically many of them bring their thick black smoke with them.

As we near La Paz it appears in the distance. Seeing it for the first time is a strange experience as it looks as if someone has pixelated the terracotta mountain. As we get closer the pixels are in fact individual houses that dot themselves across the mountains that make up much of La Paz. The houses are relatively uniform in size and each a different colour but with the terracotta base.

La Paz, pixelated

We pass through the outskirts of La Paz and the traffic is almost as thick as the black smoke belched from the lorries and buses; my throat becomes sore once more. Apart from its mountain setting, La Paz doesn't appeal. Although Steve and Danny are briefly the centre of attention at a local wedding and brass band festival when we stop for a rest, and Danny gets invited to return - by the mayor no less!

We move beyond the La Paz and head towards Copacabana, which is more than 100km west of the capital, near the Peruvian border. The roads are once again good sweeping tarmac and we make good progress as there is little traffic. These roads would be fantastic to ride on a sportsbike, but they are still great fun even on our offroad bikes.

The temperature has dropped again as late afternoon approaches but we reach Lake Titicaca before it gets dark and cross the lake on a ferry.  One of the craft is called "Titanic"!  I hope not; in our bike boots and gear, we wouldn't stand a chance.

Martin adds a dash of style to Titicana ferries

On the other side it's another fun ride into the dark, but the conditions are easier on the good tarmac. There's a slight delay as one of the bikes runs out of petrol and we have to wait for the support vehicle to refuel it. (Three of the bikes are brand new Suzuki DR650s and their number plates have not arrived. This means some petrol stations refuse to refuel them). We roll into Copacabana after 7pm. It's been another long day but once again brilliant with a real sense of achievement. Now, where's Lola?
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Saturday: negotiating Death Road

We set off from Coroico heading towards La Paz. Today there's a modern road that links the eastern part of Bolivia to the capital, but a few years ago the only route was the Yungas Road, little more than a dirt track scraped into the side of a mountain with a sharp stick; jagged rocks on one side and perilous drops (and more jagged rocks) on the other. Barely room for one car in places, unbelievably this was a main highway traversed by coaches and trucks. Unsurprisingly this gave the road a nickname Avenida del Muerte, or Death Road, because of the many deaths that occurred after vehicles toppled over the edge.

Old and new routes to the Amazon - Left: Death Road; Right: shiny new tarmac.  You choose!

Our group is becoming quite the connoisseur of dangerous roads having experienced Cambodia's Death Highway and India's Sutlej Valley road, so we just had to sample the delights of the Avenida del Muerte. The road starts with a sign telling you to drive on the wrong side of the road. This is very thoughtful of the authorities as it allows the driver of downhill vehicles to see right over the edge at what is about to kill them if they lose concentration. Uphill drivers have it lucky, as they get to the hug the cliff face. There are a few places where the road widens to allow two vehicles to pass safely, but safely is a relative term.  But on two wheels this is a breeze, even with oncoming traffic (except bicycles).

Death Road - doesn't look so scary

Compared to the Sutlej Valley road there was much more foliage, which deceives you as to the dangers ahead, but being a deeply Catholic country we were able to judge the severity each corner by the number of crosses planted there. In a few places the foliage clears and the road's nickname starts to make sense. In one very picturesque and treacherous spot the road clings to the inside of a bend while water streams onto the road from the sheer wall above and then plummets over into the abyss below. You have to ride through the waterfall to get past this point. Further on there's a viewing point and you can really appreciate the dramatic rock face above and below the road.

But, stay away from the edge!

The downhill route is also popular with cyclists ranging from hardened mountain bikers with helmets and knee pads to dainty young ladies clad in little more than t-shirt and shorts. They mostly travel in groups with support vehicle in tow. The inexperienced riders tend to ride close to the wall - on the wrong side of the road - and are a danger to themselves and others. Steve encountered one on a blind corner and both he and the cyclist ended up in a ditch, fortunately away from the edge. Steve almost thumped the cyclist and would probably have been justified doing so. The cyclist was very embarrassed and rode off; Steve hobbled back onto his bike with an injured knee.

Almost at the end of the dangerous section, there's a good vantage point looking over the valley we've just climbed. I pause and build a cairn, which I dedicate to my friend and fellow biker Steve Bond, who died only a few weeks before my trip. RIP Steve.

In memory of Steve Bond, RIP

Yungas road joins the main, modern, replacement road and you switch back to riding on the right side of the road. The tarmac is mostly good quality, with long straights and sweeping bends. We continue climbing on the road and again reach almost 4700m. After sweltering in the 30C heat at lower altitudes the near freezing temperatures (ice at the roadside) are a shock and we all have to don extra layers before we continue towards La Paz.

The view back down the valley we just climbed

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Post dates

seems that all my posts had Cambodian times.  I've changed this now to Bolivian time

Freezing at 4000m above Lake Titicana

Sun and blue sky, but cold and windy - it is winter

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Zipwire, just before Death Road

As if the prospect of traversing Death Road isn't enough, we're all doing a zipwire ride 250m above the valley.

Instructions: follow the instructions, and hold on!

Steve Dent prepares to launch into the abyss

Yup, it really is 250m high - body armour is rather pointless

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