Death Ride on the Death Road

Star date, 1 month ago. Sorry these are slow coming out. Kelly, Andy, Elmo, power trio trying not to leave all of our insides in La Paz. Note to self, do not eat Cholita street food. At least not for every meal. FYI you can easily survive for under $10 a day in La Paz, but you will need to have health insurance to cover the intestinal damage. The food is fried, and most likely some sort of potato with some sort of meat that is not recognized as an edible animal. My guess would be pigeon and/or lemur. The Cholitas are Bolivian women, generally considered to be lower class who dress 'traditionally' which is like this:

They are everywhere and it becomes very cool that the most stylish people in a society are the older women. Historically the hat is a stylistic choice that comes from when Europeans were working on building railways through many of these countries. A the time the bowler hat was en vogue and shipments were sent over for the European workers. Well one such shipment came in sizes too small to comfortably fit the heads of these men who were constantly on the move. Instead they were given to some of the local women on who's heads the hats still didn't even fit. But the Cholitas didn't let it phase them, they just propped them on at a jaunty angle and called it style. Things haven't changed much over the eons since this came to pass and pretty much every woman of this class in town sports the look. From four to 24 skirts with brightly colored patterns, bowler hat, high wool socks hair in braids, possibly with some sort of woolen doily braided in, an ornately embroidered shall, a large and colorful blanket tied around the front and used as a backpack that may house the day's goods to sell or a child, and faces that look miraculously like worn baseball mitts. This should not be taken as derogatory, these women spend most of the daylight hours under the sun and often are working very tedious manual labor sort of jobs. They just so happen to all eventually look exactly the same and have the same far off look in their eyes.

The city is really pretty amazing and apparently has no building codes or standards by which people must adhere. Houses and buildings are climbing upward from the city center as La Paz is surrounded by hills and mountains in somewhat of a bowl. These hillsides and mountain sides are all completely covered with unfinished brick buildings all featuring re-bar antennae from every support structure bundled together and waving around lazily in the wind 4, 5, or 6 meters above the structure as if in promise of a second floor someday soon. The building is only held in check by the land itself or should I say, lack thereof. It seems that erosion is the second player in this equation because enormous areas of landslides adorn the hills as well but people are still built up to the very edge. Pure madness. Though it does make for a striking scene.

So in La Paz, we visited the Witches market, where you can get all of your ingredients for spells, potions, curses, and of course llama fetus'.

Witch's Shop replete with fetus

Mas Llama

This whole area of town has a sort of sweet, smoky, earthy smell that isn't at all unpleasant until you get too close to the source when it really kicks you in the nostrils and sends you away in a hurry. Sometimes it occurred to me that the incessant battle of the bowels or the conflict for the colon or the skirmish in the shorts may have more to do with the chemicals assaulting one's nose here. At all locations possible there is another different food or beverage stand, followed closely by an astounding amount of exhaust from vehicles and not to mention the questionable hygiene of half the backpackers you meet in hostels. Sometimes things get dicey.

During one of our escapes from the witch's market area we found we had unexpectedly encountered one of the tour operators for the famed El Camino de la Muerte, the Death Road. This is a famous 40ish km stretch of jungley mountain road that skirts 300 meter 90* cliff sides. The road has claimed countless lives of audacious drivers and smugglers as it may allow you to skirt some immigration officials. It has since been re-made in an area where it was easier to add some extra space for other cars to pass and the old road is now mainly used to entertain travelers. So we signed up for the next day! Starting at 4600m and cruising down a paved section of nearly 20km at high speeds on very nicely outfitted mountain bikes with strong brakes, the road then goes off trail to the death section.

Kelly after a daring pass on the paved pre-death section.

Our Death-stination

It is in the jungle and that means that there are some clouds. This day's clouds did wonders to obstruct our view of most of the death-iest parts but that being said the occasional break in the weather exposed us to magnificent views of the high jungle and huge drop off to our right side.

Safe by a hair

Classic Death Road Shot

Elmo enjoying a celebratory beer....we were only half way done but the guide brought them out anyhow. Bolivia.

Our group of five plus the guide was only one of maybe 10 groups that day and we started near the back of the pack. But by the time we got ourselves comfortable with the bikes and put our fear in check, we were the first down this intimidating mountain. In retrospect I wish I had done it slower because pound for pound and minute for minute this was some of the most fun I have had on this trip. Kelly who was battling several days of backtalk from the backside was not exactly stoked when we began this day but she too took kindly to the task at hand and by the time the elevation was no longer evil she was ready for more. We finished the ride with a poolside buffet Bolivian style, fried and tasty with promises of retribution. For any and all who want to put some butt kickers on a bucket list add this experience. It isn't really at all that dangerous. If you take it easy and travel at a comfortable pace for what you know you can do to control the bike you will be fine and have a blast. It wasn't until we got back to the office that evening when we saw the newspaper article on the wall telling the tale of a 22 year old Brit who plunged to his death after losing control and falling several hundred meters to the tree tops below. I guess the Death Road still needs to claim a victim every now and again to ensure it still has what it takes to be the world's deadliest road.

Bolivia's President looks just like Eric Estrada

So we left San Pedro de Atacama and the world's driest desert and Chile for that matter in our rear view mirrors literally as we embarked on a 3 day tour across the border into Bolivia via Land Cruiser. This proved to be another one of many sleepless nights that have plagued one of us or the other throughout our travels. We were waiting around 6am to catch our bus from the front of the hostel along with the great engineer of the solar cooking device and as the time of our scheduled pick-up came and went he regaled us with tales of shady dealings between guides and their companies designed to scam travelers out of the money paid for this famous trip, Salar de Uyuni. And when that conversation grew tame he then went on for another twenty minutes about how Bolivians cannot be trusted and how superior Chile is regardless of the immense mineral wealth of Bolivia.
Eventually our bus arrived and we began our 3 day trip to the Uyuni salt flats in Bolivia. We immediately made friends with a wonderful Aussie named Polly and an absurd Englishman from Leeds named Elliot. This proved fateful as the two of them remained our traveling partners for another couple of weeks. The journey took us early from the relative altitude of San Pedro around 3000m to a pass at the border of Bolivia near 4600m. From here we ended all idea of civilization for the next couple of days. We 6 plus a driver piled into the SUV in a caravan of about 5 different groups. The plan was to drive and then get out and explore the spot at which we had arrived. Then drive and explore, drive explore drive explore. It wasn't exactly the most active overland haul but we covered some ground and damn could those Land Cruisers take a beating. The thought that at any time we were about a day from the nearest garage for repairs was daunting, but due to the immaculate driving skills of the chauffeurs the biggest issue I ever saw was a flat tire.

Our Steed

So to pass the time between stops we would chat. This is how you meet the people along these journeys who leave the deepest impression upon your trip. So far now, and I jumping ahead, but we have gone on four different multi-day treks and on all of them have met some great people.
The first day included stops at three different lakes with different colors, we had a green , a blue, and to finish, a deep burnt orange.

With Polly and Elmo at the blue

The red

Also midway through the day we stopped at a geothermal hot-spot where geysers spewed steam and molten mud from crater adorned landscape with the appearance of a high schoolers face and the temperament to match. And in true Bolivian fashion there was not a warning to be seen or heard except for our own reservations and preconceived notions that 'fire bad.' It didn't initially seem like a good idea to approach the cauldrons of liquid earth but excitement and the desire to get the next best picture always trumps reason.

We came to dock for the night at a little adobe oasis in the middle of the high Bolivian desert who's only claim to fame seemed to be three walled square buildings, raised stone pallets on which mattress' had been unceremoniously plopped, and of course it was the most obvious place around for the guides and drivers of another poor group to get extremely stoned and drunk into the wee hours of the night....obviously. We got up the next morning after exactly no sleep only to discover that in the room of 6 of us we had all only been feigning slumber out of sheer politeness for the others. The water in the toilets in the next room was frozen, and we had ended the day near 12,000ft. Sleep doesn't come easily in that scenario. Day two we visited the famous Rock tree and got a bit of activity as the guides alloted an hour for making an ass of ourselves. It turns out that urge to sprint away from the car in which you've been sequestered just to climb rocks that you cant climb down all at 13,000ft is no way to look cool. Needless to say it was a very nice reprieve and we got some great shots and the closest thing to exercise one could hope for on this trip.

Tree Rock

This guy was stoned

This is a large llareta. They use this for cooking fires.

The day took us then to several more desert lakes, a smaller salt flat, flamingo hunting, and eventually to the most astounding boulder field I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. Valle de las Rocas. For those of you who know about my affinity for bouldering let me say that this was the singularly most attractive outdoor scene I could possibly imagine. The horizon was so choked with magnificent red boulders of all shapes and sizes that I was left feeling utterly lost without weeks at my leisure to spend camping and climbing. This is an area that I will return for a climbing trip someday...

Valle de las Rocas

The lodging at our next stop proved to be a bit better than the night before and we shared some international games with our newfound compadres and thimbles of wine to boot. The following morning we awoke to knowledge that although full, today would be our last officially together. We went on to visit a train graveyard and of course the Uyuni salt flat. This amazing site is a classic South American stop and is also an opportunity to see how creative we can get with pictures because there is no depth due to the stark white of the salt.

Salt that is in the process of being harvested.

The trip was a major success and all involved had a blast. We had so much fun in fact that we all stuck together for a nerve wracking ride from Uyuni to Potosi, the Worlds highest city at 4090m.
This is also home to one of the most productive mines in the world. The native peoples have been mining silver, tin, zinc, and other precious metals from the mountain for over 500 years. It was for much of the time forced labor when the Spanish were in charge but now miners freely choose to go down every single day and collect what they can from the innards of this rock. They say that during the Spanish rule, enough silver was mined to build a bridge from Potosi to Spain, and enough Quechua and Peruvian people have died in the belly of the mountain to build one right back in the other direction. As I said before, now the mine is worked by people who choose to make it their occupation, but when you consider the alternative and how much more can be made by literally killing yourself through the inhalation of noxious gases and chemicals, braving dynamite explosions, and the constant threat of cave-ins, these people are not free. It is incredible what they put themselves through to make enough money to support their families just so their sons can grow old enough to they themselves work in the mine. The youngest workers are 13 and the oldest...well the average life span of a man who makes a living in the mine is just over 50 years
So with this information we of course decided to go on a tour down in the mine! The first step was going to some ramshackle house where the guides stored all of the jumpsuits and helmets. We got equipped and went to the miner's market to see how simple it is to buy dynamite, everclear alcohol, beer, and coca leaves with a chalky accelerate. The guide, an ex miner himself, explained how in the mine the men can't eat because all of the particles in the air all of the time would make the food unhealthy to eat very quickly. So instead they chew massive wads of coca leaves all day and drink nearly pure alcohol. So we bought them some 'gifts' and went on our way. The mines are all privately run now by the workers and the side of the mountain is littered with shafts all worked by different mining families and groups. We visited one shaft that was run by upwards of 35 different workers and had 4 different main levels. As we embarked on our journey we were told to be very wary and always follow directions of the guide because as this was a working section of the mine there would commonly be 2 ton carts coming down the very same rails on which we walked. So as we headed deeper and deeper into the shaft we would get calls from ahead telling us to quickly get to a small outlet where we could squeeze ourselves against the wall and avoid being crushed. At one point or we had been instructed to hug the wall at a turn in the track when a cart came hurdling down the tracks and de-railed right in front of us nearly crushing the foot of our friend Polly. The tour continued with us meandering through the mine amid sulfuric fumes, bizarre rock formations, temperature upwards of 40*C and the constant booming of dynamite in the shafts ABOVE our heads! After about 2.5 hours below, experiencing the same conditions as the miners we came to realize how awful this life must be. When there are no other choices to support your family than to kill yourself on a daily basis...life isn't really life any longer.

Elmo sharing a beer with a miner who is setting a dynamite charge. This is one of the few shots from inside the mine that actually turned out

From Potosi we ventured on to Sucre, the capital city of Bolivia and were lucky enough to catch a rally car race around the city square. This massive event drew huge crowds and festivities throughout the weekend that made for a pretty exciting time.