
Jacaranda Journey

November, 2014
Passage Note #71 Part I: Bolivia - Extreme Thrills
Bolivia is extremely and uniquely thrilling....or rather, it has some extreme thrills that are unique to Bolivia. Not for the faint hearted. So this Passage Note describes a couple of them - some of which we experienced ourselves ......and some of which we didn’t.
The Thrill of High Altitudes
Adventure can be addicting. Bolivia is a great place to look for that extra high. And we mean high!
When you fly into the world’s highest international airport outside of the capital city of La Paz at 13,325 feet .....you are almost half as high as a jetliner's cruising altitude!!! Because of the thin air, takeoffs require a longer runway (5km) and landings come in at twice the normal speed. Planes are equipped with special tires to withstand the extreme forces of longer stopping distances (Lonely Planet).

The city sprawls below a plateau where the world's highest international airport is situated at an alititude of 13,325 feet above sea level

The city sprawls below a plateau where the world's highest international airport is situated at an alititude of 13,325 feet above sea level
Travel brochures are full of cautionary warnings about altitude sickness: walk, don’t run (as is customary) to get into the immigration line when you get off the plane - move slowly or you will be seriously out of breath and may suffer medical complications.... Travelers to La Paz often become ill the moment they arrive in the city..... on your first night in La Paz you are likely to find difficulty in breathing and wake up panting for breath...... if you are young and healthy don't be lured into a false sense of security: take it easy.” And on and on. Although we had been to high altitude Ecuador and Peru with no problems, Linda began to feel sick when we arrived at 2 a.m. We knew it wasn't a good idea to take a red-eye flight but the price was right - sleep disruption (or lack of), middle of the night arivals, and extreme altitudes are a deadly combination meaning you do not hit the streets running the next day but require time to recover and acclimate. From the cold, uncomfortable third-world airport, we went straight to our hotel in the center of the city (1,500 feet lower makes a big difference) and began to ply her with coca tea - a local remedy. She immediately felt better and we both slept most of the next day.
As an adventurous traveler blogged: “Traveling in Bolivia is notoriously fraught with difficulty, and not just because of the altitude, which can cause headaches, dizziness and in rare cases life-threatening illness. Local communities often express their frustration with the government by throwing up roadblocks that can leave travelers stranded for days or even weeks. And deficient standards of hygiene mean that gastrointestinal problems are de rigueur for any Bolivian visit. But to the young and thrill-seeking, for whom “extreme” is a selling point rather than a warning, these traveling tribulations are simply a different sort of adventure.”
So............Welcome to Boliva!
The Thrill of The Death Road
The Most Dangerous Road in the World - also grimly nicknamed “The Death Road” - is perilous and frightening third world infrastructure ironically turned into an adrenalin-pumping downhill mountain bike ride that appeals to tourists. For some reason it appealed to us too....so we did it. Hmmmm. Maybe we have become a little addicted to adventure.
The 40 mile Death Road begins at a cold foggy barren mountain pass near La Paz called La Cumbre (15,265 feet above sea level) and descends 12,000 feet to connect to the balmy jungle resort town of Coroico. A new road replaced it in 2006 but when this Old North Yungas Road was the only way to get from the rainforest to the capital city, daily traffic was heavy and 200-300 people died each year. In 1995, the Inter American Development Bank tagged the highway "The Most Dangerous Road in the World”.

You are not between a rock and a hard place here - but between a mountain and a 1800 foot abyss.

You are not between a rock and a hard place here - but between a mountain and a 1800 foot abyss.

200-300 people died each year on the Old North Yungas Road. It was replaced by a new road in 2006

200-300 people died each year on the Old North Yungas Road. It was replaced by a new road in 2006
Several conditions make it so dangerous. It is narrow - 10 feet wide (barely one lane) - steep, twisty, with a slippery gravel and rock surface having sheer 1,800 foot drop offs and no guard rails. In some places it is impossible for two cars to pass each other. Frequently a dense fog rising from the lowlands and valleys reduces visibility to zero and tropical rains mean road collapses, washouts and crumbling edges. Packed buses used to transport locals despite the weather conditions. There are some horrifying videos on Youtube of vehicles going over the side. With it being repurposed mainly for cyclists (but not exclusively - there are still trucks and cars using it), the death statistics continue - 20 cyclists have died since 1998.
We signed on with High Altitude Biking, suited up in full protective suits and helmets, and mounted our sturdy mountain bikes. A guide led our group of 16. A van and another guide took up the rear (where we stayed). Special traffic rules apply on this road - downhill drivers keep to the left at the outer edge of the cliff - (forced to slow down, they can better spot oncoming traffic around the blind hairpin turns and watch their tires for navigating the edge). No way!!! We hugged the mountainside anyway. Along the route we sped past traces of accidents and reminders of the dangers.....truck and car parts, broken trees, commemorative crosses.
The scenery was glorious - what little of it we stopped to enjoy during a few brake checks - we couldn’t afford to look up from the steep road, needing to intensely concentrate on the gnarly rutted, pebbly nemesis below our tires. You can’t afford a distraction here - it could be fatal!! You fly downhill pulled by gravity, bikes in high gear, cramped hands squeezing those brakes, still going too fast for comfort some of the time. No need to pedal. Two guys in our group fell and we passed a caravan of 6 motorcyclists, one of whom had skidded out, luckily toward the mountainside.
When we started the trip, on a short stretch of paved road in the altiplano, our hands were so cold in the numbing mountain air that they were almost frozen to the handlebars. It became warmer and warmer as we descended and we were able to shed our biking suits little by little until we were left to ride in our own clothes with only the protective knee and elbow pads remaining. Yet it was our hands that ached the most from squeezing those brakes to counteract the speed from sheer gravity. No need to pedal.

Our group photo on one of the curves

Our group photo on one of the curves



Chuck with his bike

Chuck with his bike
Four exhilarating hours later, our reward was a swim and poolside lunch at a little hotel at the bottom in tropical Coroico, relaxing and unwinding our tense, rattled bodies, stiff hands gripping cold drinks now. On the 3 hour van ride back to La Paz - via the new replacement route - we sported our new souvenir T-shirts, glad to be “Survivors” of the Death Road.
The Thrill of Claustrophobia in the Potosi Silver Mines
Cerro Rico (“Rich Hill”), overlooking the city of Potosi, singlehandedly bankrolled the wealth and power of colonial Spain with its motherlode of silver. For five hundred years this mountain has been mined by people enduring the most abominable and deadly conditions. 8 million indigenous and African slaves died during colonial times. Not much has changed except the silver has pretty much run out and the miners are mostly poverty-stricken independents who dig a tunnel anywhere they want to. There are no rules - no engineers, no geologists, no structural or safety regulations.
That’s just one of the reasons we said no thanks to the silver mine tours of Cerro Rico (known as “the peak that eats men”) and chose to give this thrill a miss. Claustrophobic activities like spelunking or squeezing into dark cramped spaces in the bowels of the earth are just not for us. The health hazards are as real to tourists as they are to the miners themselves - toxic exposure to arsenic, asbestos, cyanide and silica dust. And Cerro Rico has been so hollowed out by tunneling, like swiss cheese, that a group of American mining engineers has declared it overdue for a total collapse on itself.

