Finally, it is dark in the bus. Rambo was cut off at 11pm and the pale light of the the laptop screen is now the only shining thing. Everyone is asleep. Time for stories of death and sorrow.
But first for something completely different. It was an interesting time crossing the border from Peru to Bolivia. Neil, our G adventures guide turned into Juanito Gomez and blended in with the group. He had to disguise himself to avoid being seen as a tour leader and paying tax in Bolivia for his activities. Funny that so many things circle around taxes and how to avoid them in South America.
After we got our exit stamp in two different offices and exchanged our last Nuevos Soles into Bolivian Bolivars (Bs.), we had to walk 300m to cross the border to Bolivia.
Bolivia is a very poor country with poor people. But despite that, they are very friendly and proud.
The journey continued to Copacabana, a village at the shores of Titicaca, which gave the name to the barrio and beach in Rio. We had to switch busses there, and there was a delay, allowing us to explore the place and customs. Obviously, Bolivia was very cheap regarding almost everything. But as always, it comes with a price. While in Peru, people were a bit slow with everything, it seemed that here, there was a daily competition on how slow you indeed could serve a customer.
Neil, aeh, Juanito warned us about the food in Copacabana, but I still tried it. So it was my own fault. After a bad hot chocolate (apparently just a chocolate bar sweet half dissolved in hot milk) and a bad piece of lemon pie (dry and almost stale), I walked around the a few roads of village as I had ten more minutes before we would continue on the new bus.
It was time for another miracle, and so Charlie and George crossed my path, walking past me without recognizing me (well, that’s not a miracle, that happens all the time). But I did, and said Hi to them. It was only in March in the Pantanal in Brazil that I saw them last (well, and Bonito after the snorkeling). How random is that? (Later on the bus on the opposite side of the aisle, a guy sat beside me who was dancing at this restaurant in the Colca Canyon, hah.)
We crossed the Titicaca lake at a narrow spot, but we had to leave our bus and instead watch it going past us on a separate ferry. An hour later, we had left the lake and were ascending to the Altoplano. These high flats on over 4000m above sea level would later drop into the basin where La Paz poured into like butter in a pan (uhm…).
And the view of La Paz really was impressive with all the unfinished red brick buildings spreading upwards from the city center around every mountain around it. One weird thing, however, was the occasional life-sized puppet that hung on a lamp post like uhm… a hangman. What was that supposed to mean?
Maybe that’s a good transition to the issues of death from the beginning of this text. A holy seven of us opted for a full day mountain bike tour on the famous Death Road. This marvellous 64km piece of road more or less starts at 4700m in the Altoplano close to La Paz and goes down along a valley down to 1200m, crossing almost every climatic and vegetation zone available.
When we arrived at the starting point, we first were equipped with lots of gear and nice outfits before we tried our MTBs (Fullies) on the tar road. It was almost freezing. We were told not to take our cameras with us for security reasons, but really, I could have done that easily. There was a camera guy and he took a good amount of pictures and videos, but unfortunately, I didn’t have means yet to copy the CD onto my laptop somehow without a CD drive.
Reaching speeds of more than 50km/h on the way down, this was great fun and not too dangerous (except for overtaking those lame lorries). Little did we know that the best part was still to come.
After about 19km, we got back into our bus to skip 9km that were partly uphill. Then, the Death Road split into the old and the new part with the old a gravel rod being closed for the normal traffic since 1998 (I think). At this altitude, it already was getting warm enough to let go of all the warm clothes and only wear a jersey.
Remembering that during the time I worked at jambit, it was always this weekend in May that I was on a MTB at Lake Garda in Italy to do the Mountain Bike Marathon, this was very similar to those trails, except that it was ALL downhill.
Tom and I were always at the head of our group, just behind the guide, whereas the girls were going at more reasonable speeds. The moment you reach these speeds where you let go of your brakes and stop thinking on what could be happening, this is the moment where you start flowing. That priceless moment.
We drove through waterfalls, along steep cliffs and slippery stones and gravel bits. Fortunately, nobody was seriously hurt. Holly B. once lost control and slightly crashed into a wall and later on the last bit, jumped off her bike in an artistic way. Anna did a similar thing also on the last section and collected some dirt for her jersey. And Jana got a blister on the palm of her hand.
Tom and I also nearly lost control several times on the last section, which indeed was one of the trickiest bits. But luckily, we stayed on our bikes, except for the occasional sliding with one leg on the ground.
Our reward for surviving this foolish experiment was a nice meal and a swimming pool, where we could relax for a few minutes before we had to head back to La Paz.
On the way back, the guide told us the story behind the road, and how around 200 people every year died on the Death Road and that there must be thousands of cars, trucks and busses down the valley, reminding us of the lives that were lost.
Since the road was closed for traffic and converted into a tourist attraction, only 27 bikers had lost their lives. But accidents still happen, so it’s a good thing that we were able to get this free T-Shirt alive.
That was my last day with the group. Officially, my Inca Heartland tour ended with the arrival in La Paz and Steve and Cathy had already taken their flights home to Canada during the night. Neil, the tour guide had left back to Lima leaving the group to their new leader, Karina. Sarah would take the flight in the morning while Anisa still had a full day that we would spend together… before I finally was on my own again.
The group would continue on their Southern Cross tour that would take them to Uyuni, then Potosi, Sucre, Santa Cruz and then Brazil, terminating in Rio after another three weeks.
I was so wasted after the mountain biking that I overslept the next morning though I promised the guys that I would be saying Good Bye to them before they left. When I woke up, it already was 7:09am. Shiiiit… their bus was about to leave at 7am! I got dressed as quickly as possible, rushed down to the other hotel and saw a yellow bus in front of it. Just seconds before departure I arrived and all of my fellow travellers came out to say farewell. This was both a wonderful and very sad moment for me.
We had so many great days together and that was also because they all were great people. Real characters with distinct personality. I will miss Neil, Steve and Cathy, Tom and Holly, Craig and Jana, Paul and Charlotte, Gemma, Holly B., Sarah, Anna and Anisa. I really would love seeing them again somewhere or welcome them back in Munich. Time will tell.
But first, I will try to see the Southern Cross people again for the last time in Potosi on my way south.
