October 21. 2011
I've come to the
conclusion that I don’t like mountain biking. Give me a paved road and I’m
happy going up or down. But please don’t put me on top of a gravel path. I
don’t like trying to dodge rocks or the feel of the ground shifting under my
tires or the way my whole body vibrates and my brain bounces in my skull when
I’m going downhill. I think it would be great if I did like these things, and
lately I’ve given them several chances, but the truth is I don’t.
This is a somewhat recent
realization, and had I only come to it a week earlier, I could have avoided my
day on the Death Road. Named “The World’s Most Dangerous Road” by the
Inter-American Development Bank in 1995 because of the high numbers of
casualties that occur there, this road outside of La Paz has turned into a big
biking route for thrill-seeking tourists. (I, by the way, am not a thrill
seeker, but I do like being active and the biking option in La Paz seemed like
a good way to get a little exercise. Also, importantly, there is currently
little vehicular traffic on the road as a safer alternative route has been
created to connect the jungle and La Paz, so at least the cyclists aren’t
dealing with traffic on their ride.)
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| Packed and ready to go! |
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The protesters getting ready for the day.
Good thing we got the start we did. |
We were picked up for
our ride at 6:00am instead of the originally planned 7:30 to avoid protestors
that would be out later that morning. After an hour drive we arrived at the top
of the 4600 meter pass, had a quick breakfast in the cold, and then got our
gear. I was initially somewhat amused by all the equipment we received: knee
and elbow guards, heavy jackets and pants, a full-face helmet and gloves, as it
all seemed a little extreme, but I must admit, I did feel a little safer once I
put everything on. And, it was COLD, the extra layers were a good thing.
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| Getting geared up! |
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| Nothing's going to harm me in this garb! |
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| Nice helmet! |
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The next four hours were
less enjoyable for me. The first section of the death road is the most
technically difficult and dangerous and it’s almost always rainy at this point
of the ride. I hugged the mountain on this first section steering as far clear
as I could of the 1800 foot drop-off on the other. (Technically, downhill
traffic is supposed to ride on the left-hand (cliff) side and yield to uphill
traffic, but our guides told us to ignore that rule and stay as far away from
the cliff as we could—not a problem for me.)
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The
high tech gear turns out to not be waterproof.
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The
rain continued for the next two sections of the ride and while we stopped for
lunch, and I kept thinking to myself Why am I doing this? I
was so cold and wet by lunch that I was very close to getting back in the van
and riding the rest of the way down. (At this point of the ride, it’s usually
warm and people are shedding layers, but no such luck for us.) My friend Dylan
talked me out of it, though, and I hopped back on the bike.
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Lunchtime.
Dylan let me wear his wet jacket to try to warm up.
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| That's quite the drop-off |
This next section was a
flatter, wider section, which was fortunate because part way through the ride I
found myself somersaulting over my handlebars. I don’t really know what
happened. I was by myself and riding along, and the next thing I knew I was in
the air trying to figure out how best to land to prevent injury from the fall
or the bike crashing on top of me. Luckily, I was able to clear the space
before the bike landed. I felt a little bruised up and very grateful for the
gear I had mocked at the beginning of the ride. I was also a little shaken up
and had a quiet sob to myself as I hopped back on to the bike and caught up to some
others in the group. (I have to admit I was a bit disappointed no one was
around to witness my fall because I think it was probably pretty impressive.
I’ve tried to replay what happened based on my memory and the placement of my
bruises, but I’m not quite sure…)
About this point the
rain stopped and the road conditions got a little easier. I finished the ride
thinking I was glad I had done it (I would have wondered otherwise), but
confident I wouldn’t ever need to do it again.
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| Death Road Survivors |
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The next day and I half
I enjoyed La Paz by foot. La Paz is a city full of colors and pride. You walk
down the street and see woman in traditional dress selling all sorts of goods
from fruit to skirts to shovels to shampoo. They are all large, wearing similar
traditional clothes and two long French braids. I spent hours walking through
the central market just soaking up the vibe. I also witnessed some sort of
parade of women and men in all sorts of costumes and with all types of
instruments dancing through the streets.
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| Sampling of parade costumes |
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| Dancing woman |
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| View from our hotel |
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