Michael: Bombing downhill

I have a confession to make. Yesterday, I played hookie.
Months ago, shortly after I had been picked to lead our team to Bolivia, I learned about the infamous “Death Road,” reputedly the most dangerous road in the world. The Yungas Road once claimed more deaths per year than any other in the world, due to its steep cliffs, narrowness, absence of guard rails, and heavy traffic. A new, parallel road was completed in 2006, removing most of the traffic. (Incidentally, the parallel road is in fact longer, and curvier, but it has consistent, paved lanes and guard-rails.) But the precariousness of the old road remains. Read all about it here: http://www.travel-bolivia.com/yungas-road.html.
My understanding is that this experience was originally on our agenda, but was removed a week or so ago, either because the district governor thought it to be too dangerous or because we had one fewer day on our schedule because of the delay in Sucre. I was disappointed, but resigned. But on Monday, I sat next to a man at a lunch Rotary meeting who told me the trip was not to be missed. The schedule appeared to have more school visits (of which we’d already done many) yesterday, so I asked the team if they wanted to go. After some initial enthusiasm, everyone backed out. So I went myself.
I signed on with the oldest touring company here, “Gravity Assisted Mountain Biking,” at a cost of $106. They began offering this trip in 1999, years before the new road. So in those days riders had to fight with traffic all the way. And it’s a busy road, as it is the only route from the Yungas to La Paz. They picked up two groups of around 15 people each at a downtown La Paz restaurant and took us by bus to an elevation of 15,400, beside an alpine lake, where the road to Corioco reaches its highest elevation. They outfitted us with matching red vests, a helmet, gloves, and an optional jacket and pants. It was cold but the views were spectacular, with white puffy clouds framing the high, rocky peaks. The first half of the trip was on pavement, which passed rapidly under our wheels. I stopped several times to take photos, but was still able to catch up with the others. The bikes were deliberately under-geared, to keep crazy people like me from going too fast.
The clouds thickened and soon the rains came, heavily at times. The area had more plants, larger and denser. We quickly became wet, with water soaking through our jackets.
We were given the option of riding an 8-kilometer section of mixed uphill and downhill, but our guide discouraged it given the inclemency. So our guides re-loaded the bikes and we rode to the “official” entrance of the Death Road.
As I mentioned, a new road was completed in 2006, so almost the entirety of the traffic is siphoned off the Death Road. Although it is still a public road, it is now almost devoid of motor vehicles. It has become the world’s most exciting bicycle route.
Good thing, too, because it is extremely narrow in places. I am accustomed to riding roads like this, because for decades I’ve been riding similar mountain roads in our Appalachians, both on bicycles and on motorcycles. The difference is that on the roads with which I’m familiar, if you go off the side you can fall 20 feet and get injured. If you fall off this road, you can fall 1000 feet and you will surely die. Our guide says even many bicyclist have done so, typically from simply standing or parking too close to the edge.
The upper portion of the road was wrapped in a dense fog, so I could sense little of the precariousness. It was perhaps a good thing, as I began to bomb along the road with a blissful exuberance. I was determined not to let the weather dampen my enthusiasm. As I told my guide at one of the many stops, I’ve been cold and I’ve been wet and I’ve been wet and cold. I can handle cold and I can handle wet. Cold and wet is miserable. At this point, we were wet but with the steadily decreasing altitude, the temperature was warming.
What was evident in the mist was the increasing foliage and jungle-like environment. At some places, there were impressive waterfalls spilling down from above. In others, there were streams of water spilling onto the road from overhangs. It was magnificent!
Further down the road, the rain stopped and the skies began to break, revealing imposing mountains, rounded by dense foliage. I began to peal layers of clothing, leaving the loaned pants and jacket in the bus. My bicycle was clearly intended to do this type of extreme down-hilling, with ample suspension front and rear. I could really fly on it!
Towards the bottom, we rode through two streams, re-soaking our feet. Finally we began to reach habitations. One village looked almost like a ghost town, where once travelers stocked up on Coca-Cola before braving the road, but now all the traffic was gone. We encountered only a smattering of vehicles the whole way, mostly motorcycles.
Our trip ended at an elevation of 5000 feet (10,500 lower than where we began) with lunch, showers, and a tour at a wildlife rehabilitation center, where parrots, monkeys, and other animals flocked around the grounds. That’s a story in itself, but I’ve got to get ready for our day, including a presentation to all seven La Paz Rotary clubs at lunchtime, then a bus transfer to our final city, Oruru, later this afternoon. Yesterday was my best day of the trip!