January 1st, 2006

Change of pace. We have mellowed out long enough and were now ready for some serious action. Even before we entered Bolivia, Shurik was thumbing through the Bolivia section in our guide book and stumbled across something called The Death Road. “Stasya!” He turned to me all excited, “Wanna go up to 4700m on a van and then ride a bicycle downhill 64km on the most dangerous road in the world?” “Ahem… No! Do I look like I have a death wish?” It was an honest response. I haven’t been on a bike since the fifth grade! Now, that was about a week ago and since then the subject didn’t come up until Jurgen asked: “Are you guys doing the Death Road?” To my surprise it took both of us about two seconds to reply “Sure!”, and that very day was spent on searching for the best and cheapest guide to lead us down the mountain. I have to say though; this decision was truly in the spirit of our whole journey. There is a very good Russian saying: “In every joke there is a smidge of truth,” and this saying has been so very true for us. Many things that we have done, including the decision to go around the world itself, started as nothing but a joke. A silly idea that is thrown out there and then actualized against all odds.

Can’t say I wasn’t nervous. They say you don’t forget how to ride a bicycle, but I didn’t believe “them”. All I hoped for were good brakes and for the waterproof garments that were given to us by the guide to actually be waterproof. Well, as usual you can’t always get all you want, but one out of two is still better then none. After they were tuned to my size and strength, the breaks worked pretty well even though at certain points I ended up helping myself along by digging my heels into the ground. The waterproof pants I was given though were a completely different story. The thing is that the first 15km of the Death Road was paved so it was easier to ride on and get used to your bike. However, it was incredibly cold due to the altitude and, to make matters worse, it was raining, and at the speeds we were able to reach on the asphalted road, this rain felt like hail of frozen needles. To say the least, by the end of this first run we were all wet down to our underwear, waterproof pants or not…

Next came the really exciting part. After a short break we turned onto the portion of the road that some say on average claims one traveler’s life a day. It was a narrow sort of dirt with bits of gravel road that we could see snaking down along the mountain. A stone wall with an occasional waterfall on your right and a very scenic and steep drop down on your left. To our surprise we were asked by the guide to stay on the left side of the road. It sort of made sense. The road is used by all means of transportation, and all the cars and trucks going up and down road kept on the left side of the road as well, presumably so that their drivers would have a better view of where the edge or the wall is. Also, on the left side of the road, about half a foot from the cliff, was a small portion of road that had almost no boulders and rocks as if it was “specifically designated” for cyclists and their need for a smoother ride. Perfect. Immediately I saw myself riding off the cliff after being spooked by any mundane thing on the road and even though there were very compelling arguments to stay on the left I went straight down, right in the middle, were it was nice and bumpy. I have to say — not the best strategy ever. Avoiding the cliff just made it easier for the cars to run into me. Most of the time I was able to see them coming from afar, but on one occasion I missed a van climbing up the hill and saw it only when it came out from behind the curve and we both stopped in our tracks, bumper to wheel.

It was all exciting and a bit scary, but I haven’t realized the gravity of it all until one of our pit stops turned out to be right next to a memorial plaque for an Israeli girl who rode off the cliff in that very same spot. “My parents told me about this one,” said one of the girls in our group, a Swiss Jew who frequently visited Israel. “She complained about her brakes, but was told not to worry about it.”

Tags: cycling, extreme
Posted in Places»South America»Bolivia | No Comments »

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