Death and the Death Road

Death and the Death Road

I know there have been a lot of cemeteries so far but I find the South American cemetery aesthetic pretty interesting. There is a sense that in these cemeteries there is still life, people visit regularly and they leave flowers and all sorts of things symbolic to the person departed. 

Unfortunately it was a fleeting visit because I was not feeling very well thanks to Bolivian food. I had to rush back to the hostel to lie down and recover whilst it was the war of the worlds in my stomach.

The following day I went with some hostel friends to the infamous DEATH ROAD. It was a bleak and cold morning. At high altitude, the mountains were shrouded in clouds and mist, it was freezing cold. With a distinct lack of motivation or enthusiasm I got into my bike gear and we were talked through the basics of what to do, what not to do. Ok, riding a bike is fairly simple but we are about to descend a mountain road where hundreds of people have died. The ten minute briefing can be summarised as such - when you take a corner don't drop the pedal you're going to be leaning in on, these are the breaks, this is how they work, this is the suspension. Good luck.

We set off on the first section of road which fortunately was tarmacked. I was breaking, no one else seemed to be, they were flying down the road. I was frozen, wind and rain lashing my face as sped down. Blinking frantically as drops of rain pelted my face, I was slowly but surely losing all feeling in my fingers. They were screaming with pain going numb. I was miserable and soaked when we got to the first stop point for some tea and breakfast, asking myself what on earth I was doing. At the same time I was annoyed I wasn't getting into it more, I was such a rough and tumble child, what had happened? Felt strange in the realisation that quite a lot of time had passed between those days and now.

It was a catch twenty two, eat and aggravate the beast living in my stomach or don't eat and cycle miles in the cold and rain. I decided the energy was more important than the risk of having to find a road side spot. I took my chances and ate the unexciting egg roll and had some coca tea.

The DEATH ROAD section of death road was a in all honesty terrifying. Lose stones and gravel, chewed up and uneven, twists and turns. That said, if I didn't have my eyes glued to the road to watch where I was going the scenery would have been stunning. A beautiful place to meet your end, but a pretty nasty way to go, falling into the Bolivian abyss. Sight and scenery seeing clearly not an option, fearing for my life, white knuckled fingers gripped around both breaks. Sheer drops into a seeming infinity of foliage growing out of the gates of hell. One beautiful hell. But hell nonetheless. Certain death, a one way ticket to the cemetery. I couldn't put my parents through that, I don't think they even know I'm in La Paz, let alone embarking on this insane gringo adrenaline rush.

It's true that not many places other than Bolivia would a ride like this be possible. The would simply never exist in England. Health and safety field day. It's difficult to fathom that it's even allowed here, given that it's clearly so risky.

The thing was that breaking actually made the ride down hill over the lose stones and gravel more precarious and dangerous. It was a very bumpy ride. I kept thinking - shit I need to catch up with everyone I'm bringing up the rear here. I like bikes, I was a rough and tumble fearless kid, I shouldn't be one of the last. Letting go and having faith was curiously 'safer' than using the breaks. It was fun when you thought - fuck it, but then you'd have a scare and start breaking again, making the bike more slippery again, kind of a vicious cycle.

It was a long ride and fortunately it got warmer and I settled into the feeling of the prospect of death lurking around every corner as I cycled around the bends at speed over the lose stones right next to vertical drops of hundreds of meters. The flashes of scenery I caught from inside my restricted helmet vision was stunning. Stunning landscape, stunning nature. The depth in all the folds in the mountains, jagged edges jutting out into the misty air, covered in vegetation ranging from lush green tropical plants to cold harsh hardy trees with floral bursts of colour now and then.

Maybe I should have just walked it! I think I might have enjoyed it more, at least then I could have taken it all in.

It was really a race, a race to the death (the end) and to avoid death. People were crazy about going at full pelt. I was happy when it was over. We got to a small hotel/restaurant with a pool where we lounged and ate for the rest of the afternoon. It wasn't warm but the climate was far more agreeable than the dizzyingly cold highs of La Paz. Weary, still ill and strung out from the prolonged adrenaline rush, I lay down in the Sun.

Gringo adrenaline fix and fortunately I escaped my own trip to the cemetrary.