there and back again
advertisements for the trip down down the death road, a 64km mountainbike ride from la cumbra to coroico descending a frankly absurd 3,600m, abound on the windows and flyers which scatter across the traveller ghetto of la paz. i´ve always found hyperbolic titles to be a sure precursor to disappointment and when we signed up for the trip i was more in expectation of a bumpy ride than any genuine near death experience, albeit with beautiful scenery on the way. as we stumbled into our bike company´s office at half seven in the morning , anticipation clearing the sleep from our eyes, and got kitted out with gloves, trousers, helmets and various other bits of safety paraphernalia the impression that this was a smoothly run risk free operation, a neat passage to a danger free adrenaline rush, continued to grow.we got driven up to 4,700m and, in the shadown of jagged white peaks, given our bikes, all thick tyres and absolutely incredible dual shock suspension: although i am, in general, a complete skinflint when travelling the decision to go with a more expensive company with better bikes was well worth it. the first couple of hours were an absolute pleasure as we swooped down steep ashphalt roads, kings of the road, overtaking bumbling lorries and being carefully edged past by other vehicles as we descended deeper into the valley. the danger was welcomely conspicuous by its absence but the rush was still very much present, painfully abetted by the lungbursting attempts to tackle what appeared to be a relatively minor uphill section: not easy at 3,800m.
that all changed for the final three hours when we left the smooth roads behind for a gravel dirt track, the true death road. it´s true i spent a number of years cycling around oxford but weaving between buses on iffley road is no preparation for what was to follow, a skittery descent on largely loose ground with vertiginous drops the possible reward for any mistakes. the benefit of the road being used by motor vehicles was the slightly flattened wheel tracks which were marginally easier to remain stable on. the downside, of course, was the real chance of spinning round a blind corner directly into one of the said vehicles. it didn´t help that we were obliged to cycle on the cliff side, inches away from the drop, and that the flattened line had a slight camber inclining downwards, to death, and were still peppered with any number of loose stones to contend with. every time, and it was initially at least a frequent occurence, my back wheel slipped on rocks and sent them tumbling over the edge trying to take me with them i had a little look down and a minor heart attack.
to be fair, i´m probably a bit guilty of hyperbole myself. despite constant tales of bikers going over the edge and having any number of commemorative crosses and other memorials pointed out to us, the actual risk of going over the edge was minimal, provided you respected the road. what was very real, however, was flipping over the handlebars as we tumbled downhill and succumbing to metamorphosis into a cuts and bruises fuelled heap. it didn´t help that we passed a couple of people as we went by who had come off their bikes and were bearing the scars and bloody bandages to demonstrate their untimely dismounts.
still we made it down to the end with any number of hairy moments but no real mishaps. arguably the most frightening thing was actually the drive back up the road in thick impenetrable fog, not so safely coccooned in a battered old 2 wheel drive people carrier. true not beig able to see the drop was something of a comfort but one that i would have happily traded for being able to see the dirt track through the windscreen. a long, exhilarating, day topped with an uncomfortable ride home, and i was relieved when my dust filled bloodshot eyes caught sight of the cereal bowl of fairylights that is la paz at night in the distance.
so the death road is done, and the tshirt is got. today is, i feel, a day for cups of tea.
posted by bicrom @ 5:12 pm
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