Mountain Biking the World's Most Deadly Road – La Paz, Bolivia

The word death invokes a finality that means no return.  Kaput, finito, finished… there is no coming back from it.  How insane is it to take a gamble and play Russian Roulette on a mountain bike, coasting as fast as eighty kilometers an hour down a one lane highway through mountain passes arrogantly towering above like Tsunami tidal waves.  Like lemurs following the chief lemur over a cliff, backpackers follow a guide down the most dangerous road in similar fashion in order to experience the ultimate adrenaline rush that $100 USD can buy.

There are dozens of extreme adventure agencies in the city that specialize in the Death Road mountain bike experience.  So it’s just a matter of finding the one that best suits you.  Your cash covers transport, meals, gear, and a battle tested mountain bike that you can probably buy used on Craigslist for less than $100 bucks. 

Don’t think you’re the first to do such craziness.  Nearly 30,000 tourists ascend to a height of over 4600 meters to do just that.  It’s the frenzy of the mob mentality when you are backpacking along the Gringo Trail.  It’s momentum pushing you to push your comfort zone further, higher, and faster in order to feel the rush of victory.   You engage in risky behavior, disregarding your sanity because let’s face it; your ego loves the exhilaration of escaping death. 

Granted, it’s done with an enormous amount of precaution and the expertise of guides who do this daily and with years of experience.  However, despite all the precautions and safety measures one takes, there are the cold hard facts that not everyone is so lucky.

The original road was built in the 1930’s by prisoners and wasn’t until the 90’s that it became a popular with trill seeking tourists.  At that time, nearly 300 motorists are said to have perished each year.  By 2006, that number was reduced to about 200.  Today, it’s considerably safer.  Occasionally, a cyclists is a victim.  But their are no reliable statistics.

We left La Paz early in the morning by bus.  There were about fifteen of us in total, from all parts of the globe with two guides.  Once we arrived to La Cumbre, at about 4700 meters, we picnicked for breakfast on the side of the road.  Soon after we geared up and began our descent.  It was the safest, yet fastest stretch of the seventy-kilometer descent.  The first thirty or so kilometers are along a paved two-lane highway.  Hardly any vehicles except for the occasional truck or bus passing by, as we dove downhill.  You’re free to go at your own pace, but the guides push you to go faster and the only way to do so is with no brakes.  Winding effortlessly, it felt like gliding on air with minimal resistance.  What a rush! 

Not even ten minutes into the first leg of the descent, we experienced our first accident.  Three members of our group ate it – HARD! Common sense would tell you to give some distance between you and the next bike, but I guess with the awesome views, these three were dangerously close to each other in a single file line.   All it takes is a small rock on the pavement and boom; your ass is flying like a desperate Hail Mary pass into the endzone.  Luckily, there were no broken bones, just nasty concrete burns and bruises.  The rigamortis the body experiences after death can happen in the living when you smash your body, bending limbs in directions yoga can’t mimic.  But somehow, despite their stiffness, they managed to continue. 

About an hour in we made it to the part of the pass that turns to gravel.  It’s much narrower from here on out, at times, only by a width of three meters.  The road snakes and side wines along the edge of mountains with cliffs that drops six hundred meters in some places.  We were told a few weeks ago, a tourist died when he failed to anticipate the edge at the speed he was going and went over like a man shot out of a canon.  Unfortunately, there was no net to catch him.  By this time we descended down to about 2500 meters.  The temperature was much warmer and the vegetation turned subtropical.  Rather than snow and ice, we began to experience the mist from the waterfalls that we occasionally passed.  The gravel often turns muddy making wipeouts quite common.

From here on out, it’s much more technical.  You really have to anticipate the bends and the gravel adds to the abuse you and the bike take.  If you’ve made it this far, chances are you’ll be fine the remaining 1500 meters.  We concluded the ride at the a small hamlet where the buses are waiting to take you back to La Paz, but not before some well deserved beer and an all you can eat lunch at a local restaurant.  In all, it took about fours and to earn the title and rush of surviving the world’s most dangerous road.    

 

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