I´M ALIIIIVE!!!

The Yungas road, a.k.a Death Road has been proclaimed the world´s deadliest. Indeed, in passing along this very road, one can see dozens of crosses standing testament to its steady diet of about 200-300 poor souls a year.

Behind the crosses - nothing, air for thousands of feet straight down. There was lots of talk about the Israeli guy who´d died only three weeks back.
So of course, tourists flock to La Paz every year to merrily ride bicycles down. Two days ago, I was one of them.
I found the cheapest agency I could and got picked up at 8 in the morning the next day. An hour drive brought us to a glacial lake where other agencies were unloading their gringos as well. There wasn´t a single native doing the ride, I can only guess they all know better. I strapped on my helmet, put on my orange and gray jumpsuit, and had some crackers. I couldn´t help but think, "These could be the last crackers I ever eat." I enjoyed them to the fullest and slapped myself.

The launching point

We started at above 5,000 meters. The first section was on a highway and all downhill, so i trailed the guide flying through the thin and frigid air.

The first part

We were doing that for about and hour and a half then ran into a few inclines. I´m proud to say I was one of the few to motor through only on bike, not walking or pussing out and getting in the bus. No pain no gain. Finally, we reached the fork in the road where the left continues on safely with comparitively soft-looking asphalt, and the right winds off into the mist and gravel. At that altitude, you´re basically always in a cloud, which was probably a blessing to blindfold us from the spine-tingling dropoff to our left.

Taking a break
A waterfall
A dramatic misty shot

We took the first part slowly, which nobody argued with since the path appeared to disappear a hundred feet ahead in the fog. The more we descended, the warmer and clearer it got. At last, when most of us had gained a little confidence on the bike, we began pushing the speed. The path widened and the dropoff was more of a slope, so I felt free to really let loose. I stuck to the guide and raced downhill. I got in a little silent competition with this German girl, who was a crazy horse beast, and we went neck and neck trying to keep up with the guide. Dust flew in my eyes and my butt, arms, and fingers ached like hell, but I was having the time of my life. I lost myself to the speed and adrenaline and the final hour was a blur. I do remember I beat Hitler though.

Me and Diego cooling off at the bottom

So in the end, it turned out to be much more fun than dangerous, in my opinion you´d have to be pretty foolish or incompetent to actually go over the edge. I know I´d do it again in an instant. It´s defintely been the highlight of my stay in La Paz, which has been nice all around. Here are some photos to serve as some cool-down viewing after that super-intense adventure blog.

Coming into La Paz, the view of the city from my bus
Look, Uma - in Bolivia, you´re bagged water! Cool!