La Paz (Bolivia)
06 May 2015 - 08 May 2015
Its been a few years since I've made a visit to these travels. I've moved so much in those years and my need to make a return to once again swimming in my vast sea of memories is being outrun by the hours I have available to me and the size of the task. My challenge now is to delve into the memory banks and studiously, meticulously, craft lines through what I can recall and tenuously trace that line from the now to the remembered without colouring too much of my memories with hindsight.
So I step back onto the salt flats in the Bolivian outpost of Uyuni. Described often as a bleak, unremarkable stop of necessity, it's commonly the point where journeys across the Salar end and where gringo's on the trail make up their minds as to where their finances may take them next. Five years earlier this would have been the next stop on my very first adventure to the South American continent but bad luck and a lack of commitment saw me return home with a pocket full of dreams and a head full of unfinished business...perhaps that should be written the other way around.
Salar de Uyuni - Uyuni - Bolivia
The train cemetery - Uyuini - Bolivia
For all the misdirected angst that Uyuni has absorbed, I'm here to tell you, it's not the Trumpian red state Republican disaster that you'd expect to ghoulishly arise from the the arse end of the Salar . Sure, tumbleweeds, dust filled tempests and lettuce infused sangria, crafted nonsensically by the locals, don't bode for a burgeoning metropolis of curiosity and thriving tourism, but still, as a stop of necessity it not entirely the disaster outlined in travel guides. With that said, its not more than a 20-25 min 'interest maintainer' either, so waiting 9hrs for a bus and chugging back Pedro's Bolivian adaptation of the Castellano love potion was more than just a lesson in tenacity and intestinal fortitude.
As night shades were drawn on Uyuni and we completed our 16th circuit of Uyuni uptown and downtown, Inga and finally outplayed father time and lined up for the midnight shuttle to the capital La Paz. Five years earlier I had entered La Paz via a different route from Santa Cruz, having busted out of the madhouse that was Comunidad Inta Wara Yassi. On that occasion we were held up inthe early hours of the morning by what looked to be a Wiphala protest of critical mass. On this occasion, as the early morning rays of light snuck into the aluminum cabin of this Bolivian transit vessel we found ourselves abstractedly drifting across landscapes of endless corn fields and potato farms, punctuated by the curious glances of bowler hatted men who must have been wondering if their cocoa leaves had been harvested in Colombia. We founds ourselves that morning literally traversing the fields of privately held farming land in the hope of finding a covert way into the capital of La Paz. Apparently, on this day, we had once again unwittingly fallen victim to yet another elaborate protest. On this occasion it was one being lead by disgruntled taxi drivers who had decided to block the main arterial lines into the capital. I'll never forget one encounter that morning, as this enormous commercial vehicle cut through private farming land, stopping by a farmer out to start his day and the bus driver pulled over and asked quite literally "do you know another way to La Paz from here" - he did not, but neither did he look amazed or even slightly amused by the situation, just like he had encountered this scenario hundreds of times previously.
La Paz - Bolivia
La Paz is an incredible city. Located in a large natural bowl-like depression, it is surrounded by the high mountains of the antiplano, holding the distinct honour of being the highest capital city in the world at an elevation of 3650 mtrs. This in itself makes walking feel like you've just inherited a continuous asthma attack, which I can confirm is exactly what the feel is. You deliberately grab for that additional half breath of oxygen anywhere you walk with the steep streets pushing your heart into the 200 bpm zone. Still, as your head swims and you take in the surrounds, house of adobe cascade down the hillsides into the city centre. It's dense but not in a claustrophobic way but in a manner that simply inspires awe. A true 'South American' city in the sense that the population is overtly indigenous, not some Spanish hybrid. It's lively, pulsating, chaotic, exhilarating and foreign, to me. I say 'foreign' in the sense that it's difficult to hang your hat somewhere and find something that relates, it's all so different.
La Paz - Boliva
La Paz - Bolivia
We selected the Rendevous Hostel for our few nights and were not at all disappointed by the choice. A warm, welcoming, quite cosy hotel/hostel in the good part of town. It was run by a Canadian who had transplanted himself to Bolivia after falling for the local produce and planting crops (so to speak), and may I had, also produced the greatest Manhattans that I've had in my life!
In addition to all of this, La Paz was the city where my my first adventure had halted. In the gringo invested backpacker hovel known as the Wild Rover my wallet had somehow sailed out of sight, never to be seen. I had myself a moment of small satisfaction when I stopped by the hostel, placed by hand on the front door and said 'I'm back, and now I'm leaving to finish what I'm left'. I promised myself to do that very thing 5 years ago when I made the choice to go home - to come back to this point, pick it all up and go again. Here I was.
In addition to all of this, La Paz was the city where my my first adventure had halted. In the gringo invested backpacker hovel known as the Wild Rover my wallet had somehow sailed out of sight, never to be seen. I had myself a moment of small satisfaction when I stopped by the hostel, placed by hand on the front door and said 'I'm back, and now I'm leaving to finish what I'm left'. I promised myself to do that very thing 5 years ago when I made the choice to go home - to come back to this point, pick it all up and go again. Here I was.
What to do in this city?
Surprisingly La Paz is filled with options for the curious, for the well heeled and for the stupid. It's an unexpectedly great city to explore and does provide opportunities for the adventurous. Just outside the city are the mountains that provide it with protection, and past that, and attraction well known around the world as the "Death Ride" along the Camino de la muerte.
The 'Death Road' - La Paz - Bolivia
The 'Death Road' - La Paz - Bolivia
I had done this ride previously in 2010 and was indoctrinated to the gang of the 'worried' with stories of cyclists gliding over un-barricaded bends and flights into the abyss via 200mtr sheer drops to the valley floor. Stories both manufactured and embellished to create the myth, and to create profit on the shoulders of legend. This time around I was more 'schooled' in the art of the camino but had promised Inga that we would take on this thrill ride as our first order of death defying business in a city where the art of civil liability, over protection and idiotic sensitivity has not as yet made its way.
The 'Death Road' - La Paz - Bolivia
The 'Death Road' - La Paz - Bolivia
The 'Death Road' - La Paz - Bolivia
Without so much detail as in previous writings I can add that the anxiety that builds up just prior to the start of the ride was familiar and I could see the thinly veiled nervous excitement coming out with each question directed as me as a now two time participant, "is it scary?", "is it safe?", "how do the bikes handle the terrain?" - and with each nonchalant response of "you'll be ok, I'm living proof", came the equally uncertain answer of "A-ha, ok".
Starting on quite stark, barren landscape at 4900mts, we were greeted with a dusting of snow as we cruised downwards in snake like formation, winding in and out of traffic with the full understanding that the real star was still some 20kms away.
The rally point, the station for final checks prior to the 30+ km ride is a subtle prayer stable. A place we reassurance is sought and blatant lies are accepted. The fact of the matter is that before you head off the uninitiated simply don't know what they don't know. The fear of failure could be broken limbs at best, death at the worst. The understanding being there have been those that have gone before and those that have told stories of their success. Inspiration for sure. A warranty and a promise to defeat the pessimistic among us.
In reality, the most daunting section is the first 200mtrs. The width of the road is a little more than a few meters and the drops are extreme. You realise quickly however that the real fear would lay in the hearts of the poor souls journeying up or down the road via bus where the ability of the driver and their general level of alertness is where the ownership of your future resides.
The ride itself is easy, not particularly challenging, but then you don't really need it to be. Dropping from 4900mtrs to 1300mtrs over 2hrs, from the barren lands of the mountains into rainforest, it's an experience that's worth taken on the mental challenge for, as that's all it is. The ability to allow the body to do something very basic whilst quelling those notes of self doubt and fear.
Worth doing? For sure.
Scary? Not the second time around but hey, I was living proof for the rest of them that this good be conquered without becoming victim #33.
Starting on quite stark, barren landscape at 4900mts, we were greeted with a dusting of snow as we cruised downwards in snake like formation, winding in and out of traffic with the full understanding that the real star was still some 20kms away.
The rally point, the station for final checks prior to the 30+ km ride is a subtle prayer stable. A place we reassurance is sought and blatant lies are accepted. The fact of the matter is that before you head off the uninitiated simply don't know what they don't know. The fear of failure could be broken limbs at best, death at the worst. The understanding being there have been those that have gone before and those that have told stories of their success. Inspiration for sure. A warranty and a promise to defeat the pessimistic among us.
In reality, the most daunting section is the first 200mtrs. The width of the road is a little more than a few meters and the drops are extreme. You realise quickly however that the real fear would lay in the hearts of the poor souls journeying up or down the road via bus where the ability of the driver and their general level of alertness is where the ownership of your future resides.
The ride itself is easy, not particularly challenging, but then you don't really need it to be. Dropping from 4900mtrs to 1300mtrs over 2hrs, from the barren lands of the mountains into rainforest, it's an experience that's worth taken on the mental challenge for, as that's all it is. The ability to allow the body to do something very basic whilst quelling those notes of self doubt and fear.
Worth doing? For sure.
Scary? Not the second time around but hey, I was living proof for the rest of them that this good be conquered without becoming victim #33.
