Starting high in the Bolivian Alps, lies the world’s most dangerous road, known as the Road of Death (El Camino de la Muerta), built in the 1930’s. The locals say, “It’s not the condition of your vehicle that counts, prayer is the only way to travel the road in safety”.
Plunging most 3.600 metres, on narrow 64 kilometre trail, has no protection, no guard rails, steep walls that drop away, hundreds of metres to the Coroico River far below below. Fatal accidents every two weeks is common, with around 200 – 300 deaths every year. You will see both drivers and passengers feeding the dogs that live at the base of the mountain, so as in to satisfy the earth deity Pachama. Drivers are frequently heard praying to as they negotiate the deadly bends and narrow pathway, that is given the doubtful title of a roadway.
At a cool 4,700 metres, lies the bleak and windswept La Cumbre, one of the globe’s highest cities, enclosed by glaciated peaks, the beginning of the world’s deadliest gravity-fed bike ride.
As the group of bikers ready themselves to take up the remainder of the challenge of the most treacherous road on earth, after having flown down the short introduction at tear streaming speeds of 80 km per hour, the guide instructs them firmly, “Make sure you give way to everything bigger than yourself.”
It is not unheard of for one of the tourist cyclists backs out and returns to La Paz in one of the minibuses. Because of the density of the bush, you can’t hear vehicles horns blowing around the corner. Drivers pause to offer beer libations onto the ground. Chewing coca leaves so they will keep awake, the drivers take off at break-neck speeds in vehicles that are not fit to be used on any road. Clapped out and grossly overloaded buses complete the traffic pandemonium.
Not everybody who is brave enough to travel the road,makes it safely. Signs of former accidents are easily seen. There are no emergency services available on this remote road.
At the finish of the ride, the cyclists, having dropped 3,600 death defying metres, relax in a bar drinking their margaritas. It’s not the legs or arms that hurt from the effort, but the hands, from so much braking throughout the white-knuckle gravity-fed journey down the mountain.
A much safer road that will substitute the current death trap, has been twenty years in the making and is nowhere near completion yet.
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