I love barry manilow and the death road
Trip Start
Apr 14, 2004
1
14
25
Trip End
Jul 27, 2004
Copacabana,
Bolivia
Saturday, June 26, 2004
so why not go to bolivia???
actually we had heard that most of the protests had died down, and the blockages removed, so we boarded the bus, and were on our way...now reunited with another couple whom i met in guayaquil and the galapagos, one of whom was a stereotypical loud italian man, who entertained himself and others at my expense...basically he tried to set me up with every girl he could find...unfortunately our ideas in what would make a suitable girl for me are greatly different, and i am still more than single...he would prove to be a most entertaining travelling companion for the next week or so...i think his wife thought she was looking after 2 children as we were constantly dissing each other like little kids the entire time...ahh good times...
we successfully crossed the border and were on our way to the lake crossing, which involved the passengers disembarking to be boated across, while our bus was ferried across by a boat that looked like it could go under at any moment...the bus was rocking back and forth the entire way, and i took photos of it from our boat, just to have a final shot of my backpack on the roof just in case that was the last time i would ever see it...everything made it across safely and we arrived in copacabana, to bright sunshine, so we made proper use of it...we stocked up on booze and sat on the deck of the 4 star hotel that they were staying in...ahh, livin the good life...after getting nicely lubricated, we set off to tackle the mountain next to the town for a view of the sunset...on the way we had to pass a miltary checkpoint just as the natinal anthem was playing...at this moment, somewhere in the back of my head i remembered reading something about standing perfectly still whenever you hear the bolivian national anthem being played...so i figured, seeing that these guys were holding big guns and i wasnt, maybe i should do exactly that...the anthem passed uneventfully, and we proceeded on our way...
four of us made it to the lookout point in time for a victory drink, but the italian never, so i was forced to bust his balls about it for at least a week...good ammo for the pissing contest it was...after dark we decided to head down, and it was discovered that lee had lost her wallet on the way up...so now it is dark, and we need to not only stumble our way down the hill, but also find a brown wallet...yah right...it never turned up, and after almost returning to the hotel, it is found in marias pocket...lee had given it to her for safe keeping, and they both forgot...silly chix...
the 5 of us booked a boat tour to see some ruins on the islands of titticaca, and were out on the slowest boat ever for the entire day...it had two outboard motors, but only used one, except for the last 20 minutes of the journey there, and he last 10 minutes of the journewy back...the reason, not enuff gas!!!oh hell, just charge an extra dollar each and bring enuff damn gas!!!after paying for the whole tour, the day consisted of entering sites and islands, where they always wanted 5 Bolivianos more...thats only about USD.60, but it gets rather annoying...at least when u hafta piss, u can just go outside if u r a dude, and u dont hafta pay for that too...
on our last night we met up with an irish couple, who we ventured on to la paz with...there we all arranged to do a mountain bike ride down the worlds most dangerous road...basically, it is a winding mountain road with sheer drop off cliffs for over a 100 meters at most points...they drive you to the top and give you a bike for the ride down...most points the road is only wide enuff for one vehicle, and if you come screaming around a blind corner and a vehicle is coming(which is usually a large truck), u either stop and make it to the side of the road, or die...either death by truck grill or freefall...either way, not much fun...the ride for the me and a few of the guys began on an offroad track for an hour or so of pushing our limits in biking skills...after which we raced down about 20 kms plus of asphalt to catch up with the ladies for lunch...being either daring or stupid, i spent the entire ride trying to keep up with/pass the lead guide, who is affectionately referred to as ¨truck bait¨...a successful trip down with no accidents, but we were able to view remains of several vehicles that made the plunge into the abyss on previous dates...apparently over 100 people a year perish on this road...sometimes 30 or 40 at a time when a bus goes over full of passengers...actually a truck went over 2 days prior, and talking with some other travellers a few days later, another car went over as well...this road has got to be seen to be believed...one of the guides took pics that you can look at online if u want, but most of them are of the girls at the back, as we were usually racin right behind the photographer, so not many action shots of yours truly...its worth a quik look tho, just to get a feel for this road, and the amazing scenery that accompanies it...
http://shutterfly.com/pro/GravityBolivia/June2004/20040617
The password for the above photo gallery is: photos
in total, we dropped about 3500 meters(i think) over 65 kms for the day...we arrived in a cool ass small town called coroico...here we showered and feasted on a buffet dinner, which at the time was quite tasty...however, my appetite got the better of me, and i went back to try the soup...it was quite good as well, until about 11:00 in the night when the god of hell fire laid his wrath down upon me...from that point on, it was hourly trips (on the hour) to the bathroom, where i sat on the throne with my head in a bag, removing the contents of my body from both ends simutaneously in rapid succession...not much fun, let me tell you...5 or 6 sessions later, and not much sleep, and everything seemed to be better, altho i basically ate nothing for the next 3 days...i can trace it to the soup, because i was the only one in the group to eat it...my guess is the water was not boiled long enuff, and thus my body did not appreciate whatever was in said agua...i dont want to know what it was either...the next day, we boarded the locals bus for the hair-raising trip back to la paz, via the death road...this was scarier than the bike ride because you had no control of the situation, the driver is old, the bus is dusty as all hell, and is also packed to the roof...all you can see is down from the windows...and i mean down, straight down...passing vehicles on that road is not the most secure activities i have ever been a part of, but i guess if i am alive to write this, it couldnt have been all that bad right???
well i am sick of staring at this computer screen, so i am outta here...
check u later,
