Bolivia - Death Road

The owners of the hostel I stayed at in San Pedro advised me to sit on the left hand side of the bus from Arica in Chile to La Paz in Bolivia for the scenery, so I did. It was a very enjoyable drive for the first hour until we descended high into the mountains and I looked down to see 6 or 7 trucks and busses down the bottom of a very steep gully. It sent chills through my entire body. They looked like toy trucks. I closed the curtain for a while. How did this Alpaca get here? By walking the dangerous road, dodging traffic we imagine - the cliffs either side were too steep to scramble for many kilometres. I wonder..

Compared to other South American countries I have recently visited, the drivers in Bolivia are a reckless – perhaps on par with Kenya. There were a lot of road works taking place and I counted 6 accidents – one was a truck with its right front end smashed and hanging just over the cliff with a might big drop down. I think silent prayers through the whole bus were keeping us ticking. It was a very long 13 hour trip.


About an hour before the border into Bolivia (one of the highest border crossing in the world) it started to rain hard. When reaching the border we had to stand in the rain to collect our bags then wait for Immigration to do their thing. One young lady from Hong Kong was taken off the bus first (while the rest of us waited about 40min). When we entered the building we learnt that she had been detained. She was upset and distressed. They had confiscated her passport and would not tell her what was going on. We think she may have needed a visa as she did not have one. Unfortunately we had to leave her there. The scariest reports I have heard about border crossings are those in Bolivia. I hope she is ok.


It rained all the way to La Paz only to get soaked again when unloading our luggage. I then waited 20 min with about 15 other locals who were in line before me for a taxi that never came. I figured I was already wet through, so walked the 2km to my hostel. It was 9pm and I welcomed the hot shower and comfortable bed that was waiting for me.

As soon as I arrived to the hostel and checked in, I organised the tour I had heard so much about and the 1 reason I decided to make the journey to Bolivia. To ride the ‘Death Road’ – known as the worlds most dangerous road (WMDR). I was excited but still slept soundly.

I woke up before my alarm at 6.50am, had a shower and waited patiently for the tour guys to arrive at 7.30. I went with the company called Overdose and they were brilliant. It was a 1 ½ hour climb to the top of the mountain (4,700m) where we were greeted with snow and a brisk - 4˚C!

We were given wind jackets, wind pants, gloves, knee pads, shoulder pads and helmets. The experienced guides were great at giving safety instruction and then gave us our bikes to try out. I was shocked at the number of riders who had little to no experience on a bike. The journey down was slow in a combination of heavy fog, rain and sleet.


The first 30km was a good asphalt surface to get used to the bikes. We spent most of it riding through thick cloud and felt the painful sensation of the numbness working from the finger tips passing through the knuckles – our feet were also numb as were our exposed faces – it was a struggle to talk without sounding like we just had 4 wisdom teeth extracted.

Then we reached the gravel road marking the beginning of the Death Road. Again we were high in the clouds which I believe was a blessing as it allowed many of us to breathe normally – some weren’t yet ready to witness the several hundred metre drop with the unsteady surfaced road and no barrier protection!

The last tourist mountain biker to die on this road was in May. It was a young Japanese girl. Until the new road was built in 2006, an average of 200 people perished on this road each year – many of them locals on crammed buses. Having now ridden it, I can easily see how. The roads are so narrow, the corners blind and tight. There are few safety barriers and few who travel at slow enough speeds to avoid the oncoming traffic. Frankly, I am surprised that not more inexperienced mountain bikers haven’t taken flight off the edge. I am thankful we had sensible, safe guides to keep egos at bay.

About half way down the WMDR, the clouds cleared (or rather we rode below them) and we could finally appreciate the spectacular view. It was a rather hairy sight, but remarkable. One lady was so frightened she stuck as close to the inside cliff as possible, only to come unstuck and face plant into the tiny stream weaving its way throught the rocks cars fling to the side. It didn't take long for her to realise that there were less loose rocks and safer a litle more toward the centre.

The ride was a total of 64km – predominately downhill. It took approximately 4 hours with stops for rest and regathering, snacks and equipment checks. With the weather so bitterly cold at the top, we had a number of layers on. At the bottom it was very warm so we managed to strip layers along the way.

After a hearty buffet lunch and relax, we drove about 3 ½ hours back to our hostel arriving just after 8pm. I had a bus booked to Arequipa in Peru at 7.30am the next morning but after a busy few days of travelling, I decided to postpone by a day and have a chilled day walking the city.
La Paz is big and busy. Known as the city that touches the sky, it is perched at 3,640m above sea level which explained my relatively mild but annoying altitude headache. It is surrounded by suburban covered mountains and is famous for its ‘Witches Market’ which is definitely worth a visit.

There are bottles filled with what I can best describe as ‘special potions’ and dead Llama Foetus. I am sorry but those things hanging are not toys. When a Llama is pregnant, she usually carries twins and one is almost always born stillborn. The locals somehow decided it would be a good idea to preserve them to give as gifts. I am sure there is more to it than that but what reason that may be I am unsure.

It is the wet season here and unlike Northern Australia, when it rains (which is every day) it is quite cold. The walk around town, its steep windy roads and funky markets made it easy to brave the weather. I was amazed by how many women wore traditional clothing – it still is the norm here, unlike many towns where they are on show for tourists. I loved observing them, especially in the mountains in their native environment. It was so natural. I hear Cuzco is much the same.

Once again I met some sweet, very interesting people which made my decision to stay worthwhile.