The World's Most Dangerous Road -- Part II

Sorry for the delay in the story, readers... Since posting Part I of the story, I have left La Paz, have gone through southwest Bolivia, and have ended up in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile. It’s another long story that will get written about, but long story short is we barely had any hot water or electricity, so internet wasn’t really going to happen....

So where were we? Oh yes, I had just fallen off of a cliff and was not mortally wounded, we were approximately half way through our ride on Death Road, and my wrist and pride hurt a bit.

Sadly (or not) I don’t have any crazy tales to tell about the last half of my ride. Things went as smoothly as they could have and eventually I ended up at the front of the pack again. :) We did a few flat portions that actually required pedaling much to the dismay of the smokers with zero lung capacity and after those, we had a few more areas where we let loose and

raced each other. Then, it was over.

The van got to the end point shortly after all of the bikers arrived and

we began to make piles of the equipment we had used. Everyone was really excited for 4 things: to get out of our gross and sweaty clothing, to eat lunch at the animal sanctuary that was right beyond where we ended up, to play with the animals at the sanctuary, and the FREE BEER we would receive there!

But first, there was a bridge with the sign to the right: "WARNING. BRIDGE UNDER MAINTENANCE. Only one person at a time."

Of course I took a picture, because nothing screams “Cross Me!” like a sign that implies it might break. But I had just fallen off of a bike on the World’s Most Dangerous Road, so this stupid bridge was not going to deter me from getting the 3 wonderful things mentioned above.

We walked through a path with tropical trees and remarked how funny it was that we had started in an area with ice and no plants and ended up in a humid jungle with massive palm trees. At the end of the path, 2 playful dogs and 2 sanctuary volunteers met and greeted us. We were corralled under a pavilion to drink our beers, to get our free Gravity t-shirts, and to listen to the rules of the sanctuary:

“We have several types of animals here, all of whom have been rescued, usually from the black market. They have all had very rough lives before coming here, as evidenced by the scars and their sometimes scared behavior. Some of the monkeys are ridiculously smart. They have been trained to pickpocket and do generally bad things, and they are extremely smart, so we have to keep the adults tethered. All of the monkeys may jump on you but you are not supposed to touch them. If you don’t want a monkey on you, please don’t scream and yell -- monkeys hate loud noises and they may freak out. Close all door behind you AT ALL TIMES! There is nothing worse than a monkey getting into the kitchen and throwing his hands into your

pasta or worse, one getting a hold of a knife...”

And so it went, with various other instructions about some other animals, though mostly focusing on the monkeys. After our talk, I played with the dogs a bit, walked past the parrot area, and was careful to close the door tightly behind me once I reached the cafeteria. We ate a nice meal of pasta, veggies, and salad and I quickly ran out so I could maximize my time with the monkeys.

So cute! There were 3 different species of monkeys to see, and all were amazing! The babies came close to me, one posing for photos for a bit and another taking refuge from the others under my legs while I sat on the grass. I introduced myself to the owner who has now become the parent figure to most of the monkeys here. (He told me how most of these monkeys’ mothers had been killed and that the babies had then been sold in the black market, so they attach easily to him to replace the loss of a mother.) As he and I talked, monkeys played around us in a tree, wrestled next to us, and sometimes jumped into the owner’s shirt apparently, as I was told, to take a nap.

After an hour or so, Jake came over to tell us that it was time to go. A monkey that recognized him ran over to him and took his hand to hold, then jumped up into his arms. I guess Jake is allowed to hold them!!

Reluctantly, we left and piled into the bus. Now it was time to go home via El Camino del Muerte. Yes, we were driving back up the whole thing to get home.

Let me tell you something, dear readers: this was scarier than riding down it. I was on the right side of the bus, which was the side facing the cliff as we drove up, and several times, I couldn’t see the edge of the road anymore. I could, however, see the careening gorge practically below me. I nervously laughed for about 45 minutes straight, thinking about how much worse falling off would be in a bus as opposed to a bike. At least on a bike, you can toss it and grab onto a tree or bush and maybe can get rescued. In a bus? No.

Finally, after what felt about 6 hours, we got to the end of Death Road and entered the paved portion we had biked several hours before. The palm trees and lush greenery were now gone again and the temperature was getting back down to unbearable. I covered myself with my coat, tucked my knees into my chest, and fell asleep.

I woke up in La Paz, gathered my stuff, and exited the bus. I went over to Jake and thanked him for keeping us all safe throughout the day.

“No problem. You can get me something nice if you want. You do know my favorite color now...”

.....................

A short note:

I guess I didn’t mention how much this whole trip cost... It was roughly $100 for the day, which in Bolivia is REALLY expensive. There are other companies that do it, but there were several reasons why, at the end of they day, I was happy I was with Gravity:

They were really focused on safety during the whole trip. With the chance of getting injured being so high during such a ride, I think that was the only way to go.

Gravity pioneered this ride and the company has a reputation of being the best and most expensive. In my experience here so far, you get what you pay for. Why skimp when doing something as crazy as this?

A decent portion of the money went to this animal sanctuary which apparently is seriously underfunded.

The World's Most Dangerous Road -- Part I

What did you do yesterday? Me? Oh, I just biked the World’s Most Dangerous Road.

I didn’t mention to many people back home that I was going to do this because, as most of you know, freaky things happen to me -- I fall off mountains, I slam my face into railings, and I apparently get violently ill at altitude -- but I never manage to really get hurt or have any lasting issues.

ABC video on the ride!

So when I decided to ride El Camino del Muerte, I only told 2 people. If you watched the video I linked above, you should understand why I didn’t tell anyone else -- the ride is scary and dangerous. Some may say those of us who ride it are idiots who are playing with fire. I think those of us who ride it are just looking to say we accomplished something that, though unbelievably risky, was a total blast.  In my case, I also wanted to do it so as not to miss out on something I knew would be the memory of a lifetime.

At 6am yesterday, I got up out of bed, woke up my new friend, Matt, and off we went to meet our group at a coffee shop. I was too tired to be scared, and Matt was more concerned about getting his laundry back from the Bolivian laundromat.

We met our guide, Jake, and boarded the bus. As we began our ascent to the starting point, Jake explained  about equipment that we’d be using, about how to cycle with cars and trucks on the same road, and about general safety and etiquette.

We arrived at our starting point and put on the extra clothes provided, and thank god -- it was FREEZING. We were measured for our bikes, were given some basic info on braking and the bike’s suspension system, and were called into a semi-circle around our guide.

Jake explained that it is regular practice to say a prayer before heading on this trip. All Bolivian truckers do it, and therefore Jake opts to every time he takes this ride. Jake took out a bottle of unmarked alcohol that he'd purchased from a stand on the side of the road, opened it, mumbled something about hoping he would be kept safe, put some of the alcohol to his mouth, poured some on the front wheel of his bike to keep it safe too, and lastly poured some on the earth as an offering. Jake passed the bottle to his left and slowly we all followed the same ritual.

At this point, I'm a little scared. I've just given a peace offering to a mountain, I think I ingested isopropyl alcohol, and I can’t feel my fingers.

And we’re off!  We had been instructed to keep 2 bus lengths in between us during our ride. Jake was in the rear and another guide had taken the lead. I took off after a few others had started and carefully guided my bike down the steep road. The photo below is basically the first thing I saw. Pretty crazy, huh?

We stopped after about 5 minutes and made sure everyone was okay. Other than the fact that my fingers were still frozen, I was feeling pretty good. We went off again, single file like before, and now gaining more speed and confidence.

We finally finished the paved part of the trip and Jake announced, “Okay guys, we’re here. This is the World’s Most Dangerous Road.”  "Well then what was THAT??"


He explained the new rules: 

1.We should now place 3 bus lengths in between us. 
2. The cliff will be on the left, yet we’ll be riding on the left. 

3. We will be riding in the trough created by the vehicles that traverse the road and if we get out of the trough, our chances of crashing greatly increase.

4. We will have to be on the listen for Jake's whistle which will indicate a car or truck coming. 

Is your heart racing? Mine was.

I took a deep breath and started down, careful not to look at the cliff because, as Jake explained, where your eyes look, your body will follow.  Look at the road and nothing else. Wanting to be a good student in addition to not wanting to die by falling hundreds of feet off of a cliff, I fixated on the road.

We did a few sections, making sure to stop every 5 - 10 minutes.  At this point, I was feeling like a freaking pro! I wasn't worrying about the rocks or the little skids, the tight turns or the trucks I occasionally had to pass. 

Here comes a little waterfall with some wet rocks below it - fun! 

CRASH!

Next thing I knew, I had flipped over my bike, I was muddy, my wrist was throbbing, and I couldn’t get my bike off of me.  My next 2 groupmates came to my rescue and somehow untangled my leg from the bike. I looked at my wrist -- no open wounds and no bones poking through my skin. 

I started off again. (What else can you do at that point? Sure, you've just fallen 3 feet from the edge of a HUGE cliff, but you’re alive and you have a ton more to bike.) However, all I could think about was the fact that if I were to fall again, this time I’d go over the edge for sure. Every rock became an obstacle. And my wrist was killing me.

When I got to the next stop point, I told Jake and the others about my fall. Yes! The first fall and everyone is still alive! He asked if I was okay and I sheepishly responded I was just embarrassed and that my wrist wasn’t feeling so hot but that I wanted to continue.

So I did. I was still a little paranoid.  Now I had a huge fear of wet rocks and I made myself bike slowly, but I continued anyway. Along the way we passed many crosses marking the spots where people had died. Finally I got back into the swing of things and started picking up speed again.

(Part II coming soon! If you want to read more about the ride, see here Gravity Assisted Mountain Biking.)

An ABC party

When I decided to come back to La Paz, the one thing I knew I was going to do for sure was stay at Loki, the same hostel I had been at before. It’s known as a party hostel, where tons of backpackers come to party and do little else, and though I didn’t know how much I would want to party after dealing with the altitude sickness nightmare again, I knew it would be a great place to meet people.

I’ll say this: Loki has not disappointed me thus far. I think there is room for slightly under 200 people, most of which are between the ages of 18 and 35, so you can always find someone to talk to. Loki hosts events and activities like poker, soccer games, and theme parties like last night’s party. The theme: ABC -- Anything But Clothing.

Yesssssss a kind of costume party!! For those of you who don’t know this about me, I am a Halloween fanatic and I own about 15 costumes. This party was right up my alley.

The thoughts started early in the day... what to wear? Should I wrap myself in toilet paper and be a mummy? Bad idea. If the paper gets wet, it will not only feel disgusting, but it will be see through and I will be flashing the whole bar. Or if it doesn’t get wet, one of the many smokers could accidentally light me on fire and that also is no good. How about a toga made from my bed sheet? Also a bad idea. One of the hostel rules is to never remove bedding from the bed. Crap!

At 3:30pm, there was a big soccer match on tv that the whole hostel was watching. Not really caring about it but wanting to hang out with people, I went to watch and saw that the bar was being transformed into a party room -- balloons, streamers, and signs were covering the walls and ceilings. I was feeling the pressure... I did not want to come to the party with a disappointing outfit.

After a beer, it came to me: shower curtain! Nowhere in the Loki Rules was it mentioned that you couldn’t take a shower curtain off of the shower stall, so I decided I was going to just go with it.

Around 9pm, the bartenders started showing up in their outfits: one guy in a dinosaur costume, one wrapped in tin foil, one wearing balloons around his waist, and so many more. A few friends went with the option of wearing their backpacks. I couldn’t stop laughing and had to tear myself away to go put on my outfit.

Right after I took down the curtain, I get yelled at by the cleaning staff. I promised that nobody would use the shower while I had the curtain on and that I would only use it for an hour and they begrudgingly granted me my wish. Before heading back to the party, I helped a friend get into his costume and off we went.

SUCCESS! Everyone loved my shower curtain dress, and thus I was given several drinks for having such a creative costume. Too many drinks later, I both loved and hated my dress. Sure, it was water proof, so I didn't care if anyone spilt their drinks on me, but man, this dress was HOT. So off I went to make good on my promise with the cleaning ladies. I changed into outfit #3 of the night and went back to a disappointed group of friends who much preferred my shower curtain.

From Arica, Chile to La Paz, Bolivia: a belated summary of the past few days

Sorry for the blogging absence. After reading the below post, you’ll understand why I’ve been out of the internet loop for a while. Oh, and no, I didn't take these photos...

My bus left Arica at 8am on Thursday and I was prepared for the worst. I brought some snacks and if altitude sickness was going to hit again, I would at least be in comfortable clothes so I could lay down. Shortly after we left, the bus conductor served us all some tea and wafer cookies which went down fine. Whew -- no stomach freak-outs gave me confidence that I would be okay during the trip. I decided to eat some of the chips I brought because I hadn’t had breakfast and I was a little excited about them. They were pringles, my first American snack I’d had since traveling and I was really excited to taste something I’d enjoyed in the past.

Around 10am, our bus had really ascended into the mountains and we were starting to go through Luaca National Park, the place I had wanted to see so badly. Sadly, the higher we went, the more sure I was that I was getting altitude sickness again. My head started to hurt, my stomach got knotted up, and I wanted to die. I started wondering why I had willingly put myself through this again... was La Paz and this stupid park really worth it???

I leaned down to my bag to get out my camera and found that even the slightest movement sent my whole body into a new, excruciating spasm of pain. Ok, no camera. I tried just looking out the window but the light was causing my head to seer, as if I was Harry Potter and I’d just had a vision

about Voldemort (yes, I’m a geek and I just referenced Harry Potter.)

We got to the border crossing and I knew sitting still was not an option. I stood up and my legs were shaking... not good. I somehow managed to get through the line, get my passport stamped, and had to sit down on a bench before I could get back on the bus. A nice man started trying to chat with me, but I’ve found that I can’t do anything at all when I’m dealing with this altitude crap, let alone try to talk in Spanish. The man mentioned that I should get some mate de coca tea from the little street stand but I was nervous to get tea from a road stand... I wasn’t too keen on adding food poisoning to the list of things I was dealing with.

I got back on the bus and another nice man asked me if I was okay. I told him that I was not okay at all, that I wanted to die, but thanks for asking. He handed me some pills and said I should take one. Now, one might ask why I was weary of drinking tea from a road stand but was okay taking pills from a complete stranger... All I can say is that feeling like death makes you not

think straight sometimes.

As we drove away, I looked out the window to see the main focal point of the park, the lake, and was really really sad that I hadn’t taken one photo or hadn’t even been able to enjoy it. What a waste.

We drove half a mile to the Bolivian side of things, I got my passport stamped again, and my new friend, the drug dealer from the bus, stayed with me while we walked back to the bus. I asked him if he knew of a bathroom nearby because I was going to vomit in approximately 2 minutes. He brought me to a bathroom, paid the 1 boliviano for me to use it, and took my stuff for me.

2 minutes later, I had done what I had set out to do. I will never

eat pringles again.

So, we got back on the bus, I contorted myself on the bus seat so that I was curled up and kind of laying down, and fell into a half sleep state. I found that rocking myself back and forth helped a little, but I was still pretty miserable. In the background, I was lulled by the sounds of the violent movies that were playing. I would sometimes sit up and try to focus on them, hoping it would pass the time, but every time a car exploded or someone's head blew off, I found it had the reverse effect on me. Who knew...

4 hours later, we were in La Paz, I had thrown up on the bus (luckily in the bathroom) several times, and had lost one of my earrings. I got a cab to my hostel, checked up, got a cup of tea, and went to lay down at 7pm.

14 terrible hours later, I got out of bed and ate my first meal since the dreaded pringles. This time it stayed down and I began acclimatizing again. What a nightmare...

One last day in Chile

As it turns out, today was my last full day in Chile.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: it's really hard to plan a trip like this. 3 days ago, I was leaving Santiago with a plan to hit Valparaiso, La Serena, and then Arica. I would spend 2 days in Arica to go onto Lauca National Park, and then would cross back into Bolivia on Friday.

I researched buses for about 3 hours last Saturday and another hour on Sunday to make sure my plan would work. Monday morning, Tomas and I went to the bus station to buy the first 2 tickets only to be told that the second bus ride would have to wait until the following day because of scheduling. On the spot, I decided to ditch all plans and just go straight to Arica on that 30 hour bus ride I already blogged about. I wasn't that bummed out because, truth be told, I'm not a huge fan of traveling completely alone, but I could deal with a few days solo.

When I got here in Arica yesterday, I inquired about the trip to Lauca National Park. The owner of the hostel, Ross, suggested I only do a day trip because the 2 day trip is way more expensive and it doesn't offer that much more. So, I agreed and he went off the make the reservation for me. 10 minutes later, he entered my room and asked if I was ready for the bad news.

"Today, there was a car accident on the road into the park and someone has died. So tomorrow it will be closed and there will be no tours."

Obviously I felt terrible that there had been an accident and someone's life had been lost... but I was also frustrated that my plans, yet again, were messed up. I planned on waiting it out today and going tomorrow, but this evening, I asked Ross which bus company I should take to get back into La Paz and he said this:

"Oh, you're going to La Paz? You don't need to do the park tour then. Your bus will have to go through the park to the border crossing anyway. If you sit on the drivers side, you'll see all of the same stuff."

So, here we are. I just bought my ticket for La Paz leaving tomorrow instead of the following day, which means I'll have an extra day to reacclimatize to the altitude. Hopefully I'll have a few opportunities to jump off the bus tomorrow and take some lovely pics to join those that I took today in Arica!

*cough cough*

** WARNING! Some photos on this post may be disturbing!!**

I’ve been meaning to blog about something for at least a week now. I’ve been confused about this thing since I started traveling and I’m wondering if anyone has any insight.

WHY DOES EVERYONE MY AGE SMOKE HERE??

When we were in elementary school, my schoolmates and I went through a program called D.A.R.E. Don’t ask me what it means -- I thought it was stupid then and I think it is stupid now, but basically, it was meant to scare the shit out of us so we wouldn’t do drugs. Effective? Not at all, we all tried drugs. But did I leave with a solid understanding that smoking cigarettes had absolutely NO positive effects on me or my body? Yes.

But just in case we all forgot about D.A.R.E., the cigarette packets here have some warnings that may help explain the bad effects of smoking:

I know plenty of people who smoke back home but not nearly the same number as people who smoke here in South America (or my new European hostel-mates.) I had forgotten how nice it is to come home from a bar and not smell like smoke. Now, at a time when doing laundry isn’t that easy, I’m forced to wash my clothes after every wear, because I can guarantee that they’ll be so saturated with smoke at the end of each night that I’ll gag if I wear them again.

And don’t even get me started on my poor lungs! One night, the smoke at the bar was ridiculously thick and I had a thought: I wonder if smoking my own cigarette would feel better than inhaling all of this second hand smoke? (Maybe I had some sort of contact nicotine high, or maybe I had had too many beers, but regardless, it sounded like a legitimate question.)

So, did I smoke a cigarette, you ask? Yes, I smoked 2. And to be perfectly honest, it was better than inhaling the second hand smoke. I can’t explain it, but that’s just how it was.

Anyway, the next day I didn’t feel any worse than the other nights out at the bars, so I am forced to draw this conclusion: The only reason why people my age who are fully aware (and have always been fully aware) of the terrible effects of smoking actually smoke is because they would rather directly put the nicotine into their bodies than some Joe or Jane Shmo next to them.

(For your enjoyment, some anti-smoking wall art I found today when walking in Arica, Chile. It made me feel a little better...)

Another really really really long bus ride.

Originally, my plan was to start in Peru, go through it and into Bolivia, fly from Bolivia to Chile, and bus across Argentina. This whole plan has been slightly modified a few times so far, as discussed in past posts, but I’m about to do a major detour:

I wasn’t in Bolivia long enough and I need to go back. Why? a) (Once I get there) it’s really really cheap. I can do a lot there for not a lot of money. b) The culture is completely different and interesting. Though La Paz is a big city, it doesn’t have the same feeling as a big city in the States. Santiago did, and for that reason, I’ve just left and am on my way back up the coast.

I could have tried to get a flight, but that ticket would have been SUPER last minute, and I’m sure it would have been expensive. So here I am, sitting on another bus, just beginning my 24+ hour ride. (I don’t really know how long it is -- the ticket didn’t say arrival time on it.) It cost me roughly $70 for a cama seat, which is basically a full reclining seat with foot rest, just like the one I had from Lima to Cusco. Let’s hope this bus ride doesn’t end with me getting severe altitude sickness again...

Right now, it’s 11:06am. We left 23 minutes late, so we’ve only been on the road for 13 minutes. I have a fully charged laptop, fully charged ipod nano, and 2 guide books to read. Sadly, there is no tv on this bus, so I can’t be entertained by movies... it’s just me myself and I for a whole day.

2:11pm: Right after I said we had no tv, a fellow bus rider went up to the front of the bus and flipped a tv down from the holder in the ceiling. Score!... except that it was playinga Denzel Washington action flick, and I don’t enjoy those. I opted for my ipod instead. I woke up from my sort-of sleep to see that we were pulling into a rest stop for lunch, so I gathered my stuff and left the bus. The food options were not so far off from typical U.S. rest stop fare: candy bars, cookies, french fries, hot dogs, etc. After a meal of french fries and a roll of cookies, I am telling myself it’s only a matter of time before I gain back the weight that I lost while in Peru and Bolivia. We’ve now just started off again, with me safely in my big leather reclining seat.

5:01pm: Are any of you out there snorers? Or droolers? Apparently, at times, I am both (sad, I know) and though I don’t want to say that I live in fear of being heard snoring or seen drooling, I definitely do think about it every day that I’m sleeping in a room with strangers. Well, the non-English speaking guy next to me just woke me up, I think, because of my snoring. I’m super embarrassed and I have another 16 hours or so on this bus with him. *Sigh*

5:20pm: I’M SO BORED!

6:58pm: SHIT! 2 things: 1. I found out how long my bus ride will be: 30 fucking hours. (Congrats to me! This is the first time I have used the f-bomb in my blog!) I am 8 hours in, so I basically have a day left. 2. I lost one of my bracelets. It was a pesky one that kept coming untied, so I guess I can’t be surprised and it does not warrant a f-bomb.

I’ve changed buses in La Serena. a city that my bus neighbor (same dude who woke me up for snoring) told me was beautiful. He also told me I should stay there tonight and fly to Arica tomorrow instead of this insane bus ride. That, or take some medicine. <---- his suggestion. I am without drugs and this second bus is playing the same movie that played on the last bus.

11:03pm: We’ve stopped in another city. I have no idea where we are, but I just got out to use the bathroom and I had to pay about 40 cents. Only then did they hand me toilet paper to use. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I’m not looking so hot... Back to sleep!

10:35am: It’s all turning into a numbers game here, folks. I slept for about 11 hours with not too much tossing and turning, I have about 8 hours left on this bus, and I have no charge left on my ipod. I’ve decided to charge my ipod from my laptop, thus decreasing the charge in my laptop quicker, but I would rather have music than the ability to blog. There is yet another action movie on!! Can’t we play something funny during this trip??

2:01pm: Eye on the prize! I’m almost there, just 4 more hours! The 6th terrible movie is now playing. Apparently my pleas for a non-crappy action movie were not heard.

5:03pm: We're here ahead of schedule!!! WOOOOOOHOOOOO! I'm so psyched to take a shower! Lesson learned: long bus rides aren't terrible if you don't have altitude sickness! I may have to stick with buses more often!