Heat of the Moment

From my investigations of yesterday, the price of The Death Road varies between GBP30 and GBP70. I´ve been advised not to "cheap out", on account of the cheaper operators using unsafe bikes, but I decide to "cheap out".

My group and I are in a open space at the top of first part of the route to get used to the bikes. This first part is paved and non-deadly. My guide tells us that we´ll shortly start the route just around the corner at police narcotics check point. Gingerly circling around the dirt space, testing the bike, everything seems broadly ok, though the breaks are a little soft. A French girl picks out a nervous look on my face. She´s right. After some thought, I decide to hide my nervousness under a nearby rock.

We´re off. I´m behind the guide and a French guy, Antoine. Antoine appears to have ridden a bike before and can do a few nifty tricks. I´m doing my best to recall my recent bike riding experience in Piriapolis. On this downhill section, pedalling does nothing - the gears aren´t setup for downhill. We´re gliding down the road, casually, but building speed. All of a sudden, the guide veers off the left hand side of the road into a dirt drainage ditch, then rides two metres up a forty-five degree hill on the opposite side of the ditch, turns, and comes back through the ditch onto the road. Antoine follows his lead. I use my five seconds behind the Frenchmen to chicken out.

Five minutes later, I´ve lost the guide, but Antoine rides up a two metre raised dirt bank to the right of the road, then down into the roadside ditch and back onto the road. I´m unhappy with having chickened out last time, so I´m holding tight as I roll into this ditch. Even briefly, passing through the stoney ditch, the bike is juddering like it´s going to fall apart, but I come up and out safely.

Coming down a fast section, into a wide u-turn, both the guide and Antoine take another stoney shortcut path across the u-turn. As I follow, once again, my bike feels like it´s juddering to pieces and I´m holding tight to stay on it. Something feels very definitely wrong, and I reluctantly stop and lose the Bolivian and Frenchman. Looking down at my bike, I´ve actually literally juddered it to pieces. I carry it out to the road side and try to put the chain back on, only to find part of the gearing on the back wheel has broken clean off.

With my replacement bike, we´re making our way down the death road. Of course, Andy O was right, the views are as spectacular as the often sheer drop off the left hand side. However, given that drop, I don´t take so much time to enjoy those views. The winding and twisting road surface is uneven and riddled with stones. Even with suspension, the shuddering comes up through the front wheel. It´s painful to hold on tight, but if I´m holding too loosely, my hands will come away entirely. Still, the real element of danger is a more a function of the rider than the road. On two occasions, I briefly lose the back wheel and slide out, but neither incident perilous enough to slow me down.

Everyone rides at a speed they´re satisfied with, based the degree of both pain and peril. It´s not a race, but there´s a start and an end, so I´m riding to win, even if the Frenchman is a far better rider than me - which doesn´t take much.

In the evening, I´m unharmed and in La Paz´s "British Indian Curry house". I´m in the mood for something hot. the menu taunts me with a Vindaloo that specifically threatens to be so hot that finishers get a t-shirt. I´m hungry and good at clearing plates, so I accept the menu´s challenge.

The first four or five mouthfuls are fine. I´m feeling good. After that, my mango lassi begins to drain rapidly with every new mouthful. Even with my attempts to ration the yoghurt drink, I find it empty with plenty of curry remaining. I´m rigidly maintaining a false vascade to cover the burning sensation, even though I´m eating alone. The challenge is a cheat, there´s far too much curry sauce for the proportion of meat. I pick out the meat, suffering the burn, but there´s still a complete plate full of curry sauce that´s simply onions and chilli. I pay and leave, without my survivor´s t-shirt