The old road between La Paz and Coroico is known as the most dangerous in the world. Loads of curves, partly paved, partly dirt road, with amazing views of the Yungas, it’s the perfect opportunity for a crazy New-Zealander to create a bicycle tour. It’s the perfect opportunity for a French-Belgian couple to go on this bicycle tour, no? I’m thinking “YESS”, Blandine is rather reserved about this whole “experience”.
Facts:
- Total descent: more than 3,550 mts/11,647 feet
- Total ride distance: 63 Km/39.06 miles
- Ecoregions gone through: Highland Puna habitat, mountain cloud forest, evergreen cloud forest, tropical and subtropical moist broadleaf and other types of ever green forest.
- Ability Guide: Level 1, suitable for every level of rider (Possible for confident beginners) average fitness and above.
- Type of terrain: 50% paved road - 50% 4x4 dirt road
- Downhill Percent: 90%
- Duration of ride: 4 1/2 - 6 hours (From La Cumbre to Yolosa)
- Drive back from Coroico to La Paz: 3½ to 4 hours
Different tour agencies offer the tour, even for considerably less money, but Blandine is willing to do this only with “Gravity”, the most trusted company (http://www.gravitybolivia.com/). Gravity has the newest, shiniest bikes, the best gear, and guides who speak perfect English. All this comes at a price: Gravity is also known to be the most expensive company, but there is no way around it if I want my sweetheart to come along. Gravity is also very flexible: we want to stay the night in Coroico, and will not return to La Paz the same day, so they offer us a free taxi.
A running start
To get to the departure point is a race in itself. The hotel receptionist has forgotten to give us a wake-up call at 6:45. I wake up from the sunlight, and look over at the clock: it’s 6:55. Yikes, we’ll need to run to make our non-refundable tour, or risk missing our USD 200. I jump into my clothes and haul our backpacks to the reception area, where I confront the clerk with his mistake. “I’m so sorry, Sir, I had to get gas.” Whatever man, we’re going to miss our tour!
We decide to run to Alexander Coffee, the meeting place. It’s all downhill, but running my guts out with sleepy eyes, 3 layers of clothing on and 5 Kilogram strapped to my back is not really what I had in mind. We open the doors to Alexander Coffee at 7:28, heart throbbing in our throats, ready to apologise. No need, only half the people have arrived. “Take your time to have breakfast, dudes” says Cody, our US instructor. This all-inclusive tour has foreseen everything. A coffee and ham and cheese croissant later, I start seeing the pink side of life again. Then, all of a sudden it’s time to board the van, so I gulp the rest of my coffee, grab Blandine’s hand and we cross the street together, ready as-can-be for the thrill of our lives.
Bike your heart out, baby!
We’re six on this tour: a chatty Australian couple, a New Zealander, a quiet German guy (No surprise after the loss against Serbia yesterday), and us. We introduce ourselves against a background of popular American rock hits, the stuff adventure seekers probably listen to all day. I know most songs; I’m feeling pretty fly for a white guy. Within 45 minutes the van reaches La Cumbre at 4725 metres and we are kindly asked to get off. I don’t think I’ve ever held a bike in my hands at this height. Heck, I never even have walked around at this height. The air is thin and breathing is more difficult, not just because of the taste of adventure. An impressive amount of gear is put in front of us: gloves, dustcover cloth, biking hats, windproof jackets and trousers, fluorescent vests with back pockets to put our water bottles in. It’s sunny, but cold enough at this height, so I rapidly put all my stuff on. More layers means more warmth.
Once everyone is dressed, we receive a 15-minute explanation of dos and don’ts. Most of it is straightforward, style: “If you stop at a pull-out next to a crevice, get off your bike on the mountain-side”. Our group is relatively small, yet the security is not reduced: one guide will drive first and another guide will drive last. Cody explains “Basically we are your bread, guys, and you are the beef, the lettuce, the tomatoes, and so on.” It was a funny description, but the girls in the group are too nervous to smile and the German guy doesn’t speak enough English to understand. Cody claims that it’s not a technically difficult track, yet consequences of making an error are extremely serious. That’s always good to know. I see Blandine swallow. She’s probably thinking “What have I got myself into this time?” or “I guess it’s too late to chicken out.”
It’s finally time to get our iron poneys into gear. The driver closes the van that will hold all our bags throughout the trip; they will follow us at a safe distance. Downhill biking with top of the line gear is not difficult, it’s like a videogame, except that the injuries are real. Seriously, only boneheads can get themselves hurt. Before I know it, I’m flying down curvy paved roads at speeds around 50km/hour, with the odd car passing. And the landscape is amazing too. Nothing comes close to describing it, you just have to do it. I’m all smiles.
About an hour into it, we’re told that the next half hour is uphill. Those who want can take the van, so the Australian girl leaves the pack. Chicken! I start the uphill full of confidence, but soon realise that my legs aren’t going to be the ones doing the hardest work. We’re still above 3000 metres and the more I climb, the more my heart tries to leave my body. I put the bike in what Cody humorously referred to as “granny gear”. Better, but still not enough. I stand up on the bike, try to zigzag to decrease the incline, nothing works. To make matters worse my sunglasses fog up from my gasping for oxygen. WTF? If I don’t stop to clean up my shades I´m going to fall off a cliff or something. Surely choking is a good enough excuse to put pride by the wayside for a minute. I stop and look behind me: Blandine must have given up, I don´t see her behind me anymore. There´s no shame in that, but I´m a man, so within a few metres I jump back on the bike and cover the last part on pure will power, with sunglasses in my back pocket. Blandine is standing at the top of the last hill, and cheers me on for the last few metres. When I finally make it to the top, I´m speechless. In all aspects. Blandine runs over to hug me, but I can´t. I´m sorry honey, breathing ALWAYS beats hugging. I put the bike on the ground and lean against the van as my heart slowly descends to its normal hangout.
The rest of the trip is easy peezy, lemon squeezy: turn the steering wheel at the right time, brake when it goes too fast, and last but not least: smile for the camera, without waving at it. A person from the other group did that earlier today, with dire consequences. Cody is surprised that the guy didn´t have to check into a hospital. The dirt road requires a bit more caution, but really even a monkey could do this.
Monkeying around in Yolosa
The arrival town is called Yolosa: it´s really an excuse for a sticky, sweaty truck stop. In true Bolivian style 24 roadside cafés are lined up side by side, each with as little character as the one before, each serving exactly the same thing. All is drenched in a stinging smell of urine, open sewers seem to bother nobody here. It is easily 30C, a far cry from this morning´s near-arctic beginning. Welcome to the Yungas! Tired as we are, we’d be willing to deal with the stink, but we don’t have to. The real end of the biking tour is five minutes outside town, at the entrance of La Senda Verde. La Senda Verde is a nature park for animals rescued from illegal shipping. We take some time to admire capucin monkeys and macaws, there is even cayman on the grounds. The animals are nice, the buffet lunch served at the cafeteria is nice, but the best part of the park is the shower. I come out a new man, rejuvenated and dressed in my new, free “World´s Most Dangerous Road” T-shirt. Justin, the guide for the other Gravity group comes over and says “Someone has not paid for their breakfast at Alexander coffee this morning. Erhm, that would be us. I can hardly believe that we had only a limited selection to choose from, even less that it’s not part of this all-inclusive tour.
Koo Koo Coroico
We say goodbye to the rest of the group and take the offered taxi ride up to Coroico. We´ve been suggested to check out Esmeralda Guesthouse for its commanding views, and though it´s a bit pricey we check in. The views over the area are nothing short of spectacular, they´re best enjoyed from one of the hammocks. Most of the guests are playing around the pool , and while a dip in fresh water wouldn´t be bad at all, my tired limbs are at peace and we agree to concentrate on watching the sun set over the surrounding valley without making any further moves.
Dinner at this resort-like place must be great. It´s quite the experience, but “great” would be the wrong label. It´s 8:45PM when we arrive in the dining area. We´re almost alone in the restaurant and take a table by the window overlooking the valley. The young kid behind the bar offers us a menu, but the corpulent Bolivian woman who runs the show here grabs them out of our hands and says that the kitchen is closing, pizza is the only thing available. Fine by me, I order a tuna mushroom pizza and a freshly squeezed mandarin juice. I observe our surroundings while we wait for our food. Marlene Dietrich-like German music comes out of speakers placed under the straw roof, candles light up most tables. In front of us sits an old couple. The man is hunched over, his wife returns from the buffet area with a plate full of veggies for him. He slowly picks up a spoon and starts moving veggies into his mouth. He´s really careful about chewing his food. The candle light reveals coloured patches on skin. His wife carefully watches him eat. She’s got a faded beauty to her, yet her expression is a bit severe, betraying a hard life. The pizza arrives and we’re told that we can also take advantage of the buffet, so we do. We ask another young person to bring us cutlery, which she promptly does. The food is good, the service leaves something to be desired. The waiting staff seems to walks on eggs, every decision must be approved by the matron mother, and she’s never far away.
We don’t bother asking for a dessert and ask for the bill instead. Without a smile, matron mother accepts our money. Back in the room we read a bit, then fall asleep almost immediately.
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