In 1995 an American bank, for reasons best known to themselves, decided to conduct a study of the world's roads to see which was the most dangerous.
A stretch of gravelled road between La Cumbre - north of La Paz - and Coroico was found to have more accidents and deaths per visitor than any other on earth.
Three years later, asadistic company called Gravity Bolivia took the first set of paying tourists down the road on bikes - and they've been doing it ever since.
It's 61 km long, often narrows to widths of just 3 metres, and cyclists travel down on the left-hand side of the road - rather than on the right, as in the rest of Bolivia.
The left-hand side is the side of the cliff edge, and at times there are drops of over 600 metres.
Knowing all this, Nicola and I set off with some trepidation on Wednesday morning. We met the Gravity guides and the rest of the group at a coffee shop on Avenida Prado and boarded our minibus to the start.
Our guide was a Canadian called Leith:
He stuck his iPod on the van speakers (an adrenaline-pumping mix of ska, punk and rock) and told us about what the day had in store.
Once we reached the start - a lake at over 4,000m altitude - we were given our equipment and tested our bikes. We had helmets, high-vis jackets, gloves, goggles, and even a thin snood (ours to keep). Here are Nic and I just before the off:
The first few kilometres would be on tarmac. We set off and I took it easy on the first stretch - feeling out the bike and its bouncy suspension. Luckily the traffic was thin, and I don't think we were passed once on the first stretch of road.
We would stop about 15 times in the course of the day to re-group, get some advice from the guides, maybe have a snack.
Here is us on the first bit of road (me at the back): http://www.flickr.com/photos/26607248@N08/5622114751
The second stop was a police checkpoint. The Yungas region is a big coca plantation site, and the police check vehicles entering and leaving to see if they are illegally transporting leaves, or refined cocaine.
At this stop, six of us made it down ok. The seventh - Nicola - didn't arrive.
After a few minutes, the Bolivian guide (Rodrigo) told us that there had been an accident and Nic was hurt. We waited for news and it turned out that she had snagged the bike in a pothole after one of the large bends and gone over the handlebars, travelling fast.
Leith, who was directly behind her, said it was one of the worst crashes he'd seen. He later described the last few seconds of her sliding on the tarmac: 'her body was limp. Lifeless'.
Not good at all.
As well as our escort van - which carried all our stuff - there was another ex-Gravity guide who happened to be passing the scene of the crash at the time. He took Nic back to hospital in La Paz, and we waited for news of her throughout the day.
In a sombre mood, we set off again for the rest of the day's cycling.
The road weaved its way through towering mountains, occasionally passing a small village. Here's me at one of the stops:
Like a workman caught up in a dust storm.
Here's another snap of some of the other cyclists heading down the road:
After a few kilometres we reached a small village, where we paid a tourist tax, then got back into the van to drive through an uphill part (we took a vote to see if anyone fancied cycling uphill, and no-one did...)
A stretch of gravelled road between La Cumbre - north of La Paz - and Coroico was found to have more accidents and deaths per visitor than any other on earth.
Three years later, a
It's 61 km long, often narrows to widths of just 3 metres, and cyclists travel down on the left-hand side of the road - rather than on the right, as in the rest of Bolivia.
The left-hand side is the side of the cliff edge, and at times there are drops of over 600 metres.
Knowing all this, Nicola and I set off with some trepidation on Wednesday morning. We met the Gravity guides and the rest of the group at a coffee shop on Avenida Prado and boarded our minibus to the start.
Our guide was a Canadian called Leith:
He stuck his iPod on the van speakers (an adrenaline-pumping mix of ska, punk and rock) and told us about what the day had in store.
Once we reached the start - a lake at over 4,000m altitude - we were given our equipment and tested our bikes. We had helmets, high-vis jackets, gloves, goggles, and even a thin snood (ours to keep). Here are Nic and I just before the off:
The first few kilometres would be on tarmac. We set off and I took it easy on the first stretch - feeling out the bike and its bouncy suspension. Luckily the traffic was thin, and I don't think we were passed once on the first stretch of road.
We would stop about 15 times in the course of the day to re-group, get some advice from the guides, maybe have a snack.
Here is us on the first bit of road (me at the back): http://www.flickr.com/photos/26607248@N08/5622114751
The second stop was a police checkpoint. The Yungas region is a big coca plantation site, and the police check vehicles entering and leaving to see if they are illegally transporting leaves, or refined cocaine.
At this stop, six of us made it down ok. The seventh - Nicola - didn't arrive.
After a few minutes, the Bolivian guide (Rodrigo) told us that there had been an accident and Nic was hurt. We waited for news and it turned out that she had snagged the bike in a pothole after one of the large bends and gone over the handlebars, travelling fast.
Leith, who was directly behind her, said it was one of the worst crashes he'd seen. He later described the last few seconds of her sliding on the tarmac: 'her body was limp. Lifeless'.
Not good at all.
As well as our escort van - which carried all our stuff - there was another ex-Gravity guide who happened to be passing the scene of the crash at the time. He took Nic back to hospital in La Paz, and we waited for news of her throughout the day.
In a sombre mood, we set off again for the rest of the day's cycling.
The road weaved its way through towering mountains, occasionally passing a small village. Here's me at one of the stops:
Here's another snap of some of the other cyclists heading down the road:
A refuelling sandwich later, we were at the start of the World's Most Dangerous Road (WMDR).
Up until 2006, the road was used by all vehicles going between La Cumbre and Coroico. Fortunately, the same bank that commissioned the study into dangerous roads also paid for a new road to be built. It runs almost parallel to the Death Road and now swallows up most of the traffic.
We started off in thick fog - visibility at about 5 metres. When you have sheer drops of 600m just inches away from your tyres, I would have prefered to see a bit more. But they don't call it the Death Road for nothing. Here's a clip: http://www.flickr.com/photos/26607248@N08/5622733816 (I'm fifth)
So down we went, eating up the kilometres as our brilliant bikes absorbed shingly gravel and larger rocks as if they weren't there.
I had a few close calls, particularly round tight bends as my bike began to skid - but then found grip at just the right moment. We were passing through incredible scenery, but - for fear of dying - it was important to keep your eyes on the road.
However, during our regular stops we got the cameras out and captured the nature around us:
There were several crosses and other monuments peppering the path. This road has claimed many, many lives and some of the stories we heard were chilling.
The first person to die during a commercial bike ride down the WMDR was an Israeli girl. This was paid for by her family in rememberance:
The most recent death - in April 2010 - was also an Israeli girl. She died on exactly the same date as the first girl, nine years later. Very strange.
Other stories included the infamous truck crash of 1983, where 103 Bolivians drove over the cliff to their deaths. Only last week a taxi - with a drunk driver at the helm - didn't spot an upcoming bend in the road and drove clean off over the cliff edge with three passengers on board. Amazingly, all four survived.
And then there was the story of the young British backpacker who cycled over the edge to his death last year. His dad has since paid for there to be an ambulance permanently stationed at La Cumbre - ready to bolt it down and help with any injuries.
This road is no joke.
Further down the track we passed the San Pedro waterfall, where one of the worst accidents happened (approximately 80 people went over the edge in a truck as the driver scrabbled around on the floor looking for his Coke bottle).
The waterfall was made famous to TV viewers when Jeremy Clarkson and co tried to negotiate the Death Road in a 4x4 vehicle for one of their Top Gear specials. Here's a clip on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXLxszv9eCM
Further down, we heard that a guy from the other Gravity group had cycled into a bankside and broken his collarbone. He ended up in the same hospital as Nic.
As we descended - from over 4,000m to about 1,500m - the sun came out, clothes were shredded and faces were burnt. We had to negotiate a couple of small streams towards the end, getting our feet soaked and mud spurting up our backs.
Eventually, some 3 hours after we set off, we made it down to La Sende Verde. It's an animal refuge housing over 250 creatures - from monkeys to macaws, tortoises to parrots.
Gravity are the only company who take their groups to the refuge, where you get a free beer and lunch. Oh, and lots of sandfly bites too.
The plan had been for Nic and I to stay down there for a couple of nights, but after the morning's events I was heading back to La Paz.
The previous day we had both signed up to do a zip line after the Death Road. The Flying Fox Zip Line was only set up in July last year, and seemed a bargain at about 20 quid for what would actually be three separate lines.
With Nic in hospital, I went with a couple of others from the extended Gravity group - Andrea from the States and Axel from Switzerland:
We were harnessed-up and driven to the start of the first wire. Gustavo, who - it turned out - was the guy who had helped Nicola in the morning, was in charge of our destiny.
After a brief safety lesson, including how to apply the brake and get ourselves level if we started spinning, we took turns in zip-lining across the green valley. I would upload the videos but I´ll be here all night.
So not a bad day for getting the adrenaline going. The Death Road was hard at times, but I'm really glad I did it. In fact, we all got T-shirts at the end saying 'I survived the World's Most Dangerous Road'.
Unfortunately they mistook me for a girl, and I got a small woman's one. Snug.
On the drive back it was just the four of us - myself, Careena, Benny and Dave - plus Leith, Rodrigo and the driver (called Pigeon).
We stopped a few times on the road back to take pictures. The best spot was at Postcard Corner:
We got back to La Paz late, and I asked to be dropped at the clinic where Nicola had been admitted to. She was awake, but obviously shaken - and bandaged - up:
She'd taken a nasty battering to the head - luckily cushioning her fall with her elbows so the full impact wasn't on the face and skull. Sliding along the ground, she'd taken on a lot of grit and stones underneath the skin and the operation wouldn't be easy.
At about 11pm I needed to leave to try and find somewhere to stay for the night. I went to a hotel we'd previously spied a day before, and fortunately they had a room.
In the morning I went back to the clinic. The operation would be that evening and would involve general anaesthetic and several stitches in several wounds. Ouch.
Leaving at lunch time, I ran into a familiar South American sight:
Yes, more protesters on the streets.
All over La Paz at that moment you see riot police standing guard outside various governmental offices and embassies, guns poised, shields on stand-by.
The workers aren't happy as there isn't enough work, and the work that there is is poorly paid. To display their unhappiness they march through the city each day, closing the main routes to all traffic.
They chant slogans, fire dynamite into the air (a lot of them are miners) and the occasional rifle too. Slightly unnverving, but I like to think I'm not a target.
Apparently the police have been sporadically firing tear gas into the crowds, but the only aggression I saw from them was a huge explosive that they let off just as the protesters were marching past a heavily-fortified building.
I had a good walk around La Paz's few colonial-era streets, and very pleasant they were too (if you discount the robocops on almost every corner):
In the evening I walked back to the clinic to see Nic. The aim was to be there before she went in for her op, but I got lost on the way and turned up just after she was taken into theatre.
The nurses said it would last about three hours, so I walked up the road and went to an Argentinian steak restaurant that my guidebook recommended. Steak, chips, salad, Coke. Can't say fairer than that, AND they were showing football on the TV.
It's alright for some, eh?
On the flip side of the coin, the poor girl was in theatre for over four hours in the end. When she came out the bandages were off but you could see the scarring and the 'road rash' caused by scraping your face along tarmac for several metres.
She's going to be in for another week, missing her flight back on Sunday and having to cancel her job as a chef on a boat. No sunlight for three months is the instruction.
The past couple of days has been spent looking after the injured party, trying to help her make decisions about work, insurance, flights, next steps.
It's obviously a huge shock to have your life changed in a split second like that so I'm trying to provide some perspective. And after my experiences in Bangalore and Cusco I'm a past master of drips, hospital food and the rest - so hopefully that experience is helping a bit.
The most important thing is, despite the visible scarring, she hasn't suffered any brain or nerve damage - which seems to be a minor miracle considering what happened.
So, The World's Most Dangerous Road? We now have first-hand proof.
Here's a final few pics:
So not a bad day for getting the adrenaline going. The Death Road was hard at times, but I'm really glad I did it. In fact, we all got T-shirts at the end saying 'I survived the World's Most Dangerous Road'.
Unfortunately they mistook me for a girl, and I got a small woman's one. Snug.
On the drive back it was just the four of us - myself, Careena, Benny and Dave - plus Leith, Rodrigo and the driver (called Pigeon).
We stopped a few times on the road back to take pictures. The best spot was at Postcard Corner:
We got back to La Paz late, and I asked to be dropped at the clinic where Nicola had been admitted to. She was awake, but obviously shaken - and bandaged - up:
She'd taken a nasty battering to the head - luckily cushioning her fall with her elbows so the full impact wasn't on the face and skull. Sliding along the ground, she'd taken on a lot of grit and stones underneath the skin and the operation wouldn't be easy.
At about 11pm I needed to leave to try and find somewhere to stay for the night. I went to a hotel we'd previously spied a day before, and fortunately they had a room.
In the morning I went back to the clinic. The operation would be that evening and would involve general anaesthetic and several stitches in several wounds. Ouch.
Leaving at lunch time, I ran into a familiar South American sight:
Yes, more protesters on the streets.
All over La Paz at that moment you see riot police standing guard outside various governmental offices and embassies, guns poised, shields on stand-by.
The workers aren't happy as there isn't enough work, and the work that there is is poorly paid. To display their unhappiness they march through the city each day, closing the main routes to all traffic.
They chant slogans, fire dynamite into the air (a lot of them are miners) and the occasional rifle too. Slightly unnverving, but I like to think I'm not a target.
Apparently the police have been sporadically firing tear gas into the crowds, but the only aggression I saw from them was a huge explosive that they let off just as the protesters were marching past a heavily-fortified building.
I had a good walk around La Paz's few colonial-era streets, and very pleasant they were too (if you discount the robocops on almost every corner):
In the evening I walked back to the clinic to see Nic. The aim was to be there before she went in for her op, but I got lost on the way and turned up just after she was taken into theatre.
The nurses said it would last about three hours, so I walked up the road and went to an Argentinian steak restaurant that my guidebook recommended. Steak, chips, salad, Coke. Can't say fairer than that, AND they were showing football on the TV.
It's alright for some, eh?
On the flip side of the coin, the poor girl was in theatre for over four hours in the end. When she came out the bandages were off but you could see the scarring and the 'road rash' caused by scraping your face along tarmac for several metres.
She's going to be in for another week, missing her flight back on Sunday and having to cancel her job as a chef on a boat. No sunlight for three months is the instruction.
The past couple of days has been spent looking after the injured party, trying to help her make decisions about work, insurance, flights, next steps.
It's obviously a huge shock to have your life changed in a split second like that so I'm trying to provide some perspective. And after my experiences in Bangalore and Cusco I'm a past master of drips, hospital food and the rest - so hopefully that experience is helping a bit.
The most important thing is, despite the visible scarring, she hasn't suffered any brain or nerve damage - which seems to be a minor miracle considering what happened.
So, The World's Most Dangerous Road? We now have first-hand proof.
Here's a final few pics:
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| Biking into the police checkpoint |
 |
| Dave, Careena and Benny |
 | ||
| An unidentified animal at La Sende Verde |
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| The Death Road |
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| Protests in La Paz |