Bolivia.
Distance: 2069.5 kms
Average speed: 57 kph
Max speed: 139 kph (
on the salt flats)
Riding time: 52 hrs 30 mins
Total distance: 12694.8 kms
Distance: 2069.5 kms
Average speed: 57 kph
Max speed: 139 kph (
Riding time: 52 hrs 30 mins
Total distance: 12694.8 kms
The
temperature didn't get any cooler. We decided to ride to the first
town in Bolivia and stop for the night. Sometimes I need to be
reminded of the six P's. (prior planning prevents piss poor
performance)
We rode for
about 100 kilometres. It was still hot. Bloody hot. No service
stations or garages at all. Dale was low on fuel. I left the highway
and found a small village. Eventually, was directed to a guy who sold
Dale 10 litres of petrol out of 2 litre Coke bottles from his
backyard. His horse was pregnant. The guy told us the next fuel and
Hotel was 100kms down the road.
It got dark.
We shared the road with cattle, donkeys and other unrecognizable
animals. Eventually, arrived at Robore, got Lindsay some fuel (from
Coke bottles again) found a hotel and had about the best cold shower
ever.
As often
happens, a local bloke took a liking to us and wanted to show us
around his town. We needed a beer and a meal, so our new best mate
led us to a shitty little bar with the coldest beer on the planet,
then on a kilometre walk to a restaurant. Showed us the railway
station and the town square. A good young bloke. Wanted to take us to
see a waterfall in the morning. We had to hit the road.
The roads
had been good. Very good. Concrete and with a wide shoulder on both
sides. Remarkably little traffic as well.
We wanted to
by pass Santa Cruz and head for the mountains. Traffic increased
during the day. We hit Santa Cruz during the afternoon peak. Dale
navigated us through Santa Cruz with his tablet. Traffic became
scarcer, the road had corners, many, many corners. We were in the
mountains again. The temperature dropped for the first time in a
week. In the dark, with me on reserve for the last 50 kilometres, we
arrived at Samaiparta.
This joint
is a little different. People from 27 different Countries live here.
Ernesto Guevara Lynch lived here. These days Ernesto is better known
as Che' Guevara, probably the World's most infamous Communist
Insurgent. Che' spent a little time in town, went to the Chemist and
a few other places.
Did you
know, at school Che' was nicknamed Chancho (Pig) by his schoolmates
because he rarely bathed.
An Aussie
couple from Brisbane own the best Bar in town. Expats, the World
over, know how to drink. Samaiparta is no exception. I think
representatives from the 27 nationalities resident in town were in
the bar the night we went.
Our Hotel,
the La Posada del Sol, is the best of our trip. By far. It is like an
Oasis. Only better. The staff are brilliant, the food and ambience
great. Plenty of other travellers to talk to.
Today we
hired a guide and drove for 2 hours along winding dirt tracks, then
walked 1.2 kilometres, in 37 degree heat. Only 1.2 kms you think.
That is 1.2kms fcuking vertical! We wanted to see Condors, reputedly
the largest bird in the world. (wingspan 3 metres) They pick up
calves and fly away to eat them. They fly 500kms most days. As we ate
our magnificent picnic lunch we saw 5 Condors. (at a distance)
Next day,
our guide, Ronaldo, took us on a “Cloud Forest” walk. We walked
for hours through a magnificent forest, so high up in the clouds
Epiphytes are common place. To the uneducated like myself, these are
plants and ferns growing high up on tree branches, non parasitic, fed
only by moisture and nutrients from clouds and rain. Fcuking amazing.
I hadn't heard of Cloud Forest before I met Dale, now I have been to
one, I realised I have been to several. Not as good as this one
though! Thankfully it was only about 30 degrees in the forest.
`After 4
nights we dragged ourselves away from Samaiparta, headed for Sucra
Now that
Bolivia has a left leaning Government, Che's sins have been forgiven.
People have forgotten he was a Marxist Guerilla. Not even from
Bolivia. He was born in Argentina and lived most of his life in Cuba,
Castro funded his attempted Coup.
Our route
from Samaiparta to Sucre for a large part followed the Ruta Del
Che'. Rough as guts dirt track supposedly used by Che' and his gang.
We passed up the opportunity to visit the hospital where his body was
displayed, or the place where it was buried for 30 years.
Riding along
nicely. My bike stops. Electrics dead. Fcuk. Found a fuse holder had
got wet and cooked. We made a “Dave Carlaw” fuse holder and were
on our way in an hour.
We did stay
at La Higuera, the village where Che' was executed. In fact we slept
in the Old Telegraph Station”, in the room next to where his last
meal was cooked. It was the room where Miguel, Coco and Julio, (Che's
Vanguardia de la Guerrilla's) belongings were divided between the
soldiers. Their bodies had been laid on the ground outside our room.
Visited the School Room where old Che' was shot. It is now a pretty
good sort on museum. It all made for a very interesting and
informative day.
If Che' ate
and drank as well as we did, he had a pretty good send off. Our Chef
was French. And damned good.
The ride
from La Higuera to Sucre was magnificent, absolutely magnificent.
Rough dirt and gravel tracks, dry creek wash a ways, hundreds of kms
of terrific gravel, some slippery newly rained upon clay and to
finish it off a fantastic twisty section of new asphalt, over a 3,300
metre pass. And almost no bloody traffic!
Sucre has a
new, paved bicycle track. Two laned and well built. My GPS decided it
was the best way out of town. Who were we to argue? I think a few
locals were surprised to see and hear us, particularly the Old Girl
having a snooze in one lane of the bike track.
Today our
ride from Sucre to Potosi was also brilliant. Only 156kms, but,
another new road without any traffic. Maybe 20 or 30 vehicles in the
whole day. When I realised I was putting weight over the front and
starting to hang off the side, I thought enough is enough. Slow down
you dropkick! Crossed our highest pass yet, 4550 metres. My “BMW
Rooney Special” loved it.
The last
three days have most likely been 3 of the best riding days, ever.
Great “Adventure Touring”.
Potosi is
infamous for its mines. Cerro Rico is a big hill above the town. It
is riddled with 182 mines. Today 19,000 miners work there. Before the
world precious metal price went through the floor there were 38,000.
There are many more mines, and disadvantaged miners in the area.
We took a
brilliant tour of the mine. Our guide, Willy, was excellent. Simply
the best. His Company is Marco Polo (www.potosimarcopolo.com)
Willy worked underground for 6 years before studying and setting up
his tour business. He has an excellent rapport with the Miners.
Most Miners
from the Cerro Rico die before they are 44! From Silicosis and other
dust born diseases. These poor bastards work 12 hour/day, 6
days/week. No paid sick leave. No paid holidays. No Workers
Compensation. A top Miner can earn $100-120/month. The new kids on
the block get $60/month. This is disgusting! The area has been mined
for 469 years. When the Spanish ran the joint about 50% of the worlds
silver came from Bolivia. They managed to get 800 grams out of each
ton of rock. Today only 12 grams/ton is extracted. The conditions are
cramped and extremely hazardous.
Willy
introduced us to one of the oldest Miners still working. He is 58 and
has mined for 44 years. It was one of the greatest privileges of my
life to spend time down an extremely cramped 1.5 metre high tunnel,
about 1km under the ground, talking to one of life’s Gentlemen. We
discussed the environment and how our Countries and Corporations
respect, or disrespect it. While we talked we heard 27 explosions,
just other teams getting on with the job.
We stayed at
another great Hotel, the “Hostel Carlos V Imperial”. Management
let us park our bikes inside the Hotel. Fantastic. Lindsay was sick.
We took him to the Vet. Ramiro Guaman, our Hotel's owner, came along
and translated for us.
Bikes and
Quads from the Dakar race are passing through Bolivia in 2014 for the
first time. Everyone in the Country is excited. The Dakar people had
a display in Potosi. We talked to them, they gave us caps, stickers
and posters. Came to the Hotel to look at our bikes. Invited us back
in the evening, asked us to wear our riding gear. I went and listened
to some speeches, in Spanish. When I heard Australia and BMW
mentioned then people started taking photos of me I legged it. I was
terrified there was some mix up in the translation and the crowd was
being told I was a former Dakar rider.
Our ride
from Potosi to Tupiza was only a short days ride, but, bloody
fantastic. A relatively new concrete road, already falling apart,
little traffic and great scenery. It was hot, damned hot. Who cares,
our Hotel had a pool.
We have been
riding at about 3,600-3,800 metres for days, and will be for a few
weeks. I changed my “Rooney Specials” carbie jets from 220 down
to 150. Once again Paul Rooney's advice was spot on. She pulled like
a train.
Tupiza to
Uyuni was a 204 km ride down a brilliant dirt/gravel/sand road, most
of which will be used for the 2004 Dakar race. The first 60 kms was
some of the most scenic country I have ridden through. Outstanding
rock formations for km after km. Dale's Honda got temperamental
again. He took the Carbie bowl off and flushed it. All good. The last
80 kms was a 100 kph blast through the Altiplano. For about 3 minutes
I thought I was in the Dakar. An unseen patch of deep sand, some
tourists taking photos of me stuffing it up, and I am back down to
earth.
Uyuni is the
starting point for rides across the largest dry salt lake in the
world, the Salar de Uyuni. We rode 20 km along a road works ridden
shit fight to the salt lake. I have wanted to ride the salt since
Mike Ferris and Ian Jurgens talked about it. We followed faint tracks
100 kms across the salt to an island full of cactus. Walked to the
top to take photos, bloody hot, about 35 degrees. Met Robyn from BMT.
His Company runs Motorcycle Tours in Uyuni and La Paz.
(www.motorcycletoursbolivia.com)
Robyn told us if we headed 35-40 kms in the direction of a big
volcano we would find water. After 39.5 kms we hit the jackpot.
Fcuking brilliant. Until Lindsay's bike called it a day. The salt
fcuks everything. In quick time. Fortunately it was only corrosion on
a spark plug lead.
We played
the tourist. Rode at speed through the water, probably 80-90 kph.
Took photos, acted like kids. Luckily the water was only about 50mm
deep, the salt is about 1 metre deep, the water underneath up to 20
metres. Water bubbles up through holes called Eyes de Salar. I think
if we hit one of these at speed we would be fcuked for good.
Time to go
home. No tracks to follow. Only the Garmin GPS. Plotted a course and
went for it. Another 100km passage. By this time we were used to it
and mucked around like kids. Fcuk the Eyes de Salar! Amazingly, my
navigation was OK, arrived were we wanted to be. The bikes were
white, covered in salt, and dissolving before our eyes. Robyn let us
use his Kartcher, took us over 2 hours to wash the 3 bikes. And they
still had salt on them. Lindsay's bike wouldn't start and stayed at
Robyn's the night. This had been an incredible day.
Uyuni is the
Bolivian overnight stop on the 2014 Dakar. Everybody is wetting
themselves with excitement. Every shop sells Dakar souvenirs. They
have a gigantic Dakar emblem statue in the centre of town.
There are 2
ways from Uyuni to La Paz, one is black top and easy, the other has
177kms of dirt and construction. We took the dirt. My “Rooney”
would not start, she had her own salt corrosion. Dale and WD40 fixed
her. We hadn't had rain of any significance since starting out. That
all changed when we hit the road works. It rained, I hit a patch of
clay, my “Rooney's” front end went its own way and incredibly I
didn't fall off. After about 10,000kms my TKC80 front tire is nearly
bald, the bike was all over the joint. About 1 km furthe down the
track I came to a small hill. Lindsay was stopped halfway. The track
was still clay. Our bikes could not get any traction. I stopped,
locked both brakes and still slid backwards. A truck came down the
hill. Out of control, missed Lindsay's bike by 50 mm. To close. Much
to close. It was so slippery I could hardly walk up the hill.
We waited an
hour or more. I dropped my tires to 12 psi and we rode, pushed, slid
our bikes across the mud to the new road, which was still under
construction. It was as slippery as shit as well. Waited another 30
minutes and took off at about 5-10 kph. We had about 100 kms of dirt
to go. As it dried out, we rode the bikes like we had stolen them,
didn't want to get caught for a week in the clay. A magnificent view,
in the mirrors, of the approaching storm. I rode through one more
cloudburst. The bloody bike slid all over the place. Eventually, made
it to the bitumen. What a great afternoons ride.
Cruising
along on the black the rain caught us. It pissed down. Good thing,
washed all the remaining salt away. About 30 kms from our nice dry
beds in Oruro, Lindsay”s bike got temperamental again. The shitty
little town we stopped in had one small hotel. Clean and dry, so it
was not to bad. No restaurants or bars though. We bought bread rolls,
tuna, tomatoes, onions and beer at a shop and ate and drank at our
Hotel. The tuna tasted sort of OK, although we still are not sure if
it was cat food or or not.
Next day it
rained. My bike wouldn't start. I had forgotten the kill switch!
After a while Lindsay's bike stopped again. He covered the coil and
leads with WD40 and a plastic bag. Did the job. It pissed down all
the way to La Paz. The road works and traffic were incredible. Close
to the city we rode along the footpath, dodging pedestrians, dogs,
market stalls and riding over 1 metre piles of earth put there to
stop people like us. My Garmin took us off the highway, through some
interesting small cobblestone roads to the Oberland Hotel in La Paz.
We planned
to ride down the “Death Road”.(in 1995 the Inter-American
development Bank christened it the “worlds most dangerous road”)
We discovered if we rode up the “Death Road” we
would be on the cliff side. Much safer. We had a stupendous 230km
days ride. Crossed our highest pass yet, 4,687 metres. Met Chris and
Jim, 2 Aussies from Queensland riding DR650's from Prudo Bay, Alaska,
to Ushuaia. Chris has a full spec Vince Strange bike. Rides like he
is in the Dakar! We decided to ride together for the day.
The road
built to replace the “Death Road” runs from 4,687 down to 1,019
metres. Many great corners, great views, great everything. Except the
odd truck doing about 10 kph, or unannounced roadworks. The “Death
Road” section we rode up only lasts 64kms. It is a bloody amazing
ride! It rained, there was fog, there were waterfalls across the
track, there were 400 metre shear drops. We met a truck,and a bus,
plus a few cars. I loved it. The boys loved it. My “Rooney Special”
loved it.
At lunch Jim
noticed my front tire had canvas showing in a couple of spots. My
back Mitas EO7 is a little worse for wear as well. Not a good range
of tires for sale in La Paz. Last trip I got another 5,000kms from my
tires. I guess Dale and Lindsay are a bad influence and there have
been plenty of exceptional riding roads.
Fortunately,
bike riders, in far off lands, have a habit of leaving their worn
tires in bike friendly hotels. Some lovely rider had left a pair on
worn Michelin Sahara's at the Oberland. Fortunately, the front was
21X 90/90. How good was that! Probably payback, I have done the same
thing in the past. I changed the front and now have a couple of
thousand more kms left.
Dale and I
went to the La Paz Zoo. Robyn told us they had some Condors. In fact
they had 7. We could see them up close, as well as Puma's, Jaguar's
and Anacondas. Plus the usual collection of monkeys and birds. Two of
the Jaguars were fornicating. Unfortunately my bloody camera battery
went flat. Their movements and growling was like I imagined Lindsay's
love making to be. A little bit of a shame to see birds used to
flying 500kms a day in an aviary. No matter how large.
It is only
100kms from La Paz to the Peruvian border. The Garmin took us out of
town and into the biggest traffic jam I have ever been in. Bigger
than Bangkok in Thailand. Bigger than Dhakar in Bangladesh. Several
times we shut down our engines and waited. It was absolute chaos.
Finally, eventually, we cleared the traffic. Then I thought I new
better than the GPS. The result: a 20km detour.
So, we are
at the chaotic area known as the Bolivian/Peruvian Border. Bring it
on!
Make sure
you all have a very Merry Christmas and a fantastic New Year. Have a
sip or two for me. Cuzco is one of my favourite cities and that's where we will be for Christmas.
Congratulations to Betty & Bob.
Congratulations to Betty & Bob.
Chris.
xx
Lindsay's hot. (Dale's photo)
Condor watching picnic
Did we walk that far? (Dale's photo)
Dale got to photograph a Condor.
Cloud Forest walk.
Dale got to photograph a Condor.
Cloud Forest walk.
Ernesto Guevara Lynch's road.
Our Hotel in La Higuera.
This is were it all ended for Che'.
Lindsay on Che's trail.
Ernesto Lynch's Trail.
(Dale's photo)
Ernesto Lynch's Trail.
(Dale's photo)
Carlos V Imperial Hotel. Potosi.
Our bikes inside.
Do I look like a miner?
Note the gelignite & fuse.
Tourists bearing gifts.
The Miners wheel barrows under this beam.
Our Mates, chewing Coco leaf in their crib break.
Dale.
Dale's photo.
While Dale ponders, Lindsay laughs & the Bolivian Official poses.
Lindsay.
Cactus.
Dale the Botanist.
Lindsay.
My "Rooney BMW", Dale & Lindsay.
Dale.
My "Rooney Special". Sorry Paul.
Dale's Honda. Sorry Sorichiro.
The "Death Road".
Condor's arse.
Puma, sleeping in a gum tree.
My "Rooney BMW", Dale & Lindsay.
Dale.
My "Rooney Special". Sorry Paul.
Dale's Honda. Sorry Sorichiro.
The "Death Road".
Condor's arse.
