"the death road" - the most dangerous road in the world - la paz, bolivia travel

8/3/2019 "The Death Road" - The most Dangerous Road in the World - La Paz, Bolivia TRAVEL

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Considered the "easiest" part of the ride, the

paved beginning is mainly complicated by the

hoards of traffic traveling out of La Paz.

Overcrowded mini-buses, large scale tour buses,

and worst of all, the slews of local vehicles,

barely able to run, let alone safely maneuver

these tight mountain passes, flood the road

daily. With hundreds of local deaths every year

caused by over aggressive drivers, bad weather,

and unfit vehicles, the road is no marketing ploy

for locals, it is force to be feared.

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The Death Road

A revered legend and right of passage for many South American travelers, "The Most Dangerous Road in the World", or "Death Road", has claimed

another.

Walking through the streets of La Paz, it is impossible to escape the advertising onslaught of this dangerous downhill ride, but as a tourist, you only read

what you want. It's a "tour", right, with thousands of adventure seeking tourists gearing up to tackle the 3,600 meter vertical descent every year. Starting at

4,670 meters and descending to 1,300 meters, bikers travel 64 km in a matter of hours. Commencing well above the cloud cover, the first 20 meters are

paved with the second portion turning onto a much more narrow pass (3 meters wide), lined in mud and littered with loose gravel. Heart stopping cliff drops,

equivalent at times to 6 football fields, flank one side of the path, while the other is met by loose mountainside, ready to give way with the slightest touch

or lightest rainfall. Aware of 10 biker fatalities over the past 10 years, one of those happening only 4 days prior, I was still raring to go. I was, as always,invincible. Orso I thought. Statistically speaking, we should have been OK, however, fate played our group a very different hand.

It all came down to seconds and what order you fell into the pack. Being over-ambitious as always, I took to the front, a decision that very easily may have

saved my life. Please bear with me, as I am not trying to be over dramatic, just expressing my current emotions and trying to give an accurate depiction of

the most tragic event I have ever experienced.

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The details are still hazy, but we know a jeep, carrying 13 locals blew a tire

while passing a group of our bikers. It lost control and careened off the side of

the cliff, taking three of our bikers with it. One of the bikers was killed

instantly, falling with the jeep down the 100 meter embankment. The other

two victims (his best friends) managed to avoid the fall by a matter of

seconds, one being just in front of the jeep and the other just behind. 8 of

those in the vehicle died, leaving a father morning the loss of his wife and

son, a brother morning the loss of his mother and brother, and inexplicable

other tragedies. Hearing our guides account of the rescue attempt was

almost more difficult then arriving to the crash site and seeing it for ourselves.

Repelling down the cliff, only to arrive for a mother and sons last breaths.

Carrying another half-consious child up the rockface, all the while listening to

the screams of a panic-stricken father. And while our guide was desperately

trying to save lives, local buses, and even tour buses, were pulling off the

road, to witness the rescue (offering no help). According to other bikers, localonlookers were practically complacent to the event, accepting it as another

tragedy incurred on the road and watching more out of curiosity, then out of

concern. One biker even went so far as to call them, "vultures", feeding on

the tragedies of others.

Stopping at the first check point, only 5 minutes into the ride, myself and about 10 others were joined by the hysterical 11th rider. Hyper-ventillating and

clearly in shock, the only words we could make out were, "car...off the road...bodies flying...." The initial shock is natural, but denial quickly settles in."She must have saw the vehicles riders, it could not have been any of our group." Returning up the mountain to ensure the safety of our bikers and confirm

the grim fate we already knew of many of the vehicles passengers, our guide left us alone with our worst fears. Fears, that were later confirmed.

I was lucky enough to have all 4 of my immediate party by my side, but to see the horror on the faces of bikers whose friends had not come down yet,

wondering if their best mate or girlfriend was one of the victims, was almost unbearable. I have never seen fear like that before. To be completely helpless in

a hopeless situation. Some chose laughter as their fear outlet, "It can't be Bob, he wouldn't go down without a fight". Others chose tears, frantic cries

followed by pleas, "Please God, Please God." While others just completely shut down. They became mental ghosts, haunting their own thoughts with

unstoppable fears. All I could do was pray.

A few other bikers, who were behind the pack, saw the entire horrific event unfold. The jeep careening off the road, the bikers thrown over the cliff, and the

horrible crash that ensued. They had not stopped shaking or babbling since the crash and in their destitute eyes, I could see the event painfully repeated

over and over in their minds. For these unfortunate witnesses, life will never be the same.

It's easy to say that life is precious and we should live each day as our last, but as for Tom, his last came today. Tom's untimely death, could have been

any one of ours. Had we initiated the ride just 2 minutes earlier, or 2 minutes later. Had we chose other positions in the pack or decided to change ourpace by even a few seconds. It's hard to shake the dark feeling of, 'today could have been my last', and in a way, I hope I never do.

This entry is in honor of Tom Austin.

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