UPDATE 11 - BOLIVIA - 09 JUL 06

04 -09 Jul 06
Departing Salta Argentina – Bolivia

04 Jul 06 (Tue). Salta – La Quiaca; Ruta 9; 270 Miles.

A bitter sweet farewell to the Alejandro 1 Hotel in Salta as its been our base, on and off since the 29 May when we first arrived in the city; staying 18 nights during that period. It is a newly built, well appointed hotel and opened quite recently. It is staffed by a relatively young and inexperienced team who readily admit that the learning curve is steep and rapid; but we think that they do themselves a disservice. What they may lack in experience, they certainly make up with an efficient friendly manner that is always delivered with a smile and a positive energetic response from the moment you approach the front door to be greeted by Gaston and Facundo who practice their English on us and make sure that the Union Jack is flying if there is a spare flag pole; to Maria at the front desk, who’s warm smile and good English saves me using sign language when Mick turns his back on me to say learn some Spanish (two good reasons to stay at the front desk); and Frederico, the enthusiastic tourist adviser who has travelled widely in South America and gave us really good advice and answered all our tourist questions. There is obviously a very large staff that made our stay a very pleasant one but these were our main contacts; we did appreciate the effort of all the staff. Our final thanks goes to the manager who allowed us to abandon our bikes in his garage for a month, whether we were staying or not.

Cast your mind back to the 30 June a very important date in the Argentine calendar; it was Argentina v Germany and we were at Amaicha del Ville where we stopped for lunch and to catch the second half of the game where there was a rowdy crowd of elderly ladies supporting Argentina! Well last night at supper there was a rowdy crowd of elderly ladies singing alone and flirting with the in house band, yes same group and they recognised us too.

Fond farewells done we are back doing what we came to do; riding and seeing the continent. Our objective was the Bolivian border; to cross it or just reach it and cross tomorrow. The route was straight up Ruta 9 for 270 miles on good quality paved roads and easy riding, which is what I wanted to ease the shoulder back into its riding position. We bye-passed the city of Jujuy which we visited on my nursery ride on Sunday and when we arrived at La Quiaca Mick said “did you see the soldiers on exercise”? No, didn’t see anything! Oh just 4 armoured infantry carriers and dismounted infantry! They must have been well camouflaged! We rode at a steady pace not just to accommodate my shoulder but because the Metzeller tyres are a nightmare at the moment even though we have ridden 400 miles on them. They are wandering all over the place and cornering can be quite disconcerting. As we approach what looked like a giant concrete sundial with a big yellow sun painted on it, Mick decided to do a 180 and head back down the road; what had I missed now? It was the sign for the Tropic of Capricorn, an absolute must as a photo opportunity, so we (royal we) took a few.

Climbing to 3500 metre (going to be another sleepless night) we passed herds of domestic llamas; they seem to be much bigger and woollier up this end of the country and they have road sense too, which is good when they are grazing along the edge of the road; more that can be said for those daft sheep! The police and Gendarmerie check points were not interested in us today; we were waved through all points except for one where they just wanted a passport check. It was an easy day, arriving in La Quiaca just sort of the border (300 metre) we opted to overnight in Argentina and do the border at our leisure in the morning. Next stop Bolivia.

05 Jul 06 (Wed). La Quiaca – Potosi; Ruta 14, 1; 243 miles. 3500 metre ASL and an hotel that has heating sheer luxury; well not; advertised as heated we elected just to remove riding trousers as a goodwill gesture to clean sheets. Altitude and a bitterly cold night had the usual effect; limited sleep and just willing the dawn to arrive so that we could get going. We were limited to a 0830 start because the secure garage where our bikes were didn’t open until then anyway; it did make for a long night.

The border at La Quiaca to Villazon was only 300 metre from the hotel and 5121 kms from our start point of Ushuaia, and we’ve covered over 11000 to date! Could we get there; you can see it but every road you take is blocked. We had just stop at a junction block by what looked like official vehicles wondering what to do when a “transito” cop on a Honda 125 arrived and asked what the matter was? Explaining, she just said “go through it”. We are still applying UK logic and restrictions on ourselves when there really is no need; and to put us out of our misery she said “follow me” and duly led us to the border crossing. That was the second transito cop who saw that we needed a lead and just did so; we needed help to find the hotel last night too! You’d never believe we used to be able to navigate through the jungle!

The border crossing was a doddle, although it took one and half hours, what took a long time was the Bolivian Customs trying to clear my bikes details using their internet system that kept crashing. The customs officer gave up on the high speed, state of the art technology and reverted to the age old tried and tested method of pen, two forms and a sheet of carbon paper; 5five minutes and an apology for the hold up later we were on our way. But before we went, we had to acknowledge a group of elderly ladies who were crossing the border too. Are they following us, have they heard about puppies, are we in luck? Time to hit the throttle!

We had sought advice about routes and road conditions because I am nursing a sore shoulder and a long period of arduous gravel tracks would not do it a whole lot of good. So we opted for Ruta 14 from Villazon to Potosi although 300 kms of graded track it was reported to be absolutely superb; you can probably hear the irony. The term good or better than good is all relative; it was 7 hours, 234 miles of physical torture and probably rates as one of our hardest days yet; that includes the day out to the Salar del Hombre Muerte. Previous rides on the gravel have been quite an isolated event, but this is a busy ruta with cars, lorries and buses. Buses being your worst nightmare; they are the fastest thing on the track, they stop for no man, machine or beast and their aerodynamic ensure that they produce the largest and thickest cloud of dust possible. You literally drive into a blind bank of dust with visibility down to your front mudguard! Unless you have had a clear view of the road ahead before the dust hits you the only thing to do is stop.

We rode north through Tupiza and Cotagaita to Potosi, but ask me what the scenery was like and I could not tell you. Mick S leading so that he could warn of hazards like soft sand, big hole etc but the down side was I was either riding to far behind to pick up the warnings or riding in his dust trail! We rode through Tupiza where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid were reportedly killed in their final shootout with the law!

Potosi is an ancient silver mining town dating back to the 1600s when a llama herder lighting a fire discovered that the ground was melting silver. That started the silver rush that lead to the Spanish ruling the most affluent city of its time. The decline of the value of silver and other minerals mined from this city has meant its demise and is now predominantly a poor transit hub for travellers. Today it remains a sprawling mining town dominated by the old volcanic peak that is pepper potted with reportedly over a thousand mine shafts and the resultant slag tips that scar its slopes. The workers start down the mines at the age of 13 and have a life expectancy of about 15 years, so most die before they are 30, either through lung disease or accidents. It does still boast some fine examples of Spanish architecture, the most prominent being the Royal Mint which was literally that in the 1600s. The building is the largest in the town and served not only as the mint but also barracks, prison and luxury safe accommodation for senior Spanish officials. It also has an abundance of churches and other historical buildings that date back to the time of the Spanish. We wanted to get some photos of the local people and trying to get some photos of the ladies in traditional dress was not easy; they were not happy to be photographed which meant trying to setup photo ambushes to get a few.

06 Jul 06 (Thu). Potosi – Oruro; Ruta 1; 198 Miles. What a road, newly completed (in relative terms) it would have been a sports bike paradise had it not been for the goat droppings and light gravel, usually on the apex of tight corners. The scenery has change from the wide open high plains of the Sierra de Calalaste and the dusty desert of Ruta 14 yesterday to close mountains with tight gorges and the odd tunnel too. There is little in the way of habitation or agriculture in this region and little evidence of wildlife too; it is very desolate. What habitation is primitive, houses (term used loosely) of mud brick wall and either turf or a thatch roof. It is the most impoverished region we have visited yet.

As we cleared the Peaje, another toll at Challapata, getting up to cruising speed two bikes were hurtling towards us; these were the first bikes we’d seen since Terra del Furego and we were not going to repeat the mistake of not stopping. We and they put out a hand to wave as we passed and we throttled down to stop; but they just kept going; ironic! And after all this time following out of use railway lines we finally spotted a train; of sorts!

Arriving in Oruro we found another one of those hotels that advertise heating; another night fully clothed. Oruro did not really have anything to offer other that a tactical stopover. It is another has-been city whose demise has come from the fall in the value of the countries natural resources. It has declined into a mess of crumbling buildings and crumbling people.

07 Jul 06 (Fri). Oruro – Sajama - La Paz; Ruta 1, 4; 345 Miles. We were not sure where we would reach today? La Paz was on our radar but the volcano’s at Sajama which sits on the Bolivian – Chilean border at the end of Ruta 14 and a 200 mile detour off Ruta 1 to La Paz, well its just down the road and you cannot miss the opportunity. Refuel at Patacamaya, not wishing to be caught short and head south on a very well paved road.

Sheep and llamas have been dodged as a matter of cause but what nearly caught us out was a local; she was walking at a steady pace down the right hand side of the road with her back to us; we always take the centre line (if the road is clear) when passing anything, just in case. As Mick got to within 50 meters of her she turned into the road and ran across into our line. Hauling on the brakes, knobbly tyres trying to get some grip and the ABS pumping like the racing heart of the rider, moving further left and at the same time making that all important mathematical calculation “if the target is moving from right to left at speed A and we are closing with the target at speed B, take the decreasing angle as the distance closes; where should you aim to miss her? Calculation complete, adjust your trajectory and that will give sufficient clearance; bugger, she’s turned round and ran back to her start point!! She had one of those sixth sense moments; she did not look at the bikes when she turned, just turned and ran, and she was giggling to herself too. All the characteristics were exactly the same as the sheep crossing the track when we left Calafate!

We got to a good vantage point of the volcano some 85 miles down Ruta 14 and decided that we were close enough to get the photos and say we’d seen it. To get any closer required a long cross country ride.

A few kms before La Paz a large scooter came towards us, it was a touring scooter of about 500 cc and it had a surf board attached to the side! This time we were not going to make a half hearted attempt to communicate with it; as it passed we stopped and did a 180 and rode back after it; it did not stop; oh well we did make the effort again.

La Paz is set in a valley surrounded by mountains which makes it a magnificent smog trap and the Autopista contours around the mountainside until it reaches the heart of the city. Mick managed to get a photo of the city from high up the Autopista; the city is perched precariously on the slope of the mountains and gives the impression that it would cascade into the city centre during a good down pour. The traffic seems like sheer madness, if you snooze you lose, and if you are less than positive you’ll miss your chance. But in fact it’s no more dangerous the riding in Italy. With two bikes you ride tactically, the lead bike deciding the route and the second bike blocking to allow clear space to move into, its quite an effective method and providing the second bike stays within the vision of the first and is conscious of the traffic around it works. It would appear that there are no rules and traffic moved generally in one direction and generally on one side of the road; but actually, with all the hooting of horns and pushing there is a logic and ethic to it all; you’ve just got to tune in to the system and then get out there and play!

08 Jul 06 (Sat). La Paz – Copacabana; Ruta 2; 84 Miles. Getting out of La Paz was a mixture of fun riding, competing with the traffic and a pain because it was slow going in fumy heavy traffic. The exit was the reverse of our entry yesterday, up the Autopista then turn left on Ruta 2 and head west. Those were the directions from the lady at the hotel. At the end of the Autopista it was mayhem, no clear way to got so Mick stopped in the middle of the road to ask a policeman; well you do done you? The policeman stopped three lanes of traffic in order that could cross to the right exit, and the Mick did it again and the policeman stopped more traffic for us.

The ride to Copacabana was only 84 mile and that gave us plenty of time to stop and enjoy the scenery. The terrain has changed dramatically, gone are the sharp peaks and rugged mountain faces, replaced by rolling mountains and cultivation. As we approached Lago Titicaca the mountain scenery merging with the azure blue water under a bright clear blue sky was magnificent. To get to Copacabana we had a ferry crossing from San Pablo to San Pedro de Tiquina which was an interesting experience as the ferries were barges of questionable construction and serviceability, but functional. We were loaded and had to support the bikes on suspect timber decking with the odd plank missing here and there!

Copacabana and its surrounding area is a major tourist attraction for locals and international tourists alike. The lake is the main draw, a beautiful location with unspoilt surroundings. The negative is the filth that is produced and discarded into it, although it boasts of fresh fish and there is plenty of evidence to support that, there is also too much evidence of blind mullets floating just off the beach. It is undisputedly a beautiful place to visit and the best view is from the top of the hill which we decided to venture up much to the detriment to our health. Already at 3800 metres this was a near vertical climb of 100 metres plus, to a Christian worship site where every bit of tack you can imagine is peddled and all the resultant rubbish discarded over the hill. This was not supposed to be a walking holiday and that’s why we have 1150cc to get us around; this just proved that we cannot draw oxygen through every orifice but it would have been helpful!

09 Jul 06 (Sun). Toady was a day to do the laundry and service the bikes ready to cross into Peru tomorrow and head for Machu Picchu.

Bolivia and our thoughts: We have only spent 5 days in Bolivia, a passing glance, which is not long enough to make an informed opinion on a nation, but our impression is that is a pitifully impoverished nation without a smile or a friendly wave. During our ride we will raise a hand to all we pass, but they are more likely to extend a hand than raise one. There seems to be no humour, life is a struggle and living a burden.

The country has outstanding scenery and its value for money is undisputable. Whether the nationalisation of the natural resources will benefit those at the very bottom of the food chain is uncertain? What it will do is benefit those at the top, as another nation is raped from within of its assets. Time is not on our side and we have not done justice to this country; it would merit a revisit.

Charity:
Macmillan Cancer Support – http://www.justgiving.com/mickdaly-hereford

Schools:
Christ College Brecon - http://www.christcollegebrecon.com/
St Richard’s Bredenbury - http://www.st-richards.co.uk/

Our intention for the next week. Is to enter and exit Peru!