El Camino De La Muerta

Since I have been on this lonesome venture throughout South America, I have had a few fleeting moments in which I wondered if I had truly gone mad. This was one of them.

I am sitting in the backseat of a tiny little white van alongside two friendly Scottish guys, our guide Fernando, and the driver which he keeps exchanging quips with in Spanish – none of which I have paid attention to.

Any chance that I had to turn back has long since passed. The tangerine sunrise is slowly coming up over the horizon of these busy streets. We are heading north from La Paz into Coroico. After about an hour-long drive, we arrive at the tip of the Yungas Mountain Range in Bolivia, where a narrow road of hairpin turns has been etched into the edge of the landscape.

The World’s Most Dangerous Road, El Camino de la Muerte, Death Road - There have been a cocktail variation of names developed for this adrenaline junkie’s ultimate thrill. None of them made it seem any more hospitable. Tour companies give backpackers a chance to pick their poison for those who want to experience clinging on to the edge of a mountain – car or bike. I decided that two wheels were better than four.

Death Road is no wider than 3 meters at any point, and there is definitely not a guardrail in sight for the five hour long, 69-kilometre descent through the emerald green Bolivian Amazon.

To say that my heartbeat increased slightly as I glanced over the edge of the 600 m sheer cliffs with a gigantic truck barreling up the hill towards us would be an understatement. It looked like one of the two Scottish guys had turned a slightly pale shade of green. At least he had a friend to bounce his insecurities off of though!

I, on the other hand just kept quiet and listening to the voice inside my head saying ‘just breathe’.

After the truck had passed, the dust had settled, and our guide had done his very best to instruct us what not to do if we would like to live to see tomorrow – away we went! I was basically white-knuckled from start to finish with a gigantic smile on my face. While the road is wider and narrower in some parts, there is honestly not a moment in time where there is room for error without potential fatal consequences. Riders are reminded of this as crosses and memorials pass by in one’s peripheral vision and tales of lives lost in recent weeks echo in their ears.

These momentary few hours of exhilaration and unknown fate reminded me happily of the unpredictability of my entire trek across this continent. Slowly but surely, I got over the bumps in the road, made snap decisions around every corner and had faith in the fact that I would come out at the bottom unscathed. And I did.