Travelling seems to be getting in the way of my blog writing. As does washing and planning and social media. I am about to embark on a long trip with lots of long days and one night stops in cheap hotels.

And so I left my lovely apartment in La Paz. I was able to fill my bike tank before I left but not my plastic container. I had adjusted my luggage so that I could fit the container on the back. Hopefully it is well strapped on. I had really liked La Paz but am excited to discover new places and so I am heading to Santa Cruz about 1200kms away. The road out of La Paz was the same one we took to do the Death Road mountain bike trip and so I was actually driving on the new death road. I got to the carpark on the high pass where we had started our mountain bike ride and it was all fogged in. Couldn’t see more than 100 metres. We obviously lucked out on our day.

I wasn’t able to ride much faster than 60kph and you couldn’t see down into the valleys at all. I think I was going that fast on the mountain bike last week. I passed a couple of the bike buses and wondered if some of them had cancelled due to the pea soup. Then as I got further down it got even worse. It became really wet fog and I was struggling to see 20m in front of me. I was just following the lines on the road and then they disappeared because of some new asphalt. I had to stop in the middle of the road and move to find the edge so I could see which direction to go. It was ridiculous and dangerous. Who would want to die on the new death road?

Finally the lines started again and I could keep moving. Fortunately, there wasn’t many vehicles and the trucks seemed to have pulled up on the side of the roads with their hazard lights on. I was able to continue downhill at about 20kph and as I had driven up this road a few days earlier I knew there were some poorly marked roadworks on my side of the road. And then I hit the first one. I almost literally hit it. I slowed down even more as I knew that others were coming. The fog started to clear a little and I was able to do about 40kph safely and then because the road was so steep I suddenly popped out below the clouds and could see. It was about forty kilometres and took about an hour and a half. And was tiring. And it was suddenly hot.

I reached the town when the old and new death roads meet and continued on. The road from there was pretty crap with lots of potholes but I like the way they had creatively repaired some of them. As I was riding I was feeling a bit weird. Almost like I was drunk. I found myself speeding and swerving around things. The bike seemed to be joining in. It then occurred to me it was probably because I had just dropped 3500m in altitude and my body was overloaded with oxygen and red blood cells. I’m not sure if that’s a thing but it seemed feasible, so I felt relieved that I wasn’t having some sort of psychotic episode and continued on.

I had forgotten it was a Sunday and South Americans like to go for a drive somewhere and have lunch on Sundays. I found a busy little riverside restaurant and had this huge plate of mixed meat and a few token veggies and a litre of Limonada for $8AUD.

I waddled out of there and continued to the town of Yucumo where I planned to stay for the night and buy fuel. And this is what I saw when I arrived. I’d left La Paz with just enough fuel to get there. Not was this the only petrol station in town but it had no petrol. And hadn’t had any for days. I booked into the Tropical Hotel across the road and felt pretty down with thoughts of having to live in this room for a while. It was cheap. And not just the cost. The lady who ran the place wasn’t very patient with my Spanish but her eyes lit up when I said I needed fuel. She said her son could get me some but it would be very expensive. 

Live in Yucumo, or spend a lot of money. A pretty simple choice. I met the son and he said it would be $1.50 AUD a litre and he could get me 10 litres. Ho ho ho. It was like Xmas. He took my plastic container said he would return in an hour. He didn’t. I stayed up late but he never returned. I googled the specs on my bike and realised my tank held 13.1L not 11.3L as I had thought. That meant I had just enough fuel to get to the next town. They may have fuel and a nicer hotel.

Next morning I asked the old lady about my fuel and she pointed to the corner and there was my container. With fuel in it. It was a bit of an odd colour and didn’t smell very petrolly. And it had a few floaties in it. Maybe it was old. I decided not to risk using it and head to the next town San Borja and then make a decision. I made it there okay and it was the same thing. No fuel. Long lines. So I found a nice little restaurant, had a feed and then strained the fuel (through my oldest pair of jocks) into my tank. I started it up and let it run a bit and it seemed fine. It should give me just enough to get to Trinidad which was a bigger town.

The road was reasonable but not much traffic. No fuel does have some advantages. Although I wouldn’t want to have bad fuel or run out on this road as there were signs everywhere suggesting it was a bad idea. But there were a few locals riding around and they had guns so maybe they could help out a stranded traveller.

I was constantly watching my phone and my fuel gauge and it kept saying it wasn’t far to Trinidad but it was still over an hour away. The road turned into a dirt track and then there was a long que of trucks. At first I thought fuel and then discovered it was another one of those Bolivian ferry crossings. Organised chaos. I was directed further along the shore to a smaller boat and then left as soon as I was on. At least on this ferry I could turn the bike around reasonably easily. Once we got to the other side I was grateful for that. An earlier Shane would have panicked when he saw the exit path off the ferry. New Shane just shrugged his shoulders, pulled down his visor, stood up on the pegs and sent it. It was a lot steeper than the photos show it. Slightly proud of myself.

I then rode around to where the trucks and tankers and buses get on to the ferries. I parked up and watched for a while. Chatted to a guy off a bus for a bit and a truck driver. Its hard to imagine that they do this all the time. It’s a main road. They just adjust the banks of the river to match the height of the water to load and unload. It was $6.50AUD for the bike. I have no idea how much the big rigs pay.

I made it safely to Trinidad and went straight for a feed and to do some research on where to stay. I had passed a couple of petrol stations that were closed but there was a bit of traffic so I had to assume there was some fuel somewhere.  I ordered my meal and the waiter asked if I wanted anything else and so I said that I wanted 10L of fuel.  He had a good laugh. When I went to pay he gave me a good tip and said look for houses or shops that have an empty coke bottle on a stool or box out the front. It means they have fuel.

I chose the Hotel Colonial and instantly decided that if I was going to be stuck somewhere for a while then this place would be fine. Once I was checked in, I started wandering the streets. I headed to the outskirts of town and followed the long queues up to a petrol station that actually had fuel. I asked if I would be able to buy some and the response was a pretty feeble maybe. They suggested that I go to the government fuel office and get some sort of stamped paperwork and they would be able to serve me. It was getting late but I was still within walking distance before it closed. I didn’t mind having to queue but only if they could give me fuel when I got to the pump.

To get to the office in time I had to walk through a few dodgy streets, so I set off and then about halfway there I saw it. An empty coke bottle on a stool. It was outside a house. I knocked on the door and a lady came out. It was all a bit confusing and then two other ladies appeared and it all became quite funny (in a good way) but they said they didn’t have any fuel but they will have some in an hour if I came back. It was about 2kms from my hotel and as I would be returning in the dark on the bike I felt fine going there. And speeding off if needed.

When I arrived they were busy syphoning fuel from a 100L container into two litre coke bottles. People were turning up on bikes and buying two litres worth. It was a busy place. I asked if they could possibly fill my whole tank. That was fine but it would cost $1AUD a litre which was the same price that the locals were paying. It smelt beautiful and squeaky clean as they filled my tank to the top. Just over 11 litres. I asked if they could put the last bit of the coke bottle into my plastic container, which they did and then they asked if I wanted the container filled as well?  Wow. It was an exciting moment. So all up I got 22L. It was $22AUD and I gave them $30AUD and said keep the change. They were genuinely excited and grateful. We were all very happy. And then I rode off around the corner.

In the excitement I hadn’t secured the plastic container properly and I hit a bump and it flew off the bike onto the road. It was in a black plastic garbage bag. I felt it go and swung off the road quickly and onto some long grass which turned out to be a deep drain. I managed to keep the bike upright but the front wheel was deep in the drain. I couldn’t move or get off the bike without lying it down and I was reluctant to do that. Cars and bikes were driving around the black garbage bag in the poorly lit street. In a moment of craziness I figured the only way out of the ditch was to give the bike full power and ride out of it and then slam on the brakes before I hit the building in front of it.

Somehow that worked. My best piece of off-road riding so far. Thanks adrenaline. I parked the bike on the footpath and ran onto the road and retrieved my fuel container. And it was fine. The bag was scratched up but no holes or cracks and no leaking fuel. What a rollercoaster of emotions. We all made it safely back to the comfort of the hotel. My amazing bike had a great room with a pool view and I sat in the aircon drinking a couple of hard earned beers and the fuel sat safely over in the corner of the room.

Next morning I woke early and was mentally planning where I was going when I heard this sickening noise outside the hotel. I jumped up to see what it was and there was a car reversing off a motorbike and two people lying on the side of the road. The car then sped off and a couple of people gave chase and others tended to the injured people. The cops were there in minutes. The woman seemed okay but I’d say the man had broken bones and wasn’t moving much. No helmets. No safety gear. I did consider going down but despite being a serious accident I don’t think he was going to die at the scene, and me and my poor Spanish would have been an unneeded complication.

The ambulance, which was a Landcruiser, didn’t take long to arrive and just picked him up on a spinal board and were in and out in less than 60 seconds. So needless to say when I left that morning I was extra careful as I crossed each intersection. I usually am anyway because I can’t work out who has right of way in most cases. That was an orange juice not a breakfast beer by the way. It was still 550kms and 9 hours to get to Santa Cruz but at least I knew I had enough fuel. I decided to try and make it to San Ramon and just stay there the night. It was over halfway. It must have been the sister city of Yucumo. It was dirty and dusty and I couldn’t even find the hotel. And there were huge fuel lines everywhere.

I almost forgot to mention my moment of luck. I was always searching for fuel and when it was time to refill my tank from my container I came into a town and there was a petrol station that appeared open. With no queue. I asked the girl there if I could have fuel. It all seemed a bit strange but she filled my tank. A soldier then appeared from nowhere and took a photo of me and the bike and disappeared again. She charged me the pump price of 60 cents a litre. I hope the soldier just liked my bike and that the girl doesn’t get in trouble for selling me fuel. They are supposed to charge a tourist rate for foreigners which is about triple the subsidised rate for locals.

Anyway, I didn’t want to stay in San Ramon and there was a San Julian about 50kms down the road. Still a bit local and dusty but I found a nice hotel and checked in. There were cars and trucks and tractors all over the place lined up waiting for diesel. It was sad. The hotel lady said they’d been there for weeks. I wandered down the queue lines and found an ice cream and a couple of litres of water for dinner.

Next morning I wandered back into the market and decided to have a vegetable empanada looking thing for breakfast. The stall looked passable and people were buying stuff. They all seemed to buy this drink from a big plastic tub. The guy asked me where I was from and was quite excited as I was the first Australian he had ever seen. He then proceeded to give me a big cup of the juice stuff for free. I felt obliged to take it.

It was nice. Lots of sugar I guess and stuff lurking around the bottom of the cup. I then felt obliged to buy another empanada thing. What the hell. I’ll try a chicken one. I hadn’t been to the toilet for a couple of days anyway. It was still warm which was nice as it was early morning, and it was hopefully cooked recently. I watched a cockroach crawl out from under the cabinet as I ate my last bite.

Across the street from the market I saw a lady selling coke petrol so I filled my tank. Not that I needed much. It was only a couple of hours ride to get into Santa Cruz where I had prebooked an apartment for two nights. Just before the apartment was a petrol station and they said I could buy fuel. It took about 10 minutes of paperwork for 6 litres of fuel but it meant my tank was full and I still had my plastic container full on the back of the bike. I felt rich. Fiori Apartments were easy to get to and easy to find and really nice. Time for a couple of days off after a long hard ride.

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