El Camino de la Muerte

Trip report: South America 2008. El Camino de la Muerte - Motomorgana, nomads riding around the world on a motorbike adventure.
El Camino de la Muerte
After a few wrong indications and and an unexpected little stretch of nice off road in the mountains, I finally arrive at the start of ‘El Camino de la Muerte’, de road of death, the most dangerous road in the world so they say. Nowadays an alternative road to Coroico has been constructed which means the danger of heavy trucks on the narrow piste is somewhat less present. The steep slopes are still there though and at times the road isn’t an inch too wide either. Vertigo is definately a no go here and feeling insecure probably won’t help either. More than 90 on the straight stretches is all too risky I guess. But the views are spectacular. That same day I was told and American guy was killed while riding the road on his mountain bike. He simply fell into the deep ravine.

Dust, dust, dust,

After a delicious Taco meal, it’s time to finally leave Coroico and head for Caranavi. Now this road would probably make a good new candidate for the most dangerous road in the world. The slopes are just as steep as the Camino de la Muerte but there is dust everywhere which impairs your vision. After having eaten dust for several kms behind a heavy truck, I take the risk of passing it but I am quickly stopped by two headlights of a car. My front wheel blocks and I kiss the ground. No harm done this time, but it makes me realise the danger is all too present. My ALU panniers have suffered quite a bit of damage so far and upon arrival in the spooky town of Caranavi, I pay a local metal workshop to rivet them back together. Not that they looked new then, but at least they don’t fall apart anymore. I meet Anne, a German NGO worker, and I am quite delighted to be able to have a nice conversation. Locals just stare at me as if I were extraterrestrial here…

Ouch!

Trip report: South America 2008. Crack in the cylinder cover :-( - Motomorgana, nomads riding around the world on a motorbike adventure.
Crack in the cylinder cover :-(
It’s gotten unpleasantly hot in the meanwhile and the road continues into jungle like landscapes where cars often don’t stand out when it comes to their technical condition. But I am having fun and I drift my way further north. At times the throttle goes wide open and my 21″ front wheel and Ohlins combination perform pretty well. But then… As I lure at my GPS to figure out the name of the next village, things go pretty wrong. A big hole in the road just passed my attention and as I notice it, it’s too late to hit the brakes. I can’t but let the bike go through and the back of my bike is violently thrown in the air and at a speed of 80 kms/h I find myself flying through the air and finally landing on a big rock. I hit my head and chest and feel a fierce pain underneath my body armour. I can’t breath anymore and all I want is to get the helmet off. I panic, and the only thing I see is four Bolivianos laughing their arse off and showing how I flew through the air. I finally got rid of the helmet. My armour has protected me and the helmet did its job, but just below the chest protection it hurts pretty badly. I see my bike lying in a puddle of oil. It oozes out of the damaged cylinder cover. First job: three Ibuprofens and getting myself together.As soon as the pain becomes bearable, I repair the cylinder head with liquid metal. The Bolivianos try to persuade me to stay another couple of days, but I just have to move on. Riding and standing on the pegs is ok, but looking behind and bending over are really painful. I’m determined to take it a little easier now.

River crossings…

I was warned for deep river crossings here and as the night fell I find myself standing at the side of a river, 100m wide. A couple of youngsters assure that the river can be crossed and that the maximum depth is about 30 cms. I decide to just go for it standing up on the pegs. I am not going to make a fuss over 30 cms, that’s for sure. Until I see the water level rise, and rise, and rise… Bloody hell! Those little bastards where standing there laughing at me as I see the wild water pass just under the air intake. If the engine takes water here, it’s all over I am afraid. But can’t but go on. The rocks in the river are quite big and I cannot afford to drop the bike here. It’s a pretty tricky balancing exercise but luckily I make it to the other side of the river. I empty my boots and decide to spend the night in the next village. A farmer offers me a shed and a concrete floor but frankly that’s all I wished for for the night. Dinner is arroz con pollo, as usual, or was it pollo con arroz? I have had better, but I don’t care about these details right now. A good beer with the farmer and then to bed. The dog lick my face in the morning and the farmer doesn’t even want to be paid. In stead he offers me juicy pomelos and mandarines from his garden. Lovely! Thenext river crossing is less wide but just as deep and also the current is stronger, but I make it to the other side without any harm.

Exhausted

Trip report: South America 2008. The road to Caranavi - Motomorgana, nomads riding around the world on a motorbike adventure.
The road to Caranavi
Just passed Mapir the road conditions get really bad. In fact one could hardly call this a real road or piste. Except a single coca farmer every now and then, there is no one around so I don’t count on any assistance. So when I lay the bike on its side, in 40+°C and in a pretty wrecked physical condition, I’m starting to get desperate. The recent accident combined with the long days of off road riding have let me find myself in a state of complete exhaustion. On top of that, the road appears to be a lot longer than I had foreseen and finding petrol along the road is also pretty hard. It’s dark aready as I make it to Sorata. I am covered with dirt and I smell like a pig. I am lucky to meet Lisa from Canada, and I spend a quiet but pleasant evening.
The next day starts with a delicious breakfast and a visit to the local market. But as I just set off to head for Copacabana, Bolivia, I notice my rear subframe is cracked. The local wonder weder is able to fix it in no time though and what I would have considered a disaster before, is now just a detail on this trip. One learns to see things in perspective.

Copacabana, Lake Titicaca, Isla del Sol

Trip report: South America 2008. Isla del Sol - Motomorgana, nomads riding around the world on a motorbike adventure.
Isla del Sol
The road to Copacabana takes me through totally different landscapes as I cross the Andes cordillera. Despite the cold, I regularly scrape my foorpegs in the hairpins. The pain in my rib is bearable but it still worries me and as I am finally examined by a doctor in Copacabana, it appears to be a rib fracture. There isn’t a lot you can do about that. Time will heal it, but luckily I carry a sufficient amount of painkillers. Copacabana has a vivid atmosphere and serves delicious fish. I take a boat trip to Isla del Sol and I meet Jan, Elisa and Arida, 3 wonderful backpack travellers. Arida convinces me to take the walk to the other side of this wonderful Island. It’s just the two of us and as the night falls, there’s romance in the air.
Back to Copacabana we enjoy the local nightlife and the day after it’s time to say goodbye.

Puno, Cusco and a lot of misery on the road

From here it goes straight to Peru. As I cross the border, the Bolivian border patrol guy tells me that I won’t pass unless I pay big money because the import documents for the bike weren’t ok, but after a lot of cursing, refusal and threat, I just ride into Peru without paying a single cent. Roads are in good condition here and I make it to Puno at higher speeds. I meet Jan again andwe visit the tourist circus of the floating islands. Well, it actually is nice to see but it’s lost all authenticity and it definately makes your wallet a lot lighter. Apart from that, Puno isn’t really offering a lot so I quickly decide to head for Cusco. The only problem is that they announced a day of strike in the whole region and as I want to set off in the morning, there’s broken bottles and rocks everywhere on the pavement. The strikers want to prevent everyone from driving today and I finally make my way throught it, riding on the sidewalk. But there’s more road blocks further down the road and I talk my way through with a made up story of a life threatening sick child and that I therefore urgently need to make it to Lima. Almost everyone buys it but in Juliaca people start throwing stones at me and I have to flee, the throttle wide open. Just a bit further I find myself surrounded by acrowd of protesters and women suddenly star hitting my head with full loundry bags. Opening the throttle and letting the engine roar is again the only solution and the crowd jumps out of the way. I realise I have been lucky. A few stretches of tar road and some twisties finally bring me to the beautiful and vivid city of Cusco. It offers a wide variety of nice restaurants and I meet a bunch of very friendly travellers.

Machu Picchu

Trip report: South America 2008. Machu Picchu - Motomorgana, nomads riding around the world on a motorbike adventure.
Machu Picchu
Machu Picchu is a must do and is next on my list. The road that takes you there from Cusco is great for those who appreciate twisties mixed with a good deal of off road riding. The high passes are pretty cold but once you get over them you just join the easy and relaxed gravel roads below. Aguas Calientes is the base town for a visit to Machu Picchu but it cannot be reached by road. The last train already left and just for a moment I believ I can make it over the railroad tracks on my bike, despite the road sign. A local women almost begs me not to do it as it would most likely kill me, so I decide to walk the 8 kms to Aguas Calientes withnothing but a powerled headlight. I must admit the woman was more than right. The road is far from rideable, not the least because of the high bridges only made up of rails and cross beams with a nice deep ravine under them.
The first busses for Machu Piccu leave Aguas Calientes around five in the morning. The huge crowd of tourists isn’t there yet and Machu Picchu is pretty deserted at that time of the day.I meet a bunch of french speaking back packers and Lisa is there again as well. The place is contrary to what I expected, breathtaking, impressive! It has that sacred atmosphere and in all its simplicity it’s so incredibly beautiful. After a climb on Wayna Picchu, the typical high peak characterizing the site, I decide to head back to the bike. To my dismay I learn I again missed the last train. I am strating to think they arranged these crazy timetables just to keep the tourists a little longer in Aguas Calientes. So again, I am walking these 8 kms, but this time under the blistering heat of the burning sun. I am sweating like a pig and I am more than happy as the riding wind finally cools me down. The last stop before heading for the coast is Ollantaytambo where I arrive pretty late in the evening, totally numb from the freezing temperature. The place only offers a dirty room and an icecold shower. But the past days have been extraordinary and they make me forget the practical misery with ease.