Always remember – no one is invincible against Mother Nature.
I had spent a few days in La Paz, Bolivia and decided to take a weekend trip with a small group of travelers to Copacabana and Isla del Sol, both also in Bolivia. While spending a few days and nights enjoying activities around Lake Titicaca and Isla del Sol, members of the group informed me about how amazing the ride down Death Road in La Paz was, with one guy from the U.K. claiming it was the best thing he had ever done in his life. The group was moving on to Cusco, Peru, but with as much excitement as they had expressed about the Death Road ride, I decided I’d head back to La Paz for a day or two, tackle Death Road, and then meet them in Cusco in a few days.
When I arrived in La Paz I scheduled my tour and informed a few of my friends back home that I was going to be biking down “the most dangerous road in the world.” I even made a joke to a couple of my Fantasy Football friends that if they didn’t hear from me in a couple of days, to set my lineup as I desired and give my Mother my winnings if I were to win the season. They made a couple of jokes back and that was that. Later I’d come to regret making those jokes.
Two guys from the hostel I was staying at and myself set off at 7 AM the next morning and met the tour group at a restaurant before boarding the buses. We split into two smaller groups, each with two guides and a driver. Our guides were Gustavo – a man who looked like he had been riding Death Road longer than I have been alive, and Christian – a 30-year-old man with six years of experience that seemed to have as much adventure and spirit inside of him as myself. Gustavo would be taking the lead most of the day while Christian would be closing out the rear and taking pictures and videos for us to receive on DVDs the following day. We were ready to go.
We took off down the first stretch of road before the actual Death Road to get a feeling for our bikes and the speed at which they were capable of. This road was paved and we reached speeds upwards of 40-50 km/h. It took a little getting used to at first, but after 10-20 kilometers or so, I understood the bike and felt fairly comfortable handling it. We stopped a couple of times along the way allowing Christian to take solo and group photos in scenic spots and were truly having the time of our lives.
After the paved road was complete, we then hopped back onto the bus and let the driver take us to the actual Death Road – 40 kilometers of gravel and dirt set alongside beautiful mountainsides and landscapes. Gustavo and Christian warned us of the difference between the gravel and paved road and told us to make sure we were comfortable first before trying to gain any actual speed.
Tragic Travel Story
We set out once again with Gustavo taking the lead, followed by myself and four others in the front (the speedy group), then the middle of the pack (the semi-confident group), and ending with our last three (the not-so-confident group) and Christian. About 4 km into the 40 km road, we began to take a sharp right turn and Gustavo slammed on the brakes and told the front group to stop. We joined him alongside the road and a tractor carrying a large load of lumber raced towards us blaring its horn. It passed by us and Gustavo shook his head and said that the tractor was way too large and wide to be traveling up the road.
Once it had fully passed, we biked ahead toward a spot where the road widened and we could wait for the rest of the group to catch up. The middle of the pack caught up and we took a few pictures as we waited for our last three and Christian to arrive. During this waiting period, one of the group members asked Gustavo if he had ever seen anyone fall off the cliff and Gustavo replied with a fortunate “no”. The Devil himself could not have written a better script.
Not even thirty seconds later, the final three group members arrived, but one of the girls looked panicked and quickly informed Gustavo that as they were riding down they had heard a scream and when they looked back Christian was not anywhere to be seen. Gustavo’s eyes widened and he had an expression of disbelief upon his face. He quickly stated if anyone wanted to follow him they were more than welcome to, and he quickly took off on his bike back up the road.
Myself and five others started trying to race back too, but going uphill in the highest of altitudes was too much for any of us to bare on a bike. We walked our bikes as fast as we physically could up the road, but it took us over 30 minutes to arrive to the spot where Christian’s bike was located. When we arrived, Gustavo looked in complete disarray as other tour groups were quickly gathering around.
Three riders who were doctors started ordering us to gather any type of medical supplies from the buses, but even if we had had an entire emergency room at our disposal, we still faced the daunting task of how to retrieve Christian. A woman who lived in the area had stated that she had seen the tractor pass by and the three final riders of our group take off. From what she claimed, Christian stayed back to take a few photos of the riders taking off, but accidentally lost his footing alongside the road and fell off the edge.
When we arrived, the doctors in the group stated that he was alive. I’m not sure if he had shouted up or if they were just guessing, but with all the preparations we had with the medical equipment, we still had to wait for rescuers to arrive to be lowered down to retrieve him. Unfortunately, the amount of time it took for them to finally arrive (nearly 2 hours by my estimate) was impossibly too late. We lowered rescuers down 80 meters by rope, but by the time they were able to get to him and attempt to revive him, he had already passed. The group and other tour guides were speechless. I was speechless. Clearly in complete shock, Gustavo offered to take anyone down who wanted to finish the ride, but I spoke on behalf of the group and told him that the ride was over for the day. The group agreed, packed up the bikes, got on the bus, and we went home.
As a traveler you want to do the most adventurous and dangerous stuff in each city you go to. Partly because of the thrill of it, partly because you want to show off to your friends back home, but mostly because you want to experience the world. Travelers at the hostel I stayed at had joked about Death Road before I went on the expedition, as did I, but it was no laughing matter anymore. You have to remember that while many of the dangerous activities throughout the world have experienced tour guides and flawless records, no one is invincible against Mother Nature and anything can happen.
Most of us in the group donated money to Christian’s family after the ride and I can only hope that if there is a Heaven up there, that he is looking down and smiling at other riders enjoying life and experiencing the fun of nature like he once did. Even though I only knew him for a few brief hours, his spirit and energy expressed to me that is what he would’ve wanted.
Just remember that if you’re performing dangerous adventures and activities either on the road or even at home, take caution. While the thrill of the ride boosts your adrenalin and you feel invincible in the moment, remember that the world was here long before you and will be here long after you. You are not more powerful than the world.
Have fun out there, and please, be safe.
