, I can ride anyinto
Bolivia
, inscrutable
ur spent staring
the middle of the
sed for lunch. If
that it was nothrs
of bureaucraorcycles
up a
a wooden ferry
ca. My partner,
off my helmet to
s of swimming in
hould we capsize
ion his day job is
az at sunset. The
unseen as you
no. We darted
t to make progress
ffic. A driver in
pened his door - I
’t miss the vomit
pavement. Curses
in my helmet.
La Paz is an unexpected highlight
of our tour. We left the bikes in safe
storage and took the cable car down
as the city emerged from hiding
around us, lights and buildings clinging
impossibly to the steep slopes,
alive with a mass of people and music.
The following day we would ride
the Death Road; the most dangerous
road in the world.
Beyond La Paz, we visited Potosi,
famed for a hill of silver, and the
Salar de Uyuni where we posed for
silly photos. The people paraded and
danced in the streets, the scenery was
beautiful and riding the ripio road
was fun. Bucket list. Tick!
At tiny Ollague, where the volcano
puffs gently, we crossed into Chile.
The travellers curse struck at San
Pedro de Atacama. A handsome
young doctor was called. I mimed
my symptoms, and he asked me
questions in Spanish. The confused
charade went on for a bit until I men-
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