The Ecuadorian motorcyclist, who³ is determined to go around the world in a project for Peace and against drug abuse, arrived again in Ecuador ending his trips in the sub-continent for this event.
Here³is the first part of his impressions about his travels, that have taken him to cover more than 60.000 kilometers on the road of all the countries in the region.
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La Paz, Bolivia August 15, 2001
Romance, passion, tenderness. Deep human emotions that can enlighten the life of any human being. Not for me. No room for those nice feelings in the life of a motorcycle adventurer. Its curious, but there are times, when you feel your best, when life seems to be smiling at you, and throws your way, something different, something special. The best comes out of you, and then, sometimes the best in not enough. And then again, sometimes you³ll win, sometimes you won³t, but you never lose, when you do what you choose. My way, is bright".
The days spent in Sucre, Bolivia³s nicest city, were definitively, mellow. Museums, walks around the colonial city, (where every sight becomes a nice surprise) old churches, meaningful conversations, romantic dinners (?!?), rides on the motorcycle in the countryside and more museums. I tell my friend, Catherine, from France, about my big disappointment about not being able, or capable, of visiting the Salar de Uyuni region. She tells me: "well, why don´t you go back with me, then?
So, its back to Potosi on the nice, paved, curvy road. Relax mode, there³s plenty of time. I have time to check out the old Bolivar bridge, one of the first suspension bridges in the region, with a couple of great looking towers in both ends of it. I arrive early and still have time to take a nap, to see if it helps to solve my 2-week old cold. I meet Catherine for another unforgettable dinner at one of the nicest places in town, decorated with old mining paraphernalia.
Next morning, I accompany her to visit the mines. This time, we make it to one of the deepest places of the caves, where one of the Tios is. You see, the Spaniards colonialist, didn³t dare to enter the mines themselves, so they cleverly invented a way to control the Indian slaves inside the mines. They installed demon figures, telling the Indians that if they didn³t work hard, the demon will get them hard.
These legendary demons, became worship figures for the Indian miners, and they still are today. When they enter the mines, first thing, they visit the cave of the Tio , and give it presents like coca leaves, Bolivian whisky (96 degrees alcohol) and tobacco.
BACK TO UYUNI
I´m sitting in a moving omnibus. Its midnight while the old machine slowly progresses through the tough Potosi mountains road, headed for Uyuni. Next to me, Catherine is sleeping, with her head sweetly tilted on my shoulder. We haven³t stop talking since we left town about 3 hours ago. Deep personal conversation. The pale moonlight filters through the bus side window, shinning over her smooth red hair. She looks so beautifully tender, contrasting so much with the strong independent woman she`s when awake. Her beauty glows under the Andean moonlight. What is this, am I getting softy here?
We get to Uyuni at 3 in the morning. It´s bitterly cold. We have a room at the Avenida hotel. Are we sleeping together? Yes. Are we making love? No. It´s warm, cozy, tender and frustrating.
9 a.m. Tuna can, 4 day jeep tour departure. A bunch of backpackers gather around Toyota Land Cruiser jeeps. The vehicles leave one by one, for the Salar. We are left behind, finally boarding a minibus and heading for the salt plain. Once inside it, space looses its sense. It´s shinning white all around us, all over us. We get to the Salt Hotel. Have you ever seen a place completely built of salt? Well, here it is. A peak through the salt windows (actually, they are glass), shows beautifully made salt statues, tables and chairs. I wonder if the beds are also made of salt. Can you imagine, making love there. "Honey, lick me the salt off, will you! Oh, yeahhh!"
On the way to the Isla del Pescado (Fish Island), which actually is the Inca Huasi Island, the salt plain becomes wet. There is about 10 cm. of water over the surface. Now I´m glad I didn´t ride here. Right in the middle of the plain, there is a green hill. It looks totally out of place, especially because it contains hundreds of Cardamos, a big kind of Cactus. While the tour guides prepare lunch, we hike up to the hill summit. The views are simply overtaking. The bright winter midday sun, projects strange shades that seem to extend to the horizon. Sometimes, it gives us the sensation of being at the beach. The beach at 4.000 meters up high? When we reach the top, inspired by the breathtaking scenery (and maybe also, perturbed by the lack of oxygen), I declare my love to Catherine, isn´t this the perfect place for it? For the next four days, I don´t get an answer. I´m still waiting.
A multi lane, dirt road, super highway leads the way out of the town of Uyuni, heading for the Bolivian Southwest. This is the vast empire of the nothing, not the emptiness, cause we are surrounded by dozens of mountain ranges, some snow capped, some bare, but all imposing.
The hordes of adventure tourists are lodged in communal bedroom facilities. This particular one, our first one, is located in San Cristobal, a town in the middle of nowhere. It is a new facility, recently built to accommodate the increasing numbers of visitors to the region (300.000 last year). I think, part of the adventure consists in sleeping in these communal bedrooms. For me, the adventure begins in the middle of the night. Have you ever had a cough attack, sleeping in a room with 20 other people? Or maybe the adventure consist for this tourists, of being driven in 4X4´s into the wilderness, wearing expensive outdoor clothing, gear and shoes, carrying your digital camera and your travel guide, and witnessing, first hand, the poverty and the isolation of the few indigenous people of this lands.
Our Bolivian driver, Anastazio, drives the 1985 model Toyota Land Cruiser, with good control and expertise, not very common in local drivers, although sometimes he³s going way too fast for this kind of roads and for the poor tire conditions. He hits the big rocks on the nasty road, right on the edge; in such a way that this are shoot outwards to the sides of the dirt road. When I ask him about this curious technique, he explains that he³s cleaning the road for his fellow drivers coming behind. (?!?)
A few times, I³m tempted to ask him to slow down a bit, but is such the security and of the man, driving the heavy overloaded 4X4, that I just relax, enjoy speed and the amazing scenery, while my senses are delighted to hear the great music of Dido, Massive Attack and Café de la Mar, from the CD player headphones that Catherine has put on my ears.
That³s good, because in the back, everybody is chatting in French. Meanwhile, I take notes, asking my driver once in a while, about references of the route of more than 850 km. through the most recondite places of the Andes Mountains.
Laguna Colorada
The orange - reddish waters contrast deeply with the brownish white shores, full of calcium carbonate sediments. A whitish island in the middle of the lagoon has the up side down shape of a bird. A flock of pink flamingos land in the only place of the surface, where the waters are blue. Rugged, treeless, brown mountains, except for a couple of snowy cones surround all the background. From the few zinc metal roofed houses that stand as our camp for tonight a column of smoke raises to the deep blue sky.
Termas
Ten Land Cruisers are scattered around, parked in the shores of Lago Salado. While the Bolivian drivers prepare breakfast, dozens of crazy gringos jump into the steamy thermal waters, set just about the shore of the lake. I pass, I´ve been so sick with this dam Bolivian cold, that my throat can explode if I dare to play this game.
Geysers
Geysers at 5.000 meters above sea level? This world of us is alive, and how! From holes in the ground, noisy columns of vapor rush out with unbelievable pressure. Ssssssshhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!! Few of us, "adventure tourists", dare to get close to the geysers. The wind is incredible strong right now and is very, very cold. But to feel that incredible demonstration of natures power so close to your skin, to feel the risk of being burned to dead in a second, make a romantic rejection feel like a picnic in the park.
Desierto del Siloli
The golden sands invade a huge extension of bare land. Only that this desert is going up the hill. An increase of 2.000 meters in altitude in just a few kilometers. Hundreds of tire tracks can be seen, because each of the vehicles that attempt the hill has to look for traction, right where there are not used tracks. I wonder how much fun can this be on a motorcycle.
Laguna Hedionda
"Stinking Lake". The sulfurous waters are brown, sometimes green. The smell is produced by the sulfurous oxide emanations of the cone of a volcano that is supposed to be underwater. Only a few dozen flamingos seem not to mind the strong odor, and leisurely hang around the dark waters.
Laguna Verde
Emerald green in the center, dark, almost military green near the shores, this small lake marks the vicinity of the Chilean border. We are not far from San Pedro de Atacama. Here, our German and Belgian friends say goodbye, since they are headed for Chile. We pick up another set of passengers, 2 Belgians and another French girl. Four girls, and me huhhh, should be interesting, but it`s not
The Lipez mountain range and its majestic snowy cones, with its highest peak, an active volcano standing at more then 6000 m., act as our guides, which towards the south-east, are marking our way through numerous and confusing crossroads and paths that criss-cross the altiplano, losing sight in the immense distance
Soo, I enjoyed a 4-day, tuna can pack tour of the wilderness. But don³t worry; you won³t loose me to the adventure tourism crowd. Now, I know pretty well the roads and tracks of the rugged Bolivian Southwest and Salar de Uyuni, dirt motorcycling paradise. Anybody up, for a 2002, September or October, when the weather is at its best, far out Bolivian altiplano moto expedition? Let me know if you dare.
We are riding the bus back to Potosi. I miss my bike. We don´t talk much this time. We even seat in different places. Oh well, I´m a nice guy anyway. And she´s still sooo beautiful. When we get to town, it´s already getting dark. In the hotel, I just fell a rush to pack and go. I need to go, I need to get away from her. I leave town.
Never ride at night. But is only a short 160 km. of paved road to Sucre Dr. Greg! I´m about 20 clicks out of town, taking a nice wide left curve, I´m a bit too fast, when, cabooom!! Front tire hit, slow down, don´t touch the front brake. Stop. Front tire flat, must³ve hit a big rock. Ride slowly to some houses, everything³s dark. Ok, let³s get those spares tubes out. What?? Two spare rears and no front? What kind of a....... Ok, lets try to fit a rear 17´-inch tube into a 21´ front wheel. Forcing it a bit, it goes in. Pump it up: nothing. Must´ve pinch it. Let³s try the other one. Ok, pump it up: nothing. Did I pinch it again? Dam it. Let³s patch it up. Sand it nicely, clean it; what? Glue´s dry. God dam it. What am I gonna do now. Look for a place to place your tent, dummy. Camp here, are you nuts, do you want to freeze to dead? It´s 4.000 meters up high here, you know.
While I³m pissed off, trying to decide what to do next, I hear another, bigger: Caboooom! It´s a big truck, going the other way, whose tire just exploded. He stops with a huge shhhhuinking noise right on the other side of the road. I approach and ask him to give my bike and me a ride back into town. Sorry, no room for the bike. He suggests to leave the bike in care of one of the peasants that live here. I don´t think is a good idea, but running out of alternatives, I go and investigate what´s around. In a humble house, the only one with a shy light, I talk to the guy surrounded by his whole family, a fat, undetermined age woman and a few dirty looking kids. He agrees of looking after my bike, so I park it right next to the pigs, chickens and other unidentifiable animals and leave with the truck driver, praying that my bike will be there when I come back.
I go back to Potosi in the sole company of my front tire. Should I fix it and head immediately back to get my bike, and freeze my ass off? Or should I get a hotel, sleep a few hours and head back early in the morning, and continue my trip? It´s been a long day, and I had enough for one.
I´m in Sucre again, I really like this city. It´s an old city with young spirit. Colonial history with renewed ambience due to the large university population. Young people make cities alive. Although it´s not the same without....... her. Ooohhhh!
The road out of Sucre heads north, and dips into a large dry valley. I expected a dirt road, but this is really good, new tarmac. Incredible curvy, from the upper part you can see dozens of turns going down the valley, in the middle of which, the asphalt ends. The road narrows, and becomes dirt absolute fun. I keep going as fast as I was on pavement. When my rhythm is at its best, a line of trucks parked in the middle of the road interrupt my progress. There is roadwork going on and the road will be closed ´till the afternoon. No way!
I see the dry river bead, some 300 meters below, and notice some tire tracks through it. I ask a road worker if it would be possible to ride down there and find a way out to the road again, He says yes, but there are several river crossings. I go for it. Once in the river bead, the first two water crossings, are a piece of cake. But the third one; Oh. Mighty God, it´s a big, big one. I park the bike and study it. Getting in, and out on the other side, should be no problem, but in the middle of the current, it looks pretty deep. I throw some rocks, of different shapes to check the deepness of it, and determine to cross it at the closest point to where the rapids start, hoping to get leverage on the rocks in case I get stuck in the middle. Breath deep, and go. The Dommy manages a clean river crossing, and once in the other side, stands proudly smoking vapor from it´s hot engine. Wait, this is not over yet, we still have to get out of the river bead and onto the road again Ms. Dommy. First try, is no good, too step and rocky. Second try does it, and we are hauling on the main road again, high speed, free traffic, Andes mountain road riding.
We get to a small town, where decisions have to be made. To the right, eastbound, the road to Santa Cruz de la Sierra in the Bolivian lowlands, 480 km, where weather and women are supposed to be pretty hot. To the left, Cochabamba, distant a couple of hundred kms., with a mild year round weather, and I suppose, mild women too, and then the road to La Paz in the highlands. I`m deciding what to do, while lubing the clutch cable, that seems a little stiff. I´m a bit lazy today, so the shorter route wins. When I´m ready lo leave, the clutch cable decides to snap, letting me the opportunity to try my spare bicycle cable.
The stony cobbled road starts its way up. The round stones are perfectly matched, probably a technique used since pre - Inca times. I tell myself to watch it, cause this stony roads sometimes can be very slippery. I remember all the falls and crashes I suffered during my rides in Ecuador in this kind of roads. A cold drop of sweat is felt down there . Then, the road descends into a series of fertile valley and the end of which a big lake marks the arrival into Cochabamba, a nice city with no special interest, other than the fact that has a year round mild weather. Enough for a opulent dinner and a good nights rest, not before a well deserve party night, to help me forget the past .
The highway starts to climb steadily from the Cochabamba valley. First pass, Abra de La Pampa, reaches the 4.700 meters mark, with spectacular views to the east. Hundreds of lower summits invade the horizon, disappearing in the foggy distance, eventually meeting the great plains of the Chaco lowlands, and a bit farther north, the Amazon basin. After this pass, the road maintains high altitude, the air becomes cooler and rarified, and thin columns of ice and snow descend from the ravines of the hills, to melt when they contact the asphalt, heated by the shinny cloudless sun. I don³t even want to think how low the temperature gets here at night or with bad weather.
The highway then meets the main Oruro La Paz road. When I pass the turnoff of the road that crosses the altiplano and reaches Arica, Chile in the Atacama desert, I can not help but remember when we, in company of my good friends Ed and Matt, from Colorado, USA, took that road, early in the year, escaping the bad weather of the Bolivian winter. My bike was pretty sick back then, if you care to remember, she was behaving like a French girl, timorous of water. (Sorry Catherine).
I³m very close to La Paz. To the right, I spot a huge shinny white giant. It is the great 6.490 meters, 3 headed Illimani mountain (it has 3 summits). It marks the beginning of the Cordillera Real, 350 kilometers long, more than 15 summits over 6.000 meters, the most massive mass of snow, rock and ice, the south American Karakourum, Lonely Planet calls it. The head of this fantastic mountain range surrounds the city of La Paz, including mighty Huayna Potosi volcano.
I get to Hostal Topaz, where they are so kind as to remove the furniture of the lobby so I can park my bike inside. I call Maria Amelia, a friend of my "Argentinean brother", Juan Jose, from Buenos Aires. She sounds very nice over the phone and says she´ll pick me up at 8 pm. for dinner and drinks. A nice break before starting some serious work tomorrow. A nice, badly needed, hot shower takes away the stiffness and the cold from my old bones.
Ready and waiting, I´m looking out the window from my second story hotel room, ironically, around the block from Plaza Uyuni, one of La Paz neighborhoods. A big, black shinny Volvo, contrasting dramatically with the old taxis and buses circulating on the streets, parks right across the hotel entrance. The driver door opens, and a slim, good looking, shinny dark haired, cat walking woman emerges glamorously. Is that my date for tonight?
Ricardo Rocco Paz Alrededor del Mundo por la PAZ Around the World for PEACE www.andesmoto-tours.com PHOTOS and PRESS in: http://communities.msn.com/AroundtheWorldforPeacePhotos
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