Sub of the day

The only thing that Hoff could talk about whilst we were in the jungle, apart from how much she was getting bitten by mosquitoes (which was quite a lot, to be fair), was how desperate she was for a Subway sandwich. Therefore, when we landed back in LP after our slightly bumpy flight, we went straight in to the airport branch for dinner and all scoffed down our favourite sandwiches. It was embarrassingly good, all washed down with a sprite and finished with a cookie. Three very satisfied customers, albeit still smelly from the jungle, then got a taxi back down to our hostel. No food was needed for dinner as we were all still full, and once we’d all showered and applied lashings of anti itch cream to our mossie bites, we sank into our clean and cool beds looking forward to a quiet and dry nights sleep.

Of course, the altitude didn’t let me get much sleep and once again I was wide awake for most of the night. The previous three nights had been but a short reprieve and I was back to my usual sleep deprived self. However, we had a relatively relaxed day ahead of us to recover from the jungle so it wouldn’t be too energy sapping. Breakfast was what you’d expect it was, and fuelled by coffee and eggs we hit the town. First stop was to get a couple of cable cars up the hill. As previously mentioned, LP is criss crossed by Swiss made gondolas and they make for an excellent way to traverse the city. We sailed up above the hustle and bustle, silently peering down at the traffic below. It was almost magical and a great way to see LP from another angle. We jumped out at one of the stations and wandered around the markets at the top of the valley, but soon were back on the cable car again enjoying the ride.

We spent a good couple of hours floating above the hubbub and when we were finished we found a place to book our bike tour the next day. We wanted to cycle down the notorious death road before we left Bolivia and had heard good things about the scenery, so once that was booked in we spent the afternoon washing all our smelly jungle kit whilst Anna, whose jet lag had finally caught up with her, grabbed a couple of hours of well earned sleep. We also spent an hour watching the locals parade though the city. Apparently they do it each year and it was a complete mix of costumes – Christmassy and some not so Christmassy – but it was fun to watch and get into the spirit; Hoff and Anna been bought some Christmas hats that they then wore proudly for the rest of the day. Later we all went to a local Belgian Bolivian restaurant – they seem to do a lot of weird crossover food in Bolivia – before we again spent the rest of the evening nursing mosquito bites and watching National Geographic, turning in for the night to get some much needed sleep ahead of a busy adrenaline fuelled day the next day.

Early the next morning we were picked up and whizzed through the city heading out towards the start of our death road cycle adventure. The death road was, until 2007, the only land access from LP to the jungle towns like Rurrenbaraque. It is 2.5m wide and has drop offs on the left side as you head down the valley of up to 800m. It was built by Chilean prisoners of war from one of the many local conflicts they’ve had in the last hundred years or so, and many of the builders died during construction. It is said that the road was cursed and for each one Chilean who died, three Bolivians would die on the road. Whilst just folklore, the road does have a fearsome reputation as many people have died in car and bus accidents over the years. 12 years ago they built another safer and bigger road, but the death road remains used by locals and thrill seekers alike, the latter going down the road by bike.

After breakfast at the top of the valley we set off down the road on our mountain bikes. The first part is paved but very soon it turns into a stone track with sheer drops on one side and sheer cliffs up on the other. Dodging potholes, waterfalls and the occasional tourist minibus, we made our way down the road. It wasn’t quite as scary as we’d been expecting but it was exciting nevertheless, and still pretty bone jarring despite the full suspension on our bikes. At the top we started in cool mist but by the time we got to the bottom, caked in mud, the sun was out and the skies were blue, and we were all dripping with sweat. Luckily we’d all made it to the bottom without incident or injury, and over a celebratory beer our guides told us some horror stories of things that had happened in the past. There were frequent, and to be expected, tales of broken bones and big falls, but we weren’t expecting them to tell us about all the deaths. Apparently they get a few tourists falling off the cliffs each year and it was quite a sobering thing to hear. Our guides had held off telling us until we were all safely down but it was worrying, yet strangely exhilarating, to think that we’d just cycled down one of the worlds most dangerous roads. Even Hoff, who isn’t a massive cycling fan, admitted that it was fun, although the hour that we spent sunbathing by the pool that afternoon, along with the ice cold beer, probably added to her enjoyment.

To get back to LP we had to drive back along the new road, climbing all the way back up to 3600m along the winding and misty concrete. Everyone was nodding like dogs trying not to fall asleep (all unsuccessfully) and when we got back we were all ready for bed. However it was our last night in LP and our last night travelling with Anna – in fact we were off on a night bus later that evening, so we all dropped our bags back at the hostel and then went out for a celebratory early Christmas dinner. Having Anna with us had been really good fun. She was such a good sport for coming all the way to see us for such a short amount of time. We’d really crammed in the sightseeing as well. Hoff and I had really enjoyed having someone else to talk to – as much as we love each others company, sometimes some fresh perspectives and some new jokes are lovely to have! We all stuffed ourselves full that evening and washed the food down with a couple of glasses of wine, but it was all over too quickly and before we knew it we had to jump in a taxi to head to the bus station to get our overnight transport to Uyuni, the gateway to the salt flats. As we settled in to our seats for the 8 hour drive south, we were sad to be leaving Anna behind but excited at the next step of our trip. After the salt flats we’d be heading into Chile (briefly) before Argentina, and Christmas was just around the corner.

Up next – Hoff will take you though the salt flats and on to San Pedro de Atacama in Chile