Drama on The Salar de Uyuni Salt Flats

To reach the Salt Flats you have to go about 14 miles north of Uyuni. At the entrance to the flats there were a number of trucks harvesting salt from the little drying pyramides. Once you get a few miles on to the salt you start getting a sense of isolation and remoteness, maybe what the planet Mars would feel like. The sun beating down on the bone white salt makes sunglasses an imperative. We rode out to the Salt Hotel. The hotel seems to be a frequent stop for the salt flats 4x4 tours.

We were just as much a tourist curiosity as the salt flats.

The famous Salt Hotel.

We were planning to maybe go a few more miles out onto the flats but our first serious motorcycle problem showed up to change those plans. Of all the places to have a battery die this was not one of them. We tried fashion some jumper cables out of a residential extension cord but the wire would not carry enough current. Just as we were realizing we were in serious trouble of being stranded one of the 4x4 tour trucks showed up. The driver enthusiastically went to work try in help us solve the problem, first with trying to jump start off his battery and then trying to push start the motorcycle. When both of those failed we went for the least desirable option of towing the motorcycle behind his truck to try and roll start the motorcycle.

Fortunately that worked and we high tailed it off the salt flat. Realizing we still needed to solve the dead battery problem, our first priority was to get the salt washed off the motorcycles.

We found this high pressure truck washing operation and paid about 25 cents to get a thourough washing.

The following day Chris set out to find a new battery. With partial success Chris found a small battery, suitable for the local 150cc motorcycles, and had a shop make up some jumper cables. We discovered that the little weak battery with a jump from my motorcycle would get it started and running on its own. By then it was too late to leave town so another night in Uyuni. Uyuni, was well underway in the pre-Carnival celebration. The celebration consisted of an increase in the annoying water balloon throwing. Thankfully the tradition seems to exempt tourist as targets. Several poor girls were literally run down, picked up and thrown into the fountain on the plaza. The other activity involved hundreds of boys and girls running through the streets hand in hand chanting slogans and getting hosed by young boys with water balloons, giant air pump water guns and hoses.

Even though she was resisting the gang of guys that threw her in the fountain, afterwards she seemed to be a little happy with the experience.

The gull of the Chinese Motorcycle manufactures...I don't think anyone in Uyuni was falling for the blatant adverticing lie.

Getting to the Middle of Nowhere Uyuni

Downtown Potosi. On the way to the Salar de Uyuni salt flats we stopped in the towns of Oruro and Potosi. Oruro was not that interesting of a town. They were preparing for Carnival so there were droves of people in the streets, banners, bleaches, flowers, etc were being erected for the parades. There is an interesting thing about a lot of the people on the streets in every Bolivian city. They don’t smile. Who knows why? Potosi is supposedly the highest, in altitude, city in the world. How is that for a superlative. I thought the highest city would be in some place like Tibet but who really cares. The significance of altitude for us was its difficult to get around and even more difficult to get a restful night’s sleep. Potosi is also one of the oldest cities in South America because of its silver mines. We found a nice hostel with a great shower and a secure spot for the motorcycles. We walked around the square, got a bit to eat and called it a night. We were told that the road from Potosi to Uyuni was under construction. That was an understatement. It was dirt road separated by stretches of sand or gravel. It was difficult going at times because of the deep sand and fresh deep loose dirt the road crews were dumping on the road. The road is being improved but given the terrain, mostly mountains, that will be a long project.

The final stretch of the road gave some magnificent views of the Salar de Uyuni salt flats and the town of Uyuni. Once in Uyuni we checked in to a hostel and headed for the salt flats.

This guy rode with us for a while between Potosi and Uyuni. He was from Uyuni and knew the road well. He would go flying by us in traffic and downhills on his Suzuki.

Here is our Uyuni hotel. We checked in and since it was not raining we immediately headed off to the salt flats.

The Road of Death

After fighting riding 5 miles down hill on wet slippery cobble stones, we found our way to the little town of Yolosa. It crosses a little river and then starts the mountain accent of the Death Road. There were some great vista and waterfalls but the mist, rain in places and the road demand so much attention that the camera stayed tucked away for most of the trip. In several areas the water cascading down the mountains at the switch backs, offer easy to manage water crossings. Mountain bicycles coming down the road was biggest road hazard. The road has definite rules for passing on coming traffic. However, passing on the right or left seemed to be a last minute decision for the mountain bicyclist. This big Dane was the Yolosa town greeter or there to bid a final farewell to those venturing on to the Death Road.

After only about two miles we encountered our first landslide. The road crew had cleared a small path so we made it across without much trouble. It was very muddy. So getting through validated the right decision to put knobbie in Lima rather than wait till we got further south. The road crew was not optimistic about our ability to make it through the other slides. So we decided to continue to the next slide to see what the whole Death Road thing was about. And then turn around.

We got to the next slide. It was a big pile of rubble that covered the entire road. It looked like the Death Road tour was over. Then we noticed a road crew with picks and shovels slowly emerging from what looked like a permanent collection of houses next to the slide area. Maybe the area experiences regular slides during the rainy season that requires a permanent crew assigned to keep the road open. The pile of rubble was mostly gravel, large stones and some large boulders all held together with a slurry mud. Chris and I gave a hand with the clearing. The construction workers, about 5 of them, seemed to know exactly what to do to give us a path over. We took our side cases off to reduce the weight. We motor walked the motorcycles over the debris while the construction worker pushed and steadied. We tipped them 50 Bolivianos (about $7 USD). It was the best 50 Bolivianos we spent in Bolivia. The workers gave a slight smile as they returned to, what looked like a three day job of clearing the road by hand.

Eddy you will also recognize this rock.

At the third landslide it was very deep mud with tree limbs and boulders sticking out of the mud everywhere. It created a barrier about four feet high. It was raining so only one photo. When we approached the slide we found only two road workers and one never did any work the entire time were stuck at the slide. Chris and I weighed the option of turning around and going over the boulder slide again, waiting for the one road crew worker to clear the road…days, or pushing ahead. There was a mountain bike tour guide, with his retrieval van stuck on the other side of the slide. We slogged through the mud on feet to see if he could provide us with any information. He said the rest of the road was clear back to La Paz. So we decided to try and get the motorcycles over the mud pile. Mind you we were at about 9000 feet above sea level just walking took a tremendous effort, let alone mud wrestling with a 600 pound pigs. Once we got the first motorcycle on top of the slide it quickly settled down on the bash pan and buried the front and rear tires in the loose wet mud. We could not go forward anymore and it was impossible to back down off the mud pile. The pig was stuck in the mud. The one working road construction guy saw it as a hopeless cause and returned to clearing the road by the cliff edge as he had been doing when we arrived. It was starting to look like we may be on this road for a while, maybe days. The tour guide came to our rescue and was our instant hero. We were truly very fortunate that he had a long heavy rope in his van. He probable had it to retrieve any of his bicycles that happen to go over the cliff. The tour guide and the construction worker assist by pulling our motorcycles thru the mud while Chris and I either motor walked or pushed. We finally made it, exhausted and covered with mud from the spinning tire. Another good fortune was the waterfalls next to the road provided a handy shower to get enough of the mud off of us so we would not slip around too much on the motorcycle seats.

The rest of the road was thankfully without any more drama. I really enjoyed the road, scenery and the challenge but after that last slide I had enough of tempting the Death Road Gods with keeping us there for an extended visit. It’s a great off road adventure, even for a 1200 GS. The road was not that technically difficult. There were some muddy uphill areas so having knobbies in the rainy season is a big plus. Another hazard was near the waterfalls the cobble stones were very slippery and uneven. That caused Chris and I both to take tumbles. In the end I’m not sure it’s the best to do the road in the rainy season. Here is where the Old Road meets back up with the New Road as we returned to La Paz.

I Can't Believe It...Where is the Death Road?

The Canadian couple we met in Colombia, that were circumnavigating South America, gave us some good advice. They suggested taking the new road out to Coroico and riding the old road, nicked named the Bolivian Death Road, back to Bolivia. The rational was that direction was all uphill and much more fun on a motorcycle. Also the area is swamped with Mountain bike riders coming down the mountain and you can manage them better if they are going in the opposite direction. With that information tucked away we headed for Coroico, stopping frequently in La Paz to ask for directions to Coroico. It is clear the town is well known. Leaving La Paz the road quickly climbs to and eventual height of over 15,000 feet above sea level. It was on and off foggy and raining and really cold. As we continued we so no evidence of the so called Road of Death. The road we were on was nicely paved with guard rails, viaducts and even two long tunnels to tame the terrain. In some areas the road has been ravaged by landslides where challenging off-road detours were necessary. As we continued we realized we were on the “New Road”. However we could not find a turn off for the well known city of Coroico. Both our GPS showed us close to the town but there were no roads to take us there. I was starting question how we could come this far and not find “The Road” or the town. We eventually saw a turn off sign for Coroico. We took it and after about 20 minutes of going up a steep cobble stone trail we stop and questioned if we the butt of a sick joke. The road had obviously not been used. It was over grown and several donkeys on the road acted like they had not seen anything with a motor in years. We returned to the main road and became further confused by the large sign pointing to the road we just came off. It advertised Coroico as a great Peru tourist destination and included a picture of a large resort hotel complete with swimming pool. So where was this large city hiding? Long story short the town was on the top of the mountain. We were in the valley and had missed the main turn off several miles back. We later found that the little path we were on was an old seldom used path and if we continued on it we would have reached the city.

The main turn off was obscured by a police control point and road side vendors, both of which we have learned to avoid. We finally reached the town and sure enough it was a buzz with Peruvian, European, South American and US tourists. Coroico seems to be the starting point for a number of adventure attractions in addition to being associated with the Death Road. The area has mountain waterfalls, mountain treks, horseback riding, mountain biking and more. The official Coroico Tourist map lists all of those activities and curiously includes the location of the nearby Coca fields.

It also is an area where a number of African slaves settled. One local told us the slaves were brought in to work the mineral mines in the south. The mines are at a high altitude with its associated cold weather. The Africans moved to the area surrounding Coroico to live in a more agreeable climate. Some have adopted the culture and mannerisms of the local indigenous people including the dress and those interesting hats they prop on top of their heads. The younger ones seemed to have been watching MTV or BET and many look straight out of Compton California or Detroit with sagging paints, corn rows and backward hats…. in a striking contrast to their older generations. After talking with some of the locals we got an idea how to get to the Death Road. It starts about 4 miles from Coroico in a town call Yolosa. It was getting late in the day so we decided to spend the night in Coroico.

This guy decided to adopt me as I wandered around his city.

From our hotel window we could see the start of the Old Road.