Painfully Into Bolivia

Continuing on we reached the Bolivian border near the resort community of Copacabana on Lake Titicaca. At the border processing out of Peru was simple, it included getting our passport exit stamp and closing out the temporary motorcycle import permit. The process getting in to Bolivia was not simple. First of all Bolivia has instituted a $135 USD “USA Retaliation Fee” excuse me visa charge. They would only accept it in US dollars. Canada, Australia, UK citizen? Nada for the fee. Then the process itself required many forms, copies from the local copy store, at our cost of course, and multiple buildings. The first problem was we didn’t have $135 cash with us and the border didn’t have a bank or ATM like the other countries that require a fee. So the Immigration Officer said he would hold our passport while we ride in to Copacabana and get the Visa fee. That was fine but the Customs Officer demanded a stamped passport and Visa before he would allow us to bring the motorcycles in to Bolivia, even for the four mile run to the bank. We eventually agreed to leave our motorcycle titles with him to make sure we would not run off into Bolivia undocumented. Then the National Police decide to get in the act. They want to see our Passport and import papers before allowing us to leave the border area. After some explanations, they allowed us to pass. Then when we get to the only bank we could find, the ATM is only for Bolivian citizens. The bank would, however, generously give us a cash advance against a credit card plus charge a 5% fee. At this point we were seriously considering getting our Peru permits back and going straight to Chile from Peru. After taking a “timeout” we decided to continue on. After getting our Visas and import permits, from now smiling Immigrations and Customs Officers, we have our last problem. Again the National Police have to check that your paperwork is in order and hand write down an entry in their official log book. They also put their stamp on the import permit, with a noisy authoritative banging the stamp down on to the paper as if they were killing an insect. Well after going through that ritual the boss Police Officer, surrounded by two of his comrades, places the two Import Permits on the desk face down, looks at us and asks us for money. After telling him no in English and Spanish, he still persists. I then sensed it was time to show them a mild sense of outrage. I also recalled Ricardo’s, from Quito, advice to just make stuff up when they make outrages demands. So I told them, in my best “Spanglish”, that their government sent me a nice letter saying that I had to pay $135 USD to get in to their country. They explicitly said to pay nothing to the Customs or National Police. At that point the main guy waved on and we departed.

We rode into Copacabana for the second time. I was simmering but then fought hard to keep reminding myself that the objective was to get in the country and we had done that. Copacabana is a colorful tourist town with jam packed markets selling all things Inca. At the town we asked about a ferry but everyone we talked to, including the police, told us its total highway to La Paz. The GPS showed land between Copacabana and La Paz except for a narrow stretch of Lake Titicaca water. We figured maybe they built a bridge since the highway was freshly paved and the town people insisted its highway all the way.

After climbing to about 14,000 feet and then descending back to lake level, we discovered open water and some contraptions that hardly fit our sense of what a ferry would look like. As I rode up the loose plank ramp they separated and my rear wheel started falling. I gunned it and got the motorcycle on to the ferry. Once on the ferry we found nothing to secure the motorcycles but us. From the shore the water looked calm. The channel was about a mile wide. Of course when we reached the middle of the channel the wind picked up and the waves started to roll and pitch the flat bottom ferry. It took a lot of effort to keep from getting pitched in to the cold waters of Lake Titicaca. I looked around for the normal Coast Guard approved flotation devices. They must have been carefully stored below deck somewhere. It was hard to believe but the ferries even carry those large passenger buses. I was told that they do send the passengers on a separate ferry.

A look back at the boarding boards.

Shoving off after a harrowing boarding process.

A driver's look that inspires real confidence. The guy in the Peruvian Hat seemed to be in charge. During the entire crossing he was chomping on Coca leaves.

The other problem was the ferry had a fixed bow, meaning we had to back the motorcycles off the ferry and down another loose plank ramp. We made it off the ferry with only one tumble. Chris and had the same reaction after were safely on firm ground again. We were both pleased that we were on a one way trip.