The main road from Uyuni to Oruro was our chosen path. This may be
the main road but it was really the most bone-shaking road I have experienced.
Dirt and gravel with sand pits intermittently just to keep you on your toes. It
was a 200km ride on this surface before our return to the asphalt, it took four
hours and the bikes and the riders took a beating. I had the first off of the
trip, not as spectacular as it sounds, I just got a bit tired of the
corrugations and the beating I was taking and thought I would try the sand
track beside the road, which was no better but significantly slower, so I
reentered the main road, but chose a bad spot to do it. I thought I had picked
a firm bit of ground to ride through the ditch to the road but the bike
bottomed out on the edge then the front wheel dug into the deep sand and
stopped leaving me stationary and hanging with my feet way off the ground. That
moment of knowing that it has all gone wrong only lasted the briefest second
and I was sprawled on the road and the bike upside down. At 3800m altitude it
had me puffing big time by the time I dragged the bike off the bank and picked
it up. I guess these bikes are about 170kg so it takes a fair heave to pick
them up. Minor damage to the bike only so back on the road I went. Harry and
Hax were waiting having heard my blasphemy over the intercom when I was in the
hanging moment pre-crash.
The ruts were relentless and deep, the sand was deep and led to
numerous wobbly moments for all of us, but no one else fell of. We stopped at
one point to have a break and to attend to the gastrointestinal requirements
(we all have Gastro at the moment) in the back blocks Alto Plano it is dead quiet.
There was a Bolivian shepherd tending his flock in the distance and a herd of
Lama in the other direction, but it was completely silent. We passed through
the occasional small cluster of houses, and then at the 100km mark we pulled up
in a classic Wild West town. The rail went through the middle of the town with
a wide dirt street beside it and mud brick houses, restaurant and pub. A breeze
picked up the dust and blew it down the street every now and then. A pig roamed freely in the street. All that was
missing was some tumbleweed rolling down the street and saloon doors opening to
piano music and laughter, which silences as we walk into it. Instead we walked
into the restaurant and were served by a sullen and disinterested young woman
who would have been quiet attractive if she knew how to smile. I guess there
wouldn’t be much to smile about in this place. The train pulled up tooting a
tune on his horn. Stopped and a friendly driver came in and ordered his lunch
while the behemoth engine idled across the road. Hax seems to have a natural
talent in Spanish as he engaged the driver in a bit of banter and it almost
looked like they understood each other. Eventually the drivers cooked lunch
arrived in his take away container and they were off, at a pretty slow pace I
must add. The rail line is only marginally smoother than the road so they
travel at 20km/hr. for fear of derailing.
Hygiene conditions were standard at this lunch spot, no facility to
wash your hands after using the toilet; no doubt Typhoid Mary works here.
Back onto the road for more of a beating. The next town was
surrounded with deep sand, and was fairly challenging to ride through because
of this but no doubt even more challenging to live in for the residence that
must be perpetually sandy and dusty. The road deteriorated and the
uncomfortable corrugations got deeper. Hax’s indicator light came loose and
Geert removed it. Harry’s indicator light flew off without anyone noticing. At
30 -40km/hr. the beating the road gave you was severe, but there was reasonably
good control, but as Harry discovered at 80km/hr. the bikes were only hitting
the tops of the corrugations so it smoothed out considerably, however with the
wheels flying half of the time the control was less confidence boosting, tough
decision. We ended up flying along at 80 as the beating we had received over
the last four hours was getting a bit wearying. I had a bit of a wobble though
through hitting a stone and Geert’s words of not getting over confident rang in
my ears so I slowed down, this was just before Harry announced with joy in his
voice the end of the gravel from about 1km ahead. When I pulled up, Harrys bike
was steaming and spewing out green radiator fluid onto the road.
Geert pulled the bike to bits and after a fair bit of investigation
discovered the radiator had damage from the rough conditions and had cracked
around its bracket. About this time someone noticed the bars on my bike were
actually broken from the fall I had earlier. I decided not to point this out to
Geert at the moment who was remaining relatively cheerful despite the damage to
his bikes. Geert decided to top the radiator up with a radiator stop leek
liquid and continue and it took several refills to make it to Oruro, the bike
is overheating and Geert’s belief of what is causing this differs to the rest
of us, but it is his bike and he can repair it as best he sees fit. Can’t help
but think Harry will have a hot bike for the rest of the trip as the stop leak
has pored into the radiator and blocked the grills.
Back to our usual Oruro hotel. Harry finally braved eating something
tonight after a day of fasting due to his fear of the consequences and concern
for his bike trousers. We had some pasta at a local eatery, very nice. We are
all a bit jaded tonight after a big day. Back to low altitude tomorrow night,
but not until we pass a 4700m pass (cripes this is a high trip)
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