Table of contents

• Motorcycle tour Altiplano Chile and Bolivia End of the line in Bolivia
• Whoever does not shudder here has no heart
• Fatigue of drivers of buses and trucks
• It goes up incredibly steep
• No international bill, no gasoline
• The impact feels like a car
• On the hunt for blood and medicines
• The Piper slams from one air hole to the next
• “When will we ride motorcycles again??”
• International aid
• Information and tour planner
• General
• particularities
• Bless you
• Organized trips

Biebricher, Werel

23 pictures

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The plateau is more than 3300 meters above sea level. This is not only felt by the human body, but also by the F 800 GS two-cylinder.

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Desert in the border area.

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3/23
Off to infinity.

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4/23
With this landscape one rightly wonders whether one is still on earth or already on the moon.

Biebricher, Werel

5/23
Especially when you look at the volcanoes you ask yourself I am still on planet earth?

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6/23
Graffiti in La Paz.

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7/23
The dusty solitude with cacti and salt lakes between Oruro and Uyuni.

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8/23
Different country, different cultures.

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Graffiti in the city.

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Wild life in the city.

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The colorfully dressed cholitas wear up to ten petticoats.

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The “death road” built in the 1930s connects the Bolivian Amazon rainforest with the seat of government La Paz and has claimed many victims.

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13/23
At some point the shock absorber loses the fight against the stone slope.

Biebricher, Werel

14/23
Travel duration: actually four days, planned 14 days.
Distance covered: actually 1200 kilometers, planned 3500 kilometers.

Biebricher, Werel

15/23
Far-reaching view of Lake Chungara on the Chilean Altiplano. The border with Bolivia runs over the mountains in the background.

Biebricher, Werel

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Market scene in El Alto.

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Wall painting in the city.

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18/23
Off-road happiness against the backdrop of the Cordillera Occidental on the way to Putre.

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19/23
The hairpin bends of the Ruta de la Muerte towards Coroico tickle your nerves even without oncoming traffic.

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20/23
Pulse accelerator: Traffic chaos in the Zona Sur of La Paz.

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Gravel road near Putre.

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Dedicated action at the La Paz witch market.

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23/23
As nice as the impressions were, the trip ended prematurely due to a serious accident.

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Motorcycle tour Altiplano Chile and Bolivia

Motorcycle tour Altiplano Chile and Bolivia
End of the line in Bolivia

The truth is that most motorcycle tours through South America are unforgettable, often adventurous, dream trips. But the truth is also that not everyone ends happily. The plan was a brilliant round through Chile, Bolivia, Argentina and back to Chile. On the Bolivian Altiplano, this plan became obsolete with a bang. Read this story if you want to know what happened before and after.

Markus Biebricher

02/01/2014

Palpitations, headache, shortness of breath. Can happen if you leave the dusty port city of Arica with its surfers and colorful pubs too quickly. When you catapult yourself and your motorcycle onto the Chilean Altiplano within a few hours. The plateau is more than 3300 meters above sea level. This is not only felt by the human body, but also by the F 800 GS two-cylinder. Some drivers secretly move coca leaves in their mouths. Florian, the guide, leaves the group on the long reins. Every enduro rider has the feeling of being almost alone on the endless slopes. Alone on the moon, that’s what Claudia thinks. She sits behind Markus, both enjoy the first long slope. Finally out of everyday life, finally something to do for the off-road chassis again, finally a lot of dust in the mirrors.

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Suddenly an ensemble of huts on the left side of the road. Well-known motorcycles are already parked in front of it. He also turns off the two-cylinder. Alexis has been running this strange roadhouse for ages. A man who looks like Jesus. And who positions himself with his white mane in the midst of his collection of roots, stones and stuffed animals. The Master does not speak but preaches – and he does so without ceasing. While his attractive wife smiles apologetically and hands over drinks. What looks like tea is more like a kind of magic potion. Should help against tiredness and altitude sickness. He likes to believe that with all the stuff that floats around in his tin cup … Alexis raves: “I came straight out of the Big Bang. Since then I have been populating planet earth in changing shapes. ”Great cinema. It’s almost a shame that the booming two-cylinder horde drowns out the esoteric at some point.

Whoever does not shudder here has no heart

But what comes next is pure motorcyclist happiness. Driving like in space, completely removed from everything you know. Only the pulsation of the twin, which despite the altitude is still reasonably dependent on the gas. The vastness is indescribable, he doesn’t know which planet you are currently traveling on, it definitely doesn’t look like Earth anymore. In the distance, conical, snow-powdered volcanoes glow, a few llamas run away. Lakes reflect the endlessness of the sky. Whoever does not shudder here has no heart.

Biebricher, Werel

Far-reaching view of Lake Chungara on the Chilean Altiplano. The border with Bolivia runs over the mountains in the background.

Many kilometers from the Bolivian border, the air smells of diesel fuel. You drive past a truck traffic jam of biblical proportions. A truck has overturned, tons of corn are lying on the road. The border station is like a huge junkyard. Quite a few truckers use the waiting time for a general overhaul of their asthmatic diesels and take the machines apart completely. An oil change including disposal of used oil in the ground is the minimum. Hundreds of others let their soot spinners run and create an acrid smog from exhaust gases. The tormented Grenzboden not only has to endure used oil, but also Claudia’s stomach contents. Multiple. But she is brave, because first the people from Chile have to check out, then the motorcycles. Then first the two-wheelers, then the two-legged friends, are introduced to Bolivia. It all means running. From building to building. Get hold of papers, fill out forms, fight for stamps, talk officials, suppress nausea.

It’s good that Florian already knows the procedure. So the group can continue after five hours. The guide sensitively introduces the motorcyclists to the Bolivian tank manners. The refueling process, during which the gas station attendant asks him if he doesn’t want diesel, is not the problem, but the bureaucracy that follows. As a non-Bolivian, you need a passport and vehicle documents. From these, important data such as date of birth, place of residence, engine number and license plate are then transferred to forms. After making three copies, all of which are stamped, and paying three times the price (Bolivians pay the equivalent of 40 cents for a liter), you can finally drive on. Questions about why are nipped in the bud with a tortured shrug.

Fatigue of drivers of buses and trucks

The landscape of the now Bolivian Altiplano compensates for all the hardships. Also the stay in Putre, a small town, including a typical local restaurant visit. The air is ice cold, the starry sky so clear and close, as if you were moving through the middle of the galaxies. He has the feeling of being very close to a kind of home. And he enjoys the fact that Claudia sits behind him and sees all of this too. They do not know what century they are moving through when they drive through the small farming villages, when they see the indigenous people in their colorful costumes on the barren fields, shyly waving at the big motorcycle and repeatedly wrestling something from the ground with an indomitable will. Neither on the Internet nor on any map in the world is the town whose name, like the holes in the street, hammers itself under the top of his skull in an unforgettable way: Popo Silla Kelhuri. How it feels to live there?

At least the road answers such questions with ruts more than 30 centimeters deep. He has to concentrate, the traffic increases dramatically. Just like the tiredness of the drivers of buses and trucks, who torment themselves in a huge, sooty tin worm in the direction of the suburbs of La Paz. “The Lord is my Shepherd”, “God is my home” and other piety adorn the windows of many kamikazes, but the Lord does not seem to be very careful today. That is up to the enduro riders. Who have to react quickly and are happy that their undercarriages swallow nasty potholes and the brakes create survival space. The journey goes through El Alto, the neighboring city of La Paz, populated by millions and located at over 4000 meters. Dust and architectural gems that would make a worthy backdrop for any end-time film. A slum-like Moloch, a melting pot of people of all races and classes. Here the judiciary is often still taken into its own hands, the police are powerless or greased. Despite all the misery, you can also see the splendid villas of those who have made it but do not want to move to La Paz because of their homeland. Florian navigates through the unpaved Calles, turns a hundred times, but the goal is tough.

It goes up incredibly steep

The motorcycles park on a rock edge. From here there is a sight that burns into the retina. The seat of government of Evo Morales, La Paz: a huge valley into which a god has thrown millions of houses. Facades glow brightly in the light of the setting sun. It goes up incredibly steep, houses and huts cling to the almost vertical slopes. On the horizon, covered in snow, greet the 6462 meter high Illimani and other peaks of the mighty Andean main ridge.

As in any major South American city, driving in La Paz requires a trained clutch hand and intuition that borders on providence. Many streets are steep, narrow and winding, and the atmosphere is unique. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the hustle and bustle of the squares and markets, the colorful traditional costumes of the Indian women, the picturesque shops, the beating heart of the metropolis.

A heart big enough to take in the few enduro riders who wander in amazement in the witch’s market, where you can buy llama embryos and other bizarre things cheaply and with a shudder wonder what comes next.

The answer is: the Ruta de la Muerte, the road of death. A piste that can be reached after crossing the 4700 meter high La Cumbre pass from La Paz via the Cordillera Real and starting the descent into the jungle-covered Yungas. Even if the slope is technically not particularly difficult, you have to be careful not to get too close to the edge. The legendary route claimed hundreds of deaths, many crosses line the edge, and it hugs the almost vertical jungle slopes too closely. After a night in Coroico, Florian would like to lead the group back to La Paz via the newly built bypass. But nature thwarted his plans and let suitcase-sized boulders roll off the slopes. The road is closed, the group has to fight their way back over the Ruta de la Muerte, on which many buses are groaning today.

No international bill, no gasoline

The suspension strut of the F 800 GS also has to fight. It loses against the stone runway and ceases to operate as an oil. Viktor, the driver of the accompanying pickup, still has a 650 leg, which unfortunately does not have the travel and reserves of the 800 leg. Claudia and he feel our way up the death street. If a bus comes the other way, she has to get off. He scrapes along the bus with the handlebars, runs out of space, the rear wheel goes over the edge, and only a hearty burst of gas can save him from falling. A first warning?

Claudia and he had a dream: to see the Salar de Uyuni once in a lifetime, maybe even ride it on a motorcycle. The next day this dream was to become a reality. At the end of a 550-kilometer stage from La Paz. Half-time in Oruro. There are huge tin sculptures everywhere, the popular Paceña beer is brewed in the city, and people celebrate a kind of carnival exuberantly. Behind the village, the sheer endlessness begins, and from Challapata onwards, the coarse stollers eat their way down a slope. Kilos of dust penetrate the drivers’ lungs, wind sweeps across boundless expanses, salt lakes conjure up illusions on the horizon. Again and again, dogs threaten to run into motorbikes. In Huari there is finally a gas station. But no petrol for the motorcycle group. Why Because the gas station attendant doesn’t have an international invoice block. Even the mayor cannot help here.

The slope is getting nastier. Corrugated iron. Every now and then, sand sections and fords demand drivers and machines. The sun is already low and he knows that they still have 180 kilometers of slopes to go to Uyuni. The corrugated iron can best be endured at around 100 km / h. Then the spring elements do not have time to dive deep into the valleys, the GS flies gently over the slopes. In difficult sections, both stand in the rest. Claudia asks him from behind if she should change to the escort truck, which is pulling its dust plume far behind them. He asks back if she wants that. no.

The impact feels like a car

The lama is one of the greats of its kind. It weighs around 200 kilos and its head easily reaches over the handlebars of an enduro. Nobody knows where it comes from, why it is alone. What is wrong with its flight instinct when it emerges from nowhere at full gallop and hits a deadly 90-degree hook directly into the track of the speeding Enduro. A crazy bang. The impact feels like a car. The GS flips over several times. Until he finally crashes onto the slopes and slows down with clattering limbs, it feels like an eternity.

The dust settles. He crawls to Claudia. She doesn’t move, the visor is red on the inside. Florian is there. The next few hours are nothing short of torture, because the transport over this runway is no fun, even in an off-road vehicle. Especially when you’re injured and every damn hole means hellish pain. In the hospital in Uyuni, a puncture shows that Claudia has four liters of blood in her abdomen. Where the hell is a better equipped clinic? Potosi can be reached. Transport will be organized, payment in advance in cash. Florian goes with us. Three hours later Claudia has an emergency operation, the doctors urgently need blood, but Claudia’s blood type is not in stock. Florian and he could donate to each other, but for Claudia, blood does not fit either.

On the hunt for blood and medicines

Claudia’s liver is torn seven times, the bile and lungs are badly injured, but that’s just the beginning. She was probably hit by the motorcycle. In the days that followed, he and Florian went on a hunt for blood and medicines. The relatives in Potosi have to take care of both. The doctors speak of a danger to life and cannot stop the bleeding. The full extent of the injuries is not yet recognized, and the patient is in danger of bleeding to death.

He spends the nights desperate and veiled with tears. During the day he and Florian work through lists of medication that the hospital gives them. They make a pilgrimage through pharmacies, have to pay for treatments and blood donations all the time, there is no card payment. He loses his passport, a nightmare. When he visits Claudia, who is in a coma, in the intensive care unit, it breaks his heart. Ana Sanchez, a friend of Florian from Potosi, helps with her own blood and radio and television contacts in the search for blood donors. The ADAC cannot help, communication with the local doctors is too poor, the local infrastructure is deficient. In addition, Claudia is not considered transportable. Before each treatment he has to sign that his partner could die. Your life hangs by a thread.

The Piper slams from one air hole to the next

Florian tears himself between his duties as a tour guide and his desire to help. He grows beyond himself. After three days, the final operation should take place without sufficient blood. No, the doctors are not hard-hearted, but they are fatalistic. You cannot afford a human life to count as much as it is in Europe.

Claudia has to get out of there. With a lot of hesitation, he organizes an airplane, the German embassy helps with contacts to doctors in La Paz. Florian and Ana stand by him until the ambulance bobs up to the twin-engine Piper Seneca. The machine hardly comes off the lonely slope, at 4200 meters the power of the turbo engines decreases. The right engine had already started badly, it is not running properly, the machine is yawing around the vertical axis. Two doctors bend over Claudia, the oxygen supply to the intensive care unit fails. You must now pump by hand. The Piper pops from one air hole to the next and torments its way 1000 meters above the ground through the Andean valleys.

“When will we ride motorcycles again??”

The right engine pulls a plume of soot behind it, it’s freezing cold. The rear door is ajar because the medical equipment needs space. A display flashes bright red in the cockpit: “Low Fuel”. Another 20 minutes to La Paz. He empties his stomach into Ana’s lunch bag.

With too much speed and a fuel reserve for two miles, the piper slams onto the runway of the international airport of La Paz. The casing of the right engine is smeared with oil. An angel in a billowing white coat stands on the runway: Doctor Fernando Arispe. 66 years old, a passionate doctor. For the German embassy the best doctor in Bolivia, for him the best in the world. How Fernando saves Claudia is a different story. When she wakes up from the coma, she whispers in the ear of her distraught chauffeur: “When are we going to ride a motorcycle again?”

International aid

Without the support of benevolent people, Claudia’s rescue would not have been possible. We thank from the bottom of our hearts: Fernando Arispe Coco (Head Physician Hospital Arco Iris, La Paz), Arco Iris staff, Andrea Assmann (Embassy), Florian Schmidbauer (Tourguide Edelweiss), Ana Sanchez Villapadierna (Potosi), Jorg Lohse (MOTORRAD, main coordinator), Andreas Falkenburg (ADAC), Michael Pfeiffer (editor-in-chief), Daniel Lengwenus (chief guide action team). Our thanks go to the colleagues at MOTORRAD, the Motor Presse and everyone who thought of us.

Information and tour planner

Biebricher, Werel

Distance covered: actually 1200 kilometers, planned 3500 kilometers.

You can hardly be more spectacular than on this tour by motorcycle. Without denying the appeal of individual trips, in this case we would like to clearly plead for an organized tour.

General

Most of the tour goes through Bolivia. The country looks back on an eventful, bloody history, the road to democracy was difficult. Bolivia lost large parts of the country to Paraguay and Chile, including its access to the sea. Hoping to regain a corridor to the Pacific soon, Bolivia maintains a navy that trains regularly on Lake Titicaca.

President Evo Morales is the first indigenous leader. Immediately after being sworn in in 2006, he nationalized the natural gas industry. Its seat of government is La Paz, the state capital is Sucre. Due to the long-term exploitation by the so-called First World and the political entanglements, Bolivia is one of the poorest countries in Latin America. The country is roughly divided into the Amazon lowlands and the Altiplano, which is an average of 3,600 meters high. The Yungas (a kind of tropical mountain forest) near La Paz, located halfway up, supply the high region with fruit, vegetables and other foodstuffs. Potosi impresses with the famous Silberberg and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Salar de Uyuni is the world’s largest salt lake and Lake Titicaca is the highest navigable lake on earth. Bolivia’s landscapes are spectacular, the people helpful.

particularities

Motorcycling at altitudes between 3000 and 4700 meters is at the expense of your stamina and is tolerated differently. Sufficient acclimatization, drinking coca and mate tea and chewing coca leaves while driving help against headaches, shortness of breath and nausea. In Bolivia there is right-hand traffic, only on the Ruta de la Muerte there is left-hand traffic. The petrol station network is sufficient, the bureaucracy takes getting used to.

In the cities and on busy main connections, good nerves and increased vigilance help, on smaller roads you should expect animals that run into the motorcycle. Llamas, alpacas, vicuñas, and guanacos usually flee from vehicles. Exceptions confirm this rule. Thanks to their wool, meat and leather, these animals have ensured the harsh existence of the Andean people for 7000 years. The Bolivian currency is the boliviano (one euro is equivalent to about 9.4 bolivianos), with centavos serving as a sub-unit.

Bless you

Biebricher, Werel

Especially when you look at the volcanoes you ask yourself I am still on planet earth?

There is adequate health care in the larger cities. In general, doctors are used to worse injuries than their colleagues in Germany, and their skills are accordingly highly developed. In the case of severe internal injuries, however, there is a lack of diagnostic technology. There are good hospitals in the big cities, and the Arco Iris Hospital in La Paz is better equipped in terms of staff and technology than many German hospitals. A foreign health insurance is strongly recommended, the ADAC z. B. offers suitable packages in addition to the Plus membership.

When it comes to rescuing remote areas of third world countries, one should not be under any illusions. International rescue services are only able to act to a limited extent, especially when time is of the essence. Individual travelers should bring a well-stocked first aid kit with them, groups can rely on the support vehicle being well equipped. All medical services (in smaller places) must be paid for in cash. Credit cards can only be used to a limited extent. There are no grandiose experiences without residual risk, but that is hardly any different at home.

Organized trips

The Altiplano tour described comes from the extensive program of Edelweiss Bike Travel and runs in 2014 from August 24th. until 9.9. Costs: from 5140 euros, rating: fantastic and confident in the event of a crisis. Info: www.edelweissbike.com.

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