South America in Versys 650 – Latin America on a motorcycle (07): the (difficult) gold rush … –

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Latin America on a motorcycle (07): the (difficult) gold rush…

South America in Versys 650 - Latin America on a motorcycle (07): the (difficult) gold rush ... -

Just after sharing my trip on the Altiplano with you, last week, I left La Paz around 2:30 p.m. direction Coroico by taking the Camino de la Muerte….

Right after sharing my, last week, I left La Paz around 2:30 p.m.. direction Coroico by taking the Camino de la Muerte….

I preferred to leave at the start of the afternoon to avoid the dozens of tour operators’ bikes who use this legendary route every day. I take a good hour to get out of La Paz and find the famous path. In theory I will take two or three hours, but the road is quickly blocked.

I walk back up the line of buses and trucks to find that a landslide is blocking the traffic and that it will last almost half an hour before they clear the way. Trucks, buses and 4x4s are unleashed! It becomes very dangerous and stressful, so I did not really enjoy this road which for me is not very exceptional, apart from the first kilometers hanging on the mountain.

Honestly, Bolivia offers much better in terms of landscapes. On the other hand, what is mythical is my sense of direction … After about 4 hours of driving, I arrive in a small village which is not Coroico but Chulumani, about two hours by road in the other way…

Feast of the Virgin in Coroico

The next day, I re-weld and reinforce my suitcase support which is beginning to suffer the ravages of time, then I take the Coroico track which winds along the mountain. It’s really pretty and there is much less traffic, it’s great.

In the middle of the afternoon I finally arrive in Coroico! The village is decorated, people walk around in traditional clothes: tonight is the Feast of the Virgin! I decide to stay and sleep. Tomorrow I will go to Caranavi, about 70 km from here.

The next day, a BMW and a Versys are parked next to my motorbike: I meet Ernesto and Walter, who drive together to Ushuaia. We chat, we tell each other our anecdotes and we end up having lunch together.

At 2 p.m. I descend the winding track of Coroico. There is a lot of dust, I am behind an old Ford pick-up carrying 5 people in its dumpster and which puts pressure on the 4×4 just in front of it.

We’re driving at nearly 60 km / h on this narrow track, it’s pretty fast for here … I turn on my on-board camera, the images (to be discovered soon) will be great !

The 4×4 and the pickup accelerate and begin to cut the corners. I follow them by staying well on my trajectory when the first one enters a blind left curve: Bam! Frontal impact, the pick-up has just enough time to avoid a pile-up.

No one is hurt, just crumpled metal, but I get a good adrenaline rush and continue on my way. I arrive on a tarmac portion of a few kilometers, a dog cuts my road just when I am on the corner! I narrowly avoid it.

After a few kilometers, the road is blocked until 6 p.m. minimum: rockfall. I am about 50 km from Caranavi, I have 3 hours of road left. I only did 20 km and almost stayed there twice! The decision is made: I return to Coroico where I find my biker friends! Today I’m bad luck, we’ll see tomorrow.

The next day, the road is reopened but not for long. A new fall of stones blocks the passage, it is very common during the rainy season. The worker tells me to go forward, he will let me pass. I start, advance a little … I then hear a sound of landslide. Look to the right: a huge rock that has come loose comes over me !!!

By reflex I release the clutch and make a motocross-style start, the motorcycle leaps forward and I see the rock pass in my mirrors … The astonished worker shouts "suerte" at me, my heart pounding … I won’t end the week !

After a 5 hour drive to cover 70 km, I pass Caranavi and continue towards Guanay. I absolutely must refuel. The guy at the gas station is willing to sell me 10 liters of gasoline in my cans if I park the motorbike 50 m away. Officially, he is not allowed to sell gasoline to a foreigner, only national gas stations can do it, but it is 9.5 bolivianos instead of 3.70. Or 1.10 euros instead of 40 cents !

10 liters of gasoline at local rate

No problem, I’m already happy to have 10 liters at the local rate. Then I wait outside the station for a Bolivian to stop to talk to me. 10 minutes later, I give my cans and 40 bolivianos to a local guy who will in turn buy me gasoline. This is the opportunity to have fun and play the highwayman. In short, each fuel tank is an adventure with its share of encounters.

However, the rest of the journey to Guanay is difficult. It’s raining again and this wet, packed earth slides like ice. Besides, I fall several times, including once in the ditch. Fortunately, the driver who arrived just after at the wheel of his Toyota Carib was kind enough to jump in flip-flops into the mud to help me get the bike out. !

In the evening in Guanay I meet Pedro and Julio, who invite me to their village and offer to sleep in the shelter of the service station which has not been used for ten years. We spend the evening together. They are gold diggers in an open pit and offer me to spend a day with them. Perfect !

The gold Rush !

The next day I pile up with ten other minors in the station wagon. Let’s go for the gold rush! This day in their company was great, they explained everything to me and even gave me a little gold !

Water stored higher up in tanks comes under pressure to where the gold is. They then erode the wall and dig a trench where sieves are placed to recover the precious metal..

Around 5 p.m., the track dried out well and I decided to drive an hour or two in order to get a little head start for the next day. After an hour of driving between 20 and 40 km / h, I passed two trucks and passed a few turns, when suddenly I lost the front: the bike ripped in a ditch on the right, but this time the front wheel hit a big rock…

Loss of the front…

I wait for the two truckers to get the bike out. I broke the front fender which only holds on one side. The valve on my front wheel had not fully closed, causing a slow puncture and fall. I continue to the next village. Sorata is only 150 km away, or a day and a half of driving.

The track regains altitude and offers me a magnificent panorama. Improbable tracks lead to small villages of gold diggers, it’s rather huge atmosphere! Few tourists get lost here: there is no transport, you have to fend for yourself and I like it !

In the middle of the ford…

After Mapiri, there is no bridge. I have to cross a big ford. Considering the current, I am not confident … I make signs to the truck driver on the other side to know where to go, then rush off. I quickly have water up to the suitcases, the current makes the bike rip, but I hold on. I keep a trickle of gas because if I stall and the water gets into the exhaust, I’m in pain…

I have difficulty resuming my progress, the bike is moving forward like a crab, but above all I have to stay the course otherwise the current will be stronger and could make me lose my balance … I finally arrive on the other side but I don’t. not lead wide !

More than an hour’s drive, about 20 km. Last stop before Sorata, general power cut and candle light dinner in a small village whose name I forgot…

New fall…

Sorata is now a 4 hour drive (nearly 60 km) so I’m going cool, I have the day to myself. Since yesterday I have been driving without a front fender because the vibrations have overcome it. I am really annoyed, because nothing more holds the brake hoses that I attached with riselans and the radiator is no longer protected from mud at all, forcing me to stop regularly to clean it.

This time the track climbs frankly on the Altiplano, it’s magnificent! I drive quietly, between 30 and 40 km / h, to enjoy the scenery. It’s the last day on the road. But 2 hours from the finish, I was violently thrown to the ground: the brake hose got caught in the front wheel, blocking it suddenly !

Conclusion: without my enduro boot I will certainly have a broken foot, crushed by my right suitcase … On the other hand, my elbow is quite swollen and my ribs hurt a little. For the motorcycle, the hose is half torn and the fluid escapes: I no longer have a front brake. I was lucky to fall on the track because the ravine is never far away…

I finally arrive in Sorata around 5pm, after 7 hours of super slippery track while driving at a walk. Here the city is a little bigger, I should be able to find a mechanic to help me. In the meantime I’m going to bed, it’s safer !

Maxime BARAT

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