Mountain road to Coroico
The re are 2 roads that link cold La Paz to the tropical pueblo of Coroico, a population of just 10% of La Paz. Our journey starts in the Northern part of La Paz, Villa Fatima. Villa Fatima is a market area and the few tour operators are housed near the old estation gasolina. Each ticket is numbered but I’ve no idea of how to tell which is numero 11.
20 minutes into our journey we pass a cemetery, solitary mountain dogs and it seems that at 2km intervals crash barriers cushion the edge of the precipices. HAY CHANCHO CON-ARROZ. It’s common for small outcrops of communities living to operating cafes from their prefabricated tin shacks, so as there’s 4 hour journey ahead I think wise not to try to stomach the ‘pork and rice’. BUSCA A DIOS JESUS ESTA LLEGADO, DIOS TE AMA CRISTO VIVA. Evidently religious graffiti covers the rock formations and I attempt to figure out the intentions – we’re on a narrow mountainside road and there’s poor vision ahead through this harsh weathered environment, so are they well wishing markers bidding for a safe passage or simply that being this high and experiencing the way the clouds seems to greet the road many of the ‘indiginas’ really do think they are close to a godly presence. What more, mixed in with the grafitti are actual logos POLARIOD, COCA COLA forming billboards out of the stoney surfaces.
The climate from a regular grey day in La Paz shifts dramatically and we drive through a stretch of tretcherous icey roads, so coated from the ebbs and flows of cascading water, freezing radidly on the asphalt. This along with the contraflows of blankets of clouds they such a common phenomenon at this altitude they fondly refer to it as ‘neblina’.
Through the ‘neblina’ we approach CONTROL ANTINARCOTICS / PARADA OBLIGATORIA. It became evident later during my time in Coroico, which has a stedfast economy based around cocoa cropping, that these friendly customs post are just a façade yet remind you of the amount of street value cocaine this country could produce.
Wow, we hit a blueness of colour revealing a community of houses that share the ambient surroundings, rather than fight with the harsh terrain. Now rain mixes the view of the flat plains of this ‘altiplano’, so called because of the high altitude, the mountains have regressed to the far distance on one side and the ‘neblina’ rises up from the cavities on the other to build an apparent flatness. Now passing a half-dozen roadside offerings I wonder if they’re graves of those who perished on this precarious old mountain road or simply virgin mascots.
Becoming more aware of the journey I start to feel the tingle of a dead leg and buttock. I notice a sniffing and a dog appears form under my seat, a mother and son seem to have hit their destination, “VAMOS A BAJAR” as they get off, but to where in this desolate landscape? A guy board carrying a heavy sack load of fresh breadrolls which he plonks in the free seat beside me making my journey noticably more uncomfortable. 35 VELOCIDAD, our vision has now reduced to less than 2 metres ahead and there’s an abundance of traffic warning signs, one in particular making am impression on me showing iconic rock fall hitting a minibus.
Although daytime in La Paz here our passage is guided by looking out for the oncoming amber glows of the sparce contra-flow. Through the breaks in the clouds there’s a hint that the landscape and climate has changed into something semi-tropical as I can see fliage that sweeps the countours of the vertical inclines to the left and the pokes out proud along the falls to the right. We enter the first of 3 tunnels, the end in sight of a mysterious white haze, an appearance much like a snowglobe. COROICO 76km and we’re at our half-way point. BOLIVIA 1474IHA reads the numberplate on the trailer van we’re vying to pass by. 2 children hang over the gate overlooking into our minibus, the driver consciously attempting his second and successful attempt to pass safely.
The smooth road bleeds into a rocky surface and thows the minibus into a potholed dance, before we change tone and set back onto the asphalt version again. Again we dance freeform. So as we’ve hit sunny bluesky’s, bleak cloudy mists and icey patches, I’m wondering if the weather is changing at a lower altitude too or these conditions reflect the perfectly formed pockets of ambient weather phenomenon at 4000 metres?
Dirt track or road? It seems the contra-flow have priority along the smooth road and ours is to battle the rocky track. COROICO 50km BIENVENIDOS. I’m starting to feel the use of my dead leg again and look out of the window at the small arid threes which proudly sprout up to 2 or so metres along the roadside which compensate for a lack a crash barrier. This gets me thinking about how Coroico will look being in the north of the jungle of this part of Bolivia.
Now the roadsides are randomly adorned with a mix of trees, shrubs and noticeable for their colour they shine in a variety of greens and iron rich tones of red and yellow, hinting. I imagine more of these abundant brilliant tropical colours looking beyond the misty vapours. NO ADELANTAR (no overtaking) as more roadside barriers appear and disappear and reappear at regular intervals aside a gully of waterflow either side of the road and familiar double-yellows appear along this diminutive camino. Collectively these indicate we soon should be in view of our destination. White lines continue to demarcate the ambiguous edges of the roadside. 40 VELOCIDAD. Another interior road caved between 2 welcoming rock faces provide respite from the ambiguous mountain roadside. Amber punctuations guide our way through another tunnel with yet another snowglobe like arch beconing in the distance. Approaching the exite our driver slows hesitantly to a halt, the tunnel leading us onto another ambiguous stretch of road, this time a ambiguous looking bridge cutting through cloud cover. BOSQUE MOUNTAÑO. NO ESTACIONAR. Only once did I hear the screech of the tyres. Thinking I’m thirsty I look to my bottle of water -– it’s squeezed consensed appearance a sign of our descending altitude. In the distance of the green rolling hillsides appears Coroico, yet at our height we will need to wind down even further and this time we seem to overlook brilliant shades of green and bursts of opaque white cloud. At this height birds start again to fly by. I can see ahead the next road curving below us as we ebb into a deeper descent. A bus screams past us, a young boy wearing a yellow knitted jumper hanging his head out of the window. 30 MAXIMUM VELOCIDAD. Contemplating my time in La Paz, I realise I haven’t been below 3000 metres in 16 days. La Paz is chocked in all senses – localised pollution from cars stuttering along the avenues and cross streets.
For just 15Bs (£1.20) it’s possible to travel over 80km from the grey city to a place they call paradise. In the distance a pattern of orange and the green that surrounds it appears as if in it’s own intense light as if a beam from above or an energy emitting from the ground below – giving it a beacon-like quality.
Each time we pass oncoming traffic the driver double-toots the horn, even at the 2 lovers in an embrace. The clouds now regressing to normal height allow the green mountainous terrain to stand clear and it seems nature is in balance once again – a more relaxed feeling apparent in the minibus, the driver and a front-seat passenger, neither wearing seatbelts, chat about nothing much. The rainbow is beautiful, more of a permanent streak in the sky settling on a distant solitary house high up on the peak, rather than the typical arch. HOTEL REO SELVA RESORT. From here you can smell the green that surrounds us, a sharp contrast from the chocking plumbs of smoke you come accustomed to back in La Paz.
On the final descent we pass a crossflow of water on route to the river that shapes the cavity below. A local guy hops on board to take the place of the bread that had accompanied me for the last 2 hours of the journey. Now we make the final 8km ascent up to Coroico, the axel spinning aggressively and the terrain bouncing us around like babies in a cradle. Along the way are vans parked and stacked rooftop high with mountain bikes. Looking at the expressions of the people sitting inside these vans, it’s evident they’ve just done the 5km death road cycle.
Glistening rock formations from the cascades show iron rich markings and welcome us closer to our destination. A local family bound on by, in the back of the jeep are 6 of them, the father standing unanimated, yet holding tightly against the throw of the finely pebbled local road beneath. Again there seems to be a level of concentration in the minibus willing our driver onwards and upwards. They guy sitting beside me pays his 2Bs and hops out lightly. COROICO – LAND OF NATURAL ATTRACTION. May ears start to feel the same popping sensation you get whilst descending towards touchdown on a flight.
Cars line up along the roadside like a welcome entourage. Our driver takes on the oncoming taxi shunting forward into the bottleneck of the path and wins. The minibus, vibtrating violently under the preasure of the pebbly path below for the last 15 minutes, shudders still upwards.
Check out the images at:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/dog-tired/sets/72157603734093968/
Posted: January 17th, 2008 under Bolivia, Jungle, La Paz.
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To put me in the picture he recounted a story showing me the article and a photo of a young lad proudly one of the newspapers who had begun selling Hormigón Armado at 3Bs a throw and from the money bought himself a shoeshine kit. He now supports his wife and child trying to keep on the straight and narrow. To be a lustraboata carries with it a level of shame so for this young guy and his family it was ¨better than the alternative¨. Feliz Nuevo Año para todos