I've just ridden the "Most Dangerous Road in the World" - the road from La Paz to Coroico. Dangerous? Relatively. One of the best drives I've done? Hell, yeah! A road that I would compare it to is the road from Durango to Mazatlan in Mexico. Both have passes through the mountains with several hundred foot drop-offs at the edges without guardrails and both have fantastic scenery. The Mexico road I would consider to be by for more dangerous with about a hundred hairpin turns with some gravel on the road. This Bolivian road had some sharp turns that kept me on my toes but nothing that I'd consider hairpin.

But, oh, before I get ahead of myself let me tell you about my day so far and how I've been attacked by protesters. It was normal day in the early hours - woke up, showered, had breakfast and packed up my stuff to get ready to leave. I then went to pick up my motorcycle from the parking garage.

I was happy to see my bike in good condition and happy to pay the guy only two bucks for two days of parking, I tried several times to start my bike but it just wouldn't start up. Too cold the engine was and I went back to my hotel and filled up a bucket of hot water, walked back and pored it on the engine (hey, it worked in Puno) but it didn't work this time. The engine was still too damn cold to start. In the parking lot I moved my bike out of the shade and set it in the sun for an hour while I surfed the internet - started first try when I got back. I paid a taxi a dollar for me to follow him to the road to Coroico. That is when I saw the protesters.

They had blocked off all the entry/exit routs to the highway. I slowly rode up to a group of protesters and shut off my engine. They had fists raised and were yelling. At one point one guy started hitting me and my bike with a fairly large stick. I was damned scared but determined to reason with them to let me through. The person with the whomping stick subsided when he figured out that I didn't mean any harm. I took off my helmet and said "Hello, how are you?" in Spanish with a large grin. Some people started admiring my bike. I shook hands with one guy and asked if it was possible to get through.

"Not possible, no".

"Is there another route?"

"No, it's blocked too."

I asked how long they were going to block the road.

"Two or three more hours."

Another guy butted in and said four or five more hours. Some of them were clearly making a joke at my expense but I just laughed right along with them. Getting angry with a large mob was a horrible idea and dangerous.

I turned around to try another route and it ended up being the main highway. I thought I had outsmarted them until I saw about a hundred cars jammed in stopped traffic. I lane-split and drove on sidewalks to reach the front. A mob five times larger than what I just encountered was there holding signs and chanting while five or six cops looked on hopelessly. I figured fuck it and drove to the front of the mob. I quickly shut off my engine and took off my helmet. Right when I took my helmet off an orange hit me square in the side of the head. Given enough speed an orange can really hurt ,and it did. There was a shocked "Oh!" from the crowed and the person who threw it was quickly told off.

I made a few more conversations with some guys who were admiring my bike and asked if it was possible to get through. One guy I made friends with and he told the people in front of me to move out of the way. Many heated arguments broke out as to weather I should be allowed across. My friends' reason was that I was just a tourist and I haven't done anything to them. Five minutes later I was being ushered through by a few other guys while the crowed either cheered or booed. Once past, I stopped, waved, and smiled. I got a lot of waves and cheering in return.

I was so happy with my victory that I started giggling and yelling "Whoohoo!" So I had the "World's Most Dangerous Road" all to myself - a completely open well known road all to myself. Fantastic! I stopped off a lot and took pictures of the scenery. I only had to pass up four or five cars in 80km! It was perfect. Like I said, much of the road was either washed out or cobbled - which confused me mightily. Why cobble kilometers of washed our road? Would it not be easier just to pave?

After about 70km on this amazing road I saw a sign for a turnoff but I was confused. The sign clearly said "Coroico ->" but it looked like a cobble stone trail - not a road at all. A car could barely fit I'd imagine. The cobble trail was surrounded by heavy brush and was all up hill so there would be no room to pull over if another car came. I proceeded figuring I'd try it out. And it was the most fun I have ever had on a road. The cobble stone was very bumpy and worn out in spots; I could not go over 30mph or Id' risk being thrown into the brush. I must have ridden a few kilometers before I saw a house - well, mansion is more like it.

It was huge with a swimming pool. I passed several more mansions like this. I went another kilometer or so before I saw some white people with backpacks up ahead. I stopped, turned off the engine and asked if they spoke English. "Yeah, we do" said a girl with an American accent. I asked how far the city was. "It's just around the corner. Where are you coming from?" "Colorado" I said. "The state?" "That's the one" said I. "Wow, holy shit" she said. A guy next to her pointed at my bike boxes and said "Che Guevara, I like your style" "Thanks, man. Are there any good places to stay?" "Well, we're staying here at this hotel" she pointed to a mansion "but there are plenty of others up top." "Cool, thanks." I rode off and found a cheap hostel right on the main plaza.

They let me park my bike in the patio. On the way here I had plunged about 3km so it's nice and warm here. No need for a jacket now but perhaps in the evening. It's 4pm now and I'm eating Fettuccini Alfredo at another Italian place in the main plaza. Looks like a nice place but I'm still leaving tomorrow. Cannot wait to get back on the cobble! I'll wake up early and drive as far south as I can.