The Road of Death

I left Copacabana early this morning with fresh air streaming past me, the back drop of Bolivian snow peaks in front, and the clear blue lake below. I made it across the penninsula where I had to take a ferry across the lake to Huatajata. I had enough time to grab a cup of coffee and some bread before the small wooden flat boat pushed off from the sides crept over the ripples of the lake. Taking in the morning bliss of the Andes, I decided to take a short trip north of La Paz. The only reason I truly wanted to come to Bolivia, was to ride the Road of Death.
http://www.liebreich.com/LDC/HTML/Climbing/Mountain_Biking_Bolivia.html
It is known to have over 200 deaths annually, and the drop offs are like none other in the world. It is obvious why it is the most dangerous road in the world, however, enthusiests ride down on bikes and in cars every day, seeking another great thrill.
I wish I could have taken the pictures of waterfalls falling over the road, rivers that ran through the middle of the eight foot lane, and foggy valleys that dropped off thousands of meters, only inches from my tires. To make it more exciting, I asked mother nature to rain and create a heavy fog...and she did.
My heart was racing and the adrenaline was in full concentration. Two hours down the road, I made it to Coroico, where I sat down with my muddy boots and a big smile, enjoying my lunch immensly. It is true, I have ridden the legendary Road of Death in Bolivia.
It deserved a celebration, so after finding a place to stay for the night in La Paz, I went over to the electronic district and bought a new camera. I am quite happy to be alive.