There are varying statistics about the Death Road. What they all agree on is that it is very dangerous. In its heyday, an average of 26 vehicles dropped off the edge every year. In 1995, the Inter-American Development Bank declared this road as the most dangerous in the world. In 2009 the Bolivians finally realised that owning this deadly ‘road’ wasn’t a great claim to fame and built a new, safer route. These days, the Death Road (or North Yungas Road as it is really called) is mainly used by daredevil cyclists and backpackers seeking a thrill. I’m not sure which category we belong to, but of course we signed up!

We started the day with a filling breakfast at Olivers cafe, where we were introduced to our guide Kieran, who cheerfully told us we’d better enjoy our meal as it may well be our last. Once our group had assembled, eleven of us piled into a bus loaded with top-of-the-range mountain bikes, and we were joined by Kieran, our Bolivian support guide Jaya and guide-in-training Ansel. On the bus, Kieran reassured us that the road wasn’t really that bad, infact it was more like a farm track and that the ride wasn’t at all techincal.

The bus took us to the La Cumbre Pass at 4700 m, where it was snowing. Our bikes were unloaded, and once we all checked that the brakes were on the sides we required (front brake on the right for us Brits), we took them for a spin around the car park.

Kieran then called everyone around to give us a safety briefing. To start with, he explained the etiquette of the road and how to overtake safely. He also explained that other groups were not given safety talks, so they would be infuriating on the road. His final, and most important point, was that these bikes were by far the most expenisve that any of us would have ridden. They come with high quality hydraulic disc brakes that are serviced after every outing, and are amazingly responsive. A quick demonstration was given as to how responsive the brakes are, leaving us all wondering why on earth they put these dangerous things on all of the bikes. The reason became apparent later….

The first 22 km of the road is a paved highway, shared with lots of traffic. We stopped frequently on the way down so the guides could give us information about how to approach each stage. This bit was fairly easy going, as the road was smooth and wide with safety barriers along the edge.

About halfway down, we stopped at a drug check point. This region is a large coca growing area, and around one third of the crop ‘goes missing’ every year. The checkpoint has been put in place to search for either the missing crops or the chemicals used in cocaine production. The police waved us and our bus through without doing any checks, which apparently happens every time. So all you need to do to traffic drugs through this region is either dress your operation up as a cycle support bus or drive through the checkpoint between midnight and 5 am when the officials have gone home to bed and the office is closed!

After clearing the checkpoint we carried on down the road until we hit the only uphill section. Here, we unanimously voted to load our bikes back on the bus and drive the 8 km to the start of the Death Road proper. Before you all start to think that we wimped out of a bit of physical exertion, I will explain why. These bikes may well be top of-the-range, but they are high quality downhill mountain bikes. They are in no way designed for cycling uphill. To top it off, we were still several thousand metres above sea level where the lack of oxygen makes doing ten star jumps feel like you have just run ten miles. We were also offered a sandwiches by our guides if we didn’t make them cycle up the hill. Decision made.

At the 30 km mark, the road separates into the new, safer road to Coroico and the old Death Road, with the old road now only being used by cyclists and tourist buses. Our bus pulled onto the track and the driver unloaded our bikes while we were given Serious Safety Briefing Numero Dos. This time, we were informed that the law states that for this section of road all vehicles must travel on the left. It seems crazy to change the side that you drive on, espcially on a road with this sort of reputation. However, upon explanation, it all made sense. On this road, right of way is always given to the vehicle travelling uphill. When you travel downhill, the sheer drops are on the left of the road, and the driver is in the left of the car. The downhill vehicle pulls to a stop on the cliff edge, with the driver at the closest possible point to the drop, giving him the best view and the maximum opportunity to stop somewhere safe. The uphill vehicle then passes safely between the car and the cliff, minimising risk to everyone. In theory.

The basic rules of this part of the road for us were stick to the left as much as possible, go even further left before going round a corner to increase your view of oncoming traffic, assume there is a vehicle around every bend (and assume they will never use their horn to alert you), remember how responsive the brakes are and try to never panic. We were given the added incentive of a free beer at the bottom if we managed not to crash. One crash equalled no beer and two crashes meant having to buy beer for the guides. Three crashes means you don’t know how to ride a bike and you are immediately put back on the bus. With all of this in mind, we set off.

This part of the road is a winding gravel track. At its best it is several metres wide, and at its worst it is just over three metres. The sheer drops can be as much as 600 m, and there are almost no safety barriers. There are ‘babies heads’ (quite large rocks that can send you off your bike if you hesitate while going over them) to navigate as well as other, less competent, tour groups throwing some more danger into the mix.

I’m sure the views at the top are breathtaking, but as we were enveloped in a thick layer of cloud we couldn’t see a thing. On reflection, this was probably a blessing in disguise as we could just ignore the deadly drop.

We had been told that we could have a bit of fun on left hand turns as the worst you could do was hit the cliff, but to take extra care on right hand turns as overshooting would result in going over the edge.

The entire ride down was a huge adrenaline rush. The cliff had eroded in several places and every glance to the left reminded us of just how big the drop was. Kieran had stories at each stopping point of people he had seen go over the edge. Thankfully most of these had happy endings, although some did not. One guy had been stood on the edge taking photos of a waterfall, when for some unknown reason he took a step backwards. Of course he fell off. Luckily for him he somehow managed to stop himself ten metres down, and escaped with just a few scratches.

Our group didn’t even have any close calls. We did cycle past a guy who had chosen to go with a less recommended company. As he was cycling along, his front wheel just came off. It looked like he might have broken his collar bone, but that is nothing in comparison to what would have happened if the same incident had happened on a narrower section of the road.

Once we had completed the more technical sections, we could all relax and start enjoying a bit more of the view. The very end part of the road runs through a village. We were warned that the biggest hazards here are chickens and children. Apparently if you hit a chicken you have to pick it up, cycle off and we would all eat it for dinner. If not, and the farmer finds, out then you have to pay a 25 B fine. If you hit a child then you should also pick it up, cycle off and eat it for dinner. Or pay a 50 B fine…!

The last bit of the road was gentle and even involved a bit of pedalling. By this time we had become quite used to the danger and didn’t bat an eyelid at the 100 m drops. After descending a grand total of 3600 m over 64 km, we finally arrived at the village of Yolosa. A quick round of high fives was followed by a round of beers and a bit of story swapping.

We then headed to an animal sanctuary for a meal and a hot shower before going our separate ways. We had decided to stay in the town of Coroico for a few days before taking the new road back to La Paz. The others were jumping back on the bus for another white knuckle ride along the Death Road to home. Good luck!

Apologies for the lack of photos – the guides took loads of photos but they turned out to be very average.  To give you an idea of it though, here’s a random video of someone else cycling the Death Road.