Mountain Biking Down the World's Most Dangerous Road

By Martin Li

Starting high in the rarefied air of the Bolivian Andes, the steep and bumpy road from La Paz plunges 3,600 metres (12,000 feet) during the spectacular 64 km descent to the lush, sub-tropical Yungas and the sleepy town of Coroico. The narrow—occasionally very narrow—track hugs the sheer valley side as it snakes through dramatic, verdant scenery, surrounded all around by soaring Andean peaks. In places, the road is barely wide enough for one vehicle, let alone two.

Twisting beneath waterfalls and rocky overhangs, an unprotected drop-off to near certain death is a constant travel companion. A fatal accident every fortnight is not uncommon on the Coroico road, and the Inter-American Development Bank has declared it “the world’s most dangerous road.”

The ride begins at La Cumbre, a desolate, windswept pass at a chilly 4,700 metres (15,400 feet). A few turns of the pedals and you are swept away by gravity over beautifully smooth high-altitude tarmac, soon hurtling downhill at tear-streaming speeds approaching 80 km/hr. At 20 km, the smooth tarmac ends at the head of a yawning valley. The landscape is still lofty and steep, but has mellowed from bleak, high Andes to dense, lush cloud forest. The road is now a stony, unsurfaced single track hewn out of the sheer mountainside, hundreds of metres above the valley floor. You can follow the thin brown strip for tens of kilometres as it descends into the distant haze—with an unprotected outer edge for as far as you can see. This is it: “the world’s most dangerous road.”

Even with a death grip on your brakes, you’ll feel you are going too fast over the loose gravel and might skid frequently. No matter how hard you concentrate on controlling your speed and maintaining a safe distance from the edge, it’s impossible to ignore the many poignant reminders of tragedy. You pass crosses, memorials and bunches of flowers at chillingly-frequent intervals.

One of the eeriest features of the road is that you can only hear traffic when it is distant. The dense foliage and blind corners smother the sound of nearby vehicles so much that you can turn a corner and find yourself confronting the massive grille of a lorry or bus that has seemingly materialised out of nowhere. The road here is bone-dry and you lose visibility totally behind dust clouds whenever a vehicle passes.

In just one day, you cross high, windswept Andean passes and snow-covered plains, plunge joyously through dense cloud forest, and by late afternoon are sipping Margaritas in a bar in the tropics. You descend nearly 3,600 thrilling metres, with barely a need to pedal, and defy the spectre of death that has stalked you for most of the journey.

But such an adrenaline-rush comes at a price. Your body will ache. It won’t be saddle-soreness and it won’t even be your legs or arms. It’s your hands that will be throbbing from constantly braking for so much of the descent. Hopefully, though, your tired fingers will just about manage to clutch onto your Margarita glass.