If you go hitchhiking your speed is all about your technique. In day-time the advanced and not-advanced hitchhiker might move with more or less the same speed. But with the right equipment and technique you can also move through the night without any problem. There is less traffic, but therefore the cars will go further. More experienced hitchhikers use the night for their movement as well as the day.

On my „Royal Stage“ from New York to Alaska I achieved a very good time while rushing through Canada. I had one of my best runs going from Thousand Islands border USA/Canada to Otter Falls/Haines Junction in Yukon Territory. I did 6071 km in 107h 8m; Ø56 km/h. I think this is faster than driving by yourself. And since this tour had a acceptable length, I would like to call it my personal best time.

In the Russian hitchhiking school you calculate an average speed of 50km/h during summer-time and 40 km/h during wintertime. This counts for most of the developed countries like Iran, USA, Kanada, Russia, Germany, Argentina, etc. The calculation has to be adapted if you move through mountainous territory with serpentines. In general the road is getting slower the higher it is. In technically more difficult regions your covered distance can drop down to 200-300km per day. I experienced that, when I hitchhiker through the Bolivian high plateaus.

The longer your tour is, the harder it is to keep up the speed. If I would have traveled only 3 km/h less on my Canada crossing, that would have meant in the end 321 km less distance. 3 km/h less sounds not much, but it really makes the difference in the end.

When I started hitchhiking we always calculated with twice of the normal driving time (if you drive by yourself, including rest and sleeping breaks). For beginners this is a good landmark, which is easy to achieve. If you fail this, you do something wrong. But in my covered routes through Asia, as South and North America, you can see, that the Russian calculation is realistic, especially if you move a longer distance.

If you hitchhike alone you will always be slightly faster than going as a couple. With three person your average speed will drop significantly. Border crossings are always different, but you can calculate an average delay of one our, when getting into a new territory. Crossing cities is a big issue and you should calculate around two hours more, than the normal driving time, especially if you need to fight your way through a Moloch like La Paz or Panama City. With or without public transport. Crossing cities is one of the hardest things to do and you can lose much more time here, if you are an unexperienced hitchhiker.

The more experienced the hitchhiker is, the less will be the difference in the movement speed between each other. And this is independent from age or gender. Who argues, that you hitchhike faster with a woman, just because she is a woman, has not enough own experience to convince drivers to stop. And if one of my female hitchhiking comrades is hitchhiking faster than me, then it is about her advanced technique and not about her pussy.

In general I want to show with this article, that hitchhiking is able to be scheduled and your speed is most dependent on your skill. This includes body language, clothing, attitude, gesture, facial expression, how good your communication is and how charming you can make cars to stop. Also your positioning is very important and that you avoid tactical mistakes like, letting the driver decide where to put you or taking rides that won’t bring you any advantage. All that are parameters which affect your speed and they are much more important than pure luck. Who argues that hitchhiking is about luck might not know how to hitchhike properly.

Der Beitrag Personal best – How to calculate your hitchhiking speed erschien zuerst auf Warm Roads.

After some months through hitchhiking Argentina and Chile, exploring a lot of deserty areas, i perceived Bolivia as a green oase. The country has many different sights. Jungle, sparse highlands, beautiful mountain passes and fruitful farm land. All in all Bolivia is my favourite country in South America. Because of the people, the landscape and of course the hitchhiking, which turned out to be a blast, allthough i got warned in the beginning, how bad it would be.

Stats

Hitchhiked distance: 1329 kilometer

Number of lifts: 47

Average waiting time: 24 minutes 44 seconds

Waiting time total: 19 hours 23 minutes

My Bolivia  Log you can download here.

My route

I entered Bolivia after a desert tour through the Atacama and hitchhiked from Uyuni to Sucre. My next tour led right into the stunning highlands from Sucre to Oruro (regarding to google maps it is 8,5 hours for 350km. For a reason which i had found out soon by myself). From Oruro i went through Quime into the northern Yungas area towards Coroico, from where i hitchhiked the infamous Death Road and endet up going through La Paz to Peru.

Humans

In advance a lot of things about Bolivians where reported to me. That they are a very closed nation, they would hate Gringos and hitchhiking is almost impossible there. My experience was totally differen. I met so many awesome people during my hitchhiki ng trips. My first tour to Sucre was one of the most relaxing hitchhiking ever in my life. Only friendly people in the car. No evidence for the distance, i was told before.

In general i perceived the Bolivianos as pretty humble and reserved, but definitely not unfriendly or adverse. Except in Coroico, but this is a touri moloch and tourism makes people turn into bloodsuckers. Unfortunately. But that is everywhere. With a smile and an open mind you usually can make contacts pretty easy. Even if the Bolivianos seem a bit grumpy and not interested in the first moment, behind the surface there are very friendly people hidden. I felt really comftable in Bolivia, allthough i almost got robbed once.

Roads

The mainroads are in excellent condition and it is a real pleassure to hitchhike through the bolivian mountain area. Easy going. Not too much and not too less traffic. The highway towards La Paz is fast and uncomplicated. If you stay on the main roads, you should have an easy life. Keeping areas are sometimes a bit hard to find, but the traffic is so relaxed, that it is not problem to just stop in the street. The highway has a typical emergency lane.

If you go on the same adventure like i did and enter the small, abandoned roads through the inner part of the country, you should be ready for a slow and exhausting drive. The roads are partly paved and partly you will meet really bad mudroads. Similar to the Transamazonica, but in small, slower and on 4000m height. It is definitely worth! A hell of a fun,, believe me!

The absolute highlight, which you shouldn´t miss at all costs was the Yungas. Long mountain passes, that follow the scarp slopes along the Yungas Valley. Amazing views, deep gorges and a lot of dust. Nothing relaxing like a beach holiday, but one of the most beautiful areas in every hitchhiked through.

Tactics

Hitchhiking in Bolivia contains one difficulty, which you should recognize and that are Taxis (which aren´t yellow and neither have a sign), Buses as well as ride-shares. You need to develope a sense about, which cars are paid traffic and which are private. Private cars are our target group. Most of the time it is possible to determine this through the type of car (Taxis often are a certain kind of car) or with the amount and type of passengers. I would definitely recommend you to be selective while hitchhiking. But i should say also, that i was hitchhiking literally EVERYTHING that passed by in the end Many Taxis, f.e. will pick you up anyway, if you explain them, that you won´t pay for ransport but need a lift.

Beside that i successfully used my „Walking-Technique“, which i practised in Brazil already. I think in the end i didn´t waited at all and was either walking or sitting in a car. Always on the move. The Bolivians have a great sense for pedestrians and are very helpful, if they spot you in the middle of nowhere. Worked superb! In rural areas you can get rides with motorcycles but in the country-side just everything stops. Start walking, smile and look forward to your next ride. Not difficult at all in Bolivia.

By the way: Just once i got asked for money. It might be common in Bolivia, but the locals don´t hitchhike very much, like in Peru.

Photos

Specifics

If you enter through Quime into the Yungas area you follow a 60km long descent through endless serpentines and covering almost 3000m altitude difference. What a route. In Quime you reach the gateway towards the Yungas. Don´t miss this area!

Sucre is the capital for learning Spanish in South America, because here was the former domicile of the colonial goverment and, thats what they say, in Sucre they speak the clearest Spanish in whole South America. Many backpackers come here to learn the language. The private lessons are about 5$-7$ which is unbeatable cheap. Tip: Book yourself a teacher through the official language schools for a couple of days and make an agreement with him, to continue the lessons outside of the language school. Most of the time the teachers inly get a small amount of the overall sum and in taking inofficial lessons, everyone profits more.

I hitchhike on the infamous Death Road, which also can be mastered with a downhill bike. For sure alot of fun. In general it is a very beautiful and a bit less dangerous road, than the name would expect. All roads in the Yungas are dangerous and the people know it. Indeed I think the city traffic in lima is more dangerous than the rural roads in Bolivia.

There was no other country where i hitchhiked with so many different vehicle types, than in Bolivia. Especially Trucks, who always have aplace for you on the loading area. But also alot of Pick-Ups, motocycles, digger, emergency cars…..beautiful. A paradise.

I had in Bolivia a series of rides, where five times in a row the first passing vehicle (!) stopped and picked me up. New record! In no other country it worked that well!

Der Beitrag Hitchhiking in… (11) Bolivia erschien zuerst auf Warm Roads.

General

Since 20th October 2014 i hitchhiked more than 36968,2 km. I had more than 405 Lifts, had to wait in average 23 minutes and 34 seconds and waited in total 182 hours and 39 minutes (which is about 7,5 days). I don´t wanna miss any of those minutes.

The Best

Is…Tenerife. 21 lifts i catched together with Hanna on this beautiful island. 8 minutes and 12 seconds we had to wait in average. I think Lanzarote was even better, but it was before i started with my documentation.
For South America the country with the best statistics is Ecudaor. 14 minutes and 30 seconds in average, till a car stopped and picked me up. 21 lifts in total and nearly 1000 km might not be that representative. But anyway.

The Positive Suprise

Brazil felt like Spain and Italy together. Totally shit. But the numbers speak another message. 15 minutes and 15 seconds average waiting time are close to the values of Ecuador. I catched 44 Lifts and did 6550 km through Brazil, which has definitely a higher represantation than Ecuador. Feelings might be wrong, numbers aren´t in this case. I don´t know how this can be so good, but during my Brazil crossing i felt like i had to walk at least one hour for every lift. Seems like i didn´t.

Mistaken

Totally overrated was Argentina on the other hand. For me one of the best country for hitchhiking in South America. Probably because of the Free WiFi in the gas stations and the comftable mix of warm roads, acceptable food, long ways and Internet. But the numbers are quite sobering. 34 minutes and 50 seconds average waiting time is the second worst for all my countries so far. I have to add, that i did alot of night hitchhiking in Argentina and this might have affected this value. With 8045 km it is also the country which i hitchhiked the biggest distance in. Also 84 lifts represent a big part of my catched cars so far.

The Worst

Definitely Colombia. Not even in the stats, but also how it felt. Don´t get me wrong, Colombia is a beautiful country, nice people, stunning landscape but moving here is just a pain in the ass. 48 minutes average waiting time. Can´t get worser. Allthough i had only in Venezuela less lifts than in Colombia. 943 km is the least distance i did from all countries in South America. But honestly, i doubt that this stast would get better if i make more distance here. Just a feeling. The reasons for this „hitchhiking-disaster“ im going to discuss in my „Hitchhiking in… – Colombia“ article.

My Secret Favourite…

…for hitchhiking in South America is not Chile…..but Uruguay. 88 Lifts: Its the country where i had the most cars and with 2689 km we find it in the upper midfield of the distances. The average waiting time was with 19 minutes and 42 seconds quite good. Even better if we take in account, that most of the time i was with Ralf together as a men/men team. Fucking good time, good job buddy. Also the country where i hitchhiked my first Cargo Train (hitchhiked and not hopped) and beside Syria the place where i got the most of my lovely Pick-Up rides. Unfortunately riding with Pick-Ups is freshly banned by the government, but let´s hope, that the Uruguayans take this law with the same „We don´t give a shit“-attitude as they take the rest of their lifes and still stop to pick up hitchhikers. Just so much fun there.

This table is fucking nice, isnt it?

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Der Beitrag Hitchhiking in South America – Statistically conclusions of my South America crossing erschien zuerst auf Warm Roads.

Hitchhiking was good, three fast rides to the police check behind the city, passing two other hitchhikers and stopping another truck that was going to my next intersection. From there I would continue on smaller roads. Satisfied I sat in the truck, lost in watching the landscape. In my head I summarized the last two days thinking about how to pack them into an article as I was suddenly ripped out of this peace by a loud bang. Totally freaked I see the truck being towed to the left. The driver has a hard time going straight. Left front tire exploded. We stop, get out and stare doubtingly at the broken tire. The driver starts to make a phone call, I help him clearing the highway of the broken tire and continue walking. Could take some time until he’s driving again. To my luck the third car stopped to take me to my intersection.

In front of me paved road. I see myself arriving at the death road at noon and leaving La Paz behind me in the evening already. I made it through some villages quite quickly but then traffic ceased. I got a lift on the loading platform of a truck. The guys suddenly turned: I had to give them a sign to not be taken into the wrong direction. Via several serpentines I ascended a mountain recognizing some dogs wondering what those guys might eat out here in the nowhere and enjoyed the panorama. After 28 minutes of walking a Nissan stopped.

Breathtaking descent through the most beautiful mountains of South America

The driver was puzzled. Again I didn’t understand a word. Somehow though I made it into the car. We started. I thought he would go to the next village or so. The road went downhill. I estimate we were at 5000+ meters altitude. I would get out at 2200. The road was … hard to describe … bombastic. Via excellently paved hairpin-bends down to Quime. We passed several buses and at some point that huge, bottomless pit opened up in front of us, descending it piece by piece with the rickety car. It was like going down to the middle earth. This Passage was absolutely amazing. But I didn’t know that the whole Yungas mountains are waiting for me. Arriving at Quime (it wasn’t even on my map) I was awaited by a marvelous small town with rich vegetation clinging to a lake giving me the feeling of being somewhere in the Alps. I was delighted with the beauty that I saw in it. We were in the beginning of the Yungas.

At the end of the village we turned onto a small gravel road and stopped at a gas station. As I asked how far he was going the driver answered: “2 hours further.” Sick shit! Good lift! This was also when I realized that the small road that we took to reach the gas station was not kind of a secret path to there, but the main road for my next 400 km. I had already sensed before that there was something fishy with this route. That was it. But we went into the Yungas and excitement was endless.

Yungas is a mountain range drawn from tropical 500 meters of altitude up to the 4000+ high plains to La Paz. There is a northern and a southern Yungas, separated by a River. The road runs in principle atop of the mountains. That means at some places the side slop drops several hundred meters next to the street. The surroundings are beautifully green, all the time you have a great view, looking straight into the face of death… very hard to describe. Let’s just say it’s the most beautiful area that I crossed in all my life.

For three hours me, my driver and his Nissan cruised through the mountains. In between a police check. Bribed, of course. A little smalltalk and continuing. A granny on a market square who wanted to jump in was turned down. Some villages later another granny, hitchhiking. The driver sighed and in keeping with the motto “Well, jump up grandma” the hitchhiking-granny was loaded onto the platform. At the place where we arrived I bought as much food as i could carry for about 60 Cents and continued by walking through the city over the next mountain passes. Here I realized for the first time that I was in the middle of the jungle. Banana and orange trees next to the road inviting me to pick some sweet fruits. This, after months of sparse highlands. Months of desert and dead land. And it was warm again, I could sleep outside!!

Upcoming: a classic, insane night ride

For the next 2,5 hours i was hiking… with pleasure. Just a little traffic. Maybe 4 or 5 cars. At some point I located a small, deserted stone house next to the road, hidden by the bush. It was going to be my sleeping place. Writing down some vocabulary, smoking a cigarette, preparing to sleep… I made my evening toilette, prepared for sleeping. It was already dark. But then there was this car coming. Let´s try a last time. Hand stretched out … aaaand it stops. Two humans look at me. Obviously a taxi. I explain that I have no money for transport. Doesn’t seem to bother them. “Where are you going?” “There and there.” “Is that a village or a city?” “A big village.” “No idea where it is, let’s go!” And what comes now is on of those night rides for which I love hitchhiking.

First observation: The front-seat passenger is totally drunk. And how drunk he was. Not even able to sit straight on the seat, bending left and right beaten by the curves and road holes. I was picturing him puking all over the car and prepared myself to protect me from spraying puke. My first theory: he was on a village fair getting completely hammered and is now on his way home. Obligatory pit stop. Mister Wasted hat to take a shit. To much joy of everyone I had toilet paper with me. There is nothing more important (beside water maybe), if you go on a long hitchhiking trip.

We continued. “EY, Amigo, mi Amigo, Ey”, he tried to talk to me, I smiled back at him and he slipped me 30 pesos because he thought I have no money. I felt really uncomfortable with that. Oh well. Sit it out Stefan, sit it out. As long as we are rolling everything is fine. While I was still thinking about the money the mood changed suddenly. Mr. Wasted had invited me to his house, we were Amigos now. But the driver (Efrain) debated with him about that. It went as follows.

Efrain: “Look, he speaks nearly no Spanish and won’t understand anything. And you behave like mad, use bad language and are drunk as hell. What will he think of us? He comes to our country, he is well educated, went to school, university and finds you like that here.”

Drunky: ”NO NO NO; you are wrong, he’s my friend.”

Efrain: “He doesn’t understand you”

Drunky: ”We talk tomorrow! Tomorrow I talk with him!”

Next obligatory stop in another village. Filling up gasoline. Efrain walks into some house and returns with a canister and piece of a garden hose. Tap and let it run. Filling gasoline in Bolivia. I had offered Drunky a cigarette that we shared at the moment while he explained that they are very strong and that he can’t remember his name anymore (I had asked him several times before already). Efrain asked him to buy 3 portions of chicken for us but he had no more money. Because I had it. I was about to buy the chicken for all of us, but then we continued.

We finally arrived at the village of Drunky and since he had invited me at least 10 times to his place the moment of truth had arrived. The village was not sympathetic at all. As Drunky got out gathering his things I started my tactical maneuver: “Are you going to sleep here or are you going back?”, I asked Efrain. “Nono, I am going further.” “Oh, further, where to?” “Irupana.” “Hm…. well… further… hey Amigo…. he is going into the same direction as me… maybe… I better continue with him? You know, it’s closer to my goal. Don’t be mad, thank you so much for your hospitality, but you need to sleep and he’s going on… nah?”

Drunky got it after Efrain supported the conversation a little. He was not angry and waved towards his home. I changed to the front passengers seat, we went on, the mood was relief and Efrain was also glad that I hadn’t joined Drunky. “No es muchacho”, were his words. I tried to give him the 30 Pesos, get rid of this money, but he just answered I should buy something to eat for me.

Alcohol and corrupted police

That was when the night started. Next pit stop. Efrain has half a bottle of Whiskey and Coke which he mixed, assuring me that he likes to drink every now and then, but not as much as his colleague. Afterwards he told me their story. Both had been on the road since several days after selling a car in Arequipa near Chile. Cigarettes lighted, Whiskey-Coke knocked back, this is how the party-van rolls. Finally knowing where we were going – 2 hours further into my direction – was increasing my good mood. BÄM! Nightlift! I love this.

At the first village the fun suddenly found its end when Efrain stopped because a tour bus was blocking the street, parking. He switched off the lights but when I asked him if he needs a lighter for the next cigarettes he just shushed me with “Nono… psscht….policia.” Police check. Fun went serious. He waited until the bus had parked and tried to pass silently. Not enough space on the street. We had to reverse and look for another way. Of course the cops were waiting for us there. Too obvious how the Gringo Taxi tried to sneak the police control.

Efrain, Gringo…. Money. Efrain tried to bribe them but it seemed not enough for them. He came to the car and asked me for the 30 pesos that I generously donated for this good cause. “Listo”, onwards. But then some obtrusive lady approached the car window asking questions. The kind of person that have to stick their nose into everybody’s business. Some discussion. Whop, and we had a an old man and a woman with her son in the back. Efrain was obviously troubled, drove more restless and that on an hour-long detour.

So we continued on the mountain roads. We drank to silence our nerves. “Whiskey.” he pleased. “Claro.” My response. One for Efrain, one for me. At the first one he criticized that it was too much, so only small sips from then on. I felt myself forced to join him hitting the bottle, for the safety of all of us. Since the night was totally escalating I again dived into this “not giving a fuck”-feeling. After four to five Whiskeys all passengers had arrived safely at their homes and we continued in intimate togetherness. Drinking Whiskey, smoking cigarettes and passing on this dirtroad with the 300m slopes. The only problem was that neither Efrain nor I had the slightest idea where we would have to go.

And where do we sleep?

Toilet break. “Whiskey.“ “Claro.“ I was tipsy already. At some point when we switched on the lights in the car I realized that Efrain was pretty loaded already. If I could drive? Of course. Too bad I never got to ride the car. Maybe it was better that way. The car grounded on the bad road several times. Fortunately we were not able to see the abyss next to the road because of the complete darkness that surrounded us. The Whiskey was already gone and in the next village Efrain asked for the way and for upcoming police checks. We both were out of money and he instructed me what I should say in case of a control. I put away my camera, just in case, this was not supposed to be bribery. Tensed we continued our road. We were lucky, no fixed police checks, only one patrouille that never reached us.

We had a great chat and finally arrived at the said big village. We stopped, clueless. I scrounged another cigarette from Efrain. “Or shall I take you to my village?” Sounds like sleeping place. “How far is it?” “5 km.” “Claro.” The car bumped on the increasingly bad road at least 10 more times until we reached the village after 50 minutes. 5Km further…. To my surprise he stopped at the market square to let me out of the car. Story of my life. I had never been lucky with sleeping places but also I had never had a problem to keep on hitchhiking during the night. Maybe there is a connection. I gave Efrain my farewell, thanked him a lot and walked out into the darkness.

I slept in the next village on the terrace of a small communal building. In the morning a bunch of brats gathered together on the nearby road making a fuss. One girl was shouting all the time. I didn’t know what. But I thought she’s calling her friend who’s not at home and why she just couldn’t keep her gob shut. Through the whole night a way to noisy mosquito that just didn’t want to feed had terrorized me and now some kiddies were screaming for their friends. At some point I understood the word “Gringo” and realized that they were calling for me all the time. I was busted. Sit it out, Stefan. Soon the brats vanished. Packing up, jumping the fence, first car stopped for the upcoming town. Goodbye.

It was market time and I enjoyed a marvelous street food breakfast, stopped everywhere, bought something. Cake, Cheese, Empanadas and yummy stuffed potato dumplings. Found a ride out of the city. Brushing teeth. Walking onwards. Walking was definitely not exactly brilliant I figured 30 minutes after, dusty head to toe. The roads were as dry and dirty as in the Amazonian Area. Nothing stopped for me either. I should find myself walking for 4 hours straight. Always driven by curiosity what i would find behind the next mountain and how it might look there. After three hours I had emptied two liters of water. Ruthlessly the big and small buses rushed past me blowing up even more dust.

At some point I aroused a taxi driver’s pity. Same game, no money for transport… yes, jump in. Last intersection before my goal. Lets have a break. Fish for lunch, new water acquired. Continue walking. Flagging down a jeep with four Bolivians, got the ride, nearly crashed, last city before my final goal. Continue walking. Another ride with a taxi filled with two old men and a friendly driver. From where we were going it should be three hours on foot to Coroico. ‘Sounds fine’, I thought. So I will arrive for sure. Continuing walking I nearly got a ride to Coroico but they went on without me.

The most dangerous ride on the most dangerous road

While walking I thought I would rather be stopping anything that could take me a little further. Also motorbikes which I declined so far during the day. Seems legit. First one didn’t stop. Then a biker with camouflage clothes bombed around the corner. Yeah. The following is exactly the fitting end to this totally crazy tour through the Yungas.

The driver was a policeman. I should have seen that not everything was straight here as he dismounted his bike starting to talk to me while pissing onto his own motorcycle. Sometimes I am a little slow on the uptake. He wasn’t really sympathetic but I am so bad at turning down rides and don’t like to discuss with marshals. Up up! Nono not like this, I should get closer and put your arms around my belly. It was not as homoerotic as it might sound here but absolutely necessary to survive in this bad road conditions.

As we started to drive and Aris started to talk I noticed that he was focking drunk. In fact, I realized that as soon as we went uncertainly swayed towards the first car, almost bumped into it. Whenever he turned around to talk to me the motorcycle went off course. Digger, buses, jeeps,… well anything that came across us was a potential accident and to the right of the road it was dropping several hundred meters down. Fuck me, what am I doing here.

I hoped he would not take me very far. First break. “Where are you going?” “Coroico.” Fuck, he is really going to Coroico, my destination. At minimum a one-hour ride. I just thought about, how can I explain that I don’t want to continue with him… and on we go. Bumping over this bad roads, speed up, break, speed up, break. Going so fast that I almost shit myself. Deadly terror. In a way it was funny. I held tight onto him and knew, if we go down this cliffs, then we go together. Next break. He wants to make a selfie. Well, he wants me to make a selfie.

Thats how my selfie stick came into operation. I took it out of my backpack and described to Aris how I got it as a “Present” in Argentina from a driver. “Present” he understood immediately, keen-heard. “A present for me?” Bolivian police. Oh no, now he wants a present. “No no …”, I tried to appease. So we made a selfie. Riding on. Next break. He was very fixated on that present-thing. He wanted to give me his police jacket and I should give him something in return. Didn’t have anything. Sorry, bro. What, I can still have the jacket? Maybe a good present for my buddies at home, but definitely no clothing for the upcoming stages. Anyway I don’t have room for it and also I can’t wear it. So thanks for this. Oh, I should send you something when I am back in Germany? Yes, of course I can send the jacket to my dad. Well, now we are police brothers. Going further.

I can only say: Do never never ever try this at home. But I survived it. Aris made it alive to his girlfriend in Coroico. As we stopped and he parked the motorcycle the first thing he said was: “Hey, I am getting my girlfriend, you get me a beer please.” Okay. I needed that beer even more than him. My hands were heavily shaking after this experience. So I ordered two and drank with him and his girlfriend. I had spotted other Gringos so I approached them asking for a good hostel. While we spoke Aris’ bike tipped and fell onto the curb. “It’s governmental paid, so no worries.” He rushed off with his girlfriend. My hands were still shaking. I was in Coroico. Ready to hitchhike the “Death Road”.

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Der Beitrag “Whiskey.” “Claro.” Surviving hitchhiking in Yungas mountains erschien zuerst auf Warm Roads.

Route is set. I start walking. I buy some snacks on my way out of the city. Even in cities I have quit to use public transport. 30 to 60 minutes always get me into an area from where you can easily hitchhike out of the city. I start hitchhiking on the street that leads to the airport. Masses of taxis rush past me until a VW-Käfer stops to be my first lift of the day. Very well restored. Inside a nice guy bringing me to the airport. There I caught a small truck that took me to the street to Ravelo. Perfect. Behind me the city, in front of me the desired road.

The direct way to Oruro

Maybe I should have become a little suspicious at the intersection. To the left, off from the main road, there is a small street leading through the roadside ditch looking like a driveway of an abandoned building. To be sure i asked a woman on the road if that was the street to Ravelo and she was like “Si. Si.” and something about more traffic somewhere further away. But I was already gone. Shortly after i realized that this main intersection was closed due to roadworks and that dirtroad the illegal way to get around that. Well, I didn’t care and walked on.
For now there was no traffic. A motorbike came, stopped, and gave me a lift. After fifteen minutes a small truck picked me up and took me about twenty minutes further. He was going to a one-horse town far off the main road that was reachable – according to the map – through a really small street. And I got a strange feeling that I just landed on „that“ street.

There I was walking again. Nice region. After 27 minutes a merciful taxi driver picks me up. 2km. Thanks. I continue on foot and reach a bridge that is under construction. The alternative route is a detour through the river. It will be like that again in the upcoming days. Up the hill, down the hill, through the river and up the hill. I had to walk up the hill after the construction site. And then there was … nothing. At first. After an hour I got a lift from a cement truck, another 2 km. I had to stand outside on the truck, directly next to the funnel where the cement is poured in. I pictured myself falling into it like the witch in Hansel and Gretel that is pushed into the oven. But the view was awesome!
After I jumped off I countinued walking on the road, happily and with a smile. Traffic was a scarce commodity here. Then, onrushing, an ambulance car. I throw my hand into the air and checkpot, it stops. Yeah, first time hitching an ambulance car. I had to go to the back where the patients usually sit or lie. There i found a bank, a plank bed – and that was it. Really basic. And It drove me to a small village close to Ravello. Walking along the nice asphalt road I slowly came to the conclusion that maybe I am already on the main road all the time and just the lack of traffic gives me the impression of being somewhere far off. And I was right Anyway.. The first car that stopped took me to Ravello.
I made it to the first checkpoint. Sun was setting already. At least I had made the first 50 km. In 7 hours. Just 850 km to go! I figured that I won´tt do it in a day. Right after Ravello the asphalt road becomes a dirt road again. A rocky road. With rivers. Here and there llamas and sheep herds. Bolivian highlands.

Stars and pigs

There I was walking again. Nice region. After 27 minutes a merciful taxi driver picks me up. 2km. Thanks. I continue on foot and reach a bridge that is under construction. The alternative route is a detour through the river. It will be like that again in the upcoming days. Up the hill, down the hill, through the river and up the hill. I had to walk up the hill after the construction site. And then there was … nothing. At first. After an hour I got a lift from a cement truck, another 2 km. I had to stand outside on the truck, directly next to the funnel where the cement is poured in. I pictured myself falling into it like the witch in Hansel and Gretel that is pushed into the oven. But the view was wonderful!
After I jumped off I countinued walking on the road, happily and with a smile. Traffic was a scarce commodity here. Then, onrushing, an ambulance car. I throw my hand into the air and checkpot, it stops. Yeah, first time hitching an ambulance car. I had to go to the back where the patients usually sit or lie. There i found a bank, a plank bed – and that was it. Really basic. And It drove me to a small village close to Ravello. Walking along the nice asphalt road I slowly came to the conclusion that maybe I am already on the main road all the time and just the lack of traffic gives me the impression of being somewhere far off. And I was right Anyway.. The first car that stopped took me to Ravello.
I made it to the first checkpoint. Sun was setting already. At least I had made the first 50 km. In 7 hours. Just 850 km to go! I figured that I won´tt do it in a day. Right after Ravello the asphalt road becomes a dirt road again. A rocky road. With rivers. Here and there llamas and sheep herds. Bolivian highlands.

It was getting dark. Somehow the sow managed to free itself from its prison and increased its territory to the whole load plattform. Also increasing my fun and the anger of the others. Always approaching the humans and always being rejected. Poor piggy. After unloading most of the people I remaind on the truck with a couple that was cuddeling under a blanket in one corner of the truck and: The pig. It approached those blanket-hidden humans increasingly sniffing and grunting getting more and more pushy and the guy under the blanket didn’t really do a good job stopping it. Upon us reigned the stars covering the glass clear sky accompanied by a crescend moon. Pure romance. The lovers, the pig and the panorama.
After two hours there was an end to the shaking ride. “Otro lado.”, other direction. The driver asked for money. I figured that i was on kind of a local taxi. He got an equivalent of 1,10 Euros. Though I am hitchhiking to not pay anything for transport, I am not rude.
Since nearly every possible vehicle hade stopped that day I was pretty sure to get further despite the darkness. I was just around 8pm. So I walked to the next village. After the end of the village I had my first break. Somewhere between 3500 and 4000 meters altitude even the slightes ascend made me breathe heavily. Behind me I saw a car descending the mountain that was behind me. My next ride. Shoud be here in 10 minutes.
I was ready to go. Car comes around the curve, my hand reaches out and … the car passes. What the…? Since the taxi ride at the broken bridge NO car had ever passed me. I was disappointed. Bolivia disappointed me. I thought any means of transport would stop here? But I continued. Walking, sitting down watching the stars, walking again and so on… Thats how I spent my night. At some point another car apperared … but also passed. A third one stops but does not give me a ride. That was about it. The traffic of the last 3.5 hours. I was walking 3.5 hours already, it was getting colder and colder and I realize, this night is not meant for hitchhiking. i was over 4000 meters altitude already and it was really getting cold.

My friend the bolivian farmer

Behind me there were some clay huts where Bolivian farmers were living. The light of a torch caught my eye. My chance. I answerd with my torch. No reaction. I started to flash my light more obstrusively. Nada. My only chance to get a bed tonight (without waking somebody which I really did not want to). So i walk towards the house and the light that had flashed before. I approximated carefully. No sign of life. i try to guess where the entrance is located.
Suddenly something moving. The Bolivian farmer dared to emerge from his trench and stomps towards me. He had lied in waiting all the time observing every one of my steps. I smiled stupidly as a counter to his passive agressive performance as he approached me to calm him down. He had his cheeps full of coca, his tooth where colored dangerously black and he didn’t even reach my shoulders in height. Despite me not understanding a single word he was talking insistently to me. I tried to explain that I can not sleep outside and if he has a place to sleep maybe … and yes, he got it … Vamos!

He lived in houses without windows together with his family. Entereing the hut he tried to wake them all, i did not understand why, but he was standing in the middle of the bedroom screeming his lungs out towards his son. But that one really didn’t care and continued sleeping peacefully. The farmer goes on screaming and I try to calm the situation down by explaining that I can just sleep on the ground, no need for a bed. I thought he would throw his son out of the bed to offer me a place to sleep.
After several attempts to wake the boy up we move to the next room. There is an old bed covered in junk and clutter. Perfect for me. I clear the bed on one side and the farmer hands me some blankets to support me in my thin sleeping bag.
I had a bottle of water with me. Nothing special you might think, but many people approached me because of it and I didn’t get why. Same here. No clue why. He asked me for a sip of the water. And of course I gave hin, I could never deny a request like that. Drinking myself after him my lips instantly feel numb. He left a noticeable trace of coca on the orifice.
As I lie in bed already in my sleeping bag my Bolivian farmer comes into the room again with another try of communicating with me, pushes my sleeping bag aside sitting fatherly on the bed. I did not get what he wanted. Documents, Security, he gave me his ID- Card and I pop my driving licence, not really sure of what was going on I kept my passport with me. But he only had wanted to show the driving license to his son. Still i don’t know why. Maybe another reason to wake him up. After that it was finally time to sleep. In my windowless clay hut.

All in all I didn’t really trust the situation. Still the first impressions, the trench in front of the house and the situation when he crawled out of it. were very present in my mind. The coca cheeks, the black tooth and the distrust of the farmer.

Dream 1: I wake up in my bed somewhere in Germany. Friends are visiting me and ask me what I was doing, why am I there? I still wear my hitchhiking suit. But where is my backpack? Fuck, where is the backpack? The Bolivian farmers must have brought me here into this park with a transporter stealing my backpack! All together we start to search.

Dream 2: I sit in my room in the clay hut and play computergames. On my bed there is a pig. A small, black, bristled pig, jumping around in my bed. It is really bold and annoys me where ever it can.

In the grey of the dawn the door of my room opens. Its the farmer, he came to plug his moblie phone. Outside its already bright but sun still hasn’t risen. It is the coldest time of the day so i decide to stay in the sleeping bag for a little longer. The mobile phone is old and I am asked if I can see anything on the broken screen. My technically experienced eyes come to the same conclusion as the farmer: There is nothing to see on the display.
After a while he looks into my room again and leaves the door open. Must be a sign that it is time for me to leave. I get to know all three of his children while his wife is hanging out the laundry, breakfast is skipped for today. Walking on my new friend accompanies me for some steps. A fresh morning far out in the Bolivian highlands. Sun had just risen and the first people start to enliven the street. It was a very nice walk on that morning.

Beer, vine and selfmade cider

Not only the the morning is nice, also there is something very valuable to hitchhikers. Traffic. Too bad its going into the wrong direction. Some trucks rushing past me in a speedy way that I have to hide from the upcoming dust cloud. Impossibly fast. Arriving in the first village it seems the neighbours have a communal meeting. ‘Look how nice!’ i am thinking ‘you don’t find that in Germany very often anymore.’ All together are standing around on the street talking to each other. I approach them with a “Buenos dias.” “Buenos dias.” they reply. “GRINGO!” screams one of the neighbouring woman that just steped out of the house. We shake hands. on the road I see 2 dead chicken. I figure that they must have got overun by the trucks. The people discuss what’s to do with them. If I would like to have one since I am a Gringo and have enough money. No, thanks.
I walk into the village and buy bread with fried potatoes and a fried egg. A good breakfast for 40 Cents. The first truck I meet on the road stops. Viva Bolivia! Until Oruri, the second of four Cities on my route. There i already find lively activities. I admire the landscape and continue to walk my way. After some time I stop the first possible vehicle. An earthmover. Now moving a person. My first lift with an excavating machine. for 25 minutes I stand on its sideboard cruising through the rolling highlands.
After that again, the first truck stops. Loaded with a lot of goats, a barrel full with uncertain filling and three more workers. At a construction site we have to stop. The driver jumps out and walks away with the construction supervisor. Seems like we can continue in around two hours. About 5 really huge diggers and dozers have fun moving a mountain aside. Bolivian roads semm to be designed for the next landslide. Somehow we can continue after 10 minutes already. After that I have another 1car ride and arrive in Macha.

Lunchtime! On my way out of the city I stuble into a celeration. The happy guitar players challenge me to dance. Around them old people sit next to barrels filled with selfmade brewings and cheer for the dancing gringo. One leads to another and I am handed a cup of beer. After emptying it I receive a cup of Tumba (some kind of fermented fruit) and while drinking that another one readied a cup of selfmade vine for me. A nice mix of alcohol for the lunch break. In my other hand I still had my Alfajor that I had not even finished yet. After that Fiesta I continued walking my way, a little tipsy. A pickup stops. Its the fifth time in a row that the first appearing car stops for me. I love this place!

When a truck passed me without looking my streak of luck seems to end. Some VW Beetles later I find myself on the load plattform of a veggie truck. Headache from hight sickness, the alcohol and being shaken thoroughly. The driver went like crazy.
The landscape changed slowly, from highlands to a valley and since 1,5 days finally I was back on paved road. Civilisation. Maybe I manage to to the first stage to Oruro where the highway to La Paz starts.

Why is there oil on the loading platform?

Next ride is a pickup. The guys are in a good mood and the load plattform is covered in oil. First I get my throusers dirty secondly I realize that my backpack will be all over with this grase dirt. Much worse than the dirt from the road and all the other suprises I had on other load platforms. Finally the road is made from asphalt again, or at least soon the road will be complete. Right now its more like 50 km of roadworks that will become a street someday, winding itself through the canyon. The guys on the truck seem to know everybody, even the people in the exorbitantly big diggers greet us. One time we stop as a bulldozer is leaking loads of oil from its artifical joints.

A short conversation, a request for help, but the guys laugh and continue driving.

Around 6:25pm we arrive in a small mining town close to Oruro. The town looks like  one single steelmill. As if it was built by tiny dwarfs that digg into the mountains or cast metals day after day. From the mine shafts corrugated iron sheets extend down to where the river flows. It is open to my guess what happens beyond them. Looked a lot like mining. In between some houses raise. Grey and dusty. Maybe it was because of the sunset but the place had some special magic.

It was dark. It was getting cold. I had headache and I was tired. “It is time to take a bus.” my subconsciousness whispered. But quitting that close to the goal? I can’t do that. I am getting soft and weak over time, but it does not mean that I have to submit to all needs. Hitchhiking in the night it will be. My instincts told me to hitch from the gas station at the end of the town and so I waited there for the cars leaving after refueling. Andi didn´t disappoint myself. After about five to ten minutes the first car that drove in the direction that I wanted stopped for me. I had my lift to Oruro. I did it! Food and a bed in a hotel as a reward. On the way we were stopped by a police check and also picked up another three hitchhiking guys. No chance to refuse for the driver. They looked into the car, asked where we were heading to and jumped into the car without leaving a chance to comment. They gave the driver 60 Cents each at the train station in Oruro. As we were alone I asked the driver cautiously how much the ride was, but he was fine without money. He even recommended some cheap hotels for me and drove off.

I made it. I arrived. Finally some time to relax. Single bedroom for 3,50 Euro, Dinner with soup for another 1,10 Euro and a hot shower that I abused for at least 30 minutes washing myself and my dirty clothes. Time to go to bed.

The following day I will continue towards Coroico, the city at the beginning of the Death Road. Google maps recommends to take the southern route to La Paz but I decided to come from the north and continue to south afterwards. Via small streets instead of the highway. Well, it can’t be much worse than the 300km behind me, can’t it? Still, I was a clueless noob…

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Der Beitrag “There will be not much traffic. But i am sure it is a nice area!” erschien zuerst auf Warm Roads.