Bolivia is full of cliffs, carriers and unpaved roads. Poor mixing. The crossing guard one of the most breathtaking trips in America and his name does not help to relax the gesture at the wheel. The Highway of Death is a path of mud and stone that wind through the foothills of the Yungas to achieve ever-better called- City of Peace.
Now, Bolivians drive relieved by a paved road that the government decided to build to avoid the panic of the truckers and the agony of their women, that widowed with the slightest neglect of their husbands. It is still possible to walk their 80 Closer miles as if she had herself designed the Grim Reaper. Only 3 meters wide at some points, 300 centimeters to be circulated by the trucks in both directions.
Our round the world just to peer into the vertical path we saw in our lives. Some gullies reach 800 meter drop and when it rains the mud slides vehicles in a deadly dance. We saw it on other roads in the country, feel the stiffness of the muscles, the eternal sigh, not wanting to look. The Highway of Death in one day we received overcast, but dry, without the threat of trucks. Even so, the day made us very long.
Some gullies reach 800 meter drop and when it rains the mud slides vehicles in a deadly dance.
We drove in shifts, no time to consume the senses, always heeled to the rock, for it is better to risk the 4x4 sheet of life. But then we saw another car in the distance, an SUV approaching in the opposite direction. There is an unwritten rule that forces vehicles amounting to stick to the empty border to prevent the use brakes coming down along the gulf. At that time the slope was slightly, but uphill. The three members of puff around the world. José Luis drove, our producer. He stepped aside, the mountain side without. I pulled my camera out the window behind the pilot, I tried to burn the floor, but no soil. It all happened very slowly, but I found it very very very very slowly. The other car door has almost, We took the scare for life, but we are way.
The day proceeded with caution. We stopped the car to record, encuadrábamos the precipice, the crosses of the dead, waterfalls that invaded a way impossible. After the march retomábamos. That day did not talk much.
I committed myself to record an eloquent plane. We stopped at the end of a very open curve in a "U". The idea was that Jose Luis was away with the car, for Alfonso and I could save it from the other end. Only then could assess the size of the cliff, the insignificance of a car in the Yungas.
Fate would have it, the camera began to fail just then. We had spent nearly eight hours recording and now fear we could not finish the sequence. We were missing that plane and even video equipment surrendered to the shock of the Andes.
There is nothing worse, after overcoming fears, that having to deal with them to discover that there are.
20 days
That technical failure cost us a season in the capital, unable to move through the world because we could not tell. Series A World Apart intended to tell the whole trip, portray the planet and if we wanted to be loyal to that company could not go without, with a blind chamber. So we had to stop the march, comfortable in a city that reaches 3.800 meters above sea level and by patience and coca teas, endure 20 days in La Paz. The camera flew to Spain and sent another emergency. The trip regained his routine and went to the markets of the Peace, to record the comings and goings of people, Indian Color, the bowler, markets. The next step was to visit the calm waters of Lake Titicaca, but we had to finish something. We lacked a plane.
This time we drove by the asphalt road for more than 60 kilometers and then take a detour. The three of us knew we were going back to that "U" giant. There is nothing worse, after overcoming fears, that having to deal with them to discover that there are. Place the tripod, José Luis took a deep breath, the car again lost in the mountains. Half an hour later he returned and we had our map, this allowed us to tell the story of carriers abruptly Bolivian.
-¡Come, let's go at once!- José Luis muttered, while we looked at last time that deadly road rage carved between the Yungas.
