Bolivia, Ch. 1

Bolivia

The two young women stood at the edge of the precipice, both dressed in motorcycle riding leather, both blonde. The shorter, slimmer one stood several meters from the sheer drop-off. The taller, more athletic one toed the edge. She looked down, then cast a mischievous glance at the other, and jumped.

A scream came from the one at the top of the cliff. They had no climbing gear, no parachutes. She skidded to the edge, knowing her friend had to be dead. 

No, she would have to kill her herself. “You psycho!”

The taller one laughed as she squatted on a lower ledge only four feet from the top. It was only about three feet wide, so simply jumping on to it was dangerous - she could have slipped and plummeted several hundred feet.

With a broad sadistic grin, she said, “Come on, gimme a hand. Help me back up.”
“Fat chance. Get yourself up. That wasn’t funny.”

“Ooh, Coley! Take my picture like I’m hanging on for dear life! We can send it to your mom! It’ll be hilarious!”

“You know you’re really off balance, right Patton?” But Coley snapped the photo anyway of Patton looking like she was clawing the ground to not fall to an early grave.

“Want me to take one of you?” She ignored the question about her mental stability.

“When Hell freezes over. I’d rather not risk my life unnecessarily.”

Patton couldn’t help but laugh at that. “And yet, you’re taking a motorcycle trek up one of the world’s most dangerous roads with me. Dude, did you see the plane that crashed against the cliff wall a few hundred feet below us a while back?”

“Yes. The wreck looked like it had been there a while. Why must you continue calling me ‘dude’?” Coley was a student of words, and misuses bothered her immensely.

“Because it bugs you,” Patton smirked.

If she wasn’t so incredibly fun, Coley would hate her.

The two sat side by side, watching a condor soar overhead and a bull and farmer walk down the road. An occasional bull or donkey was the only “traffic” they had encountered all day, and knew it was likely to stay that way. They chose bikes instead of a Jeep because the road was only one lane wide, cut as a little notch out of the steep mountainside, and they knew that if they encountered another vehicle, one would have to reverse several miles before the dangerously curvy road widened enough to pass.

They knew from their first trip here two years ago not to try that. They were on a team of 18, smooshed into a tiny tour bus decked out in neon fist-sized poofballs. Every vehicle had a train horn since there were so many blind curves and a head on collision would be impossible to avoid if you didn’t hear the other’s horn blowing. Twice during that trip, they had to get off of the bus because one of the rear tires slid off the edge of the road. Twice, they had to all jump over to one side of the bus because it was leaning too far and was about to roll down the side of the mountain. They even saw the remnants of a bus that had done exactly that, hundreds of feet below the roadbed.
So these two opted for modified dirt bikes. If another vehicle came, they could hug the mountainside and let it pass. No driving backward. Good plan.

Their bikes were modified because they had no way of carrying extra fuel tanks, so they both pulled an ultralight motorcycle trailer with a solar array. It was experimental, but their adventure got them access to it, because the university that developed it needed actual field testing. Being at such a high altitude, the sun acted as a supercharger, and their rest breaks were all it needed to keep their power cells charged.

Looking over the Altiplano, the arid plain at the top of the Bolivian Andes, everything looked about the same as it had for hours. It was August, so winter was almost over, but everything was tan. Tan dirt. Tan trees. Tan stacked-rock walls edging the tan grazing fields on the softer slopes below. Tan llamas grazing. Tan soccer fields randomly dotting the landscape every hour or so. They knew there were green plants somewhere down there; they just couldn’t see them from here.
The only thing they could see that was not tan right now was the silver ribbon of a river snaking through the valley far below. And it actually was silver. The deposits here were so rich that you could still pan the river and make a decent find.

The girls’ next stop on their trip was Potosi, which was a silver mining town known for hundreds of years as a vast source of wealth. You wouldn’t know that now, since the mountain the town surrounds has finally been hollowed into a honeycomb of mines, and its silver had been depleted.  But the town is still a marvel. Spanish mission architecture, streets paved with bones, buildings painted with colors that would seem more at home on a beachfront condo than at the top of the mountains, and a stunning baroque opera house.

It was only a few hours away. They’d be there in time to check into a hostel and find some coffee.  Hopefully, the diner they had found on their first trip was still in business. They had the best café con leche on the planet, because they made it with dulce du leche instead of milk and sugar. And they’d get to pee somewhere that resembled a restroom instead of on the side of the road. The hostel should actually even have toilets (not that you could put toilet paper in them - that goes in the trash), while the more common areas would have an outhouse with a hole in the ground surrounded by a concrete pad marked with footprints next to the hole - just so you don’t pee on your feet. You’d get two squares of TP and would have to pay for more or bring your own. The attendants hated it if you brought your own. But Patton and Coley would pay. If selling TP for the equivalent of 2 cents next to a crap hole was their source of income, they deserved the money.

“Let’s get going. We don’t want to have to navigate this road in the dark. All set?” Nicole went through her pockets to make sure she still had everything she should – passport, bribe money for “checkpoints,” her contact information in case of emergency. She checked her bike and all the connections to the trailer and small solar array.

Patton answered, “Yep. I’m good. And we’ve got plenty of time.” She simply jumped up, put on her helmet, and slung a long leg over the seat. She rolled her eyes behind the visor and chided, “Coley. Come on. Your stuff didn’t disappear. Your pockets are all zipped tight.”

The two revved their motors and carefully drove back onto the roadbed. At least, Coley was careful. Patton got too close to the edge again, just to scare the farmer walking with his bull.