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| I had been in Lapaz nearly a month. A bustling, deranged and truly fantastic city. It will always occupy a warm spot in my heart, as will some of the people I met there. |
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| The Lapaz Casa de Ciclista. A cozy place set aside for traveling cyclist. Amazing and odd all at the same time; just the way I like things. A big thanx to Cristian for concocting it all and going above and beyond. |
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| Davie and I's room for our time there. |
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| How you know you are in a place by cyclist for cyclist |
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| Leaving town. Davie, Mike, Jo and Dave. Photo by Karen. |
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| Back to what we love. It took us 60 some odd Kms of pavement to get our tootsies back in the dirt |
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| She told me- It has been 12 years since the last train. I wondered if she is still waiting for someone. |
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| I was just in time. They needed a 4th for hand ball |
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| Into the out there |
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| one of these rocks is not a rock |
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| too small to even make coffee in |
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| A fantastic state of decay... |
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| An ancient lock. Installed with a machete and square nails. |
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| The two rails I seek solace in to guide my way |
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| Some deeper than others. I cross many a day |
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| Chasing double track and dodging storms |
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| Mario was my guide out of Okororo. Him and his young wife found me in a shack the evening before, during a down pour. They came back with hot tea and a lama wool poncho. Then were there to see me out of the pueblita in the morning. A transcendent level of sheer kindness... almost tear inducing |
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| Volcano Sajama. the tallest in Bolivia. Sajama fo yo mama... Yea Ma, that one is for you. |
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| This guy whispered to me: "Hey buddy, you might wanna drink from up stream". |
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| A beautiful Lama hair rope gate |
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| The South American Beast of Burden and one rather dapper Sajama |
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| Many places will have red doors or blue doors. Other than maybe lack of color choices; I have not figured out the significance yet |
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| Sajama village grocery |
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| I met a group of 4 French cyclist. We rode out to some geysers together. |
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| In case you haven't seen my left ear in a while. Its still attached |
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| Coffee water coming right out of the ground |
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| Go in filthy... come out with no skin |
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| couple'a trouble makers |
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| No one out here but Davie and I, some Vicuna and a few Rhea |
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| Once again. A trestle coming in handy |
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| The military post at Macaya. Seriousness only |
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| Riding across open land due to flooded roads. |
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| Bumped into these. Still couldn't make coffee in them. Not comfortably anyways. |
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| Not exactly prayer flags but a welcome splash of color |
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| Like camping in the shire ghetto |
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| One narrow bridge |
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| Ben and I have been through the "Death Mud" on the Arizona Trail. I deemed this the "Insanity mud" It will drive you insane with gloppy frustration if you can not get through it quick enough. We slopped through, reaching dry ground just as I was giggling uncontrollably and having thoughts of eating it. Pitching out all my gear and replacing it with delicious mud. |
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| Insanity as far as the eye can see |
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| This was a bit more doable. Just put in the earphones, crank up the tunes and try not to think of the life being taken from your components |
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| An inland sea. The Salar de Uyuni. I've arrived too late in the season to ride across it. Beautiful non the less |
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| Where salt and water meet |
