Coming
into Copacabana, we found a road that looked passable to take us down
to the lakeside. The steep incline ended with us in a swarm of cars
along the lakeside. Following the GPS, we turned away from the edge
of downtown and the swarms of food stalls and cars, and drove along
the wide dirt road. “This...this is a ways
out,” we muttered, wondering if we'd be able to find the hostel.
After passing a very fancy hotel, we indeed found our place. We had
been warned it was a tight fit for vehicles, but we made it inside
without a problem. We were immediately struck but the sheer volume
of Argentinian hippies that were calling this place home. We were to
learn over the coming weeks that Argentinians like to travel on the
cheap, and its basically the 60's down here. Most of them are
carrying musical instruments or things to juggle. We settled in and
set up camp, spending half of our time answering questions about our
camping process from the 9 year old daughter of the proprietress.
Seems secure
The hostal owner would periodically let their pet parrot loose and he curiously gave Sweetcakes a good look-over.
We
strolled into the town afterwards and grabbed a big plate of rice,
potatoes, and fried trout (a
specialty on the shores of Lake Titicaca)
from an old lady selling it lake-side. Saddling up and asking for
food, she proceeded to uncover the food from beneath some blankets to
keep it warm. We paid our $5 for the meal after thanking her for it,
and continued to run some errands: cell phone, fruit and snacks.
After stocking up on a kilo of figs, we munched on them and fried
banana chips as we walked back. On the way, we bumped into a huge
parade for carnaval, and took some time to just enjoy the amazing
costumes and people having to awkwardly dance without music because
they were too far ahead of the bands. We made our way back into town
later that evening, hoping to find some good food and cheap drinks;
we found one! At Nemo's bar that evening we hopped in and found they
had from-scratch pisco sours at 3x50BS [$7] We did that, and I
snagged an IPA from Bolivia. As we enjoyed our drinks, we also
enjoyed getting to know Aaron from Vancouver – a cool dude who's
retired after busting his butt and is now taking 6 month trips every
year to a new part of the world and getting his exploration bug
worked out. We shared tips on places to see and gave cheers over
travel at any age.
Note to self: potential Halloween 2015 costume confetti monster. This group was too far ahead of the band so they were silently doing their thing. Rock on.
“They
said the boats were slow, but this is f----n' ridiculous.” I
muttered to Bethany the next morning as we sat on the boat taking us
out to Isla del Sol, said to be the birthplace of the sun by the
Incans. We sullenly sat as the boat made its way through the water
at what was essentially idle speed. After finally arriving at the
island [over 2 hours later, for a 10km trip. AWFUL.] We departed and
realized that the reason our hostel wasn't crammed to the brim was
that dozens of other hippies were strung out along the beach here on
the island. We couldn't walk ten feet without tripping over a drum
circle or a guy and his acoustic guitar. We made our way up to some
of the sacred sites and braced ourselves against the strong wind and
cool air. We were hiking around 4k meters, and there was a fair
amount of up and down. I found myself acclimated pretty well and the
cool air kept me moving hard, but we paused as needed for Bethany.
We were hiking from the NE to SW ends of the island, and wanted to
make sure we got to the end before the last boat left at 4pm. We
were making great time though and stopped for some lunch, then made
our way down to the docks to catch the 3pm.
What a great time we're having
Argentinian hippie tent town along the beach.
Observe! The...the stone table of stone!
Not quite up to Machu Pichu standards
We
had been straddling the spine of the island along our hiking path,
and descended the 400 meters to the water side, and upon getting
there realized that while it had boats, they were ones that needed
repairs and we had descended to the wrong side of the island.
Furious at the lack of signs, we now had to blast back up the 400
meters and get down to the other side before the hour was up. We
miraculously made great time (but about died in
the process). As we waited to board the boat, I heard a
couple next to us speaking English. I walked over and asked them
where they were from. “Miami!” came the answer from Cris and
Tanya. Cris' family is from Bolivia and he and his girlfriend Tanya
were visiting and exploring Bolivia. We chatted for a while, and
agreed to meet up again after it turned out we were on different
boats [despite what the woman who sold us tickets said]. We met
that evening for some more drinks and food, agreeing to meet up for
the bike ride down the death road in a couple of days. They were
taking off for La Paz first thing the next morning as Cris lost his
passport and needed it replaced to get home. But alas things weren't
meant to be.
Ike was thrilled after we realized we hiked down the wrong side of the mountain.
The local villages charge "tolls" for passing through on the trail that spans the length of the island. So many tickets!
We forgot to take a pic together, but here's a cute polaroid of our new friends Cris & Tania.
I
awoke the next morning sick, most likely from altitude and the hard
hiking from the previous day. I was down and out the entire day,
with Bethany nursing me back to health. Cris and Tanya also spent
the entire day at the consulate trying to get the passport issue
resolved, so they weren't able to do the bike tour either. We rolled
out to La Paz the following morning, after taking a couple of hours to explore the back roads of the peninsula near Copacabana.
#nofilter
I spy a Sweetcakes!
If it's good enough for a bus, it's good enough for us!
We stopped here for lunch en route to La Paz. I love how all the Bolivian lunch ladies pack up their homemade deliciousness in these little lunch carts and serve a plate up fresh for you.
A
highly recommended Swiss hotel for overlanders was our destination.
Rolling in, we decided to celebrate Bethany's birthday [a few weeks
prior] by having fondue. Asking how big the portions were, the
waitress told us you would need to be very hungry to finish both the
meat and cheese fondues with just two people, but she assured us we
could combine the two. Well, we learned that by 'combine', she meant
order both of them. So as natural scavengers, we ate all we could
and proceeded to scrape the rest into a carry-out box.
Is there such a thing as too much fondue?
Taxi-ing
into the city the following morning, we enjoyed the view of La Paz
rising up to meet us as we descended through the mountains to the city. We gave up on taking a colectivo
after waiting unsuccessfully for one for over half an hour. We
arrived at one of the main plazas and hopped out, waiting for the
tour van that would have a bunch of bikes on top. Hopping in, we met
Edwin from Quito and Fernando, our guide. We spent the next hour
winding up roads on the way out of La Paz on the other side of the
city. We started to see snow capping the bits of mountains we were
passing, and then crested and moved into a new valley where a fresh
layer of snow covered everything except the road.
Hopping
out, we began suiting up and unloading the bikes, looking around wide
eyed at life at 4400 meters. We got a brief rundown from Fernando on
safety, took the bikes on a little spin around the gravel lot to make
sure we felt comfortable in them, and then we were off.
Let's
all be honest with each other for a moment here: riding a bike
downhill is lots of fun. Riding a bike on pavement downhill is even
more fun. Doing it for 17 km's straight, through a valley with snow,
wisps of clouds, and passing engine-braking trucks is just the
best. Being over 200 lbs while
you do all of that though? That's just icing on the cake. See,
there's this amazing thing called momentum, and it means that you
start kissing the high 40 mph range on your bike. Fernando was all
about speed, and would crouch down over the handlebars to lower his
wind resistance and would zip out ahead. And then I would lean myself forward over the handlebars, and all of a sudden he's not going so fast.
A
few short minutes later we stopped for a snack, and then made our way
onto the death road proper. We were stoked for this part, as we'd
seen clips from it when the Top Gear crew made their way along theroad in their Bolivia special nearly a decade ago. With the
completion of the paved road, though, traffic on the old gravel road
is almost exclusively tourists who want the thrill of driving it,
with less death than used to be standard. Riding along the road, it
was hard to imagine traffic going two-ways along it, much of that
traffic large trucks. We felt cramped enough with the bicycles. As
the bikes ate up the 54kms we descended, we noticed the change in air
temperature, eventually stopping to shed our cold-weather gear. A
little while later, we were at the end of the road and stopped for
some lunch. And then we waited. And waited some more. And spent 3
hours twiddling our thumbs as we waited for Fernando and the driver
to eat, and shower, and flirt with the teenage Argentinian girls wearing
lingerie instead of swimsuits in the pool. [can't fault him on that
one] We eventually found ourselves back in downtown La Paz later that evening
and hopped into a cab to get back out to the hotel, pretty well
worn-out.
We didn't die!!
The
next day we made our way into the city for errands. We'd heard it
was possible to purchase auto insurance that would be valid in most of the
rest of South America. After some confused wandering around and
asking locals, we finally tracked down the company, and were pleased
to see that the coverage would nearly take us through the rest of our trip.
We were told to stop back at the end of the day to finish the
paperwork. We then made our way to a Moneygram to swap all of
our US$20's to US$100's to get better rates of exchange when we hit up
the blue markets in Argentina. We celebrated all this hard work with
an absolutely huge lunch of authentic Korean bibimbap. We walked it
off, got our insurance, and made our way back towards the campsite
via the new funicular over the city. The views were great, and given
the topograghy of the city, the funicular is actually an efficient
mode of public transit.
We put the FUN in---aww nevermind
Glad we avoided driving through downtown La Paz traffic...
After
getting back, we met Chris from Austria, another overlander who has a
killer Land Rover rig. We swapped information about great spots as
he was heading north.
I encountered this massive beetle stuck on his back and, after many tense attempts, successfully rescued him. Paying it forward! (Does that work with bugs?)
"Suspicious autos will be burned." Eep, keeping a tight leash on Sweetcakes.
The city of La Paz is built in a stunning valley of crumbling mountains. We don't know why the city is located here, and were amazed by the houses that were built right up to the edge of the eroding cliffs.
“Ok,
so first we ask for gas, but then if they say no to us because we're
foreigners, then we say we don't need a receipt. Then if they say
something about the cameras, then we say the cameras don't see the
license plates, right?” I asked Bethany. We were about to attempt
to purchase gas, and we'd read online about how much of an ordeal it
is to buy gas in Bolivia as a foreigner. We were running through the checklist of
reposites to convince the attendant to sell us gas. Arriving, we went
through the list with her, to no avail. We asked where we could get
gas then, and she told us. We whipped out the map, and she showed
us. We told he were weren't going that way though, and we needed the
gas! She finally relented and told us it would be the foreigner
price of 7 bolivianos a liter. Coming in at less than double the local cost, that was a decent price, so we readily
agreed.
The
hassle for gas was so great that I drove with a very light foot,
trying to coax every MPG out of Sweetcakes. We followed our way
along smooth highways south towards the border with Chile and the
outskirts of Sajama national park.
After
checking into the park, we took the gravel road back into the park,
making our way back towards some hot springs, enjoying the wide
valley dominated by several mountains on the horizon, including the
behemoth volcano that's the tallest peak in Bolivia and is the park's namesake. We arrived later in the afternoon and verified
we could just camp in the parking lot that led back to the hot
springs. Since the tickets were only valid for a single day, we said
we'd be back the next morning. We spent the rest of the afternoon
watching clouds bunch up on the mountain, then turn into scattered
thunderstorms that dropped frequent bolts of lightning among the
foothills. Looking around, I quickly realized that Bethany and I
were among some of the tallest things around. We finished setting up
our tent and hopped in Sweetcakes and her rubber tire protection to
continue watching the bolts. The night air quickly plummeted in
temperature as soon as the sun moved behind the mountains, and it was
with all of our layers that we laid down in the tent that evening.
Waking the next morning, we noticed that the snowfall on the
mountains was much more extensive than it had been the day before,
extending down into many of the foothills that didn't look all that
far away. [We learned that distances are deceptive in these huge
valleys. Frequently things look quite close but then you drive
towards them and realize they're 5-10 miles away, or more.] We
moseyed over to the hot springs, settling into them with signs of
happiness as the heat soaked the cold out of our limbs. We'd
periodically stand up and hop out of the springs when we got too hot,
letting the cold brisk wind cool us off before retreating to the hot
water again.
The
afternoon involved making our way over to a nearby lake and walking
around the outside of it trying to snap photos of the flamingos that
inhabited it. We'd make our way around part of the lake, gradually
getting closer to the birds, which would then fly to the opposite end
of the lake. Our dance continued the entire time we were walking.
Really, I was just happy for any excuse to drive around the park
because it meant we got to keep fording the stream near our campsite.
The rest of the afternoon was rainy and windy, with more storms to watch. Later that evening a group of travelers [two young french men, and a family of a Portuguese / Swiss and their son] came back to the parking lot and we chatted for a bit. Again a cold night greeted us, and before we left the following morning an older man who ran the hot springs swung by and chatted with us. Before long we had another offer to buy Sweetcakes! On our way out we went to the other side of the valley where the group we met the previous evening had been camping to see the geysers. Unlike Yellowstone, there were not railings or walkways, so we gingerly made our way around, trying to minimize our footprints [literally and figuratively].
We've seen flamingos in the wild a couple of times, but seeing them against the snow-capped twin volcanoes was otherworldly.
The rest of the afternoon was rainy and windy, with more storms to watch. Later that evening a group of travelers [two young french men, and a family of a Portuguese / Swiss and their son] came back to the parking lot and we chatted for a bit. Again a cold night greeted us, and before we left the following morning an older man who ran the hot springs swung by and chatted with us. Before long we had another offer to buy Sweetcakes! On our way out we went to the other side of the valley where the group we met the previous evening had been camping to see the geysers. Unlike Yellowstone, there were not railings or walkways, so we gingerly made our way around, trying to minimize our footprints [literally and figuratively].
Beautiful little church in the town of Sajama.
Driving
out of the park, we were stopped by the guys running the entrance
gate and they promptly tried to extract some more cash from us,
saying there were additional fees. Frankly, the attempts at bribes
in Bolivia are adorable. It's like they're sheepish about asking for
them, and after the stiff attempts we had in Central America,
we found these attempts easy to sidestep. After they quickly
relented, we made our way near the Chilean border to fill up with
gas. Due to the proximity with the border, the attendants were
having none of our attempts to barter down the price, but thankfully
they didn't turn us away either. Unfortunately that meant we were
paying over $5/gal for gas, and then came the formal receipt process,
where we had to provide our name, passport #, license plate # and
country. It took longer for the attendant to fill out the receipt than it
did to fill up with gas.
The roadside to Sajama was dotted with chullpas, or funeral towers. The indigenous would bury their family in urns and place them in these towers.
Trying to capture the hardworking, Bolivian campesino way of life as we drive by.
Attempting
to cover lots of ground towards the Salar de Uyuni after stocking up on
gas, we were making good time. On the outskirts of Oruro though, the
traffic thickened up then came to a stop. Hopping out into the rain,
I began walking forward through the stopped buses and trucks to see
what was up. We had a sneaking hunch that there could be a
roadblock, as most of the vehicles still on the highway were larger rigs, the cars all
sneaking out via the shoulders. Unfortunately, we hadn't planned ahead for this
eventuality and were wedged between other huge vehicles. As I
approached the front, I saw the lamest roadblock ever: a short truck
that didn't even block all of the lanes, some small rocks strewn
across the road, and 6 guys standing around a burning tire on the
shoulder trying to keep warm. Along the center median, lots of women
huddled under cardboard to keep dry. “We could blast through this,
no problem.” I said, frustrated. “Uh, we're not breaking through
a road block in a foreign country unless they let us through.” Came
Bethany's measured reply. Asking around, we were told the road block
would be breaking up soon, as the protesters felt they'd made their
point. It did indeed wrap up, but darkness was quickly coming, and
the wild-camp spot we were hoping to make it to said it could be
difficult in the rain, and coupled with the approaching darkness we
didn't like our odds. Instead we opted to stay at a hotel that was
pretty nice [and pretty pricey]. We spent our evening eating cheap
roasted chicken and watching the Hobbit.
JEALOUS OF OUR WAY OF LIFE NOW?
Enjoying the pristine highways before we rattle ourselves crazy on the gravel roads.
Our
goal was to reach the edge of the salar [salt flats] the next day.
Progress was great, until the GPS decided to go bonkers and take us
along some roads that were little more than rock paths or roads under
construction. We realized that we ended up taking the long way
around the large mountain, and spent several hours blasting through
tough roads, eventually ending up behind a grater that was putting
the first real level into the new road that had been dug out. The
path was so rough that our skid guard that protects the underside of
the engine shook loose, and it was time to break out the baling wire
again. We camped along a rock wall to help break the wind, looking
out into a vast sea of salt, excited for the next day.
Parking
near the edge of the salt flat, I took off my sandals and tentatively
stepped out into the film of water over the salt flat. The water
over the salt flat made beautiful views, but also made travel on the salt flat much more difficult. We'd heard stories of people getting stuck
for a couple of days in the soupy mixture that the salt and water
created. The salt flats are slightly conical, so the edges are the most likely places to get stuck. The water was quite cold,
which was actually a boon, so I quickly could no longer feel the sharp
crystals of salt poking into my bare feet. Satisfied that the water
wasn't too deep [always a good rule to walk any section you're
planning to 4x4], I made my way back to the car and we began airing
down our tires. From there we put it in 4LO, crossed our fingers,
and hesitantly made our way out onto the flat. After about a KM the water was
just a thin reflective film on top of the salt, and we were clear!
From there we basically just picked a direction, tried to find some
other tracks, and followed them.
Good morning guys!
First time airing down. Not the last though!
The flats are basically God's zen
garden, with outcrops of rocks sticking up like little islands among
the vast expanse of salt. Some parts of the salar were wet and we
were a bit nervous about getting stuck, but we saw that the tires
weren't really breaking through the top crust of salt, and felt
better. As it dried out we could open the speed up a bit more, a few
times topping 60, but nothing really crazy. We'd heard of others
trying to push 90, but that seemed a little kooky to us.
We had to stop and attempt some perspective pictures, famous on the salar. We had some issues with the focus on our camera, so some are more successful than others.
Eventually
we found our way to Fisherman's island, circling around to the back
side of it and finding a nice spot to camp nestled against the
island. Setting up, we broke out the sunshade, as the strength of
the sun was outstanding. This was great for the solar panel though,
as we could run the fridge and inverted and still have volts to
spare. We spent some additional time that afternoon hiking to the
top of the island. We'd put on sunscreen, but that wasn't enough. I
burned my lips for the first time ever, and I could feel the spots on
the back of my legs I'd missed. Yowza! (My arms are still peeling from that day as we write this blog several weeks later.) The hike was enjoyable to
see the vast salar from above, and we paused for a few minutes to
watch a large bus make its way across our view, quite possibly using
the salar as it was the fastest route from points A to B. Sunset
that evening was incredible, with a huge storm front building up
around the edges of the salar, so the rich hues were offset with
flashes of lightening.
Let the winds take her where they will - Sailor Ike
We had to stop and attempt some perspective pictures, famous on the salar. We had some issues with the focus on our camera, so some are more successful than others.
Ike squishing Sweetcakes.
Bethany giving Sweetcakes some love.
Sweetcakes takes revenge.
And then Bethany fell off the fruit mountain.
And Ike fell into the (blurry) beer bottle.
Rolling
into the town of Uyuni the next morning after leaving the salt flats, we found a car
wash to remove the thick coat of salt from poor Sweetcakes. Asking to
verify they used agua dulce [literally
'sweet water', aka not salt water], we got her cleaned up and then
proceeded to head towards the Lagunas
route, also known as Bolivia's southwest circuit.
As we made our way along the gravel / dirt mixed roads, we quickly lost our clean car as I blasted through mud on an alternate 'road' as we tried to bypass additional road construction on the main road. We hit strong washboard again and realized that our tailpipe that we'd had soldered in Quito had shaken loose again. Looking under the car, we saw the break was on the other side of the plate that joins the muffler and tailpipe. We called it a day early, stopping in the picturesque Valle de Rocas, and proceeded to wire up the tailpipe again while the weather was nice, just barely finishing it before the storms came rolling in with a strong wind.
The following day we continued on, seeing some of the famous colored lakes, and making our way up to 5000 meters to have the Bolivian aduana stamp Sweetcakes out of the country. We had heard that the customs officer's presence at the actual border was somewhat spotty, so it was best to take care of the paperwork in the middle of the park, even though we still had one or two more days left in the country. The customs agent took our paperwork. “Do we get a copy to give the men at the border to Chile though?” Bethany asked. “Oh, you don't need it!” came the bright reply. “Really??” Bethany said with doubt in her voice. The agent looked over at the man working across from him. A doubtful frown and shrug greeted him from the other employee. “Ok, let's make a copy.”
Sky reflecting in the layer of water covering the salar.
Time for a much needed bath to wash away the salt.
As we made our way along the gravel / dirt mixed roads, we quickly lost our clean car as I blasted through mud on an alternate 'road' as we tried to bypass additional road construction on the main road. We hit strong washboard again and realized that our tailpipe that we'd had soldered in Quito had shaken loose again. Looking under the car, we saw the break was on the other side of the plate that joins the muffler and tailpipe. We called it a day early, stopping in the picturesque Valle de Rocas, and proceeded to wire up the tailpipe again while the weather was nice, just barely finishing it before the storms came rolling in with a strong wind.
#NoFilter
The following day we continued on, seeing some of the famous colored lakes, and making our way up to 5000 meters to have the Bolivian aduana stamp Sweetcakes out of the country. We had heard that the customs officer's presence at the actual border was somewhat spotty, so it was best to take care of the paperwork in the middle of the park, even though we still had one or two more days left in the country. The customs agent took our paperwork. “Do we get a copy to give the men at the border to Chile though?” Bethany asked. “Oh, you don't need it!” came the bright reply. “Really??” Bethany said with doubt in her voice. The agent looked over at the man working across from him. A doubtful frown and shrug greeted him from the other employee. “Ok, let's make a copy.”
Flamingos in the Laguna Colorada. "Lake" is a generous term, since its average depth is under 1 inch.
At 5033 meters (16,512 feet) this has to be the world's highest customs office.
From
there we parked at another hot spring, and slipped into the warm
water, watching storms on the horizon, chatting with a middle-aged
German couple who were biking the route, and a group of hippies who
were heading north on their bicycles. We thanked our lucky stars once
again to have a car and called it an evening. We awoke the next
morning with the vehicle surrounded by a swarm of LandCruisers. We'd
seen the tour groups blasting through the roadways periodically the
previous day, but as all the groups stayed on roughly the same
time-frame, we were now in their midst.
We fled the hot springs, forgoing our planned morning dip and instead moving on to another lake and attempted to make some breakfast, but it turned out we had just moved ahead of the rush, and as we were setting up breakfast the fleet began to arrive and the spot we'd picked out, which was touted as being above and beyond the tour groups' route instead began to flood with them. At one point one of the tour drivers attempted to kick us off the mirador, telling us that a park ranger would be along shortly and would ticket us if he saw us up there. We found a spot along the lake edge down in the valley and called that home for breakfast, spitefully hoping we were ruining the photos of the tourists. [Yes, we were feeling vindictive.] But the anger quickly melted as we continued on the road, the scenery replacing the frustration with awe. As we approached the border with Chile, grins were on our faces as we marvelled at the drive that had seemed like we were traversing mars, instead being on earth, but at 15,000 feet. This had been another part of the trip I had eagerly anticipated for months, and after a bumpy start, it still met [and exceeded] my expectations.
Hot springs and cold air; great combination.
So I'm looking for a Land Cruiser?
We fled the hot springs, forgoing our planned morning dip and instead moving on to another lake and attempted to make some breakfast, but it turned out we had just moved ahead of the rush, and as we were setting up breakfast the fleet began to arrive and the spot we'd picked out, which was touted as being above and beyond the tour groups' route instead began to flood with them. At one point one of the tour drivers attempted to kick us off the mirador, telling us that a park ranger would be along shortly and would ticket us if he saw us up there. We found a spot along the lake edge down in the valley and called that home for breakfast, spitefully hoping we were ruining the photos of the tourists. [Yes, we were feeling vindictive.] But the anger quickly melted as we continued on the road, the scenery replacing the frustration with awe. As we approached the border with Chile, grins were on our faces as we marvelled at the drive that had seemed like we were traversing mars, instead being on earth, but at 15,000 feet. This had been another part of the trip I had eagerly anticipated for months, and after a bumpy start, it still met [and exceeded] my expectations.
Mountains peering through the morning fog.
The mountains reminded me of sand art.
Laguna Blanca.
Bolivia
budget recap:
Our
budget was ambitiously low for Bolivia; additionally, visas & car
insurance (not included in our daily spending budget) were both
expensive. This meant we completely blew our budget, but it was
totally worth it.
Expected days in country: 14
Actual days spent in country: 14
Daily budget: $41 (Hah!)
Actual expenses: $78 (excluding car repairs)
Difference: +$37 (+90%)
Expected days in country: 14
Actual days spent in country: 14
Daily budget: $41 (Hah!)
Actual expenses: $78 (excluding car repairs)
Difference: +$37 (+90%)
Ouch!
We blew our (ambitiously small) budget in Bolivia. Here are a few of
the contributing factors: 1) Gas was much more expensive than we had
budgeted (see below); 2) We spent a lot more on tours and entrance
fees than we budgeted for, but it was totally worth it; 3) Our budget
doesn't include things like visas and auto insurance, two big ticket
items for Bolivia.
Average price for gas: $4.50/gallon (8.08 Bolivianos/liter)
Average price for gas: $4.50/gallon (8.08 Bolivianos/liter)
Buying
gas in Bolivia as a foreigner is hard work! The government subsidizes
gas for locals, but taxes the hell out of it for foreigners. The
“international” price is about 2.5 times as much as the local
price. Ok, so gas is expensive. We can deal with that, but the
problem doesn't stop there. Many gas stations refuse to sell to
foreigners because they have to fill out additional paperwork.
Thankfully we were only refused gas once, but of the 4 times we
filled up in Bolivia, twice we paid the full international price and
twice we were able to barter for a lower rate (which means the
attendant pretended we were locals, and pocketed the difference
between the local price and the price we agreed to). All in all the
experience wasn't as bad as we had anticipated, but we are happy the
days of Bolivian gas hassles are over.
Expected miles driven: 1000
Actual miles driven: 1,143
Difference: +14%
Expected miles driven: 1000
Actual miles driven: 1,143
Difference: +14%
If
you haven't guessed by now, when we budgeted for miles driven it was
really a shot in the dark. We picked a few cities or locations in the
country and asked Google to calculate the mileage.
Average gas mileage: 22.6 mpg
We
attribute the better than normal average to Bolivia's excellent
highways and our driving at slower speeds. That being said, our last
few days in Bolivia were on some very rough gravel/dirt roads that
probably hurt our average.
Average miles driven per day: 62
Average miles driven per day: 62
I'm
surprised how low this is. We spent several non-driving days in both
Copacabana and La Paz, and our last few days spent driving rough
roads equated to lots of hours but few miles.
Biggest daily expenses ($/day):
Biggest daily expenses ($/day):
#1
– Food ($18.84/day): When
we weren't wild camping we ate out a lot! Including a splurge for
Bethany's birthday that included cheese and meat fondue at a Swiss
restaurant. Noms.
#2
– Entertainment ($17.92/day): This
includes the $150 we spent on our bike tour of the “Death Road”
and several park entrance fees. All totally worth it, just more than
we had included in our budget.
#3
– Visas & Insurance ($15.75/day): Our
budget doesn't include things like visas and car insurance, but they
were both significant in Bolivia. Single-entry visas are currently
$55 USD per person. We purchased a 6-month car insurance policy that
covers us in Bolivia and all surrounding countries (Peru, Chile,
Argentina, and Paraguay), basically everywhere we plan to go except
Uruguay.
Is
this the first time gas didn't make the top 3? Shocker!
Your photos get better and better. My favs are the perspective ones on the salt flats. :-)
ReplyDeleteWow Bolivia looks amazing!! This makes me want to go there (minus the gas issue as a non-Spanish speaker)!!
ReplyDelete