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I’ve heard people talk about “road magic”, and yesterday while coasting down into La Paz, out of gas, I got a good taste of it. We’ve been riding the south western side of lake Titicaca going from Puno in Peru, through Copacabana and on to La Paz, Bolivia. The mid-point on this leg of the trip is Copacabana. It sits on a peninsula that stretches out from Peru far enough into the lake that it’s in Bolivia. Crossing the border here was easy and stress free, but the Bolivian government isn’t happy with Americans right now. Mike and I had to pay $135 for a visa and fill out quite a bit of paperwork. Simon, on the other hand, is a brit, and he breezed through, signing a paper or two and paying nothing.
Copacabana is a small town with a little crescent moon beach. It feels a bit like the Bolivian Riviera with hotels, restaurants and shops lining a paddle boat cluttered beach.
We spent a nice night here and in the morning set out for La Paz. The road twisted across the top of brown hills affording views of the lake on both sides with the sky and lake a deep blue and the air crystal clear. It was a great day to ride.
Dipping down into a small village we caught a ferry across the lake, and keeping the snow capped mountains to our left, we rode on toward the capital.
Simon riding onto the ferry.
Mike, who, if you remember, we first met in Belize, is riding a KTM 950 Adventure, the same bike that Shannon had. He gets about 150 miles out of a tank of gas before the reserve light comes on, and can ride about 90 miles more. Simon and I are on Kawasaki KLR 650’s, smaller bikes with bigger gas tanks. We don’t have gas gauges. Instead, at each fill-up we reset the trip odometer. Knowing that we usually get about 230 miles from a tank, we keep an eye on our mileage and pull over for gas when we get close. As a safety, when the tank gets low the bike will sputter and I can reach down and put it on reserve. I’ve ridden for forty miles on reserve and I’ve never run out of gas.
Leaving the village on the mainland side of the lake Mike was on reserve and we were on the lookout for a gas station. We passed through a number of towns but few had gas stations and those that did were out of fuel. After about forty miles of riding and finding nothing I figured we needed to do something quickly. In most small towns there is someone who sells gas out of barrels, but this is expensive and you never know the quality. I figured it was time to pull over and Mike could buy a few gallons from one of these tiendas.
Ahead I could see a village with a church tower. I was riding in front and thought that we would head toward the church, which meant a central plaza and people to ask about where to buy gas. I had my left blinker on when I saw about 10 motorcycle cops stopped on the right. These guys could be helpful, and maybe a laugh to talk with, so I dipped to the right and cut my engine off. They were in front of a little shop door and as it happens, just finishing buying gas. They laughed, either at us or with us, I’m not sure which, and told the lady running the shop to charge us $20 a gallon, then rode off. Mike bought about two gallons of white gas in a jar. It looked like moonshine and he paid nearly ten dollars for it, but we were stuck and it worked.
Pulling out of this little town, I looked down and my trip odometer read 202 miles. I had about twenty miles before I needed to switch to reserve and another forty or fifty before I ran out. With La Paz twenty miles away, I was in good shape. As this thought was running through my mind, my bike lost power and sputtered. Hmm, odd. But I switched to reserve and kept riding.
We pulled into about 4 more gas stations, all without fuel, before cresting a mountain and seeing La Paz spread out across a deep valley. Mike and Simon thought it was beautiful and stopped for pictures. I didn’t like it and stayed on my bike sulking. I’m not fond of big cities and big foreign cities mean a stressful mess to figure out. They’re just too much for me to deal with. But from here we could see the road winding into the center, and as we started down it I watched with surprise while my tachometer dropped to zero. I was out of gas after 14 miles on reserve! But it was down hill into the city. Lets ride the luck and see what comes our way.
Simon and Mike passed me. I didn’t want to worry them, so I didn’t signal that I had a problem. I was doing alright until the road started to level out. Pulling to the side I pushed with one foot like a skateboard, but that didn’t last long. As I got off to push, Mike pulled over and helped. We pushed the bike about 20 yards to the next down hill and I started coasting again, even passing a bus in the left hand lane. I hit one more slow spot where Simon helped push, and as I coasted into town on a wing and a prayer, there was a gas station to the right, shiny, yellow and open! Rolling up to the pump I said to the girl “Fill-R-Up!” and she filled my empty tank with “Special Gas” (whatever that means) for less than Mikes two gallons cost him, but I haven’t told him that part yet…
