Border crossings are always tedious and Brazil/Bolivia was was up there with the worst. We arrived at the Brazilian post at 0745 and finally got our stamps a couple of hours later. On the drive there Chris and Mark noticed that one of our wheels looked a bit wobbly. At least the delay there meant that Adrian was able to fix it, with Mark's help. It was the split pin - the car was jacked up, a suitable tool borrowed from the lovely chaps in the Cadillac, Chuck and Lloyd, and all was well.
The navigators were able to walk to the Bolivian post whilst the drivers it the car papers sorted out. All immediately changed. It was very very scruffy - not too surprising in such an impoverished country. We had to queue for ages, but finally got our stamps. When Adrian finally arrived and joined the queue we were hoping that it wouldn't be too long before we were on our way. At 1200 hrs, when Adrian was next in line, the door was slammed shut for a hour lunch break. The office that the car papers had to be authorised by, was shut until 1430! It was 1500 when we finally set off. We were lucky, the last vehicle did not get through until 1830. We just had the small matter of a 680kms drive to do.
The road was good, Tarmac,paid for by you and me friends on the UK and Europe, yes, the E U coughed up the loot. It was empty for practically the whole way. We hardly passed any habitation, just miles and miles of low lying swampy ground.
It was soon dark and then, of course, another puncture. It was feeling very lonely until Chuck and Lloyd turned up, helped a little and gave much needed moral support. It was lovely of them.
Fuel is tricky in Bolivia and when we found one gas station that was on the route the man was scared to sell to us and had to drag a policeman out of a bar to see if he was able . No. It was officially closed at 1800 and the time was 1815. We went on to the next station and found that too was closed but several of our cars were there and the organisation had plenty of jerry cans to top us up.
We finally reached the hotel in the large, scruffy city of Santa Cruz at 0230. The hotel was surprisingly lovely - it was just a shame that were were only able to sleep for four hours.
In the morning Adrian went, with a helpful taxi driver in my seat, to mend the tyre and to get some fuel. The filling station had to enter a country code and the UK wasn't on there. A compromise was reaches as the taxi driver was from Argentina and so his was punched in. Eventually we got going with warnings that the route of 488kms was very poor.
Poor does not quite cover it. The first bit was fine and then the Tarmac ended. It got more and more horrendous. It was bad enough in daylight but when darkness fell it became truly awful. There were masses of lorries and the dust they threw up made visibility nil. We couldn't even see the bonnet. The 'road' was so bad massive drops, giant holes, rocks everywhere, sharp bends and we were climbing to 9,000 feet. We felt quite traumatised when we finally got in at 0030 - but at least we made it. Many cars did not. It was total carnage.
We kept overheating and so had to keep topping up, but at least we didn't get a puncture! Also, for the last 100kms, we did not have any brakes and so Adrian, who drove heroically, was using the gears. Hairpin bends, dirt flying everywhere steep, steep climbs and NO BRAKES!
We stopped at one of the very few gas stations with Fritz and Lang in one of the other A's . Adrian and Lang needed to roll our car back a little. People, it took off. They couldn't stop it. It went down the incline straight across the road in the village heading for a tree. Luckily, the tree was on a slight incline and that finally stopped it. A heart stopping moment and lots of 'what ifs'.
All the Model A's made it, we were the last by a few minutes. A testament to the hardiness that Henry built in to it.
The scenery? Of course, dramatic, gorgeous, remote, tiny villages barely changed since God knows when. Some of it reminded us of New Mexico and Arizona.
I am typing this sitting on the running board in the Plaza in Sucre. Adrian is seeing to the brakes and so we are starting late. We are off the the salt flats at Uyuni. Alas, I fear that by the time we get there we will be too late to see them. But that's Rallying for. You travel across the world, go through massive traumas and then you miss the very things that you came to see. I wonder why we do it? Not really, of course.
We live to fight another day.
The navigators were able to walk to the Bolivian post whilst the drivers it the car papers sorted out. All immediately changed. It was very very scruffy - not too surprising in such an impoverished country. We had to queue for ages, but finally got our stamps. When Adrian finally arrived and joined the queue we were hoping that it wouldn't be too long before we were on our way. At 1200 hrs, when Adrian was next in line, the door was slammed shut for a hour lunch break. The office that the car papers had to be authorised by, was shut until 1430! It was 1500 when we finally set off. We were lucky, the last vehicle did not get through until 1830. We just had the small matter of a 680kms drive to do.
The road was good, Tarmac,paid for by you and me friends on the UK and Europe, yes, the E U coughed up the loot. It was empty for practically the whole way. We hardly passed any habitation, just miles and miles of low lying swampy ground.
It was soon dark and then, of course, another puncture. It was feeling very lonely until Chuck and Lloyd turned up, helped a little and gave much needed moral support. It was lovely of them.
Fuel is tricky in Bolivia and when we found one gas station that was on the route the man was scared to sell to us and had to drag a policeman out of a bar to see if he was able . No. It was officially closed at 1800 and the time was 1815. We went on to the next station and found that too was closed but several of our cars were there and the organisation had plenty of jerry cans to top us up.
We finally reached the hotel in the large, scruffy city of Santa Cruz at 0230. The hotel was surprisingly lovely - it was just a shame that were were only able to sleep for four hours.
In the morning Adrian went, with a helpful taxi driver in my seat, to mend the tyre and to get some fuel. The filling station had to enter a country code and the UK wasn't on there. A compromise was reaches as the taxi driver was from Argentina and so his was punched in. Eventually we got going with warnings that the route of 488kms was very poor.
Poor does not quite cover it. The first bit was fine and then the Tarmac ended. It got more and more horrendous. It was bad enough in daylight but when darkness fell it became truly awful. There were masses of lorries and the dust they threw up made visibility nil. We couldn't even see the bonnet. The 'road' was so bad massive drops, giant holes, rocks everywhere, sharp bends and we were climbing to 9,000 feet. We felt quite traumatised when we finally got in at 0030 - but at least we made it. Many cars did not. It was total carnage.
We kept overheating and so had to keep topping up, but at least we didn't get a puncture! Also, for the last 100kms, we did not have any brakes and so Adrian, who drove heroically, was using the gears. Hairpin bends, dirt flying everywhere steep, steep climbs and NO BRAKES!
We stopped at one of the very few gas stations with Fritz and Lang in one of the other A's . Adrian and Lang needed to roll our car back a little. People, it took off. They couldn't stop it. It went down the incline straight across the road in the village heading for a tree. Luckily, the tree was on a slight incline and that finally stopped it. A heart stopping moment and lots of 'what ifs'.
All the Model A's made it, we were the last by a few minutes. A testament to the hardiness that Henry built in to it.
The scenery? Of course, dramatic, gorgeous, remote, tiny villages barely changed since God knows when. Some of it reminded us of New Mexico and Arizona.
I am typing this sitting on the running board in the Plaza in Sucre. Adrian is seeing to the brakes and so we are starting late. We are off the the salt flats at Uyuni. Alas, I fear that by the time we get there we will be too late to see them. But that's Rallying for. You travel across the world, go through massive traumas and then you miss the very things that you came to see. I wonder why we do it? Not really, of course.
We live to fight another day.
Great to be following your latest exhilarating trip! We never fail to be amazed by the car,the mechanics extraordinaire & you two! We look forward to the next instalments,stay safe.
ReplyDeleteLots of love
Liz & Robert x