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Bolivia, South America, home to one of the world's most dangerous roads. Take a look how close he is to the edge. I don't even want to step out there. Probably have more chance of surviving hitting a 10-tonon truck head on than you do going off the edge of this. I'm Marsh Muri. I'm here in the Andes Mountains of Bolivia to explore El Camino de la Muerta or Bolivia's death road. And to do that, I'm going to have to drive it. A little nudge like that could uh well be kicking up the daisies. Put it that way. This is such a nerve-wracking journey. That fall is easily over 2,000 ft. For the next 90 m, I'll be taking you on
a journey over some of the most treacherous passes in the world. Along the way, I'll explore the road's history to see how this monster of a highway was built. I'll also visit some of the hair raising accidents caused by these blind corners and sheer cliffs. By the end, I hope to uncover why this road has earned such a sinister reputation. This is Bolivia, one of South America's poorest countries and the home of the Death Road. The road is part of an international highway running from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean, but it's here on this 90m stretch where
drivers face some of the most hazardous driving conditions on Earth. At this point in the past, the road is only 10 ft across. Now, when you meet oncoming traffic in a situation like this, you literally have milliseconds to react. One wrong move could send you tumbling over a cliff. And that's what happened on April 12th, 2000 when a bus loaded with passengers tried to avoid an oncoming truck. 26 people were thrown from the vehicle as it careened over the edge. They survived. Seven others were killed as the bus rolled more than 100 ft to the valley below.
This is just one of the hazards I'll face along my drive. I think I'm prepared to handle the death road. I've lived on four continents and played professional rugby, but I'm still going to do a little reconnaissance before I go. I've arrived in La Paz, Bolivia. At nearly 12,000 ft, it's one of the highest cities in the world. The lack of oxygen is making my fingertips tingle as well as my toes. Even walking up a flight of stairs is actually very difficult. But I'm going to go even higher. I'm going to get my first view of the Death Road from the air.
The chopper I'm in today is a Llama 315B built in the 1980s. It has a turbine engine and a lightweight body. This design makes it capable of reaching more than 20,000 ft, an altitude usually seen only by jet airplanes. I can't tell you how excited, apprehensive, nervous, all rolled into one. We won't be wearing oxygen masks, which means we can't exceed 19,000 ft or our pilot and everyone else inside could pass out. We're at 19,500 ft. Oh my god. For more than a,000 years, Bolivians have navigated these precarious cliffs, carrying food and supplies from the valley to the mountains. As far back as the early 1900s, the Death Road has been one of the main
highways to and from the capital city of Leaz. It's also a major supply route through the region. I can see why this landscape is called a cloud forest. Down on the road, this cloud cover can reduce visibility to less than 5 ft. Getting from one place to another seems almost impossible. Now I know why famous bandits Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid fled to Bolivia to hide from US marshals back in 1906. Blind curves like this one are common. The most dangerous section of the road lies ahead. It's called the corners of death or the devil's tail because of its precarious turns.
This is where some of the worst accidents have occurred. On August 3rd, 2003, a bus tumbled off the cliff and fell 2,000 ft into the valley below. It's estimated that dozens of people were killed. But because the bus company didn't register all of its passengers, the exact number of dead will never be known. And the road looks barely wide enough for two cars. And these guys are not really slowing down. To combat the dangers of this road, the government has designed a safer highway. This is where the new road and the old road split. But the new highway won't replace the death road anytime soon. The new road runs along the opposite side of the valley.
That makes the death road the only option for people who live in the small villages along the old road. I can see the town of Karanavi in the distance. One of the road's most tragic stories began near here. This man is Samuel Miter. In 2002, Samuel, his wife, and son were riding a bus that careened off the cliff. We were coming around a curve fast and I was in the last seat in the back. People started to scream. From there, I can't remember anything.
Roughly 50 people were killed, including Samuel's wife. His son was missing. After a brief hospital stay, Samuel got on a different bus and headed back to the accident site. The bus he was riding tumbled off the mountain a second time. Nearly 20 people died, but Samuel survived again. His son's body was never recovered. Today, some residents believe Samuel is cursed and they refuse to ride the same bus with him. This bird's eye view gives me a clear picture of the challenges I'll be facing down on the Death Road.
Finding a vehicle that's well equipped for this kind of driving will be crucial. I'm on my way to take a look at the tricked out cars many Bolivians use to navigate this terrain. Each year, Bolivia imports thousands of used vehicles from Japan where they drive on the other side of the road. When the cars arrive, the steering wheel is on the wrong side. Here in this shop, they transform those vehicles by sewing the dashboard literally in half, moving the steering column over to the other side, and then gluing it back together. But buyers beware. Sometimes only the steering
columns moved over and speedometer is sometimes left on the passenger side. The finished cars are called transformers and many of them go on to other shops for even more modifications. Here mechanics beef up the suspension and slap on bigger wheels. Without modifications like these, the rugged driving conditions in Bolivia will eventually tear a car to pieces. Hi, Mars. Good to see you. Good to see you, too. Caravi resident Mauricio Maness has brought his Transformer in for a tuneup.
Why did you go for a transformer as opposed to an original car? And this car in this city in the original is like um $9,000 or $10,000. And this car, I bought it like um for 5,000. Car parts are hard to come by here. And Mauricio shows me how drivers jerryrig their cars to keep them rolling even after something breaks. In this case, he's working on the front ball joints. Well, they use a an inner tube. Yeah, they use this inner tube because the part it maybe broke the inner tube going to give him a little couple hours to go to a part to repair.
Poor maintenance is one more factor that leads to deadly accidents. I thought about buying a transformer for my first trip down the death road, but I think I'll rent this SUV instead. It's been thoroughly checked out for these conditions, and there are no inner tubes wrapped around any of the parts. Now that I've got a car, I'm almost ready to begin my journey. My last stop is the central market here in Le Paz where I can pick up a few provisions before hitting the road. This is where farmers sell their crops like bananas and oranges and buy supplies to take down the mountain. One of the most
lucrative crops grown near this region is cocoa. Bolivians have been using this leaf for its medicinal properties for more than 1,000 years. About 77,000 arrive at this market every day. In most forms, cocoa is a mild stimulant at best. It can be chewed directly or made into teas to help with altitude sickness. And at this sort of elevation, that can be a huge help. But cocoa is also the primary ingredient in cocaine. Bolivia is the third largest producer of cocaine in the world. The US is currently trying to limit cocoa production here, but the Bolivian government has been increasingly uncooperative. For farmers in the area, it comes down
to simple economics. They can earn 1 cent for a pound of bananas or more than $2 for a pound of cocoa. The death road runs through one of the few parts of Bolivia where it's still legal to grow cocoa. And that could create another hazard on the road. As cocaine production in the area increases, this highway is quickly becoming a major pipeline for drug trafficking. I'll be following that route as well as tracing the Death Road's unique and bloody history along my drive. I'll be hitting the road when we come back. My last stop before starting the death road is here, the witches market of Leaz. This is where superstitious travelers can select from an unusual assortment of good-look charms.
A popular choice is a llama fetus, which can be purchased in a variety of sizes. This vendor recommends a condor feather and a religious icon wrapped in llama wool. Some believe that these and other charms promise protection on Bolivia's death roada. Well, it looks like I'm going to be safe and sound now. I've just begun my journey down one of the world's most dangerous roads. My final destination is the town of Karanavi, roughly 90 mi away. The entire drive should take about 5 hours.
The Death Road is one of the most important transportation routes in this region, and the people here have little choice but to brave its dangers. Even though this section of the road I'm driving now looks safe, deadly accidents like this one are common. Commercial drivers can average up to 20 hours on the road a day. Many chew cocoa leaves to try and stay awake. Okay, I'm approaching the automotive checkpoint. This is the point where they'll be checking over the car, making sure that it's roadw worthy to tackle this Bolivian death road. And had I been a bus driver, I'd have to register all
my occupants just in case the road lives up to its name. The officers test my turn signals, brakes, power steering, and hazard lights, then verify my license and insurance. And that's not all. And now they're checking for fire extinguishers and heavy. See, thank you. And road triangle. Gracias. And first aid kit. Wonderful. I'm still driving uphill at this point and I'm only a few minutes away from Lumbra. Lumbre means the summit. That's where the road starts winding down the mountain and where most people say the real danger begins.
Beyond Lumbre, the road will descend over 13,000 ft. At times, the grade will be as steep as 14%. That's more than twice the average legal limit for mountain interstates in the US. For good luck, locals offer gifts to Mother Earth or Patchimama. They believe that alcohol, cigarettes, and cocoa leaves will indulge the goddess for a long enough period to allow them safe passage down the mountain. May as well give it a go. It's also customary to put it on the tires, so I'll go ahead and do that. I'm up at around 15,500 ft. The air is so thin up here that most plants can't grow. I can also feel the altitude's effect on my car. The engine sounds
louder, and it doesn't have as much pickup. An engine loses about 3% of its horsepower for every 1,000 ft in elevation. So, my engine is about half as efficient as it would be at sea level. I'm pulling over to meet archaeologist Oswaldo Rivera. He's here to show me the Incan trails that were used centuries before the Death Road was built. How are you there? Good to see you. Fine. Hi. Look this. Oh, look at this view. Oswaldo and I are walking on an ancient Incan trade route.
He explains that for centuries the Incas used llamas and mules to carry hundreds of pounds of cocoa and other produce over these paths to markets in what is now Laaz. The paths were so well built they're still here a thousand years later. After Francisco Pizarro arrived on the continent in 1532, Spanish concistadors used trails like these to explore the country and eventually conquer its people. The Spanish discovered extensive silver reserves south of here in 1545. The indigenous population was enslaved and forced to work in the mines. By 1570, this region had become the largest source of silver in the New World and a major contributor to the
Spanish Empire's wealth. In the late 16th century, the Spanish realized that the stimulants in cocoa were vital for slaves working in the high alitude silver mines. Demand for cocoa skyrocketed. Nearly 100,000 mules traveled the route annually. After Bolivia won independence in 1825, farmers hoped to one day construct a better road. By the early 1900s, cocoa growers and other farmers were pressuring the government to build a road that was wide enough for cars and trucks. The design for the Death Road was part of a larger plan to build a better transportation system through the region. In its day, the project was a complex feat of engineering.
Over the course of my drive, I'll explore some of the early construction sites. But first, I have to pass through the mandatory drug checkpoint. Here, all vehicles on the death road will be inspected before they're allowed to go any further. So, this is the drug check. I was beginning to think it was a little too easy. Just going to drive straight through. Since transporting cocoa leaves is legal on the death road, Bolivian officials are searching my car for any materials that could be used to make cocaine.
It's a difficult job since everyday items such as baking soda and kerosene can be used to process the drug. See, so they ask where my final destination is and they took my license. The road is getting more rugged now. I can see the sheer cliffs and dense jungles. This terrain made early construction on the road slow and difficult. One major problem, the ambitious project required an incredible amount of manpower. In 1932, the Bolivian government seized an unusual opportunity after they went to war with neighboring Paraguay. They decided to use Paraguayan prisoners of war to boost manpower and to keep costs low. Construction was a grueling process. Prisoners used
sledgehammers, pickaxes, chisels, basically anything they could get their hands on to slowly chip away at this rock. It must have been backbreaking work. For 3 years, nearly 500 prisoners toiled on the roads. They worked on the most dangerous stretches of highway. Men were killed in the process, but the government didn't save records of the death toll. The war ended in 1935 before the road was finished. Bolivia then recruited miners who knew how to use dynamite to blast through heavy rock.
The technique was crude, but it worked. By the 1940s, Bolivians had acquired more modern building methods like compressed air drills and heavy machinery. But even with better equipment, accidents were common. Once an explosion was set off, it was impossible to predict where the debris would land. Construction continued in stages. Government resources and the challenging terrain dictated which sections of the road were built first. And looking down to the right here, that fall is easily over 2,000 ft. I can see we are going to have some clouds ahead of us. Absolutely spectacular. Weather changes like these happen frequently along this road. We're in a complete white out situation. I can barely see 10 ft in front of me.
The fog is cleared up enough for me to find Eduardo Mendetta. Eduardo. He's an engineer who knows how the most challenging sections of the road were built. He explains that rocky overhangs like this were created where the road was carved out by hand. In other areas, you can still see the holes that were drilled for dynamite. Before placing the explosives, workers had to pay special attention to the characteristics of the rock. Blasting in the wrong spot could destabilize the mountain, unleashing a massive landslide. These precarious cliffs dictated the width and curve of each section.
It's very difficult. We have many issues that don't fall under the normally permitted road regulations. The curves are steep. The radius is very small. Here we only have one lane which requires the cars to stop at a safe section so another can pass. Apolis, Minnesota, helped complete the project. The final stretch of pavement was laid in 1989. Out of the government's original plan to build a larger transportation system, only the death road is still in use today.
Since the road's completion, its dangerous curves have continued to claim lives. The exact figures are unknown, but statistics suggest there's a minimum of 20 deaths for every mile of road. But that hasn't stopped a new breed of thrillsekers from traveling the death road. I'll explore this dangerous phenomenon next. I've just begun my journey down Bolivia's death road, a major trade route linking the capital city of Leaz to villages and farms throughout this region. What I've seen so far has been both breathtaking and terrifying. In recent years, a new trend has hit the area and added to the death toll. Throughout this part of Bolivia, you can see advertisements for a particularly dangerous phenomenon.
I thought I was crazy to drive the Death Road. These guys must be out of their minds. Every year, thousands of tourists from the US and around the world come to bike this road. But not everyone lives to tell the tale. In April of 2001, a 22-year-old Israeli woman named Mor Shaham was biking down the road. Earlier in the day, she had complained that her brakes weren't working properly, but no one listened. One moment, her tires were rolling steadily over the gravel. The next, she was sailing off the cliff. Her body was later recovered at the bottom of the ravine. This memorial was erected by the Israeli government as a reminder of the tragedy. But this and other warnings haven't stopped thousands of tourists from traveling the death road.
This group is with gravity assisted mountain biking. They have a zero fatality record. One of the reasons is because owner Alistister Matthews, a native New Zealander, makes sure his bikers take the danger seriously. The objective here is that the 15 people that we have here now have a fun day out and we get you all to the bottom of the hill safely and you don't lose any of my really expensive bicycles. We've really created a monster here really from a biking perspective. There are much better rides, but this is the one with the hook. This is what people want. Um, three years ago, we had a bird watcher who was looking at the pretty birds, missed a curb, and flew down 80 meters, broke every single bone
in his body, including his skull. He survived, though, so lucky little bugger. There are dozens of bike accidents per year on the death road. Most happen on the gravel section of the road where it's more difficult to steer and break. If bikers go over the edge, they might get lucky and break their fall on a rock ledge. If they don't, they'll fall all the way to the bottom and go home in a box. The pavement is coming to an end and driving is about to become much more difficult. Actually going to go straight through this mountain.
The start of the gravel road is also where the new and the old road split. It's the point of no return for drivers. And since I came here [clears throat] not to play it safe, I'm going to be hanging a right. But I'm going to take one precaution. I'm going to pick up a co-pilot as I head towards the most treacherous section of the road, the corners of death. Felipe KDson is the former mayor of Karanavi, the son of US missionaries. Felipe was born and raised here, and he has driven this road hundreds of times. Felipe. Yes. Nice to meet you. Nice to meet you, too. How you doing?
Just fine, thank you. Excellent. Felipe explains that we're about to encounter heavy traffic. It's typical along the Death Road because it's one of the main transport routes through South America. Everything from mopeds to 10 wheelers travel this pass on a daily basis. And now there are more and more trucks coming out of Brazil, for example, and bringing supplies up to La Paz over this road. In many places, it's narrow, steep with high precipaces, you know, tall cliffs and then highly traveled. Often the wheels of the trucks and of the buses actually go off, you know, the edge of the road a little bit. You can, you know, the tracks are witnesses to that. This is such a nerve-wracking journey. I don't know if I could do this
every single day. probably have more chance of surviving hitting a 10-tonon truck head on than you do going off the edge of this. Here on the death road, uphill traffic has the right of way. That means it's up to me to get out of the way of trucks heading up to Le Paz. It's very dangerous for a loaded truck on these dangerous roads to back down backwards. The gravity's against them. The design of the vehicle of the brakes is against them. So, uh if anybody is going to back up, it should be the people that are coming down. In these conditions, there are bound to be tie-ups. And it looks like I've just hit one.
For one thing, we have about a 300 meter cliff right over here. Oh my gosh. And then here's a 10-wheeler. Uh, a big Volvo truck. And around the corner, another Volvo truck. Apparently, the issue is that if he comes too close, this could all give way and he could topple into there and then he's stuck. This guy can't back up because there's a truck and a bus right behind, which is our truck and the bus right behind that. In fact, let's walk around and take a look how close he is to the edge. I don't even want to step out there. There's no place. It's a long ways to back up. He says, he says it's it's okay, then I'll back up, says this 10-wheeler. I'll back up. So I believe this 10wheeler has agreed
to back up. So that means we have to get out of the way as does the bus as there anything else that's behind it. So dead ahead is the first of the road's many blind curves. It's also one of the most notorious passes along the Death Road. This is where Karanavi resident Fidel Estrada was riding on a bus in 1999 when it suddenly tipped over the edge. An accident can happen at any time and you have to be prepared for it. When the bus start rolling over, you don't hear any screams. You don't hear anything. And at one moment, you have like 20 people on top of you and then the next 20 underneath you.
Due to the remoteness of the area, it took rescue crews hours to reach the site. By the time they arrived, 11 people had died. Maneuvering has become much more difficult. I'm on a very narrow pass and oncoming traffic is barreling towards me. Well, we've got two big trucks coming my way and they have the right away. So, I'm pulling over to one side. That was a orange carrying truck. You don't want to meet one of these on a blind switchback. I've just reached the corners of death. a stretch of road that would test the nerves of the most seasoned driver.
I have absolutely no idea what could be coming towards me around this next corner and yet still some of the worst corners to come. I'm roughly 25 miles into Bolivia's death road and I've got about 65 to go. I'm traveling through one of the most hazardous sections of the road right now and it's it's unlike anything I've ever seen before in my life. and locals actually call it the devil's tail because of its sharp twisting curves. As if the hairpin turns and blind corners aren't difficult enough. I'm actually driving along the edge of a cliff.
I've slowed down to about 15 mph. My co-pilot, Filipe KDson, has been driving this road since he was 16 years old. There are landslides nearly year round. And when one's going through a landslide, it's important to uh to look up and make sure that there aren't falling rocks at that moment because uh you know, they'll be coming down from maybe 50, 100, uh 200 yards up the mountain side and they come down like cannonballs. Because so many have died along this stretch, a small group of people are banded together to try and make the road a little safer. Gracias. They are They're lifesavers here. Locals call them safaros or traffic lights. They're volunteers who patrol the road and direct cars.
One of the most famous human traffic lights is up ahead. His name is Timato. Moment. Yeah. quit. I'm going to go and find a place that's safe for me to park. I'll take a little hike back and go and have a chat with him. Timato has lost several friends in traffic accidents. About 15 years ago, he decided that someone needed to protect the drivers and passengers on the death road. Today, he uses a handmade sign to direct traffic on El Camino de la Muerte. When I was eight, I would hear when the accidents occur. So, I thought I should go and direct, but I was scared because I was so young. Anyone could rob me and
I was afraid of seeing dead people, but not anymore. Timote isn't paid for his work, but many drivers tip him for his dedicated service. Almost everyone in this area knows someone who has been killed on this route. So there's another cross right there. I've worked in many accidents. Uh I've worked in about rescuing about 18 accidents on this road with many people killed off. And so I've just seen very tragic things. Up ahead is the site of the death road's bloodiest accident. It happened in 1983 when a bus driver named Carlos Pizaroso was driving a truckload of people from Karanavi to La Paz.
No one's sure exactly why, but at this point here, Carlos swerved off the road, taking his passengers with him. The valley was littered with bodies and the mangled shell of a truck. It's unknown exactly how many people were killed, but it's estimated that 100 people perished. Perhaps Carlos was distracted by one of the spirits who some believe haunt the region, luring travelers off course. Stories like these heighten the mystery of the road. An average of 150 people are killed on this highway each year. Many more are injured.
I've been driving Bolivia's death road for about 30 miles now. I'm a little over halfway through one of the most dangerous sections of the road known as the San Juan Pass. During the rainy season, this is where waterfalls spill out onto the road. Because this area is so remote, getting rescue crews to an accident site is often a difficult and a time-consuming process, your first responders tend to be fellow motorists on the road. That's why local residents have become very adept at rescue techniques. Here along the road, I'm meeting tour company owner and volunteer rescuer Alistister Matthews. He'll show me some search and recovery methods, and he's
invited the local fire department along, too. So, hey, Alistar, how you doing? How's it going? Good to see you. Excellent. I see you got the boys here. are they going to show us uh a little demonstration? Yeah. I mean, what they've done is come out, do a bit of training, a bit of a refresher practice in a situation which quite easily could be a real spot where a vehicle could go off. The firemen secure a rope and pulley to the back of their vehicle. They lower the stretcher and then repel hundreds, even thousands of feet into the valley.
Chief Gustavo Daza's years of experience haven't numbed him to the horrors of death road accidents. Imagine falling from 1,000 ft. There are people who are in pieces. So it is a difficult scenario for us. The person who is going to enter has to be psychologically prepared so he does not suffer shock when he sees that scene. [panting] After rescue crews in the valley secure the victim, a second team hoist the stretcher up to the road. It can take up to 20 men to haul up each victim. This is heavy. You wouldn't think with this many of us doing this it would be this heavy.
The rescuers are the last ones brought to the surface. The crew is packing up and heading back to La Paz, but there's no turning back for me. It's okay, guys. I got this one. All right. I've driven 35 miles and I've descended roughly 11,000 ft so far. Looks like the clouds are lifting as I approach 4,000 ft above sea level. that'll teach me to pull my nose in a little when they pass. He must have missed me by not even half an inch. And then when you're talking about a 3,000 ft drop to the left, a little nudge like that could uh well be kicking up the daisies. Put it that way. And I'm still only halfway down the death road.
I have another 50 miles to go until I reach the end of Bolivia's death road, where more fatal accidents have occurred than on almost any other road in the world. One slip of the wheel and my car could plummet 3,000 ft into the valley below. It's a hazard that thousands who travel this road confront on a daily basis. My guide is Felipe KDson, the former mayor of nearby Karanabi and a veteran of death road driving. His son Joey is here to tell us about a crash he witnessed in February of 2002. And we are coming down from Leaz as I look out my window and I see
this bus. I don't think it had quite touched the ground yet. It was uh in the air. And then it hit the ground and it started rolling, picking up speed and just the noise was incredible. And as it started flipping, the people just started coming out the wows just like rags. 20 passengers were severely injured, but amazingly, not one died. I've descended more than 11,000 ft since I started my journey in La Paz, Bolivia's capital city, and I'm just rolling into one of the many small towns along the road. This is Yolosa, and the alternator on my watch says 3,940 ft. And I got to tell you, the way I'm feeling, I have a lot more energy. The tingling in my fingertips, my toes has gone. I feel alive again.
And my car is performing much better as well. We've got more molecules of uh oxygen entering those cylinders and therefore more power. Right. But we've still got another 30 m of hazardous driving to go. And dead ahead is another traffic jam. Construction crews here are working to make this stretch wider and hopefully safer. As you can see behind me, they've already finished dynamiting and the bulldozers are shifting the earth out of the way and quite literally throwing it over the edge down into the rainforest below.
Okay. So, this is nitrate. And I know that's a stick of dynamite. That's right. And that's the fuse. And then the cap is down inside. So, 10 sticks to blow away this much of the rock. Wow. Well, that was an ominous sign when you see the guy who's handling the dynamite has uh lost a finger. I hope that's not a sign of Anyway, let's move on. While the expansion project will make the road safer, construction increases the risk of rock and mudslides. I've often referred to this road as repentance road. You have to be ready to meet your maker. There's a lot of mystery to this road. I know of people who have made sacrifices of white yamas at the pass at midnight, you know, and
then the next day they're coming down and they go over the edge and perish. We just reached the spot where Felipe was called to recover victims from the first big accident of 2006. Apparently, the driver went to sleep here and uh went in nose first to this section of mountain that comes down. And as he impacted against that mountain, then people came shooting out the window. Then the uh bus went rolling down. It went all the way to the edge of the river. Then the water washed it away. Volunteers used inner tubes and makeshift rafts to scour the river for victims.
Antonio Mariscal was one of 10 survivors. I was up to here in water trapped and half my body was out of the box. My legs were trapped and it was pulling on my legs. One by one I pulled my legs out. The bus started filling up little by little and then within a matter of uh a couple of minutes from what we hear it was just washed away. For 24 hours Felipe assisted in the search and recovery effort. To date, 11 bodies have never been found. The bus driver ended up in this jail cell in Karanavi. He insists he didn't fall asleep at the wheel, but the victim's families don't believe him. He was imprisoned without a trial.
The people around here are really messed up. They act like I did it on purpose. I would never do that. It is a dangerous road. However, it is a very important road. Does have its very beautiful aspects. It's a road that means life to thousands of people. It's a road that feeds La Paz and brings income to the farmers down in this area. Over time, the people here have become accustomed to this treacherous terrain. That's why doing something like crossing the gorge on a zipline in order to reach the death road doesn't seem like such a big deal. This is fascinating. We got the whole family coming across. Hola.
Yeah. Can I have a go? Would you Is it okay? So, any technique? Yeah. Or do I just hold on for dear life? All right, let's give it a go. Oh, this is great. Been right across a river on a piece of wood and a wire. Gracias. That is a lot of fun. What a commute. It's almost dusk and it's hard to believe we've almost reached our destination. We're near Ganadi Marsh. That's fantastic news. We've been invited to a barbecue. Are you hungry?
Oh, I'm starving. I certainly could eat a llama. Hey, guess what? We're having llama tonight. Well, there we go. Fantastic. Well, we made it to Katanavi and I'm just so glad to be here. Oh, here. I think we need this marsh. Cheers. Welcome to Kavi. Cheers to you. Thank you. Thanks for the guide. Today, the future of the Death Road remains uncertain. This new road may one day make the old road obsolete. The new highway was designed as a safer alternative to the Death Road. The price tag is almost $6 million a mile.
Construction is 7 years behind schedule and nearly $70 million over budget. Only time will tell if this new project can put an end to the Death Road's tragic history. But perhaps the mystique of the Death Road will continue to attract thrillsekers for decades to come. One thing's for certain, though. If you've got the guts to face El Salamino de la Muerta, you're set for an unforgettable experience. I'm Marsh Mutari for the History Channel. Thanks for joining me on Bolivia's death road.
