After arriving in Coroico, no Rick. Jim rode back down the mountain looking for him while I waited in the plaza. The old men sitting on the bench next to me wanted to know how old I am. When I told them 69 they no, you must be fifty something. I then asked them how they were. The one very wrinkled and haggard guy told me he was 60. This is just an indication of how tough the life is for all of these people. We have since heard that skin cancer is rampant with these people, in spite of their dark pigmented skin.
The next morning was hard rain and fog. We found Rick at the Hotel Gloria. He was ready to ride the Road of Death. Jim and I were ready to ride back to La Paz on the highway. We parted again. Jim and I stopped for fresh trout lunch on the way over the mountain.
This morning, we received an Iphone video from Rick as he rode the Road of Death. He said it was scary, foggy and waterfalls were cascading over the road. I wish I could include his video here. He survived the RofD and Jim and I were both thankful that we had not. Wow, a win-win deal!
Now we are settled into Cochabamba. Sitting outside at 8:00 in the morning under a boganvilla arbor, enjoying fresh squeezed orange juice, a green salad and coffee. How much better does life get? Freddie arrives home manana.
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